Aurora, the Lightbringer, now stood at the head of the forces of Good,
and the realm warmed to her lucent gaze as it had in centuries past.
Beside her stood Deucalion, the Righteous Fire, hand outstretched in a
gesture of welcome.

"Hear us, servants of Good," called out Aurora. "Oathsworn to
Righteousness, to Valour, to Justice, to Light! All whose hands grip
blessed steel, hark to our call! You whose souls drink from the
wellspring of Devotion, we call you to rally under the Light's banner.
Come now to the gates of the Garden of the Gods."

Hastening first to the Pillars of the Heavens was a former Elysian
Silas Maynard and Father Garron of Jaru. Soon a huge crowd amassed
about the two deities and a keen sense of energy and expectation
rippled through the throng.

"We called you here because the time to decide this conflict speeds
towards us," spoke the Lightbringer, her eyes afire with determination.

"This war between the gods threatens the fabric of Creation itself. The
destroyer unravels the skein of the weave. You can see the strain
manifesting across the world as Bal'met gorges on the power of the Fire
Behind the Flame," Deucalion continued, his intense gaze sweeping across
the mixed crowd.

"Aeon called me, and I came. He made a great sacrifice to bring me
through the currents of time. That sacrifice will be honoured. Deucalion
and I have spoken, and we will go from you to meet with the other gods.
Our voices speak as one. We will advocate there be no more giving of
ground. No more retreats. We will make our stand, and we see our choice
through to its conclusion," Aurora stated bluntly.

Deucalion, the Righteous Fire spoke again. "You have lost friends and
family. Your home. Your patrons. You are weary and concerned. We are not
bringers of succour, but take what balm there is in our presence and our
purpose."

As the voices of Good swelled in approval, Deucalion raised his voice
again. "We are the immortal champions of Good. We are purifying fire and
sacred light. We rise now to defend Creation, as we ever have and ever
will!"

Their visages determined, the two gods turned to face each other. With a
solemn nod to Father Garron, Deucalion extended his left hand to Aurora.
Unsheathing a razor-sharp knife, she ran the tip of the blade along the
length of Deucalion's forearm, drawing forth a slender line of bright,
immortal blood, then extended her own right arm and similarly wounded
herself.

At a signal from the Righteous One, Father Garron approached the
deities, his eyes downcast in their presence. Unfurling a silk ribbon of
pure white, he wrapped each god's wounded arm, binding them with the
same cloth as it quickly became stained with rich droplets of crimson.

Amidst the charged atmosphere, the lucent voice of the Lightbringer
intoned, "I grant you my strength, Righteous Fire. I grant you a measure
of my power. I take in return the blows of your enemies. I bind myself
to you and name you Bloodsworn." In return, Deucalion vowed, "I grant
you my strength, Lightbringer. I grant you a measure of my power. I take
in return the blows of your enemies. I bind myself to you and name you
Bloodsworn."

The silk ribbon stirred briefly and then fell, cloven in twain by the
power in the spoken oaths. Two lengths of silk were now wrapped around
the arms of Aurora and Deucalion, shining with wet, fresh blood.

"My sword is yours to wield in this battle," promised Deucalion. "Be the
weapon that shatters our foe."

"My shield is Yours," pledge Aurora. "Be the aegis that preserves Good."

As the two gazed at each other, never letting their eyes falling from
the other's, Aurora accepted the Sword of Dunamis and, in return,
presented Deucalion with the Shield of the Lightbringer.

Their commitment to one another witnessed by all, the two gods turned
once more to their rapt audience. Aurora made Her final proclamation to
the forces of Good: "All the oaths you swore in times of comfort and
plenty to serve Good, the promises you uttered to be a light of hope for
your flocks, to wage war against Creation's foes: we hold you to those
promises now. Strope your swords. Summon your angels. Pray and draw deep
on the wellspring of Devotion. The call will come, and you must be
ready."

Striding forth, united under the banner of Good, the Bloodsworn of Light
and Righteousness rallied their forces into perhaps the fiercest battle
of their lives.

Penned by My hand on the 17th of Glacian, in the year 613 AF.