Delusions of grandeur of the fallen
The week following the revelation of the cosmic hunt against Nyx was a hell of contained tension. In Cancun, the Umbrian team and the scientists worked on high alert, the "Coherence Anchor" maintained with Herculean effort while Cthulhu's psychic miasma constantly seeped from the Caribbean. Nyx and Morgana, though now targeted by Cthulhu and the alien factions of the Lyran Wars, remained an active threat, their campaign of global terror continuing, though perhaps less boldly than before.
It was Enki who delivered the next news, his normally impassive countenance now marked by an urgency that chilled the blood of everyone in the makeshift command center.
"The Netlin," the Anunnaki announced without preamble, his golden voice resonating gravely. "They are mobilizing. Our long-range probes and deep-space listening posts have detected a massive convergence of their energies, not toward Earth directly yet, but toward a rendezvous point in the outer solar system, beyond the Kuiper Belt."
He projected holographic images: vast fleets of what appeared to be solid light ships, angular, almost ethereal formations that dwarfed anything the Lyran races had ever displayed. And at the center of these formations, a single energy signature of unimaginable power.
"Their Supreme Commander has emerged from his... seclusion, or whatever it is the Netlin do between cosmic wars," Enki continued. "Our analysts identify him as Amitiel, also known in some forbidden fragments as 'The Fallen Strategist.' A being of formidable intellect and arcane power rivaling the archangels of the most ancient legends."
Merlin nodded grimly. "Amitiel. A name that whispers defeat and bitter glory. He is said to have been one of the most brilliant in the heavenly courts, before the Fall. His tactical genius was legendary... and feared."
"It seems that genius is being dusted off," said Enki. "We have intercepted... or rather, we have been allowed to overhear, a transmission addressed to the scattered Netlin forces. A call to arms."
Enki closed his eyes for a moment, and then the room was filled not with his voice, but with a powerful, ancient resonance, filled with metallic sadness and unyielding determination. It was Amitiel's voice, translated by Enki through some Anunnaki medium:
"Children of the Ancient Light!" boomed the ethereal voice. "Now Fallen, but never Broken! Hear the call that echoes through the aeon! The Void stirs again. The shadow of the Great Darkness that once sought to devour creation lies across this small world, Terra. But it is not the world that matters, but the beginning!
Remember the burning stars of Orion, where our starblood painted the nebulae in the first great defense! Remember the shattered fields of Lyra, where we stood firm against horrors that would make this sleeping Great Old One pale! For ages untold we have been the bulwark, the broken but unyielding shield against the horrors of the Beyond!
Cthulhu awakens here, in this mire of mortal aspirations! And here we will face him, as we did of old against his kin and his masters! This world shall not fall to the madness of the Void while a single Netlin breathes, while a single wing of ours, though "Stained by the Fall, may cast a shadow of defiance! For the Pact! For the Light that was! For the Order that must be restored, even by unworthy hands like ours! Onward to the last war!"
A charged silence followed the transmission. The rhetoric was powerful, almost hypnotic, imbued with the authority of eons of conflict.
"He is mustering his legions," Merlin said quietly. "And his concept of 'Order'... could be as absolute and devastating as Poimandres' Chaos or Cthulhu's madness would be to us."
"There is more," Enki added. "Amitiel is not merely mustering his own. He is sending emissaries. Demanding, not soliciting, alliances. We have detected attempts at communication with the Insectoid swarms, with the Grey commanders, and even with the more... pragmatic Reptilian factions, including that of my brother Enlil." The implication was clear: Amitiel was attempting to unify all the "lesser powers" under her command against Cthulhu.
"And, of course," Enki concluded, looking directly at Merlin, "they have sent an ultimatum to 'the native magical forces of Terra.' To you. They demand your complete subservience and the surrender of any artifact of significant power—the Emerald Tablet, the Keystones—to be used under their direction in the war against Cthulhu. Refusal, according to the message, will be considered obstruction and treated as such."
Aria felt an icy knot in her stomach. Help had arrived, but it came with chains. They would be
saved" by the Netlin only to become their servants, their tools. The new magic she had felt awakening within her, that spark of truth and purification, seemed so small, so insignificant against the magnitude of these cosmic forces and their ancient wars.
Dracula, who had listened silently, gave a dry, mirthless laugh. "Subordination? The Netlin always had delusions of grandeur, even in their Fall. This Amitiel will learn that the night has its own kings, and they do not kneel easily."
The situation had become untenable. Caught between the awakening of Cthulhu, the global hunt against Nyx, the machinations of the Lyran factions, and now, the imminent arrival of an army of Fallen Angels with plans to take total control. The small group in Cancun felt like leaves in the middle of a cosmic hurricane, and the storm was only just beginning.