Fortress of the Unchained
The Ethereal Realm
It was far from the magnificent cathedral of crystal it had intended to be.
Construction had begun immediately after their forces had abandoned the world seeds in the Brotherhood’s systems. They had hoped to pull resources from those seeds to help build the Fortress, the final line of defense, the seat for the Breaker of the Chain. But then…
Crystalline dust lightly fell from the ceiling as the ground shook ever so slightly, coating the fortress’s blueprints. The plans were old, written on paper, copied again and again over the centuries, being perfected for the final assault.
The Throne Room was the first of the Fortress to be built, ages ago, left sitting in the Ethereal Realm like an egg waiting to hatch. At long last the Fortress was now taking shape around it.
The Father paced slowly around the room while his most trusted leaders, the last of his true disciples over the ages, sat in silence around the table. The host body his spirit now inhabited had grown nicely, but came with the shortcomings of flesh: adrenaline flooded his system, and a constant need to move ate away at him. By The Father’s estimate, it was now roughly in its mid-twenties, the accelerated aging coming to a stop.
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