Chapter 3.6: The Plane In Between

They all sit at a long black wooden table. Oanoa sits at the head of the table. On his left side are Oslando, Mero and Bruq, and on his right side are Lyssa, Cyrzana and Dargothoth. With a simple snip of his fingers he creates a sumptuous meal. They could eat for days and there would still be food left.
“I have heard the song the Enochian Crystals sang to you. I have seen Hadriel scheme with other members of the Silver Circle. I have known for a long time the heroes of prophecies would rise and aid Abaddon in this dire time of need. Hadriel called you the prophesied heroes as well, but I think he was telling you only half-truths. He has tempted you, playing with your avarice, your pride, your innocence. Prophecies speak of these heroes, but there are no clear descriptions and there are no clear outcomes. The stories are intentionally vague, just how the Fathers and Mothers of Abaddon - the gods - like it.”
The frown on Oslando’s face gives him a concerned look.
“So, you don’t know for sure if these prophecies are about us. They could be talking about five completely different people!”
Oanoa takes a sip of his drink before speaking again. He doesn’t let their questions hurry him and he enjoys the fruitiness tingling his tongue.
“I find it highly improbable that there are other heroes who are destined to go to Abaddon to prevent the angels from executing their plans. I’ll just wait for the next five adventurers to stumble upon one of the many portals to my pocket plane.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?”
The half-elf nods.
“Again, wise sorcerer, you are probably right.” He sounds disappointed, but in his heart he truly hopes Oanoa is right. If he really is one of the prophesied heroes, if he is really destined for greatness, he will have an impact on history. He will be the best version of himself.
“And how do you expect us to save Abaddon?” Dargothoth asks a very justified question and some of the others nod in agreement. “We are no demons. They would recognize us as outsiders immediately. Also, I don’t know much about the plans of the Silver Circle or even about the Silver Circle in the first place, but how can five of us stop the angelic forces of heaven? Don’t get me wrong. I would take great pleasure in killing them all, but I know when I am outmatched. Where would we even begin?”
The Beholder shakes his head.
“I wish I could tell you more, but I have lost much of my sight in several places in Abaddon. Before creating the Eyes Between Worlds, I lived there with my brother. We both had children and, while he had more humanoid children, my descendants were more reminiscent to my natural form. They were beholderkin like me and I called them spectators. I taught them to be observers instead of being xenophobic and fiendish. They spread across the entirety of the world and, with my magic, I could see what they saw, but I see less and less each day. I believe someone or something is blinding or killing them. I am working on a way to restore my vision, but it’s a long and tedious process.”
“So, you’re basically telling us we are on our own?” Lyssa’s whole body language shows the indignation. She looks at her companions, hoping they feel the same way.
“You say your brother lives in Abaddon”, Cyrzana says. “Can’t you ask him to aid them? Or to help you find your children?”
He shakes his head with sad eyes and thin lips.
“My brother Iavolof has disappeared into a pocket plane of his own design. I don’t know where I can find him and the whereabouts of seven of his children are unknown as well. I only know the location of One of the Children of Iavolof and he is sitting right there.”
With a mysterious smile he points Mero.
“What did you say? Did you say Iavolof?” The high tone of the puppet’s voice gives away his excitement.
“Yes, my brother Iavolof, the Archmage. You are one of his children, am I correct?”
Mero nods, eagerly.
“That’s what my former master told me. I was having dreams about him. He said Iavolof could help me discover who I truly am. Can you tell me something about him, please?”
Oanoa chuckles and takes another sip of his wine.
“Something? Boy, I can tell you everything.”