The atmosphere in the makeshift command center was a toxic mix of exhaustion, fear, and increasingly fragile resolve. Quetzal's revelation about the history of Mayan sacrifices and the role of the Spanish conquistadors had added another layer of bitter realization to the already complex crisis. But the Netlin's ultimatum, demanding the surrender of their magic and their autonomy, hung over them like a cosmic sword of Damocles.
"We cannot fight on all fronts," Merlin said, his voice weary but firm, breaking the tense silence that had followed Dracula and the Red Wizards' departure to privately discuss Quetzal's offer to "unbind" the rings. "Cthulhu is active. Nyx and Morgana, though hunted, remain a global threat with the power of Poimandres and the strategy of Enlil. The factions of Lyra are unpredictable. And now, the Netlin demand our submission."
Quetzal, sitting with the calm of an ancient mountain, nodded. "When two celestial jaguars fight," he said, his amber eyes fixed on the holographic map showing the energy signatures of Cthulhu and the Netlin converging toward Earth, "the wise deer waits in the undergrowth, watching, conserving its strength. Or, if it's cunning enough, it guides one jaguar toward the other's lair."
"A strategy of mutual attrition," Aria realized. "Let Cthulhu and the Netlin weaken each other." Her new magic, that sensitivity to the truth of energies, told her it was a dangerous gamble, but perhaps the only viable one.
"Amitiel has declared that her purpose is to destroy the Ancient One," Merlin continued. "We must use that. We need time. Time for Gaia to regain more of her strength and for her natural defenses to settle. Time for us to fully understand and master the knowledge we have gathered—the Emerald Tablet, the Clavicles, your Syntergic Theory," he nodded to Elena Rossi, "and the ancient wisdom of the Ceiba Guardians." He indicated Quetzal. "Time, above all, to avoid surrendering our magic, our will, to the Netlin."
All eyes turned to Enki. The Anunnaki had remained silent, observing, processing. As a being of an ancient cosmic race, though perhaps lower in the hierarchy than the Netlin, he was the only one who might have a remote chance of being heard by Amitiel.
"Enki," Merlin said solemnly. "You know the protocols, the courtesies, the vanities of these ancient entities. Or at least, you understand them better than any of us. We ask you to undertake a mission of the utmost importance and the most extreme danger."
Enki raised a golden eyebrow, his face impassive, though Aria could sense an undercurrent of deep reluctance beneath his superficial calm.
"You must contact Supreme Commander Amitiel," Merlin continued. "You must convince him that the threat of Cthulhu is paramount and requires the total and immediate concentration of all Netlin forces. That demanding the surrender of Terra's magic now would be a strategic distraction, a mistake that would only benefit the Great Old One and agents of Chaos like Nyx."
Quetzal added his weight. "Tell him of the desecration of the Great Cycle that Cthulhu represents, Fallen Watcher. Remind him of the ancient war they fought, the reason for their eternal vigil. The witch hunt among the inhabitants of this world can wait until the true monster has been chained again."
Enki remained silent for a long moment, his golden eyes fathomless. The task was almost suicidal. The Netlin were known for their pride and their contempt for "lesser" races. Amitiel, the Fallen Strategist, would not be easily persuaded.
"And what arguments do I offer to a being who considers himself the embodiment of Divine Order and Justice, albeit a fallen justice?" Enki finally asked, his voice laced with bitter irony.
"Appeal to his strategist's pride," Aria suggested, her mind working quickly. "The sorceress Nyx is being hunted by multiple factions, including Cthulhu himself. Though she is a servant of Chaos, her current campaign is, ironically, distracting and dividing forces that might otherwise oppose the Netlin or serve Cthulhu's purposes. Let the internal chaos of this planet burn itself out for now. Let the lesser vermin devour each other while the great eagles hunt the true dragon."
"And the magic of Terra," Merlin added, "our combined knowledge... once the main threat is contained, and if Terra survives, it could be purged and guided by the wisdom of the Netlin to become a future asset in their grand design of Order. But demanding its surrender now, in the midst of this crisis, will only breed unnecessary resistance, fragment planetary defense, and turn us into a liability rather than a potential resource. Make it clear that our local fighting, however clumsy
Whatever it is, it keeps certain forces occupied that he won't have to confront directly... for now."
Enki listened, nodding slowly. The arguments were dangerous, full of half-truths and subtle manipulations, but they might appeal to the cold logic and ego of a commander like Amitiel.
"Amitiel is ancient," Enki said finally, "and his patience is legendary in its scarcity. He considers races like yours, or even mine, to be little more than dust in the grand cosmic scheme." He rose, his tall, golden figure radiating a resigned dignity. "But the argument of strategic efficiency against Cthulhu... I might listen. And the idea that Nyx is, in fact, creating a useful diversion... might entertain him."
He paused, and a shadow of something that might be fear, or perhaps a deep cosmic sadness, crossed his eyes. "I will try to contact him. I will use the oldest Anunnaki channels, those that resonate with the harmonics of the old Celestial Empire. I will pray to the gods who no longer exist and in whom I never believed, that they listen to logic rather than the pride of their Fall."
With a brief nod, Enki turned and walked to a cleared area of the laboratory. He closed his eyes, and a complex matrix of golden light and alien geometry began to form around him. He was going to attempt to send a message across the vast and dangerous expanses of space and time, to a being of unimaginable power, in the hopes of buying planet Earth a few precious hours.
The fate of their mission was uncertain. If it failed, the arrival of the Netlin could mean immediate subjugation or open war on another front. If it succeeded, they would have gained only a respite, a brief interlude before having to face the inevitable arrogance of the Fallen Angels. The tension in Cancun was a knot that threatened to strangle all hope.