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Beneath his hooded cloak, teasing laughter, cool as a winter breeze, resonated through the Throne Room. "I\'m surprised you recognize me, brother. It\'s been a few Chaos Cycles since we last met. How have you been, Astaroth?" He said calmly, his voice weighted with authority.

Astaroth stood up from his Throne, his long ashen hair billowing a soft breeze beneath the Scarlet Flames of Beel, hounding the air with pestilence. He glided down from his High Throne and stood before the one that had brought about the Four Prime Worlds by shattering the Twelve Realms. He bowed, meeting Mephisto\'s handsome sun-kissed skin and golden red eyes hidden beneath his hood.

He glanced down at the Golden Sigil of Ouroboros that clung over his cloak. And his bow deepened before his regalia.

"Better than you," Astaroth answered."I thought you were banned. By Rite of the Almighty. What brings you to Mythos?"

"If Father hasn\'t struck me down, then I guess I\'m safe," Mephisto said with a smile. Narrowing his golden red eyes, he met Astaroth\'s scarlet ones. Mephisto spoke with a profound glint cutting across his eyes. "I\'m one of the Seven Arbiters of Babel\'s tower…" he began. "I\'m sure you know. So what I found interesting is during one of my routine surveillance.

I found lowly demons channeling power from my Archduke."

For a second, Astaroth seemed perplexed until he wasn\'t. He frowned. "What is it you want?"

"You want to make a deal already?" He laughed." Come now, Astaroth. At least try to deny it, though I\'m not surprised. Babel\'s Tower has produced quite a monster. Aria Silvermane… the child who is capable of peering into the Six Paths of Time. The very paths you created. Quite a disciple you\'ve found." Mephisto grinned, amused by the ugly scowl on his elder brother\'s face.

"What is it you want, Mephisto," Astaroth snapped, clenching his fist. He\'d thought he had hidden her well. The soul alone had been only barely sensed by the Seraphim of Sepith. And not even they knew the potential Aria held. Of that, Astaroth was sure.

As if he hadn\'t heard the question, Mephisto continued. "The Child has yet to awaken. And if she dies before her Rites, her soul goes to you, and if she dies after… well, you\'ll need to have to face the Seven Seraphim who laid claim to her soul. And that dear brother is an issue." he paused, touching his lips with a cruel smile.

"The Entire purpose of constructing Babels Tower was to raise the new generation for the coming war. And I can\'t have you killing our dear sister generals."

"And how many have you killed protecting Arsene\'s Twins: Izalith and Vesyren Snow!" Asteroth shook, sneering as if he heard the most ridiculous thing. "What is it you are after?" he spat, only realizing his tone when he was done.

Mephisto merely kept his grin. "So aggressive." He laughed. "I could paint the Halls of Mythos with your remains if you\'d like, or would you prefer I hand your soul to Baphomet?" He lost his smile. "Did you think I would come here with my main body for no reason?" He patted the invisible dust off Asteroph\'s shoulders and fixed his clothing.

"You broke one of the Laws of the Tower by infringing on the higher power such as Bael. Lesser Demons calling forth Baelfire is a big no-no, even if it is a fractured version. But I\'ll allow it. And I\'ll allow you to keep your life, my dear brother. But you\'re going to do me a favor. And I\'ll do you one."

Astaroth had nearly forgotten who he had been talking to… forgotten of the horrors that came with the demon that tricked Lucifer into falling with his angels and, in turn, became the first Angel to ask the Almighty One to allow him to become a Fallen Angel.

It was said that when Mephisto fell from the Heavens in a great ball of fire, shrieking across the heavens into the hells, his cold laughter had been the only thing that echoed through the Myriad. He was Mephistopheles: the Lord of Mischief, Fallen of Deceit, Monarch of Sylvorlum, and the Bane of the Righteous and the Profane.

There had only ever been a few who had ever liked Mephistopheles and fewer who considered him a friend. His name was a name whispered through the shadows, spoken in hush whispers amongst the High Gods of the Eternal Heavens. Oftentimes, it was said that Lucifer was the Father of Lies, the Lord of Temptation, but even he dared not compare himself to the one known throughout time as Mephistopheles.

The one who aided him in creating the Hells they have today, or the Devil\'s Contact to help spread the principalities.

"I\'ll help you kill this Aria before her Rites, and in return, you relinquish your rights to the Realm of Baefor and allow it to become commonplace."

"Brother! That is madness! Within the Forgotten Realms, Baefor is a realm of unending treasure. It will be a massive Realm War among the New Gods." Astaroth was quick to say, baffled by the very idea. Several of my generals are housed in Baefor. My Dukes!

… they\'ll tear these New Gods apart without—"

"That is my offer," Mephisto interrupted. "Now, will you accept, or will you force me to kill my own blood brother."

Astaroth grounded his teeth. "You aren\'t giving me any options."

"Of course I am. You\'ve hundreds of options," said Mephisto with a loveable laugh. "You\'ve millions of paths, but none of them will serve you any good. Now decide. I\'ve got a meeting with one of the twins, and I can\'t be late."

"You really are a bastard… I hope it was worth it, strong-arming me like this."

Mephisto made an amused face. "Strong-armed?" He nearly laughed. "Well, it must surely look that way to one such as yourself."

Astaroth had heard the scornful contempt in his voice but said nothing of it. There had been a trap in those words of his. Everything he did was a game, a trap meant to break his foes. From the smile he bore to the timbre of his voice to the slanting of his eyes. There had been no better schemer in all the Myriad Heavens or Hells than one such as Mephisto.

Nor one more so feared.

\'What was his aim? His goal? Why Baefor? Why bring about chaos?\' Astoroth wondered. \'Mephisto had always loved chaos, but he was one of the more kinder Fallen within the hells. He never bothered to kill or torture without reason.

Was there something on Baefor that I don\'t know about? Are my denizens hiding something?\'

"I can feel the wheels in that head of yours spinning." Mephisto suddenly said. " But I don\'t have the time. Decide, brother. I truly must be leaving soon."

"Fine. But only when Aria dies." Astaroth relented.

The two shook hands, and a bright, childish smile surfaced over the Fallen of Mischief. He turned and suddenly paused, turning back to meet Astaroth\'s cold eye. "Do you, by chance, know what\'s been going on with Tenebrae as of late? She seems to be out of it more often than not."

Another scheme of his. "No, I won\'t say I have," Astaroth said. "I\'ve not had contact with that woman since the Fall."

For a second, Mephisto seemed to smile before he trickled into nodes of black light, vanishing into nothingness.

The Prince of Mythos staggered back to his chair with a weariness to him and a concern gleam in his eyes, and what seemed like a permanent scowl. "Baefor. Tenebrae. And now a Realm War." He leaned back on his Throne that had been nothing but uncomfortable bearing the bleeding remains of his brethren. "What business does that bastard Mephisto still have in the Myriad Heavens?"

The more he wondered, the more infuriated he became. He began tapping his finger against the armrest, thinking, and thinking, and thinking.

Why Baefor?

Was he just messing with me?

He is a trickster.

Annoyed, Astaroth lifted his gaze towards the distance through the Tower that hung the bodies of giants writhing in agony, bellowing such screams it was enough to haunt the dreams of Man and Gods alike.

He looked past his pet project, past the hells, past the endless galaxies and shattered realms within the Forgotten Realms, to a small domain, to a little black seedling surrounded by an endless sea of chaos, ablaze within a kaleidoscope of stardust, intertwining with one another into flames.

He saw Baefor and then Yarwin, and finally, a young girl with hair so blonde it seemed white, resting within a sea of violet-black flames.

Astaroth clenched his fist and turned to the young man with blood-red eyes confronting a Bapett.

"Now… what is this?"