“I often think of my mother. Her fate. I think of how powerless she must have felt. I remember waking up to her cries. While the kings followed the demon and heard his terrible decree, I stayed with mom. It was a bloody affair, dear. Something I am not too keen on sharing.”
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Humans came to be on the planet of Athenia sometime in the Second Age. It is unknown whether the Shard of Tauryl, Perseverance, had something to do with their creation, but considering the unusual resilience and famed resolve, many scholars of the Third Age have concluded them to be, indeed, greatly influenced by the Shard of Tauryl, wherever it might be. Their short lives and great potential for magic made them advance their civilizations at a frightening pace, rising and falling all across Athenia for millennia, until the spacefaring Teng discovered them.
No formal war ensued between the two peoples, for the Teng were so much more advanced by that point that, among the tribal civilizations of Athenia, they were worshipped as Gods. Indeed, these primordial humans inherited from the Teng a culture, a code of conduct, and even a name for their planet—before the arrival of the Eosi, it was simply known as Terra. The atrocities committed by the Teng against the natives are not even documented, for Mankind spent the rest of the Second Age as a vassal--an unimportant, disposable race. There was much interbreeding between the two peoples, which explains why the Athenians of the modern age live much longer than the humans that settled in Eos, and why the second-largest group of Teng scions happens to be human.
It was only with the guidance of the powerful Teng that mankind achieved a greater understanding of the Universe, traveling alongside their patrons to many locations throughout the cosmos. Because of their short lifespans and great adaptability, the Teng used them as settlers, leaving small groups of humans in remote stars, only to return a hundred years later to a fully functioning colony. From these travels, the human race became the most numerous mortal species in the universe, and thus, the majority of new souls that reached the afterlife. Human culture, a mixture of Teng imperial custom and Athenian tradition, made its way to Pandemonium and Aaru alike.
When the Teng Empire faltered, splintered and eventually collapsed altogether, these human civilizations were cut off from one another, developing into unique cultures that outlived their masters. In Eos, humans became the most numerous race throughout the continents, from the Steel Mountains, where they fell under the dominion of the Giants, all the way to the deserts of Kahar, where they pledged themselves to the Divine Lions. A vassal species indeed… Nearing the end of the Second Age, the Nephilim, sensing the Teng's weakness, began to conquer their outer territories, all under the vindictive initiative of Barbatos, who was once a Teng himself, and much resented his mortal fate. Athenia is not far from Tartarus; the Tower of Babel can even be seen in the planet's night sky—an ominous shape of black where no stars shine. It was only a matter of time before the Athenians became vassals once more, exchanging the Teng's disinterested rule for Nephilim tyranny. For hundreds of years, well into the Third Age, the Nephilim claimed authority over Athenia.
In exchange for the planet's serfdom, the dark angels provided them with security and preferential treatment—the Athenians were the perfect servants, after all, being a vassal civilization since their inception under the Teng. The natural beauty of Athenia, a lush garden-like planet with beautiful oceans and incredible vistas, coupled with the people's natural inclination toward worship, made the planet a favorite among high-ranking Nephilim, who greatly enjoyed such hospitality. Tartarus, with its frigid landscape and terrible conditions, made the beautiful planet a dream of the dark celestials. Such was their obsession with Athenia, it was declared a sanctuary, free from war, where no Nephilim would take up arms against one another. To think Perseverance was hiding under the Nephilim's nose for all those years…
The story of Athenia can hardly be told without speaking of Ariadne Stringweaver, its greatest heroine, and Theseus, her companion who trod a path from hero to king, and then to disgraced villain. The actions of the Master of Strings led to the freedom of all through a legendary deal between her and Archnephilim Ybril, which saw the garden planet released from Nephilim rule. The Tale of the Labyrinth, as it is known, happened almost four hundred years ago, at the same time as the Kingdom of Iskendar was going through its Succession Crisis. It begins with a king called Minos of Crete, father to Ariadne, who ruled over the entire planet of Athenia under the watchful gaze of their so-called gods–that is to say, the Nephilim. This great monarch was as much a tyrant as his superiors, having been raised from the cradle to believe in the divine authority he inherited, and beyond that, the absolute will of the dark angels above. Figuratively, of course–in geographic terms, it is Athenia that lies above Tartarus. This fact, it would seem, got to his head, for his slights against the Nephilim would define his rule forevermore. It had been several generations, up until that point, since the Nephilim had interfered directly in the matters of Athenia.
To Minos, they were no gods—just simple angels. They only descended upon the planet for their own pleasures, and Minos greeted them with fake smiles and feigned hospitality. He regarded them as frolic-obsessed tourists who only cared for Athenia as long as it satisfied their lust and gluttony. This was not too far from the truth; most Nephilim had no interest in how their vassals acted as long as their needs were met. Some, however, thought more of Athenia than a simple vacation destination; it was their forward position, their very own mortal civilization, from which thousands upon thousands of souls flocked to Tartarus every year—one of the most important extraplanar territories the Nephilim Empire possessed. The great and old Centurions of Babel quite disliked Minos' disregard for his superiors, for their angelic insight cut through all pretense, seeing in him the disdain, the spite, and the arrogance he carried.
With Barbatos’ leave, it was decided King Minos the Fool would be punished. They needed only a clear pretext—a narrative to be told in Athenia for hundreds and hundreds of years after. A myth so powerful it would remind ten generations of kings to submit. Tyranny breeds resistance. With this cruel act, the Nephilim ensured that, in Athenia, Theseus and Ariadne would rise up against them, leading to the end of the Nephilim's rule in the garden planet after almost a thousand years.
The Centurions decided to lay a trap for King Minos. They gifted him, for his great service, a snow-white bull, so beautiful it became the pride of Crete. They asked of Minos only one thing; after a month, he was to sacrifice the creature to the Nephilim, so its soul could return to the Labyrinth, where it belonged. This White Bull was none other than Apis, one of the sons of Tauryl—part Meratar, part Demon. His magnificence and power were no illusion; the moment he stepped within the Halls of Minos, every vassal-king in Athenia flocked to the island of Crete, if only to behold the demigod's incredible hide. Apis was instructed to use his power against Minos, to ensure he would not comply with the Nephilim's tribute. Before he would cast even a single charm, however, Minos himself chose to keep the bull. It’s only fair, the king thought. After all, it was he who gave hospitality to the haughty angels, every time they descended upon his planet. The day of sacrifice came and went, and Minos did not comply with the Nephilim's demands. Apis then bared his fangs, a wicked, demon-like grin that paralyzed all who laid their eyes upon it. His fur turned to mist, and, walking on two legs, he entered the chambers of Minos and his wife, Pasiphaë.
What followed was a terrible act, one that could only be carried out by a demon. Pasiphaë didn't survive the night, and from her womb, Apis' child burst forth; Kusarikku, the Guardian of the Labyrinth. Minos was made to watch his prized bull desecrate his love, after which Apis grabbed him by the neck and dangled him from the highest peak in all of Crete, with all the vassal-kings of Athenia as witnesses. His judgment was brutal; from that day forth, every great year, each city in Athenia would have to give fourteen youths, seven men and seven women, to the Labyrinth as tribute, to feed the Demon Bull, Kusarikku. Thus was the sentence passed, and Apis returned to the Labyrinth, along with his monstrous offspring.
Kusarikku was given the task to roam the Labyrinth's deepest reaches, all the while serving as great entertainment for the Nephilim whenever the Athenians were let loose in those darkened halls. The Nephilim's plan had succeeded; Minos was brought low, and every city in Athenia was made to pay for his arrogance. He was not allowed to step down, nor to be deposed; the dark angels quite enjoyed having a suppliant, hated ruler, whom the whole planet could blame, all the while fearing the power of Tartarus. Seven years of this tribute passed, until a certain boy from a remote city decided to volunteer. It had never been done before, yet he was allowed to go, for he was already considered a great hero, a powerful slayer of beasts. Theseus, son of Aegeus, took the place of one of the youths and set off with a black sail, promising his father that, if successful in ending the nightmarish tributes, he would return with a white sail.
Theseus was still young when this occurred. First, he met with all the other tributes in Crete, under the watchful gaze of Minos, who was told that, if he was to fail in his duties, Ariadne, his daughter, would suffer the same fate as his late wife. The tyrant-king prepared the tributes for seven days, hoping they would bring great entertainment to the Nephilim. Ariadne, who was just a child when her mother died, had grown into a valiant young woman, ready to do anything to release their planet from the Nephilim's tyrannical practice. Among the crowd of downtrodden faces, she spied a beautiful man, head held high. He was not afraid to die—she knew it. That same night, Ariadne sneaked into the tributes' quarters, at great risk to herself, and visited the young man who had caught her attention: Theseus, the slayer from across the sea.
That was the beginning of a passionate but short-lived relationship, in which both youths plotted against King Minos and the Nephilim. Together, they devised a plan, for they were both deeply invested in ending such a barbaric toll. They believed that if Kusarikku was defeated, the dark angels would respect their victory and grant them their wish. To achieve their impossible goal, Ariadne sought the help of Daedalus, the great builder responsible for the masterful palace of Crete. He was close with Ariadne, having taken care of her during the years of Minos' madness. He told her of a great thread, a powerful artifact hidden deep beneath the isle, which the king had tasked him with protecting: the Thread of Perseverance. During Apis' visit, it had resurfaced, calling to Tauryl's child—the demon, however, didn't care to listen, and thus, in the depths of Crete, divinity arose once more.
Daedalus had constructed a vault in which to keep such an item. Sympathetic to Ariadne's cause, he gave her the key, betraying his king and sealing his fate. Together with Theseus, the youths were faced with a divine domain, and though they wished to claim its power, they realized they were not ready—the thread would destroy them. Instead, Ariadne used her latent magical abilities and her incredible skills as a seamstress to fashion a golden yarn from divinity, an infinite thread of indomitable will, a visceral representation of Tauryl's struggle in life. This, Perseverance tolerated.
Together, Theseus and Ariadne smuggled both the yarn and the legendary sword of Aegeus into the ark that would take them through the cosmos and into Tartarus. King Minos realized too late that his daughter was on board and couldn't stop the Nephilim from taking her. In anguish, he cursed them all, and that very night, punished his every servant for allowing such a thing to happen; Daedalus was the first to bear Minos' wrath.
The heroes arrived in Tartarus through the ark and were greeted by chanting Nephilim and zealous Minotaurs. They were equipped with golden armor and promised great riches if they managed to survive seven days within the Labyrinth. This wasn't exactly a ruse, per se, but none among the denizens of Tartarus believed the Athenians–or any mortals, for that matter–to be capable of such a feat. There are many tales of the Demon Bull's defeat. In some, Kusarikku was slain by the cunning of Theseus. In others, by the bravery of Ariadne. Under the watchful gaze of the Nephilim, the two heroes managed the impossible; to defeat the Minotaur, the great evil haunting their planet, and save the tributes that survived the ordeal. Apis was furious; he would have descended upon the pair like a raging volcano if not for the Archnephilim Ybril, who saw in them great potential, and used his authority to frustrate the bull’s revenge.
Clashing groups within Tartarus called for the mortals' celebration and demise–Kusarikku was the guardian of the Labyrinth, after all; his death must be punished. And yet, what is Tartarus if not the home of the victors? In the confusion, Ariadne and Theseus followed the Thread back to the Labyrinth's exit, carrying the head of the monster. Among the conflicting factions of the Nephilim, a small squadron sent by Ybril spirited the pair and all the surviving tributes to the Ark once more, giving them control of the spacefaring vessel and charting a course to Athenia. Apis, however, would not allow himself to be slighted in such a manner.
What story would the annals tell, if only the young hero had not betrayed his love? Perhaps he did it out of jealousy. He had ambitions to rule over his entire planet, one day, and might have seen Ariadne as competition. Perhaps he did it out of fear, for despite Ybril's promises, Apis' legions were chasing them through the astral, and might have caught up to them. This question was posed to the Master of Strings on several occasions. Why did he do it? She is yet to formulate a clear answer. Even after hundreds of years, the wound is still fresh. Regardless of the reason, the fact is, while passing through a brilliant quasi-plane on their way to Athenia, Theseus left Ariadne stranded, alone to confront the coming legions. It was her Apis chased after, for she was the daughter of Minos, and like her mother, could be the vessel for another Demon Bull. The wretched betrayal of Theseus did lead him to glory, for the Nephilim inexplicably abandoned their hold over Athenia after Kusarikku's death.
Without the dark angels to enforce his rule, Minos was overthrown, slain by Theseus himself. Aegeus, the hero's father, was also slain, although everyone believed it to be a suicide for a time. Theseus ascended to the throne of Athenia, just as he planned, and ruled over the planet under the guise of a benevolent king, all the while warily looking at the stars, fearing the Nephilim's return. For seventeen long years he reigned, thinking of Ariadne... and her fate. Guilt haunted him for all of his mortal life. Ariadne did not die, nor was she claimed by Apis. In that forlorn demiplane, among the stars of the astral sea, she still possessed her legendary yarn, made from the Thread of Perseverance. She would not die alone. Prepared to battle the demon hosts of her mother's slayer, she used Perseverance to set a trap, an embroidered maze to lose the very Minotaurs in. This effort would not have worked on Apis and his army, natural-borns of the Labyrinth, yet it did catch the attention of the witch Medea, the other resident of that abandoned quasi-plane. Medea, a priestess of Hecate, was Aegeus' former wife, whom Theseus had banished from Athenia years ago. Watching the young Ariadne try her best at the manipulation of the Divine, she stepped in, polymorphing her into a sheep and hiding her among her flock. When Apis arrived at Medea's abode, she sent him not towards the planet of Athenia, but westward to Sheol. This bought her some time to prepare Ariadne for battle.
Medea inducted the promising young woman into the cult of Hecate, the elusive primordial of magic, and opened the door for her to become a legendary mage, a wielder of the Arcane unlike any other. Together, they left the demiplane behind in search of other priestesses of Hecate, for they knew Apis would return, and no words would save Medea from his wrath. In their travels, Ariadne learned the ways of magic from the witches of the cosmos and convinced each and every one of them to aid her in her cause.
Ariadne knew that Athenia would never be safe as long as Apis was alive. The bull had brought such misery upon her family that she sought to end him at all costs. When the White Bull descended upon Medea's demiplane, the Coven of Hecate was at the ready. From across the cosmos, the great witches awaited the demon's return, and, together with Ariadne, brought the fury of the Arcane upon the Minotaurs. In this great battle, Ariadne used the Yarn of Perseverance to cut Apis' head, thus gaining her illustrious moniker among the cult of Hecate: Stringweaver. She would later forsake her royal name in favor of her coven, becoming Ariadne Stringweaver, forevermore.
Her killing of Apis did not go unnoticed by Tartarus, and soon enough, a great legion of Nephilim warriors, led by Archnephilim Ybril himself, visited the Coven. To Ariadne, it was clear she could never win against the might of Babel, and no matter the triumphs she accrued, her acts would never be forgotten. Ybril, who much appreciated the heroics of Ariadne, warned her of the wrath of the Labyrinth. They needed a culprit, if ever Athenia was to be free of the Nephilim. Ariadne had just the person in mind. In the year 983 A.T., after seventeen years of reign, Theseus finally saw the black wings of the Nephilim descend upon his planet, and among them, wielding the power of a Thread of Divinity, Ariadne Stringweaver. In her time away, she had become the Wielder of Curiosity, and as a peace offering to ensure the Nephilim would be sated, she returned her legendary yarn, along with the Thread of Perseverance, to the Labyrinth. Only one more thing was required of her: a tribute. Her power had far surpassed that of Theseus by that point, and without remorse, she stormed his castle, cut his allies to ribbons, and put him to the sword. In cathartic retribution, Theseus was chained in gold and black and given to the Labyrinth, to guard the Thread of Perseverance in lieu of Kusarikku, for all eternity. Balance in Tartarus was restored, and Ariadne, the only surviving child of Minos, became the Queen of Athenia, independent for the first time since the tribal days. Her rule extended for only one year, before she created a senate to supplant her, giving up her crown in the process. Her newly gained power as a Wielder of Divinity made her curious beyond belief, and thus, she embarked on an endless journey of self-discovery–and plain discovery, also.
Somewhere in the material plane, a group of scholars had founded a University with the express purpose of investigating the Threads of Divinity. This caught Ariadne's eye, and she presented herself to the newly founded City of Strings as a teacher... and the rest is history. Perseverance, lost for thousands upon thousands of years, was returned to its rightful place, imbuing the demon-like minotaurs with purpose and honor once more. Among the darkest reaches of the Labyrinth, however, was a new, permanent resident. Transformed by the energies of Tartarus, Theseus became a monstrous guardian, a captive defender, taking the place of the creature he once slew. To this day, he remains in those depths, lost forever to the impossible Labyrinth, wallowing in his regret. At the center of the great megastructure, he ponders Perseverance, and beyond the Soul Recombinator, the Enemy lurks, whispering secrets unto his broken mind. For centuries, Theseus has been made to guard the Fountain. A mortal, turned servant, with only madness to talk to. A forgotten soul whom it pains to speak about, at the bottom of a dark pit.
A captive would grasp at anything to escape, even if it means plunging into the void.