Hearing Morgoth's telepathic message, Sylas's pupils contracted. His expression froze as he stared at the Dark Enemy.
Having his transmigrator identity exposed did not trouble him greatly. After all, when he had first created the Resurrection Stone, Mandos had also discerned his origins with a single word. But what truly shook Sylas to his core was Morgoth's claim that he knew the secret of the transmigration and the way back.
Regardless of whether Morgoth's words were true or false, they struck at the deepest desire Sylas still carried within him. Even now, having become a being of Vala-level power, wielding the authority of time and commanding the Sea of Spirits, he still harbored a profound loyalty to his homeland. Even though he had been no one of importance in that other world.
Morgoth seemed to read his thoughts. A smug satisfaction flickered in those terrible eyes as he revealed another secret.
"Sylas, you may doubt my words. But I will tell you plainly: if you wish to leave this world and return to your own, you must reach creation-level power. Only then can you escape this universe and find your world within the vast, boundless chaos beyond."
His telepathic voice grew more intense.
"And to reach creation-level power, aside from the Flame Imperishable... you have no other choice. Because whether it is you, me, or any of the other Valar, all the power we wield originates from Him. Our ultimate limit was predetermined from the moment we were created. To break free from that confinement and change everything, we must obtain the Flame Imperishable and use it to reshape our very origins. Only then can we escape His influence and reclaim our freedom completely!"
"So cooperate with me, Sylas! Your power of time and my power of space, combined, could dominate this world entirely. Even if all the other Valar joined forces, they would be no match for us. Once you help me obtain the Flame Imperishable, I will not only share it with you but fully assist you in returning to your original world!"
Morgoth's tone was unusual. Stripped of mockery, stripped of menace, he spoke with what sounded like genuine sincerity.
Sylas did not reply.
But Manwë did not wait for him to.
"Everyone, hold nothing back! Bring down Melkor!"
As the most faithful servant of Eru Ilúvatar, Manwë would never be swayed by Morgoth's words. If anything, they enraged him. The Elder King ordered every Vala to attack simultaneously.
At his command, the assembled Valar unleashed their full power.
Sylas remained silent for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then he, too, joined the assault, releasing vast torrents of temporal and spiritual power that crashed toward Morgoth like a tidal wave.
In an instant, the heavens and earth changed.
Peaceful Valinor seemed to stand on the brink of annihilation. Under Manwë's will, the sky itself appeared to collapse, descending upon Morgoth with a suffocating, heart-crushing pressure. World-shattering bolts of lightning accompanied it, each one striking with enough force to split a continent.
Ulmo seized command of the endless sea, transforming the waters into a world-destroying flood that surged toward Morgoth with the unstoppable momentum of a breaking dam.
Oromë, the Huntsman, drew his divine bow and loosed a single devastating arrow that pierced through the void itself, unerring and absolute.
Tulkas, the Champion, closed to melee range, converting the raw power of natural law into the purest, most concentrated destructive force, a blow intended to obliterate Morgoth's physical form entirely.
The remaining Valar each unleashed their own domains. The elements erupted into chaos: water, fire, wind, and earth colliding and intertwining. The natural laws of the universe fell into disorder. The entire continent of Aman shook violently. The oceans surged with colossal waves. Even the distant world of Arda was affected, its skies darkening, the Sun and Moon losing their light, the stars flickering and guttering.
The Elves of Valinor were gripped with terror. Even the most powerful among them, faces pale with dread, could only watch the immense pressure and tremors emanating from the north. They poured every ounce of their strength into protecting their cities, desperate to avoid being swept up in the cataclysm.
On the battlefield at the ruins of the Halls of Mandos, facing the combined assault of every Vala in creation, Morgoth showed no fear.
Instead, at the very moment of greatest peril, a cunning, leisurely, and deeply sinister smile crossed his face.
Every Vala felt it. Instinct screamed at them to withdraw. But it was too late. Their power was already committed.
A heartbeat later, the combined attack of every Vala converged on Morgoth's position.
But it did not strike him.
The torrent of divine power mysteriously vanished the instant it reached him, swallowed by something unseen, as though it had passed through a door into nothingness.
Then, one second later, every attack reappeared.
That was the convergence of fourteen Valar unleashing their full, terrifying power, further amplified by Sylas's temporal authority, the combined spiritual force of the Subspace's Sea of Spirits, and Morgoth's own spatial manipulation redirecting it all.
Such power, enough to shatter the entire world of Arda, was now concentrated upon a single point: the Gate of Sorrow.
Amidst Morgoth's triumphant exultation and the horrified realization of the Valar, the Gate of Sorrow, a threshold originally passable only by human souls, could withstand the onslaught no longer. The invisible barrier within the gate was violently shattered, revealing a pitch-black, bottomless passageway beyond.
The next instant, a powerful soul-construct emerged from the passageway. Morgoth's spiritual clone, sent through in advance, held in its hand a single flame.
It was pure white, shimmering with seven colors of light, impossibly ethereal. It was neither intensely hot nor blindingly bright. But the moment it appeared, every being present felt a primal longing stir within them, an attraction so deep and so fundamental it transcended thought.
This was the essence of the world. The core of life and soul. The supreme, pure, and holy power from which all creation had sprung.
"The Flame Imperishable!!!"
Every Vala recognized it instantly. Without exception, they knew its name.
"He must not be allowed to steal the Flame!" Manwë shouted, his voice raw with terror. He ignited every reserve of power within him, desperate to reclaim the sacred fire. The other Valar lunged forward in frantic unison.
The Flame Imperishable was the unique creative power of Eru Ilúvatar. Its existence was the foundation of Arda, the core of the entire sub-universe. If Morgoth claimed it, everything would be at risk of annihilation or corruption beyond repair.
But Morgoth had planned for this moment across eras of imprisonment.
In a single, fluid motion, he retracted his soul-clone. The Flame Imperishable fell into his right hand.
He looked down at the sacred fire burning in his palm, and his eyes blazed with greed, ecstasy, and the wild triumph of an ambition fulfilled at last. His laughter erupted across Valinor, reckless and unrestrained.
"Hahahaha...!"
He closed his fist around the Flame.
And in the terrified gaze of every Vala present, his form dissolved into a fold of space and vanished.
"The Flame Imperishable must not be lost! No matter where he flees, to the ends of the earth or beyond, we must capture Melkor and return the Flame! Otherwise, we cannot face the One!"
Manwë's expression was grave beyond anything Sylas had ever witnessed. The Elder King's composure, his legendary calm, had shattered entirely.
He turned to the Lord of Waters.
"Ulmo, take command of every ocean and waterway. Monitor every river, every lake, every underground spring. Leave nothing unsearched!"
The usually silent Ulmo gave a single, fierce nod. His body dissolved into a torrent of living water and merged with the vast ocean, extending his authority across every body of water in the world of Arda, sealing off any possibility of Morgoth concealing himself within the deep.
Manwë turned next to the Smith.
"Aulë, take command of the deep places beneath the earth. Every crevice, every cavern, every vein of ore. Do not give Melkor a single place to hide underground!"
Aulë nodded and departed without a word. Beyond his mastery of the forge, Aulë held dominion over all mountains, stone, and the deep foundations of the earth. If Morgoth had fled below the surface, the Smith would find him.