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The Grand Architect
The Goddess with Three Faces was aggravated.

She was sitting at her large circular table that was on a raised branch shooting out from the wall. A twisting staircase connected the seemingly-hovering platform to the ground of the Yggdrasill.

The Chief of the Torc Allta, Ultor, was sitting across from her, with four other Wereboar sitting on his side, two to his left, and two to his right. Various other were-creatures sat around the table, each clan had sent an ambassador to the meeting; Hekate had helped restore the Were-clans, and so they still worshipped her, and they all stood waiting for when their tribe would be needed to benefit their goddess. Three of the Lizard Nathair perched themselves atop the white wood railing, eyeing the others with curiosity. The Banshee floated high above them, singing their death-songs. Ghosts shifted in and out of view all around them. They all shifted uncomfortably, save for Hekate, as they heard and felt, but didn't see, other creatures lurking in corridors and hallways all around them, waiting for the verdict of the counsel.

And the Goddess with Three Faces was aggravated.

It had been six months since the restoration of her Shadowrealm. The Yggdrasill had been restored to its former glory, and her army had been collected from various parts of the world. And now it was time to put that force to work.

But, unfortunately, there was one single missing piece to her plan: Power.

She had all energy, elements, and magical forces at her disposal; except for one.

Although she was still infinitely more powerful (and dangerous) than many of the Dark elders, she still saw defeat on the horizon could she not master what only one other had mastered: The Fifth Element, the element that was even out of the Elder Race's control. And that force, that power, was Time.

She had heard of it only as being used as an element when Nicholas Flamel had visited her. Unbeknownst to him, everything spoken, or even thought, in her Shadowrealm, she could hear.

That was also when she had heard the plan of Perenelle Flamel.

The Sorceress was always a fighter. Many a time had she urged Nicholas to stop running; to gather every Elder, Immortal Human, and Next generation that stood alongside the humani and wage a war against he Dark Elders. But he had been obsessed with finding the Twins of Legend: Gold and Silver, Sun and Moon. But that was another story altogether.

But as soon as she had heard the plan of Perenelles, a tiny, minute seed had been planted. And then, after her murder by the Dark Elders, that seed had been watered and fed. And now, at her rebirth, had that seed grown and had become something dark and vengeful.

But first, she had to make herself almighty. Even Odin, the Chief of the Gods, couldn't control the Element of Time. But, unlike him, she knew where to get it. And she would stop at nothing to have power over it.

"My Queen," the ambassador of the Torc Tiogar clan spoke emotionless, "Gaining control over the Fifth Element is the, er, Grand Architect, if you will, of your plan."

"I know that, you fool!" Hekate hissed, she hated it when people told her things eh already knew. It was like they were implying that she was somehow inferior. "If I can master it, I will be of infinite power compared to the other Elders."

The ambassador shook his head, his eyes closed. "No, My Goddess, that's not what I mean." Hekate raised an eyebrow in curiosity, what did he mean then? "Time, also controls age."

She nodded. Now she understood.

The only thing that would ever stand in her way of a fight was her age. How she would change through the day: slowly getting older and older, until midnight, in which time she would "die", and be reborn in the morning.

And during her sleep, she was at her most vulnerable.

If she could control the Fifth Element, she could control the aging process, and with it, her durability during a fight would be almost limitless.

The other creatures nodded in agreement, understanding what the Weretiger meant.

"Well then," the leader of the Lizard Nathair said, its lips unmoving, but the sound clearly echoing through the council member's heads, "There is no argument. Hekate, you know what you must do. There is no question about it."

Everyone nodded their heads again: no one argued with a Lizard Nathair. They were one of the wisest creatures in the known world. And the rows of overlarge fangs in their mouths helped, too.