The crystalline chamber floated somewhere beyond the boundaries of time and space, held aloft by the dance of luminescent orbs that emitted a soft, shifting light. They floated like fragments of dust caught in the beam of light in a stale attic.
A tall elven woman, draped in flowing crimson robes, made her presence known, her eyes momentarily locking with a dwarf, his crown sparkling and a gleaming axe by his side. He nodded as he sat in his chair, rocking the axe from side to side. A tiefling with a swishing blue tail smirked as they entered, a dragonborn's emerald scales caught the glow of the fire from the hearth, and an ageless human leaned on his staff, eyes wise and piercing, his white hair braided down his back. From the shadowy edges of the room, a figure emerged, encased entirely in black armor, not a single hint of their face or form visible beneath it. The only sound emanating from them was the muted clink of their armor as they walked.
Whispers filled the chamber, debates and discussions reaching a crescendo of urgency. The fate of entire realities was at stake.
"The guardian in the prime timeline remains unaware," intoned the ageless human. "His ignorance may delay necessary action, putting everything at risk."
The tiefling chuckled softly, "Our prime iteration, blissfully oblivious. How they get anything done is beyond me."
The elven woman responded, her voice crisp, "This isn't a jest. We must decide on a course of action."
The dwarf's voice cut through, resonating with the weight of responsibility: "Aye... One of us should go. It's not as if they're only responsible for their own world. The prophecy states we play a part in the salvation or destruction of all worlds... So if they won't, somebody needs to replace them."
"I agree. It does not state the prime need be the one to fulfill the role. It can be any of us truly," the dragonborn spoke, his voice gravelly, "We require someone who can act decisively, without hesitation."
Whispers drifted from the edges of the chamber. Lesser Rotas, who watched and advised from the shadows, murmured quietly as their gazes fell on the armored figure.
"The Blightforged..." they whispered, their voices barely audible. "The one from the Darkened Timeline... The one who survived the Eclipse Blight."
All eyes were drawn to the armored figure, the very embodiment of determination. The dark plate they wore gleamed ominously, and their stance was unwavering. They stood as the force pushing back against the darkness, fulfilling the prophecy now was the only way to protect his world.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, the figure finally spoke, their voice echoing within their armor, "I will intervene. If he cannot be guided, I will do what is necessary for the sake of all realities."
The acknowledgment of this heavy proclamation echoed silently among the assembly.
As they began to disperse, fading into their respective dimensions, the chamber's tranquility returned. But behind this gathering was an extraordinary bond. Different facets of a single entity, they were all manifestations of the same individual across different worlds and origins.
This was The Council of Rotas.