In Hanavari's words:

​"I spread the contents of the folder across the heavy oak table in the Blockhouse archives, the scent of old paper and contained magic a familiar comfort. Milly leans over my shoulder, her auburn hair brushing against my cheek, her presence a steady, grounding source of power. The documents are a chaotic mix: grainy surveillance photos of winged, monstrous creatures—Parademons, the file confirms—and arcane texts detailing the primordial Greek deities.

​At the center of it all is a single, stark heading: AETHER.

​"It makes no sense on the surface," I murmur, my fingers tracing the diagram of a Parademon's bio-etheric signature. It's all jagged, chaotic energy—the magical equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. "Aether is a primordial of the upper air, the pure, shining light of the heavens. Parademons are shock troops of the Abyss. One is order and light, the other is chaos and hunger. They're tactical opposites."

​Milly points to a small, sealed evidence bag containing a shimmering, iridescent powder. "And this is the 'nymph dust'?" she asks. "Tinbunny's note says it creates an overwhelming, primal urge. Lust, basically. But there's a problem. This stuff usually disappears after 24 hours. This sample... it's still here. It's stable."

​"Precisely," I say, my forensic accountant's mind beginning to see the shape of the transaction, the flow of assets. "Which brings us to the core of the problem. Why would a god of pure light employ demonic brutes and a supernatural aphrodisiac? It's not a war he's waging. It's a hostile takeover."

​I stand and begin to pace, the logic clicking into place like tumblers in a lock.

​"Alistair has always said that gods, especially the old ones, require belief and worship to sustain their power," I begin, laying out the foundation of my hypothesis. "Aether has been forgotten, relegated to a footnote in mythology. He's psychically bankrupt, running on fumes. He needs a massive, immediate influx of power to re-establish himself."

​Milly nods, following my train of thought. "So, he needs worship. But how does nymph dust and horny people lead to worship?"

​"It doesn't, not directly," I explain, holding up a finger. "This isn't a simple transaction. It's a three-stage leveraged buyout of mortal souls. My analysis suggests this:

​Stage 1: The Investment - Generating the Asset

"The 'nymph dust' isn't just about making people horny. Lust, passion, desire... these are some of the most potent, raw, creative energies a mortal can produce. It's pure, unrefined life force. Think of it, Milly," I say, my eyes meeting hers. "When you're the source for me, the energy you provide from your submission is a focused, refined asset. This dust is a crude, wide-net version of that. It compels an entire population to generate a massive, chaotic cloud of this... potential."

​Stage 2: The Payment - Feeding the Mercenaries

"Aether doesn't have the power to influence the mortal world on this scale by himself. He's made a deal. The Parademons are his mercenaries. And what do demons feed on? Raw, chaotic emotional energy. The city-wide orgy of lust the nymph dust creates isn't for Aether; it's the payment for the Parademons. They get to feast on the psychic fallout, the chaos, the raw life force being exuded by the mortals. It's their salary for services rendered."

​Stage 3: The Profit - Aether's Ascension

"And this," I say, my voice dropping as the final, chilling piece of the puzzle falls into place, "is the true genius of his plan. The Parademons' feeding frenzy is just a distraction. Aether isn't a demon; he's a god of light. He doesn't feed on the chaos. He feeds on what comes after."

​I turn to Milly, my expression grim. "When mortals are saturated with that much life force, that much creative, passionate energy... their souls become more luminous. They burn brighter in the metaphysical spectrum. For a forgotten god of light looking to re-establish his power, a city full of brilliantly burning souls is an all-you-can-eat buffet. The heightened state makes them more receptive to his divine influence. Their prayers would be more potent, their belief more easily swayed. He's not harvesting their souls like a demon; he's priming them for worship like a farmer cultivating a crop."

​Milly shivers, understanding the full, horrifying scope of it. "So he's using the demons as a smokescreen while he... re-establishes his church."

​"Exactly," I confirm. "It's a symbiotic, parasitic, and utterly brilliant strategy. The Unseelie Court would be furious because it's a power play that upsets their own balance of chaos, and it's too... orderly in its final objective. This isn't just a random demonic incursion. It's a calculated, corporate-style resurrection of a dead deity."

​I pick up my phone, my fingers already flying across the screen, dialing a number that isn't in any public directory.

​"What are you doing?" Milly asks.

​A slow, predatory smile touches my lips, the violet streaks at the roots of my hair beginning to hum with a faint, almost invisible light. The Great Hanavari is ready for a challenge.

​"I'm calling the council, we need to get everyone's insight."

​"And then, darling, we're going to audit a god.""

A continuation of a story from @HenchwomanTinbunny below.

Plus another update from Tinbunny

With thanks to @wrestlegirl1, @Nightshade-QOV and @thebarwell for the storyline that's been developed (and letting me go into flights of Whimsy).