---

The girl had become a woman but the memory of that cave was still fresh in her mind. Later in life she realized that she probably met a god, perhaps a god of magic. She wasn’t sure. What she was sure about were the voices. She had heard a dozen different ones now, throughout her life. With some she had talked for years, explaining who she was and what she did. They talked about everything, including magic. Especially magic, for every time she shared how she created a flash in her hands, a few days later the person she spoke to many miles away enthusiastically told her that they managed to create the pulse of light as well. The same happened to her. Every time someone told her about their magic, she was able to quickly learn how to do it herself. Now she could conjure a small flame in her palm, levitate some stones and ripple water without touching it. Small things, sure. But more than most others could or wanted to do.

But their voices faded when their tribes moved on. Just like she moved on. Though every time she reached a place, she could hear another voice or two. And she learned a new thing. Not all voices were that of humans though. Ora had seen memories that stopped her heart and made her yelp in fear. She had severed those connections in an instant. Trolls had nearly killed her when she was young. The god had told her to be nice to everyone she spoke to, but she couldn’t speak to those who killed her family. Others were much more friendly. Though very different. One she met called himself Jhun. From his memory she saw that his skin was pitch-black and adorned with markings. He told her about rippling water.

Tonight she sat once again alone next to her fire. A rock floated gently between her two hands. Every now and then she closed her eyes to send another mental message to someone she was speaking with. Such was the nature of a Servant. The oldest servant, so far. As she had never met anyone older than her.

Nicolas had been sneaking through the night, and while not the best, he had some practice in the manner. However, as he noticed the woman levitating a rock in her hand, his attention slipped and he stepped hard on some twig or something and made a loud snap.

In an instant, lifted her hand towards where the branch snapped. “I’m warning you I will burn your skin off like the sun!” she threatened as she got up. Night brought trolls, but she could repel those. With her other hand she grabbed her walking stick, which had a sharpened end. “Run away now you ugly troll thing!” She shouted, even though she hadn’t seen the danger but what else could there be out skulking in the night?

“I am no troll.” he announced, before slowly walking in the light of the fire.

“Oh gods I’m so sorry!” Ora exclaimed as she lowered her arm. “I didn’t know, I didn’t see you!” She let him approach the fire. He looked like a wanderer, like him. Instantly she grabbed a bit of food she was carrying with her and politely offered it to Nicolas. “Again I’m sorry.” She said, a lot calmer now. “I’m not used to encountering people in the dark.” As she handed the food, she made a great effort to look straight into his eyes. As if she was searching for something.

“It is fine. And I am saited, I rarely go without food.” he said, making a big show of grabbing a poisonous berry from a nearby bush and eating it.

“No no no!” Ora nearly jumped him, but it was too late. He had already eaten the berry. Instead she held her palm over his mouth. “Open your mouth!” She shouted, though the worry was clear in her eyes. “Open your mouth I’m not letting you kill yourself here!” Her magic was already doing its working, though it was horribly unfocused and was just pulling Nicolas’ face towards her hand.

Nicolas had a sudden, instinctual reaction to fight, but he suppressed it. Once he had calm himself, he did find this interesting, he had heard of sorcery before, but he was skeptical of its existence. He swallowed.

“You need to get it out, now!” She said, as she tried to calm herself down. Damn it, why couldn’t magic heal something!? “You just need to puke, I’m really sorry.” She said, and in an effort to do so balled her hand and tried to punch him in the guts as hard as she could. So he had to spit it out. Hopefully.

“You don’t need to worry about me.” he said, side-stepping her punch. “I have my own talents.”

She stumbled next to him, and even nearly fell before she regained her balance. When she turned around she was just waiting until his neck would start swelling and he’d start clawing at his throat. Instead nothing happened. From his eyes she knew he wasn’t like her, a Servant. Yet she hadn’t met many non-Servant sorcerers. Actually, she hadn’t met many sorcerers directly at all. At most she talked with them in her mind. “How didn’t you die? Is that magic? Did you use magic so you can’t die?” She asked, her fear turning into curiosity as she inched closer to him.

“It is a long story.” he said, his eyes shifting to the side slightly, thinking internally it was more awkward than long, “But I have been blessed where I don’t need to concern myself with such things. I started with the less poisonous berries, and over time, I stopped noticing the difference between them.”

“I see.” She said, as she slowly returned to her own sack of goods and sat down before the fire. She bid him to sit down as well. “I think we have time.” She said with a friendly smile, before she prepared her barrage: “The night is long and calm, for the most part. We’ve got time. I would love to hear the story of how you got blessed. What god blessed you? Can you do other things than eat poisonous berries? How did it feel? How did he look, your god? Do they really walk amongst us like the stories say?”

Nicolas walked closer to the fire, but didn’t sit down. “It has been many years since I have encountered a god.” he said, still looking as youthful as ever. “Though my god, he is not here on Galbar, he is there.” he said pointing towards the stars. “If you look carefully, you can see some of them are shifting, more than the others.”

“You can sit if you want to. I’m Ora, by the way.” Ora said as she laid down fully on her back to stare at the stars. They were beautiful, always. Though she never understood them. They moved, or so she thought. Were they following a path, or was it all just pure chaos? It was fascinating, though she felt like she rarely had the time to observe them. Most of her free time she spent on helping Servants, or trying to learn more magic. Yet there was one thing that echoed through her head. “Do you think they’re all stay up there, the Gods I mean?” Then she turned towards him. “Also, how old are you?” He looked far too young to even use the words ‘many years’. Ora herself was only nineteen winters old.
“From my understanding, the gods go where they please. As for my age, have you ever heard the story of the dying star? I was witness to it.” he replied.

Ora sat up straight at the mention of a dying star. “They can die!?” She said, full of surprise. To her they just looked like tiny, little ethereal, eternal fireflies high in the heavens. They always seemed constant. To have seen one die, it felt impossible. “H-How can you…” She tried to understand. Then she remembered a story. One told by a very old lady. People never believed her flash in the night sky. To be so old, in an instant she shot up. “Are you a god!?” It would explain everything. The eating of poisonous berries, the strange distance he seemingly kept, his age, his knowledge of the gods. He just could’ve lied about being blessed.

“I am no god, but I do have the trust of one. I have only sparsely talked with him, but he has informed me that no more stars will fade from the night sky. If you wish, I could demonstrate that I still bleed red.” he said.

She looked up at the stars again. “That one time must have been very special then.” She muttered. But then the offer came for the stranger to draw his own blood. “No. No I believe you.” She said. Though then then quickly asked: “Though, if you really want me to believe you, then perhaps you could tell me your name?”

“It is Nicolas.” he replied, with his eyes still fixed on the stars.

Nicolas, she would tell the others his name. Perhaps they would meet him as well. But then the question remained of what he was doing here. “Nicolas. That’s a very odd name.” Ora said. “So why were you blessed, Nicolas?”

“Only the gods can answer that. What I do know is that I must travel west, across the great waters. And that I must assist others in a way I am not currently cognizant of.” he answered.

“But there is nothing west. That’s where the world ends. At the Great Waters.” Ora said but then she realized who she was speaking to. Could someone like Nicolas believe in folly? Did his god play a cruel trick on him? Or was he given knowledge of something different entirely? “Right?”

“I have seen the lands beyond the great waters, or at least one of them. A land of gentle, rolling hills and graceful, colorful animals. However, for the time being, it might as well be another world, for any attempt to swim across that domain would lead to certain death.” he replied.

“Magic could help.” Ora offered. It could, maybe. She wasn’t sure. It couldn’t right now. Nobody knows enough of it. Yet someday it could be strong enough in everyone that it becomes useful to everything. Including to a God-Blessed.

“Well, I must be off. The night is still young.” he said, slowly walking away.

She wanted to stop him and go with him, but then quickly realized she had to sleep instead. If he still had to travel, then he probably often traveled at night. She couldn’t. Her duty laid with the people she spoke to. Those awake at day. So instead she said: “Safe travels, Nicolas! And if ever find someone with my eyes they’ll help you however they can. I’ll make sure of that.” And she would, because she already sat down and closed her eyes to tell everyone she was connected with the story of the night wandering, gold-blessed stranger: Nicolas.

---

Calamity was in the air. Though unpossessed of a reason, it was something that Fìrinn simply knew to be true--as surely as the sun rose, as certainly as the tides ebbed to and fro, and as assuredly as sleep followed wakefulness: something calamitous was going to happen. The God of Truth had gotten the first inklings of this sensation as it attempted to collate the mortal experiences flowing from the area that it now knew to be called the Aberrant, and as it followed the dreams that resulted from that area’s profane influence it had gotten an inkling of some slumbering wrath deep within the fabric of the world. Mortalkind were blissfully ignorant as to the coming change, but the way that their minds processed the nature of reality had subtly shifted towards a new mode of thinking, a preparatory state as if to shield themselves from some great loss or, perhaps, to welcome a great boon. Which way the scales would tip it did not understand, but the knowledge that they would tip one way or another was never far from its thoughts.

It was this impending sense of… not doom, exactly, but great and irreversible change that spurred Fìrinn on to continue its great work with an ardor it had never felt before. The tangled web of thoughts and feelings stretching out from the holy Tairseach was vast--vast enough to encompass the entire world--but the further from the mirror the threads got, the less deeply imprinted they became. At the very edges of the world one would struggle, even attuned, to glimpse so much as a fleeting feeling that a companion might nurse beneath their breast. If, indeed, change were to happen--and it would--Fìrinn would need to ensure that the Great Weave was as strong as it could be.

To that end, there were two places it needed to visit. The first was the new continent that a storm of ink and vibrant colour had carried many mortals off to, and the second was deep beneath the waves in the hadopelagic realm of Klaarungraxus. From deepest depths the skeins of mortal connectedness could encompass all of reality, casting a wide net ‘cross the entire world, and ensuring that no errant thoughts and dreams escaped the Subtle Web.

It was a simple task for the God of Truth to visit the realm below, if only because it was a place known to it through the dreams of the Vrool. It had never visited the place physically on account of its depth and the uncertain hospitality it might receive from those beings and their patron god. Now, however, it was acquainted with the Old Growth Below. It had no such apprehension about a sojourn to that abyssal realm, and so did it appear there with but a momentary thought at great Ku, the epicentre of oceanic life and culture.

The waters that flowed above Ku that day had been gentle; it seemed that Fìrinn’s passing was welcomed by the ocean’s voice itself. A new power emanated from the rumbling of that most ancient of entities, thrumming with a hint of magic about it. No matter the source of this new sorcerous intent, it was clear the ocean held its arms open to Fìrinn Rux, ally and friend to the Lord of all Oceans. As those gentle currents surged down towards the urstone of the sea, Klaarungraxus rose up to meet this anticipated guest.

”Bountiful riches carried on gyres complex and numerous, Fìrinn Rux, for your return is most expected and greatly warranted,” the thundering siren call of Klaarungraxus shook the oceans for miles though raised the water only enough for ripples, ”We hath much work needs doing, friend of the depths, for I sense you hear that foreboding tone as I do.”

Fìrinn gave a nod of its almost-face to Klaarungraxus as the words registered within its mind. Such a gesture was rare--the God of Truth’s perfectly still form was one of the few constants in the world--but this was an occasion worthy of change and urgent change at that.

”Indeed so, Klaarungraxus Rux. When one is used to a certain level of foresight, events such as these are deeply unsettling--a tsunami beyond vision, beyond knowing. There is only a feeling of trepidation, and it distracts me from the great work. It seems that reality has its own truth, and it will not be denied by our deific works.” came the response, emanating in wavering and unsteady ripples through the water.

”The Subtle Web is unfinished. My presence here anchors it, but if I am to retreat beyond the glassy pale into the realm of the mind to avoid this storm I cannot be certain that it will remain eternal. It must be anchored anew, that our people will not want for guidance should we be absent in any capacity. I sense that you feel similarly--the world thrums with tectonic currents here.”

Fìrinn’s mantle-claws clasped themselves together in front of it, gently pressing into one another as it spoke. Such words weighed on it more heavily than the entire ocean atop its head, and that same weight was evinced in the inflection of its meaning.

”Your thoughts strike clear through brine and dark, Known-Truth-Spoken-Clearly, for the world is waking to things foreboding and burdened with finality,” Klaar seemed to visibly sink inwards through his murmurings, eyes sinking deep into the hide of his dark sea-green body, ”Perhaps an anchor yet exists, simply unbound. Ku, urstone of oceans, sits idly below; it is the epicenter of all the seas and her people. Perhaps, then, she can serve?”

”Perhaps she can. Perhaps she must, ere the Realm Below loses the physicality of the divine? By our combined might the abyssal depths and her people shall never want for guidance nor succour; it shall ensure our legacy for all eternity, and the legacy of our people. Whatever the distant future brings, we shall be remembered as Gods who did all in their power to ensure the best for mortalkind.”

Fìrinn summoned forth a great reserve of its divine power, placing its true hands upon the oily, dark surface of Ku. Its mantle wove itself into the triquetra so-associated with the Two-as-One, and it settled on the ocean floor with a crackle of thunderous energy--as if conducting the sorcery which flowed through this hallowed place. From each of the three tips of the triquetra arcs of that electrical energy thrummed through the water and refracted endlessly, converging upon that obsidian slab as rays of cool, gentle light. From within that light filaments and threads began to weave themselves together into intricate knots and whorls, gyres of ponderous scope and shape forming as they mingled and intertwined.

Then, as the light subsided, the waters surrounding Ku erupted in a seething geyser of force. The wave of energy unleashed from the power carried itself throughout the entire ocean, knitting itself to the threads of the Collective Unconscious that remained down there and anchoring the loci to which they connected. After it was finished, Fìrinn took a moment to rest as its mantle rewove itself around the God’s form and they turned to Klaar.

”It is done. Before I leave to make preparations elsewhere there is one more boon I might bestow upon you, Klaarungraxus Rux: Those deep-dwellers for whom sorcery has awakened and washed over like tumultuous currents shall be able to access the subtle weave while waking, and know one another even across this entire demesne. I only hope their Truth manifests itself as your reality.”

Klaar seemed to consider the thought briefly, rumbling from some place deep within his hide, before uttering a surprisingly laconic response. ”That is the hope.”

”The only true death is to be forgotten, friend. As the Tairseach stands eternal, as the Oceans were the beginning and shall be the end, we endure through what is and what shall be. Though it will be of little comfort to they that are thee--excepting, perhaps, right-forward two-down--there is something I would like to show you. A gift of perception for a treasured friend--the first glimpse of this anchor’s power, and the first true call of the sea ‘cross all mortalkind’s seeing. A memory of that which we leave behind; a memory of that which is yet to come.”

With that, Fìrinn’s mantle-claw reached out across the impossible distance through the waters, cutting through the tenebrous murk like a piercing ray of cool effulgence. Across unseen currents it was propelled until Klaarungraxus could grasp it firmly.

Fìrinn’s true self reached above the oily surface of Ku and grasped at the threads woven into the anchor that it could perceive, and in so doing rendered them plainly visible to the many-minds that made up Klaar’s extensive web of perception. With simple dexterous movements seemingly unhindered by the weight of the water, Fìrinn began to pluck at the strings of the weave, gentle glitters of gold and grey and black and blue manifesting from its careful ministrations. They rippled out across the entire surface of the web and then, for a moment, they were suspended in motion. After that moment passed, a deep thrum could be felt through the entire ocean as each mortal received a brief vision, be it as they woke or within their slumber. To each it would be different in style and substance and form, but all would feel the call of the Ocean and all her people in their own way--all would harbour some distant longing for those abyssal depths and the majesty held within, however briefly. They would feel the will of the Vrool Tyrants pressing upon them as the ocean depths, or perhaps hear the song of Ku. Some might experience a vision from the perspective of an Akua, and some would see Great Klaarungraxus himself in all his eldritch glory, beckoning them to the unfathomable realm below the waves.

Each mortal would experience these visions and dreams differently--it would be impossible to pinpoint what each saw and felt. The only certainty is that the name Klaarungraxus would be in their mouths as they recovered, briny and dark.

---

Fìrinn sat--as usual--directly in front of the holy Tairseach. This state of contemplative isolation was soon to come to an end, it feared, as whatever change roiled and bristled against the current reality grew ever-closer to occurring. There was yet one more anchor to place; there was one more assurance to make that would allow Fìrinn to believe, truly, that it had done all it could for the inchoate era of mortalkind. It knew not why it was so-driven to make these preparations, but some deep force within the core of what it was to be Fìrinn pushed and urged it onwards to do what it felt was right. At this point, Fìrinn had vicariously experienced practically everything that a given mortal might go through--and so much of what had happened was simply… insufficient. The clean divide between what little understanding had been given to them and what their truths demanded reality become was evident to the God of Truth, and in that moment it realised that perhaps therein lay the answer to this burning question.

Perhaps mortalkind had been given too much, set too far along a path that they simply had to tread themselves. Perhaps the Gods needed to step back and allow what they had made and protected to flourish all on its own… or perhaps their job was simply done, and they could return to that great primordial pool from whence they came--but that struck the God of Truth as rather impossible at this point. They were each too much of themselves and not enough of one another, the aspirations and actions of their creations reflected endlessly within the prisms of their ever-expanding minds. They could not wish to surrender themselves to infinite creation without becoming something lesser than themselves, and such behaviour was quite impossible if only by the nature of divinity and identity.

The Western continent would be next. An Anchor would be placed there and then, at long last, the insatiable need for fulfillment within the God of Truth’s endless mind might, if briefly, abate. It focused its almost-gaze upon the Tairseach once more, to scout out that vast and unexplored wilderness, and in the depths of its reflections noticed that one of its siblings was nearby. Perhaps there would be one more discussion before the work could be finished after all.

Enter the horned guise of Neiya, a pale affair resembling a beautiful human woman save for the horns rising from shoulder and head alike, gliding quietly along the coastline like a silent wraith haunting the edge of the water. Her eyes distant and filled with a serene disquiet, she surveilled the landscape as she slowly dragged along - slowly for the speed with which a god could travel, at any rate - in some indeterminate mission that took her along the edges of the water at all times, almost as though it had become routine; an inescapable ritual. Consumed by her dutiful passage, it appeared almost as though she was ignorant to the world she regarded, passing the natural splendor of the world by to continue her rote travel adrift in the air above the water.

Nothing would tear her from her waking slumber - nothing, that is, until the glint of light caught her attention. The great mirror’s reflection threw a singular angle her way, enough to break the spell of her self-imposed exile. Neiya snapped out of her thrall, curiosity drawn towards the Tairseach in all its splendor. For the first time in however long she had been on this trek, the goddess deviated from her path, moving directly towards the great construction.

As soon as Neiya crossed some imperceptible threshold she would begin to see the grand tapestry of luminance spilling forth from the holy mirror. The second her form glided through that threshold between reality and unreality her senses would be assaulted by the sheer vastness and beauty of that ethereal web that stretched all across the land and deep beneath the waves. At the centre stood the solitary Tairseach and the watcher behind it, the centre of some great pattern that just now the Goddess of Love would be realising existed at all. Whorls and spirals of almost-invisible energy coalesced and dispersed around the Isle of Reflection, travelling through resplendent filaments that seemed to hang in the air as if anchored by the reflective gaze of the crystalline mirror. Blossoms of energy travelled to and fro between these great gyres of colour and form, each the thought or feeling or sight of a mortal, and crossed directly through the great mirror. Then, returning, a cloud of infinitely small particles of almost-stardust, the blues and blacks and silvers of the night sky sparkling and refracting amongst one another in an endless waltz down the filaments that led to their owners.

From the middle of that serene dance came the telltale intonation of Fìrinn:

“Neiya, whose love is eternal. Neiya, from whom all has been taken. Neiya, whose burdens know no end. I am Fìrinn, God of Truth, and you have made your way to the Isle of Reflection and the holy Tairseach. I have been watching you quite intently.”

At first the goddess knew not what to do but stare, caught deep in the web and the patterns that had revealed themselves to her. It was unlike anything she had ever perceived, chaotic and unknown, yet ordered beyond recognition. So alien to her was this vision, despite her divine status, that the goddess found herself speechless. Her hand extended out into the air as if to touch the filaments, hesitant and wracked with doubt, yet entirely spellbound by this grand construction. “Fìrinn,” she intoned between heavy breaths, not quite able to gather her thoughts. “...I-... Did you create all this?” It hadn’t been what she intended to say, but the vivid energy capturing her attention had seemed to now overwhelm her senses. It did not take her long to come around, and follow up her breathless words. “You have been watching me?”

“After a fashion. It is the great work of myself and my divine twin, Aicheil. He is the custodian of dreams, and I am the purveyor of perception and reflection. You are witnessing the Gréasán Treòir, the element of the Láidir Suíomh that waxes most closely to what is instead of what may be. Put plainly: This is the nexus of a web that connects all mortal minds. Their perceptions and thoughts flow into this sacred Mirror and become the stuff of dreams, and along these skeins it is returned to them.” Fìrinn began, its mantle-claws reaching out towards the goddess to beckon her directly to the Tairseach itself.

“Everything that every mortal has ever seen, or thought, or felt lay deep within the reflective embrace of the Tairseach. I see all that lay dormant within its reflections, and so I have seen all that mortalkind has seen. I may also gaze upon that which is hidden within any reflection, and as you contemplated above a placid lake your presence became known to me from afar.”

Fìrinn took a moment to allow Neiya to take in what it had just explained and to set foot upon the isle directly. It would no doubt be confusing at first, but the isle was a place of fundamental truth--she may have found herself understanding its nature far more quickly than otherwise possible in the presence of the God of Truth in their most venerated place.

Neiya watched her surroundings with awe, the apparent novelty of the weave never seeming to fade. Eventually she followed the direction of the god’s beckoning, drawn towards the isle directly. A hand ran along her form up to her hair, gently twinning her blue-blond locks around a finger as she centered herself with a slow breath. “My sanctuary. I see,” the goddess replied at last. As the truth of the matter seemed to settle in her mind, she ceased her isolation from the ground, naked feet pressing down against the ground for the first time since her birth. “So then you have seen not only myself, but also what I have done.” Her gaze slid over the grand mirror, and her environment with considerable clarity. Finally, the reality seemed to return to her mind, and with it, the look of surprise began to fade from her features.

“Indeed. You brought to light a truth that Sanya had hidden from her companion, to eke out a tiny chance at survival. You forced her to confront what she felt and how she would align reality with truth--you did something admirable.” Fìrinn began, its almost-face seeming to nod slightly in approval, though in such a way that it perhaps only looked like a trick of the light, and that it had not really moved at all.

“I see all, but I do not feel it. I am not capable of such emotions--my job is clear, and the emotions of mortalkind are not a requirement for me to fulfil my purpose… but you do, as it is a requirement of yours. I am sorry--I know full well the horrors of loss and how little ecstasy and joy lifts the haze. If it is any consolation to you, know that their devotion to one another is… everything, to them, I suppose. We are eternal, and we cannot conceive of the concept of ending. It is ever-present in their thoughts and their dreams; it is a fact that rests atop their shoulders as they hunt and gazes back at them in the eyes of their prey. Every waking moment--and every slumbering moment--is accompanied by the knowledge that death is a certainty. Devotion and love punctuate the inherent bleakness of their lives with meaning and joy--with something greater than the self and greater than the knowledge that it will all end one day. What you give to them is priceless beyond measure.”

Fìrinn’s mantle-claw gently reached up to touch her face, caressing the skin so sweetly, so gently--just as a lover might to one they valued more than anything else in all of creation. It was something that Fìrinn was capable of only because it could reflect Neiya’s eternal love, and in a way, it was a form of love.

“That infinite beauty can only exist because one day it will not. If they were as eternal as we, their love would no longer have meaning; their devotion would wither and die as their fragile forms do. Though the pain of loss is as eternal as we, know that through your suffering an infinite panoply of meaning is given to those we are sworn to protect. Without you, they would be nothing. Without you, their loss could not become Truth.”

The goddess stiffened at the touch, regarding her counterpart with growing distress borne out of some deep-seated suspicion and wariness. The words ringing in her ears as they were spoken, validating her very being, her actions. It was the logical progression of what she had come to experience in her own experiments with peace. It had been the right thing to do - another being saw straight through her, cut to the core, and found no fault. Azure essence ran along the markings on her cheeks slowly as her eyes welled up against a bittersweet outburst of emotion. A wavering breath formed into a sigh as she took in and hung on each word in Fìrinn’s speech.

Neiya closed her eyes to stem the tide as silence took hold of the isle, reflecting upon the unending tide of emotions whirling through her even now. It was a great relief, yet it did not make her feel better. How could it? Her pain was simultaneously her own and that of others. She knew it, and Fìrinn had known it - even if they could not truly understand it beyond the abstract truth they garnered from context and observation. Yet the words struck her with renewed purpose - or perhaps apathy. The world was not broken. Nothing had truly gone wrong at her birth. She made no mistake. Life was as it was designed; The barriers of death, suffering and loss imprinted meaning upon those that lived it. That in itself, as Fìrinn had said, came with a horrifying reality. Her existence was always meant to be this way. She was meant to suffer. To cherish and revel in those fleeting moments of joy, as the mortals did. The suffering was not endless for them. It was a stage in the short path to the end. But for her it was an endless flood. A staging ground to carry and understand the burdens of the world, and blossom its antithesis - love. Her breath escaped her with a shaky sigh. No words escaped her, how could they? Instead she simply opened her eyes once more to gaze at the god before her, and raised her own hand in turn. Mimicking her actions of old, and Fìrinn’s own, she laid her hand against their would-be face’s side. To a being who did not experience emotion, such a touch was surely as alien as this place had been to her.

Fìrinn, though unable to experience emotions in the traditional sense, was perfectly capable of reflecting. It could not process the subtext of Neiya’s touch, nor her feelings, nor her words--but in this moment it was as much her as she was. Within their reflection on the holy Tairseach, if Neiya turned to look, she would find that the reflection showed her caressing herself, a moment of perfect idealisation and realisation that would be recorded for all of eternity. It was, by all accounts, a moment of love that would last for as long as they would.

“I cannot soothe your pain, for pain is a necessary element of loss--and you are the goddess of love and loss. I can only tell you that in this moment, which shall remain for all of eternity, you have given love and received it in equal measure. This union, though it is but a reflection, shall never be lost--it is stored within the Tairseach, and within your mind. I do not know for how long reality shall remain as it is, but you may come to my mirror and gaze into its depths. It contains all that has been, and even this moment.”

Fìrinn retracted its mantle-claw, though it made no effort to move from the Goddess’ touch. Through the union of their divine essences it could, perhaps, be made to feel that ecstatic joy and overwhelming anguish. Looking into the Tairseach, it recounted all that it had seen with this new perspective, and it too shed a single tear from within that mirrored embrace. The light played off of the God’s almost-face, reflecting just beneath where its eyes might have been--a single tear of glittering light to mirror her own.

“This is but a fragment of infinity, and already it is cumbersome to bear. I have no experience of pain or ecstasy, but perhaps those are words that describe what this is? It is not my place to experience the Truth of another, but if it will help you achieve yours I will endure for as long as it takes. This is, in and of itself, a form of love--and it is eternal.”

Neiya remained quiet for a time yet, watching the God of Truth with an almost maternal sorrow seated deep on her features. Slowly did she lower her hand, stuck in the ephemeral moment and the gravity of all that was spoken. Releasing the mantle from her caress and the plight of the perspective of emotion, reflected or not. “Your words,” she began, clearing her throat as she recovers from the stillness she had been so enraptured by. “They ring with such clarity and deep-seated learning I hesitate to reflect upon them.”

She gazed at the god for a few moments more before turning to face the grandiose construction, the mirror that would reflect all that had been. Still the concept could barely take root in her mind. The possibilities and the sheer web that was the consciousness to be recorded was truly mind-boggling from her, what she now more than ever understood was truly limited, perspective. Still, her serenity faded as the goddess found herself in her natural state. The pangs of grief, mistrust and guilt that brought her back to apathy. “Your own burden, to watch, and to know. Do you understand it? Does the meaning of what you say to me touch your own being?”

“A curious question. I am moulded by all I see, but I am a force that provides context and understanding--I am not concerned with the vagaries of what may be and the limits of imagination. My divine twin, Aicheil, is a force of knowledge unbound. Together we are whole, and with his influence perhaps I might have an answer to your question that would satisfy you… but alone? I do not know that I can answer in a way you would find meaningful. If my words bring you closer to clarity and truth than you were before, then what I say will stay with me forever. Otherwise… it will simply become a reflection, as all else does. Does this answer your question? Does this satisfy your desire for understanding?” Fìrinn replied, its almost-face seeming to glitter and sparkle as the words made themselves known. Its reflection cocked its head gently, clearly indicating the seriousness of its words and its genuine concern that it may not be able to provide answers that would satisfy its divine kith and kin.

“Divinity is beyond my preternatural understanding. I have only my experience to draw from with my brethren, but perhaps that gives me an appreciation that would otherwise not be possible.”

Fìrinn’s mantle-claws reached up to the sky, as if to touch one of the many filaments hanging above, and stopped just shy of its destination.

“Alas, I have tarried too long. I must make for distant Kubrajzar to weave another anchor for the great tapestry. Perhaps you would like to join me, to witness how such a thing is made?”

Neiya returned her gaze to watch the god as it spoke, reflecting on its words. Despite the lack of features, she seemed to impart some meaning from watching it. It did not appear to bring her back from her thin frown, ever molded by the internal roil, but it seemed to be enough to quell her immediate queries. Whether she understood the answer or not, she never deigned to confirm or deny such with anything beyond a slight lift of her chin, following the motion of its arm. Hesitant yet, or at the very least wracked by thousands of new thoughts working their way through her divine mind at breakneck speeds to find a resolution amid doubt, confusion, and Truth. “I will come with you, and in return, you will speak of yo-... our brethren,” she offered eventually, finding her way back to the sorrow-filled regal confidence that she had once carried herself with. “I want to know more about the world, and the others. I have but met one aside from you.”

Fìrinn’s acknowledgement of the agreement could be felt emanating from it in waves, and though it did not move there was an immediate sense that something had changed within the Tairseach’s reflection. A simple glance to it and then back would reveal that the pair had already moved to far-off Kubrajzar. The surroundings did not so much have a visible element of change than they did simply realign themselves with a new location--it was much like checking a reflection in the mirror and seeing something quite unusual, then checking again to find that all was as it should have been.

The scenery around them was that of a river’s delta, little speckles of islands amidst the rushing waters. One of these was much bigger than the others, and it was there that the unlikely duo now found themselves.

“Which of our siblings would you like to know about first? I have some passing knowledge of them all from their interactions with mortalkind, but can only claim to have directly spoken to five--excluding yourself.”

As Fìrinn spoke, its true arms began to weave themselves through the air in the same swirling and winding patterns that Neiya had seen before surrounding the Tairseach--and as it did so those same filaments and threads were suffused with energy, becoming visible as though Fìrinn were a current that passed through them and jolted them into existence.

The effect had been instantaneous yet everpresent. It pulled Neiya out of her shell once more, and her shocked expression returned with fresh force as she glanced around her new - yet not - location. As she found herself briefly glancing down, she saw the grass yellow and fade under her feet and between her toes. The Goddess lifted a few centimetres off of the ground once more, breathing a quiet sigh. After a few moments, she had found it best to ignore her surroundings to watch Fìrinn and its machinations. Yet when she found herself searching for an answer to its question she was at a loss. Five others. It was such a small number, yet it somehow managed to make the world seem that much smaller than she had imagined when all she knew was Cadien. “I have only met one other than yourself. I do not know any of these five, unless one of them is Cadien,” she eventually managed, watching Fìrinn work with restless intent. And then, an idea appeared to form in the goddess’ mind. With new determination, she continued. “Tell me about the one that would benefit me most to know about.”

Fìrinn’s true arms continued their arcane gestures, and soon enough that same effect that had so-entranced Neiya prior to their change of scenery was forming and reforming itself in this new land. As Fìrinn continued to pull and tug at the threads gently, leaching its own divine essence into the area to ensure that the anchor would remain to regulate the subtle web even here, so far away from the Tairseach, should Fìrinn no longer be present to ensure its function.

“Hm. None of them stand to realise your Truth more fully than you might alone, but each will introduce to you the infinite threads of the world around you that you cannot see. My twin Aicheil can introduce you to the infinite dreams of mortalkind. Klaarungraxus could educate you on the mysteries of the deep and the primal strength therein. The Tree of Genesis is… well, a mystery, even to me. Oraelia will show you the fragility and beauty of life. Gibbou might allow you to contribute to the birth of druidism. Tekret et Heret will find you should you agree to a covenant to ensure the terms are binding and due restitution is received. Down none of these paths will you find Truth, but… you may well find experience, and through experience you may find reflection.”

The implication that through reflection one may find Truth was plainly obvious, but Fìrinn felt no need to actually state it. Neiya would work that out on her own, given her spate of glib intellect in asking Fìrinn which would benefit her the most.

“But perhaps there is no more time left for any of that. Change awaits us all, Neiya, and reality has plans of its own. I know not what they are, or when they will come, but we are all bound by that ineffable truth--just as mortalkind are bound by this great web.”

With an almighty surge of effort that seemed to drain some of the colour from Fìrinn’s body and a burst of almost explosive radiance the anchor bound itself to reality. As the light dissipated and the metaphorical dust settled, a reflecting pool in the shape of the holy symbol of the Two-as-One sat within the ground, perfectly placid.

“It is done. Even should I leave, mortalkind will be safe--they will have each other.”

Neiya watched with quiet reverence at the pure display of power. Even in the context of her recent feats, the act of creation captivated and amazed her, and this construction was still somehow beyond the limits of what she could even begin to imagine. In a manner, she knew that she would not truly understand its function beyond what she had been told, and she knew that was why she had been told. It was enough for her to admire its inherent majesty. Perhaps one day she would attempt something so grandiose. Even so, her mind drifted back to consider Fìrinn’s words - the names he had spoken and their potential path for her. Perhaps she would seek one of them out. She considered the rest of his words, and just for a moment, she seemed to scoff. “For one who cannot truly experience emotion, God of Truth, arrogance seems entirely within your sphere. You say we are eternal yet you describe a coming turmoil not at all unlike that which is mortal death. An unknown change, random and uncaring in when it arrives. It is the catalyst for change in their lives, as this is ours, if what you say is true. Perhaps we are not so eternal as you claim.”

She drew a short breath, closing her eyes before she let emotion overwhelm her and take her down a path she did not intend for. She had been a little too bitter, it was uncalled for. The goddess did her best to soften her demeanour. “Even when they are alone?”

”We shall always exist unless slain by our brethren. It takes a God to kill a God--but in what form we exist is not quite so certain. Perhaps we shall no longer walk this Galbar, but instead intervene from afar. Perhaps we must make a new reality. Perhaps we shall sink into dark and dreaming slumber for uncountable eons until naught we had made remains. There are infinite ways to exist and no longer be here--this may well be akin to the death that mortals experience, for all I know--and if it is, then I have done what I could to ensure the realisation of Truth even in my absence. I have felt the beginnings of love and loss, and I have lived according to my innermost Truth. Is it arrogant to do as a mortal would? Is it arrogant to attempt to mitigate doom?”

Fìrinn’s tone was not accusatory or offended--simply contemplative, wondering about the answers to Neiya’s questions. It knew her plight and her burden, and it did not begrudge her for feeling how she felt and saying what she said--these things were her Truth, and in matters of Truth Fìrinn could only ever be pleased (if such a thing, as the other gods and mortals knew it, could exist for the God of Truth).

”They are never alone. They are most often unaware of their inherent connectedness, but through the Collective Unconscious they feel the echoes of one another no matter how distant they grow. It is most apparent in dreams, where they remember what they have and what they have lost, and such is possible only because the Two-as-One made it so. Perhaps that will sound arrogant, but it is not meant as such--it is simply true.”

“That may be true,” Neiya offered with some semblance of sadness re-entering her tone of voice. “But mortals are most alone when they have known what it means to truly be together. I do not doubt the effort you have put in, Fìrinn, or the good that it will do. But loneliness is not so absolute as you make it out to be.”

The goddess raised a hand to her head, nursing her right temple with a few fingertips gently pressing against her skin. The worries of the world, and the crushing depth of what she was learning was taking its toll on her. She had felt tired ever since she made mortals together with Cadien. A growing drain on her psyche and constitution. That alone could lend real weight to the dogma of the God of Truth. “To know all that has happened, and can happen, and still be forced to speculate about what may or may not come - it must be terrifying. Perhaps you cannot experience that, and if so, I hope you never do, Fìrinn.”

”There is no terror. There is only eternity and a desire for completion. My twin and I share this burden equally--together, we find solace. Now that I have met you, my burden is lightened just a little more. I would give all of myself to ensure reality and truth are aligned, as I am quite certain that you would give all of yourself for love and for loss. We are the very embodiments of what we represent--it may be difficult, but it is simply Truth. Your Truth is to suffer the agony of loss and the ecstasy of passion both, though one rings hollow in the face of the other. Still, without your noble sacrifice, mortalkind would not know love at all. Without your love for them, they would truly be alone. Without my truth, they would have no context and no understanding. Without Cadien, there might not be mortals as we understand them at all. If our fate as gods is to suffer so that they might live out their truths, then I am glad to suffer.”

Fìrinn’s mantle-claws traced the edges of the reflecting pool that it had made, its boundaries shifting from stone to glass and then to crystal, its pattern marked clearly for all to see and to know.

”You may visit my Tairseach whenever you like. Simply call to mind an instance of something a mortal has seen and you may gaze upon its reflection freely--I do not know whether or not this will comfort you or only deepen your pain, but there is truth in both of these things.”

”That much is certainly true,” Neiya conceded with a sigh, managing to mostly sidestep his grander explanation to avoid broaching her opinion on herself. “Thank you for your offering, Fìrinn. You may not experience emotion as I do, but something certainly drives that compassion. I cannot believe it is a mere compulsion. But that is where our truths differ, I imagine. I will not squander your hospitality. And if you ever require,” she paused, considering what a god might require of her. “...perspective, I welcome your presence. I feel as though you understand, even though you may not. And that is both a great boon, and a terrible curse.”

---

It started as a simple project, once she had seen the lions her mind had been focused on their use. Blessed with magnificent powers, she wondered if there was something to be won by using them in some sort of fused creature.

But to fuse them with what? Wings seemed interesting if only to see that they could fly and that indeed could work, but was it enough? To Qull it wasn't, she wanted more.

And then it came to her, what if she added men to the mix? That would provide some cognitive ability for sure and if she picked the right specimen she could create something with great magical capabilities too.

And so the goddess set out to do exactly that, making those strange creatures with her power, mixing lions, eagles and men, the result was something curious.

She called them Sphinxes.

They were few and were unable to be born naturally, like most fused species, but they did have the advantage of being free from aging. All were picked from people who had great magical abilities... and peculiar personalities. Each Sphinx would have a personality of their own, based on the humans they were made from, however, along with magical powers, Qull made sure to pick isolationists as she didn't want these creatures just strolling into settlements for casual chats. Each type of isolation took its own form, some would be friendly to the wise, others would be sadistic and play deranged games, some would rather not deal with mortals and avoid them entirely, that is unless they felt like having a quick snack, they were still part lion after all.

Qull just let them hang about, their bodies were wonky and they couldn't really multiply, so she was sure this wasn't like the mortal species, but she had hoped they would make for interesting creatures to inhabit the lesser-known sides of the world.

---

Not all creations needed to have a great purpose, Qullqiya was as much of a child of the lifeblood as any other god and sometimes she wanted to do things just because she liked them. She found the luminant to be very interesting, it was aesthetically pleasing, though it was also best appreciated if kept a rare type of environment, else the unlit trees would be the new standard of rare and pleasing, and the explorers would be much more excited to see the muddy, earthly colors than the shine of a luminescent flower.

Still, it didn't mean some amount of spreading it around couldn't be done, minor biomes following the style of this continental shining forest.

In the north, not too far from the poles, she wanted to create a grassland, but there was little land available, sure she could make an island, but she found an underground cave and decided to play around that. Glowing yellow grass, with enough of a shine to sustain other, less shiny, surface-like environments within the cave, was made. Flowing water meeting lava created a thick but light mist that created a white cloud-like cover to the cave environment. This was like a simulation of how the world looked like before the aurora, and they were called the golden grasslands.

In the east, in the Kylsar, she picked one of the isles and spread red glowing plants over it to contrast with the deep moss green that dominated the region, creating the eastern scarlet swamps.

In the west, deep in the wastelands, she had a twisted idea. In the bleak of sands and rocks, one could only hope for the green of plants, she would twist that hope. Dry plants, but glowing green, would be seeded here. Creating the verdant mirages.

In the south... well there wasn't much of south? Was there? She could create an island... but, suddenly, she wanted more than that. Qael seemed to mirror and counter her moves, so if she pretended to claim the south, would that god start to build up in the north? Qullqiya did not feel the need to claim a tract of land, she was a claimless empress who ruled over all in equal anarchy, but nobody else needed to know that.

It was decided. The south would be taken by the magical chaos. Using the full power of the stream of mana, she allowed it to rage in a sweeping storm, infusing the very land with raw chaos that broke it and tore it into pieces.

This was the wildlands, the frontier, the untamable. Broken lands of unjustified biomes, a land of illusions and constant change. The stream of magic turned into storms near the south pole, tornadoes of mana shaping the familiar into the unfamiliar.



To further characterize her control over the south, she shaped the ink-stained sky all over Galbar. In an uncharacteristic moment, she made it more orderly and bland towards the north, while fully powered towards the south, just to further characterize herself as the chaotic one, even if she was creating something more logical and mundane to do so. Mortals from the center of the world would notice that north winds were gentle colors while the south winds arrived in pearlescent storms.

But before these new lands, there was a respite, south in comparison to most of the world but still logical, a melancholic land of white rocks and plants with shining blue petals. The cerulean gardens.

Finally, a central island, Here the design was moderate, the luminescence was a detail not the norm, just like the night sky before the aurora. She would call this the starry island.

And with that, Qull felt satisfied, almost done for the time being, almost.

---

So far her approach had been from above, as a goddess creator, but she needed to make herself known to mortals to an extent, she wanted to be a nameless goddess, mysterious, unknown and yet ever-present. But still, having a group to do her deeds would be beneficial to her cause. The question was how to reliably approach them, how to create a group like that?

What she knew was that it could not be an exoteric concept, it had to be inward, esoteric... Perhaps a group holding secret truths? This could be done. Perhaps a group that lived in the shadows, seeking only select individuals. Qullqiya would reveal to them her truths through the use of faulty divination methods, flames, the glint of gems, and... perhaps the use of certain types of mind-altering plants. The later quickly became of her interest, and upon exploring she found out how to make a platinum-colored fizzy drink from a certain type of plant, it filled those who drank it with energy. This would do, this would be the key to her society. The Kuntur.

Their purpose? Killing people was a good start, seizing and altering sources of knowledge, and of course, seeking the real truth, the truth no one else told them, not their village elders nor the gods above.

---

Gibbou had traveled due south from the temple, but a temptation to check on the trolls she left around northern Toraan had veered her off eastwards. She was now in the Boreal Highlands, taking a small stroll across the endless grass plains. She really had to get back to Adrian soon - she still had no idea of how long she had been gone - and the thought of that calamity Firinn had mentioned began to itch terribly at the back of her skull now that the high of joy and love from earlier had begun to fade.

While passing through the land, she came upon an uncannily frozen lake at the foot of a mountain - uncanny in that nothing else than this very lake was frozen. She moved closer and focused on her reflection in the ice. It stared back at her, and she had the slightest feeling that something else also was staring at her through her mirror image. She pulled away and shivered uncomfortably. Something about this water, this whole area, woke to life those emotions poor Meghzaal and Lucia had spent so much time quelling. She couldn’t let herself be consumed by her anxieties and insecurities again. She had to remember her strengths, too, for their sakes. She turned away from the lake and kept moving. However, an approaching shape made her slow down and observe.

At first, the shape was but a blur, rocketing above the tree-line at a pace that was sure to shock mortals and birds alike, barrelling towards the lake from the east. For a moment, it seemed to slow down, and vanished down under the cover of trees in the distance. The sudden departure of a whole slew of colorful birds from the nearby trees tracked its position through the dense forest until finally; the mysterious shape broke through the foliage and revealed itself to the blue goddess.

It was a pale woman with blond-blue hair and horns sprouting from head and shoulders alike. Deep in thought and bearing an expression that expressed guilt and pain alike, she - despite moving quite a bit slower now - drifted through the air in a straight line towards the iced-over lake, listless feet barely brushing the longer grass and bushes as she moved at pace. If she had noticed the Moon Goddess, she had not yet made an effort to show it.

Gibbou made a frown and pondered momentarily whether to say hello - she really, really should get on with her quest. She then raised an eyebrow at that train of thought. What kind of philosophy was that? Of course she should say hello! Nothing like meeting new people, anyway, and she looked so sad! Maybe she could share a few of those kind words Megh and Lucia had shared with her? And so, Gibbou waved her hand and yelled a gleeful, “Hello there!”

The floating goddess came to an abrupt stop, shocked out of her internal distraction, and her attention turned entirely to the enthusiastic Gibbou. She seemed hesitant at first, a visible internal turmoil as she went through the exact same dilemma the Moon Goddess had - or at least that was to be assumed. It was a conflicted shyness - or perhaps apathy. Still, she watched Gibbou quietly from afar, and then peered back at the lake by which the two found themselves.

Some awkward few moments later, the goddess drifted over towards Gibbou with renewed determination, icy blue eyes settling on the equally blue goddess. Her first words were not a greeting; on approach she questioned with inquisitive distress in her tone. “Did you do this to my sanctuary?” as her arm lifted to point at the lake in a manner most befitting her accusation.

“So it’s -not- supposed to be like that? I knew the ice was fake!” She gave the frozen lake a disappointed frown before looking back at the woman with an apologetic shrug. “No, it was like this when I came, and I’m really sorry to say I don’t know who did this to it.” She shifted between the woman and the lake again. “Would you like some help breaking it apart?”

Another pause, as the horned goddess looked upon the lake and back to Gibbou once more. “...I-...” she offered with pursed lips, hesitation clear. Eventually, she simply nodded, finding words more troublesome than they were worth. With new direction she drifted closer towards the lake, eager to restore it to what it had once been. Her feet touched down by the lakeside, kneeling with uncertainty.

Gibbou nodded back and approached the lakebank with the woman beside her. She knelt down next to the ice and looked over at her with a supportive smile on her face as she raised her fist in the air. “On the count of three, okay? One…”

The pale woman looked back to Gibbou as she spoke, following her features and tracing each creasing line on her face with her eyes. It was as she hung on every word. “Two…” With the countdown imminent, she seemed to decide once more, and looked back to the lake with fresh intent. Tense and uncertain yet still determined, she seemed to hold her breath awaiting the final word.

On ‘three!’ their fists hammered the ice as one, sending a quake throughout the whole surface. The ice didn’t stand a chance - it was pulverised to slush, which melted away in the water below. While ripples trembled through the water itself, true to the lake’s qualities, the ripples faded in due time, leaving the serene pool as it had always been - tranquil and still. Gibbou blinked her wide, bright eyes at the water, whispering a quiet ‘woah’ before saying, “This is the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes stared skywards, then back to the lake. “It reflects the moon so perfectly!” She couldn’t help but squeeze out a gleeful squeal. “How’d you even find this place, miss--... Uh… Sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”

The woman righted herself slowly, lifting from the ground to resume her dubious hovering just barely above the grass. She too took in the beauty of the lake, lips parting to release an exultant breath - it wasn’t a smile, but somehow they had managed to bring some measure of peace to her previously conflicted features. When she finally turned to look at Gibbou, it was with a softer side than that insidious suspicion of before. “I-.. I followed the river. I liked it, so I made it this way.” she explained with a murmur. “I am Neiya, Goddess of Love,” there was a distinct pause, and the goddess once more managed to look conflicted. “...and loss. Thank you… for the help. You are only the third of our kind I have met.”

“Only the third? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Neiya - most are a nice, open bunch who’d be happy to meet you. I’m Gibbou, Goddess of the Moon and guardian of life in the night. You are most welcome for the help, by the way. Always happy to be of service.” She reached out to shake Neiya’s hand with a gleeful smile.

“Oh,” Neiya began with soft surprise. She glanced down at the offered hand, a little dumbstruck by the gesture. Still she lifted her own hand hesitantly, doubting herself each step along the way in completing the handshake. “Firinn told me of you, and something about birthing dr-.. hm.. drewdism?” Her slender hand finally accepted the handshake, cold to the touch and uncertain of the ritual involved. Drawing on previous experiences, instead of shaking Gibbou’s hand, she squeezed it gently. The ripple effect of emotions roiling within the goddess offered but a warning sensation, but other than that, it was mostly awkward.

The moon goddess felt the dissonant emotions and shrunk together somewhat. She sheepishly squeezed back, either too weakly or too roughly, before letting go. She immediately gripped her right arm with her left hand and let her eyes drop to their feet. “O-oh, he did, huh? Yeah, uh, he’s, good at… Talking. He told me some stuff too, lots of stuff that didn’t feel all that great to hear honestly. Came out of nowhere, too - like, who says that kind of stuff to someone you’ve just met, and--?” She awkwardly back at Neiya. “... Sorry, ramblings and, and that--uhm! Yeah, I’m making droodism--... Druitism--.. Bleh! Druidism a thing, yes. Did he tell you what it does?”

That seemed to throw Neiya for a loop. “...No. Like, ah, like you said. It said a great many things. I am not sure even the God of Truth understands all what it says. Only enough to push us where it,” she paused to consider, features darkening as she did. “...wants us to be? But it has a burden, just like all of us, I think. For all the beauty of the moon, I imagine not all is as you imagined it would be.” She didn’t smile, but she seemed to find a little confidence, at least. “And the moon is beautiful.”

“Heh, thanks,” came a timid reply, much of the earlier confidence lost like a needle in a haystack. “Y-you, too.” The words lingered in the air for a moment while Gibbou’s cheeks turned from plum to peach. “I-I mean… YEAH! Ahem, yeah, the God of Truth sure says a lot of stuff about the things and, and, woah! Would you look at the, uh, Moon! It’s almost… Midnight, damn it… Uh, uhm! Say, how’s the creation of Galbar going?” At the end of her sentence, she looked as though she had sprinted a mile.

The pale goddess tilted her head slowly, watching Gibbou suffer with a returning tranquility, almost as if she had rebuilt her confidence by sapping the poor moon goddess of hers. “Oh? I wouldn’t know. I spent most of my life watching the ocean, and listening to the emotions of mortals.” Her eyes once more followed the goddess with growing intensity, and her hand slowly raised once more, that unstoppable desire to touch returning. Fingers trailed towards Gibbou’s face slowly, hesitant and sedate. The moon goddess trembled slightly and seemed to look everywhere except for Neiya’s icy eyes. “Let me show you,” Neiya murmured with an enraptured tone, as her hand slid up to rest against Gibbou’s cheek, a gentle and guiding push to make her face the love goddess.

A whirlwind of emotion rushed from the simple connection, Neiya’s eyes seeming to roil with a strange storm as she shared a sliver of her experiences and feelings. The intense grief of the villagers at the riverbank, the joy of creation and the peace of the ocean - all whirling past in an instant. Finally, there was Sanya, Yaian, their loss. Their once still and happy life, torn to shreds. Their memories, and the pain that had transformed them forever. It was a maelstrom of shared emotion, memory, and context.

The moon goddess’ knees buckled under the weight of the emotions and didn’t seem to regain their strength right away. While one leg was submerged in the icy water of the lake and the other was kicking weakly against the shore soil in an effort to stand, Gibbou looked up at Neiya with squinting, leaking eyes, rivers of quartz pouring across her plum skin like a flood. She placed a trembling palm over the icy hand on her cheek and spoke in a squeaking voice choked up by tears: “Why? Why are you showing me all this?” She covered her mouth with her hand and looked back down. “Sanya, Yalan… A troll… It ate their families, their friends. It, it ate them, it--” Gibbou gagged multiple times until she keeled over completely, propping herself up on her elbows, one of which dipped into the lake. Hopeless eyes glared at the mixture of soil and water right underneath her face, half a reflection hatefully scowling back at her. “... My own creations - the ones I created to protect life on this continent… Are murderers… Mortal-eaters… And I saw none of it. Not even the raid on their village perpetrated by humans, did I see.” Finally, her elbows gave out, and Gibbou laid flat on her belly, halfway washed ashore the lakebank, her weeping painting the empty soundscape a deep blue.

Neiya followed her down at first, a paradoxically sorrow-filled fascination watching the moon goddess experience despair. The connection broken as Gibbou fell to the ground, the love goddess touched down on the wet ground beside Gibbou, flexing her hand slowly. A soft breath escaped her, and for a time she appeared lost in thought - she hadn’t expected such a reaction - but then she hadn’t known about the connection, either. With graceful motion, she leaned forward to grasp the crying goddess, and gently lift her head up against her own legs and lap, away from wet sand and icy water. She offered no words at first, allowing the air to fill with the goddess’ pain, but ran a gentle set of fingers over her hair in a serene show of comfort. Eventually, she simply murmured. “I’m sorry,” She sighed as she looked out over her lake, alternating between her vigil over Gibbou and her creation.

In her despair, it didn’t matter to Gibbou whose body she was in contact with - all that mattered was that she found solace in something - anything. The cold, shallow comfort she received from Neiya felt momentarily like that of her sister, but deeper, darker emotions stirred forth within her. She asked again, “why did you show me this?”, but her tone had lost its somberness, replaced instead by spiteful venom. “You knew it would hurt for me to see - why did you show me this?”

Neiya sat quiet for longer than what was acceptable for such a reasonable demand, hand stopping in its gentle comfort. Another sigh, bothered by their shared moment ending. “Because,” she began in answer, a confidence to her voice that made her words unfriendly. “Now you will appreciate happiness where you find it.” Another pause, as she ruminated on their shared words at the beginning of their meet. “How can you protect life, if you do not understand it? This pain is crushing, but it is also purposeful. Now you know.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you,” came a knife-like reply with a hopeless voice. “No one would extract purpose from this suffering - it’s just suffering. What motivation is there in seeing your greatest achievements bring death and ruin to mortal lives. How can I appreciate happiness knowing my creations one day will end it? No, you did this to hurt me, didn’t you?”

The pale goddess seemed to crease her lips into a thin, sad smile, though no one would ever see it. “Oh, my sweet. No,” she offered with a soft tone, “I know it hurts. It feels like it will twist your stomach out of your body. Like an itch in your bones that makes you want to scream and give up at the same time.” Her fingers began to run over and through Gibbou’s hair gently once more. “It feels like it will feel that way forever.”

She gazed down at the goddess listless in her lap, offering another gentle sigh. “But this pain is normal. It will fade - never entirely, perhaps, but you will always remember. And that will make you stronger than you were before.”

“How will it make me stronger? All I feel is weakness, uselessness… Meghzaal and Lucia, my draugs… Next you’ll probably tell me my night elves have slaughtered every living thing in Mydia and that the owlixes feast on human babies in the night, won’t you? Go on. I’m done as a goddess anyway. What good am I?” She dug her nails seethingly into Neiya’s lap. “... I’ve never been good for anything - why should that change just because you’ve proven this to me?”

The alleged love goddess lifted her other hand and gently laid it on Gibbou’s head as well, resting it gently as the other continued its gentle comfort. “You have opened your eyes, my love, and the pain has given you doubt. It hurts, and what you saw was awful. It does not need to stay that way.” Neiya bowed forward in a gentle lean, leaning over the sobbing goddess in her lap protectively. “If this pain makes you give up, how can you ever say you loved the world? Is this sorrow, this new knowledge, enough to stop fighting for what you want?”

“It’s enough to make me question what I want, that’s for sure.” There was an odd, twisted, uncanny comfort in the Love Goddess’ embrace - cruel, cold, unfeeling; and yet, it was so safe, so warm. Hatred and grief bubbled like hot grease atop a thick layer of loneliness and need for praise, love, anything to prove to Gibbou that she had some manner of worth. “You’re just like Firinn. You break me down for no reason and tell me that these feelings are supposed to make me better - stronger. Look, I’m trying, okay, but how can I achieve my highs when I’m always being pulled low by people who constantly remind me of all my mistakes?”

“I’m sorry it did that to you, Gibbou,” Neiya intoned with all the sedate comfort her sorrowful tone could muster. “Fìrinn does not-... did not experience emotion. It does not understand the impact its words will have until it has said them.” she explained, casually side-stepping her own part in the matter. “It can be tough. It can feel like the world is crashing down around you. But that does not mean you cannot find things to cherish. Moments of peace. Happiness cannot be killed, only tempered. If these things worry you so, you can find the drive to make them better. And until then, you can stay here with me. For as long as you want.”

“Give me one good reason not to get as far away from you and your, your words as I possibly can,” replied the moon goddess as a fresh flood of white tears dripped down onto Neiya’s lap.

“Because I feel what you feel. I feel it every turn of the sun. Every moment, a mortal weeps, a chorus sings inside me, of happiness, of guilt, of pain. I cannot take away your pain, my dearest, but I can help you fight through it,” Neiya righted herself slowly, lifting her gaze out over her reflective lakefront. Her hand abated it’s slow stroke of her hair, and moved to rest gently on Gibbou’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone in this. I am here for you always.”

Gibbou scowled up at Neiya’s face and pushed herself up slowly. She dusted as much soil and dirt off her clothes as she could, saying nothing.

Neiya parted her lips as if to speak, but seemed conflicted as Gibbou drew away. She extended her hand towards the goddess once more, hesitant. Pausing halfway, she lifted out of the dirt, slowly raising herself to hover over the ground once more. “...I want you to stay, Gibbou.” She pleaded after a time of silence, uncertainty returning to her voice.

“I can’t… I’ve been going about this all wrong. I think I understand now.” She looked down at Hir and pulled it from her belt. “No matter what I do, I always make things worse than they already were. But if I can’t safeguard life here on Galbar, I should just bring it closer to home!” She turned to Neiya with a smile - it was not a hopeful smile, but one of desperation. “I’ll bring as much of the world life with me as possible and set up a safe and tranquil home for them all…” She looked to the sky. “On the moon!”

Neiya lifted her gaze to the sky as well, narrowing her eyes as she peered at the large orb hanging there mockingly. When she looked back down to Gibbou, her serenity had begun to wash away from her features. Back came that bitter frown. That loneliness. “I’m certain you will care for them. Wherever you go. What you feel now will make sure of that, as it does me,” she breathed out sharply before snapping a last comment. “If that is what you want - then you should go. Go about your life with your new purpose.”

“I will,” came a reply. Gibbou looked down at Hir. “Everything else I’ve tried is useless, anyway.” She then tossed the horn into the lake, where it sank out of sight. She then turned her head sideways and regarded Neiya over her shoulder. “Oh, and Neiya…”

“...Yes, Gibbou?” The discarded horn was nothing but a novelty to the love goddess, who snapped her attention back to Gibbou the moment her name rang out.

“Never talk to me again.” With that, the moon goddess soared off, ready to enact her plan.

The horned goddess stared up towards the sky, trailing the moon goddess with her eyes as she rocketed away. A shaky breath left her lips, before the tears began to well up.

---

Later that day, on Whakarongo, Mydia…

“Oh, please, great World Tree, make the forest grow back,” came the nasal, squeaky prayer of Robgob the woodsgoblin. His grove had been taken by a flood, and now he was kneeling by the clear, still water where his precious trees once had grown. He opened his eyes and found, to a somber lack of surprise, that the trees hadn’t grown back. He let out a groan and pummeled the ground with a small fist.

Then something bumped into that fist. The goblin looked up and saw the oddest of things - a hollow horn, marked with tattoos and vines as if an artist had made it and left it outside to be reclaimed by nature. “What’s this,” he mumbled, “a horn of sorts?”

He shrugged. Maybe the village chieftain would like a closer look. He stood up and brought it back to the village.

---

Sirius toiled to bring order back to the stars, ensuring that his celestial animals claimed the far reaches and preformed their divine tasks, restructuring stars to be more stable, along with countless other adjustments.

However, as he was taking a short break to consider what he has done, he noticed an asymmetry. While still apart of the larger whole, he had created a comet-infused reef, yet no such thing existed on Galbar for meteors or asteroids. It felt incomplete.

As he continued his work, he had formulated an idea. While guiding some of his animals into a new region, he had conjured maple seeds from Galbar and infused them meteorite ore, using his power to plant them on the island-continent, Mydia, and compelled them to grow into mighty trees. They, the red star maples, were rare, hardy trees that were resilient to heat. It would be difficult to conduit mana through their wood or sap. Its syrup had similar effects to caffeine.

For the western-most continent, Kubrajzar, he imbued a small amount of asteroid into select iron veins. The resulting metal, stellar-steel, which shared many of the same properties as asteroids but less severely: durable, dense, chemically unreactive, electrically unconducive, and mana conductive. It was difficult to work without magic but feasible.

Satisfied with the pattern becoming more complete, he refocused on the outer reaches.

There is a danger, shipmates, that comes with the explosive birth of magicks into the world; one that mayhaps those Vrool of the ancient Deep did not immediately perceive, and one that even that all-perceiving nonfeeler who goes building and saturating all things in some blind and foolish hope of truth mayn't have. But the tree, the tree, ah! the tree did feel, for how was't not to feel what spelt its doom? Of the tree of the ink god's birth let this be known: 'twas not the crashing waves of callous seas that brought it low, ah, no - 'twas not the howling wind; 'twas not a pelting rain, my friend, or gnashing monsters of the deeps. 'Twas a sorcerous ripple, friend, that burst its side and slew its branch and ah! then sent it crashing down.

Why then, the ocean all was painted black and every Vrool for miles around knew only ink - and ink, you see, is poison when unleashed in such great quantity. But there was a sorcery to the sea about the hallowed Ku that spared the warring race of Vrool and caused instead their ocean home to be eternally encased in oil; and they themselves - for this reason sorcery and the gods should ever be kept apart! - found that in their form, their brain, there grew any oily sac of blackness.

The oceans depths were painted black - for oil, if you must know my friends, is lighter than water; but divine ink can only sink - and so all about the western side of that hallowed Ku stretched out an endless ink expanse; and what was darkness and what was ink a man could only guess. And all those ocean things that witnessed the terrible falling of the tree were coated all of them in ink; but only those sorcerous types came to have power over the darkness that now clawed into their flesh a home.

To all of this was the glorious and ever-victorious Okarzunkaxoxondrom witness and party, for by his sorcerous and awakened will was he coated in the ink of gods, and felt he well the growth behind his core brain the oily sac of ink and blackness with which he would now and forevermore paint the cretinous forms of his good-as-dead challengers dark - a worldly darkness that called on them to hark the coming eternal darkness with which the Glorious and Ever-Victorious would acquaint them with. And nay, for this was not all - beneath the gnarled and twisted skin of the almighty Vrool did colour burst and churn; and aye he admitted that for the briefest seconds those colours were beyond his power; but ah! no sooner had he willed then it was within his grasp and power. And he, the Vonu-speaker before whom all wept and wailed, waxed vibrant and cruel, gaze unbending and tendrils spreading and, ah! He waxed mighty indeed!

Through the inky depths flowed he, the Glorious and Ever-Victorious, he! and all about slinked out of sight and hissed and spat but dared not steer themselves before - he! 'I, the Glorious!' Breathed the mighty one in hallowed vonu, 'the Ever-Victorious; my tendrils waxen and grow, my vibrant form manifests; my sorcerous will is known to all! All bends before my gaze o-'
'Okarz Rux, what are you mumbling to yourself there?' An immense vrool emerged from the darkness. The infinitesimal Okarz froze in place for what felt like a long period, his many minds clamouring to be heard.
'J-just gathering samples, Xuxa Rux. Who would have thought that that thing was the Hidden Blackgod all along.' A click closer to a cough emanated from him, and Xuxu Rux clicked sagely in agreement.
'Indeed, Okarz Rux. And I am disinclined to be of the view that this case shall be without ramifications of a considerably unfavourable classification.'
'I- uh. I would disagree with your- uh. Assessment of the sit- condition of this state of affairs, Xuxu Rux. The fall of the tree can only be the portent of terrible things to come - even if, in its fall, the Hidden Blackgod has seen to bless us so greatly.'
'But Okarz Rux, you have not, by the nature of what you have spoken to me presently at this very moment, shown any form of disagreement or disinclination towards what I have not long before your speaking spoke. If I may be so bold, Okarz Rux, I would go so far as to say that your words and what I have previously advanced may well be the locus points of two perpendicular formations.' Okarz' many minds assessed the information as he blinked at the massive form of the other vrool.
'You must excuse me, Xuxu Rux, for I believe I have observed a salmon in a south-easterly-downward direction from our current location.' And so saying, the Glorious and Ever Victorious Okarzunkaxoxondrom left behind him another felled foe - the might of his words and his impenetrable logic had laid to waste all of that inferior warlock's protestations and fumblings. Thus was the impossible mind and genius of he!

• Summary [+]

  The tree from which Meghzaal was born collapses due to the explosion of magic into the sea. This brings about an inky ecosystem immediately west of Ku. Many creatures living here will now have various ink-related traits, though only the vrool possess ink sacs, allowing them to pump out blasts of ink for various purposes. While most creatures in the region have ink in their skin now, only Warlocks have the ability to control it for camouflage purposes.
  Okarz makes a return, and we discover that he is now a Warlock. It has done nothing for his size though. He discusses fall fo the tree with a giant warlock, but the words of the other warlock are so impenetrable and abstruse that he swiftly excuses himself on the pretence that he has spotted a salmon.
• Might [+]

  - Free: Create a large undersea ink ecosystem, to the west of Ku.

---

Fe’ris flew around Galbar, tired of the same old skies over Toraan. The furred reptilian of the air needed a change of pace.

He flapped hard, his wings creating powerful gusts as they propelled him over the vast ocean. Far below, rugged swampland rotted, permeating the clouds with the stink of saltwater and mire. The mortals wore odd masks to hide their faces, and nasty things lurked in the mucky water. No, this wasn’t suitable. He had to keep going.

He extended his wings and flew further, further, and further still, testing his boundless strength to see how far it would take him. The countless islands blurred into green and brown smudges against an aquamarine background, and he kept going, pushing himself until he found more land.

This time, he struck gold. A lengthy continent of white sand beaches and thick forest sprawled below, its terrain uneven and grasslands many. It lacked large populations of mortals, and the other gods had not lavished over it like they had Toraan. It would suit his purposes well.

A flap of those powerful wings, and an enormous sandstone monolith erupted, huge swathes of it crumbling off and collapsing onto the land below. Upon its flattened peak, a tropical rainforest grew, submerged in a perpetual mist that glowed like fire when the sun hit it. Around the red mesa, the land became cracked and arid, sprinkled with tough shrubs and stubby grasses. Tiny mammals with powerful hind legs dug their way up from between the gouges in the reddened land, their fur short to keep the dust out. Where there were watering holes, there were dense populations of sharp toothed aquatic lizards, giant tortoises, and even a few river hydras, their hides toughened by the intense sun. The trees that sprang up around the water were pungent, smelling like cinnamon and radiating a highly flammable haze. Catlike creatures with masked faces and thick, puffy white tails flocked to the leaves, eating them in large batches before passing out in the baking sun. Smaller variants of the stone birds grew from the sand, their feathers striped to blend in with the dusty desert. Hounds with wide, floppy ears and eight eyes appeared, eager to hunt the small mammals and slow tortoises. A great many venomous snakes slithered out from around the claws of the enormous hydras, stealing away into the many nooks and crannies of the arid and semi-arid desert.

Almost as an afterthought, Fe’ris flew up to a spot along the side of the sandstone rise, which loomed a thousand feet over the dry surface. He touched his nose to the red rock, and a crack splintered the stone, spewing forth clean, fresh water. A shard of rock stabbed at his nose, sending droplets of blood into it, staining the stream a deep crimson. He narrowed his violet eyes at it, and the spring bubbled, the dusty ground below swirling and shimmering at its liquid touch. One of the white, cat-sized creatures approached, four small berries clutched in its paws. Wide eyed, it plunged its paws into the stained water, and when it removed them, a different, larger fruit emerged, the same size as the berries combined. Happy now, the creature stuffed the fruit in its cheeks and scampered off, chittering cheerfully to itself.

Pleased, Fe’ris left the Shifting Font, eager for the day sapients might find it and unlock its powers.

---

Far beyond the orbit of the heavenly bodies, past the blinding Sun itself and in the outer reaches of the stars, a great cascade of color split forth and spilled out into existence. It was an aura of prismatic essence, cleaving and subsuming the stars in its wake as it spread across an expanse of space. It was not alone for in a moment a black mass of cutting angular blades sheared out from its center and expanded like a mass of pitch-black rage. A coalescence then occurred, and starlight spread upon the black surface, the myriad hues of cosmic blood pouring inwards to fill its empty heartless void. Blades and piercing talons softened and grew relaxed, molding into a visage most familiar, and as the color drained from the sky, a gray shroud yet remained.

In that silent instant of divine undulation ceased, there was silence. Stardust ruins cooled their fiery sparks the wreckage of Aicheil's emergence. Yet with a flick of gray-ribbons thick, subconscious whim compelling them, those ruined stars they became as once they'd been before.

Aicheil moved, swimming amidst the stars, passing through them, both he and them unmarred by his phase across their form. He moved briefly between the Sun, the Moon, and its smaller, purple sibling until he reached Galbar. There he remained in a drifting dance, contemplating all that had transpired in his absence. He had experienced many things since his twin, and he had been born. The Grand Design had changed in this time, and so too had his own perception. Though eyeless, he saw now more clearly than before. For as he looked upon Galbar, he experienced true beauty. Twisting clouds, the rainbow cast across their expanse, mortals flitting and running about, their tiny forms both full of purpose, yet fleeting and perhaps irrelevant to it all.

He shifted faintly upon the sky, and listened, for many sounds--both old and new--had come to be. The calling of man-to-man, and many birds or deep-sea churned entities did abound. Yet, behind the upfront cacophony of these mortal noises, there existed something deeper still to which his mind was pulled. Stone and Roan and River too these things they held new song, for the world it seemed, had been born anew when Aicheil had been gone. These new noises, most beautiful and strange, intrigued him much, and so enamored with their voices he called out to touch them faintly. Though at first, he couldn't reach, Aicheil then grasped across the Breach and so did swell the faithful knell of Ѻs-fhìreach's Endless Dream.

Touched then were the subtle chords of intimation. With that contact was unleashed a swelling thrum, it danced and swirled, it spread and twirled, and into the world, it hummed. From it spilled an oceanic tide of recent memory, its rainbow waves all ribbon made as it caught upon the Worldsong. Knowing at that moment much more than he had before, Ѻs-fhìreach reached down through the shifting colored clouds. Yet where before the passing of a digit churned the mortal skies, now they merely punched narrow holes and left weather uncompromised.

He remained that way a moment, allowing the thrumming chords of Dream and Reality to suffuse his essence for a time. Soon, however, his creative fervor resurged and so--in recollection of his Ocean Oath--he pressed his digits into the sea. Down, down, down, those fingers pierced the murky depths. They swam from blue to black until they pierced the Ocean's stone wrought floor. With contact made, Aicheil bid Galbar to bade his ever-present will. So did rise a thousand-thousand columns, up from the ocean floor for miles.

They cut through the sea, but before their passing, Aicheil slashed across the waves. With his godly motion and intent, ocean creatures did flee, and so his pillars rose--free of lethality. Once the Ocean's waves they reached, Aicheil drew further from beyond the Breach. Into their substance, he suffused an immortality of stony hue. With bedrock unorthodox, the Dreaming God then bade, a growing stone to expand upon the Ocean's waves. Meeting soon and surging up, the landmasses continued to grow upon the Ocean's vastness. Thus in moments, upon the many seas in two distinctly chosen spots, there were born continents whose bedrock were pillars unbroken and dense like oddly concrete thoughts.

Mindful of his presence, Aicheil withdrew his digits and gazed down upon the wonders of Galbar's planetary visage. Shimmering starlight cascaded across his voidly silhouette, and he found himself pleased, yet strangely empty and still. There was imbalance here, a discord most unsettling to his cosmic intellect. Seeking to banish this feeling, Aicheil shed his truest vessel in favor of a smaller silhouette and gently drifted towards Galbar's surface. Observing both creation and his orbiting form, Aicheil was struck by an idea.

Curious of the consequence, the Dreaming God called upon his cast-off shell and tore it asunder. Starlit comets of void and trailing shrouds of ash hurtled towards the planet's surface, all made from his divine flesh. He did not let them strike but instead sieved them with the Dream, binding concepts together within their essence until the Subtle Weave trapped them within its clutches. Slowly, blurred images of shifting entities, both large and small in stature, phased into his awareness. Things clicked back into place in that moment, and Aicheil shifted his attentions elsewhere.

---

Beyond the pale and hidden from mortal sight, the newborn Dreamers pushed out abstract feelers and took to hunting minds. Wandering minds and sleeping figures, they saw past vast Dream's veil, and as they hungered, they delved deep inward and ate minds from beyond the pale. Once each had feasted, they left behind their prey, and what remained could not be said to think another day.

Yet such beasts, they do not sleep, and so all they do is hunger, and thus they prey, 'pon mortal hay, while they seek to slumber.

Though yet unnamed, they would soon come to be known, as the Chomhlíonadh, the dreadful Unfulfilled.

---

Starlit vessel lit by shifting bright-torn sky, the Dreaming God looked upon his land and let forth a mighty sigh. It was empty now, he knew; it displeased him to see its view. So he cast down and raised stone crowns upon its flattened surface. Remaining discontent, he gouged through its form canyons, rivers, and vast lakebeds like tiny seas to cut across the landmasses newly born. As he worked he drew from the works of those Gods who had come before him and grew great trees and bushes and vines, covering the land in part with many glorious growing things. So too did he seed the world with animals to suit. Yet, though he made much upon those lands, and the vast lakes held within, he left much of those places empty and unchanged so that in time life might find its own way.

Satisfied by the shape and occupants of these once empty lands, he cast his vision across the Ocean and upon Toraan and islands far. There he took the Tairseach's conception into his mind and swiftly cast down his power. In the center of each newborn continent, Aicheil did place Dreaming Anchors, so that in time, many mortal minds might pay fealty to their land's Dreaming Creator.

In a small human settlement all work had halted. The reason being the Goddess gracing them with her presence. Inside one of the huts Evandra was sitting on a pile of leaves with all the humans surrounding and worshiping her. In her hand lay a few Evening Bells, the remains of her gifts to these people. With her free hand she scooped one and brought it to her mouth, the warm and sweet taste filling her senses.

She did not allow the humans to touch her, but she did allow them to be near her. They basked in the warmth that emanated from the goddess, some even slept in it’s comfort. Eventually, however, Evandra stood up from her makeshift seat. “I spent enough time here. I’ll be taking my leave.” Just like that the Goddess walked away from the humans.

“What?” One of the humans asked waking up from his daze.

“Wait, don’t leave us, Goddess!” Another pleaded with her.

Evandra paid them no mind as she left the hut. One of them rushed after her. “Goddess, please don’t leave-” He grabbed her legs and they caught on fire. “UWAAAAAAH!!!” He screamed in pain as he tried to put the flames off.

She looked back at the man in scorn. “Such audacity. You don’t have the right the lay your hands upon me.”

Other humans followed after her, but kept their distance. “Goddess, please. If you must leave then at least grant your warmth.” The one in the front said on his knees.

“And why should I grant you my gift of flames? Is my very presence not enough for you?”

“N-no, Goddess, we are all thankful for you having graced us. But at night the heat of the Sun cannot reach us. Your presence warms even where the light cannot reach. So please, lend us your fire as well. I will do anything you ask in return!”

“Hmm. Anything you say?” Taking interest in the pleading man, Evandra walked back to him and past the man now cradling his burnt hands. “Bold of you to wish to take on a request from me.”

“If it means that we can keep your heat in your absence then I’ll pay whatever price I must.”

The Goddess smiled and blushed at the proclamation. “Stand.” The man stood on his feet at the command. “Do you bear a name?”

“No, Goddess. None of us do.”

“Then you are henceforth named Enlil. Your bravery earned you this much. But for my fire you’ll need to accomplish a challenge. In the prairie to the East live mighty and glorious beasts called Leons. Taller than trees and rulers of the prairie. Bring me one and my fire will be yours as well.”

Enlil tensed up at the request. He didn’t know of Leons, but by that brief description alone he knew this to be a daunting quest. But he couldn’t afford to back down. Evandra had taken interest in him because of his bravery. If he relented now he’d lose the favor he had in her. “So be it. I’ll bring you the beast.”

The humans talked among themselves behind Enlil for a moment then one of them stood up. “I’ll go as well.”

“Me too.” Said yet another also standing up. And they weren’t the only ones. A total of four humans volunteered to assist on the task.

Evandra watched them with interest. “Good. Very good. I’ll reward your boldness as well.” From her hands she produced a rope and passed it to Enlil. “This rope can expand when pulled. Tie their legs with this and even the mighty Leons should become helpless in its bonds. Now Go. Prove to me your worth. I’ll await your return in the meantime.”

And so, Enlil and the six brave men and women prepared for their test. They gathered food for a couple of days’ worth and weapons then departed East.

---

It took them 2 days and 2 nights before the golden grassland came into view. The light from the Sun only made it look even more lush.

“We’re finally here.” Said the burly man.

“All this light hurts my eyes.” Complained another. “Where are these Leon things?”

“Let’s look for them. It should be easy to see a beast taller than a tree on this open field.” Enlil replied.

They walked around in search of the beast. They encountered many new animals as they wandered around, but none of them were big enough to match the description. They were also followed around by a wolf like creature, observing them, but since it was alone it couldn’t find an opportunity to attack and left.

As they approached a hill to get a better view of the prairie, a herd of grey behemoths came running from it, passing not too far from them. The humans scrambled together as their sudden appearance startled them.

“A-are those things Leons?” The meek girl asked as the tusked creatures ran further away from them.

“They sure are taller than a tree.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go after them!” The energetic woman ran after their target.

They all followed after the woman. The creatures were fast, but they were faster, and soon they almost caught up to them. Or so they would’ve if not for the other beast that outsped them. Something swooped over them and they stopped in their tracks to look above. Greater still than what they were chasing and covered in pure white fur, it descended upon the slowest behemoth and latched onto it with it’s claws and fangs. The humans watched on as the beast brought its prey to the ground and pinned it by the throat with its mouth. The struggling didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“It rules over the prairie…” Enlil said amazed by how swiftly the behemoth was felled.

“No way. We have to bring that thing back?” The annoyed man said in shock.

The Leon let go of its prey and let out a deafening roar, making the humans cower. Another one came flying and landed by the side of the downed prey. Yet another Leon jumped from the second’s back and it began to feast. One of the men tried to approach them, but the first Leon reared its head and growled loudly at his sight, sending the man back.

The humans regrouped. “Can we even bring one of these things back?”

“No way, we’ll get killed as soon as we get near.”

“Then what do we do, give up and lose the Goddess’ fire?”

“And just how do you think we should capture one of those things? We can’t match a creature that big, let alone two.”

“The goddess only said we had to bring her a Leon. If we could get their cub instead...”

“And get outran and eaten? It’s impossible to do this.”

“Then you can return in shame. I said I’d do anything in return for her fire and I’ll do it.”

“Wha-”

“Anyone else is free to do as well. The Goddess ensured this task to me after all.”

The others stayed quiet, some looked at the annoyed man with uncertainty in their faces. “I won’t run. I don’t want to lose her heat.”

“Me neither.”

“I don’t really know if we can do it, but…”

“...” The annoyed man looked to the side and tsked. “Fine, I’ll stay.”

Enlil huffed. “Good, then let’s calm down and make a plan.”

They looked back at the Leons. They had almost stripped the behemoth bare of its meat and were already wandering off.

“We can’t lose sight of them. Maybe we should watch them from a distance for now?”

“We’ll do that.”

“And get the meat they left behind too. I’m getting hungry.”

They collected a few scraps of meat still left on the creature and started following the Leons. They watched as the beasts went on with their lives. They watched as they drank from a stream, hunted again and even lazed about.

As the Sun began to set, the Leons laid down to rest and by the time the Moon had come about, they had drifted to sleep. The Sun shaped insignia in their heads glowed almost as if to show where they were.

“They sleep then.”

“Of course they sleep, idiot. They’re beasts.”

“This could be our chance though. What do you think, Enlil?”

“It’s as good a time as any.” He looked at the Leons and their surroundings to think of what to do next. Though they were close to each other, thankfully they weren’t sleeping packed together. “Look.” He pointed at a patch of tallgrass near the Leons. “We can hide in the tallgrass over there. If we can lure or bring the cub into it we can capture it.”

“We’d need to wake up the cub before luring it, though. How do we that?”

“Do we still have some leftover meat?”

“We still have a chunk, yes.”

“If we tie it with the rope and throw it near the cub it could get his attention.”

“But If the parents wake up we’re dead.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait, what?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll leave luring it away from its parents to you guys. When it's far enough I’ll choke it.”

“You’re crazy! What if you get killed?”

“If I die then I die, but you should be safe in the tallgrass.”

“How can you be so calm about that?!”

“But it could work. It was our boldness that earned us a chance at having the Goddess’ fire for ourselves. And it’ll be boldness that sees us through this test. Let’s go.”

They moved to the tallgrass and crouched beneath its surface. Slowly they towards the sleeping Leons, being careful not to make much noise with the rustling leaves. When they arrived at the edge closest to the beasts, they unpacked the leftover meat from the behemoth and tied it with the rope. They tested the knot and, when they were sure it was secure, tossed it towards the cub. It landed a few ways from it, but it remained undisturbed. They reeled the bait in and tried again. This time its ear twitched slightly.

At the third attempt the cub lifted its head still looking drowsy from just waking up. They tugged on the rope, the movement caught the cub’s attention. Another tug, it jerked up to its feet and chased after the bait.

It was almost close enough. “Get ready.” Enlil whispered.

The burly man got in position, taking long, deep breaths. Another tug of the rope and the cub was right next to them. The burly man sprung to action, taking the cub by the neck with his hand. Before it could retaliate, it was brought into a chokehold. The beast was just an infant, but it was almost as big as its human assailant. It meowled softly as it struggled to breathe and free itself, but the burly man’s grasp was too tight and, like the behemoth from earlier, it stopped struggling.

“Bring it here, hurry!” Enlil said as loud as he could without alerting the Leons.

The burly man brought the cub into the tallgrass, where it had its legs tied together. Enlil looked at the Leons, they were still fast asleep.

“I can’t believe this worked.”

“We don’t have time to commemorate though. We need to get as far away from here as we can before the parents wake up.”

And so they sneaked away from the slumbering beasts, Leon cub in tow. They went as far as their legs could carry them, and by the time they reached their limit they had already left the prairie. The Sun had just passed over the horizon and they were exhausted, but before they could rest, their luggage woke up and had to be calmed down. By the time they finished resting the Sun was past its midpoint.

“The homestretch then. Are we resting some more or will we be going straight back?”

“That depends on our food. How’s our stock?” Enlil asked the meek girl.

“Ah, we still have a few Evening Bells and other fruits. It should last us for another day.”

“We have more than I thought. We’ll only need to hunt or scavenge for food tomorrow then.”

“Wish we could’ve rested some more. Hey, give me a Bell.” The annoyed man said to the meek girl.

“Here.” She passed him the berry.

“Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m just tired too, don’t worry about it.”

“You better have a Bell too then. The big guy already has to carry the Leon, so it’d be bad if you collapsed.”

“Okay.” She took a berry as well and ate it.

“Alright, people, get ready to leave.”

---

It took them another two whole days of travel to get back, and when they finally did arrive the other humans and Evandra herself was awaiting them with a satisfied smile and a blush on her face.

“Welcome home, heroes. I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to be back so fast.”

“We got lucky.” Enlil replied.

The burly man who was carrying the cub placed it gently on the ground. It had stopped resisting ever since realizing it couldn’t break free no matter how much it struggled. Evandra approached it and undid its bindings. The cub, upon noticing its legs were free, moved them around and tried to stand up, but being in an uncomfortable position for two days made him lose his balance, but the Goddess caught it before it could fall then laid him back down calmly with a “Shh.” She groomed its fur with her hands, her warm touch turning the Leon’s hopeless look into a calm one and sending it to sleep.

Evandra stood and faced the heroes. “You did well, Enlil. Bringing a cub instead of an adult was a smart solution. But I suppose you wouldn’t have completed this task if not for the others that accompanied you. You all deserve names as well”

She turned to the burly man. “You bear great strength.” She said laying a hand over his chest and looking up to his face. He looked back into her eyes. “I can see you are fearless. I name you Marduk. Don’t ever bend your knee unless it is your will to do so.”

Next was the annoyed man. “You on the other hand lack your friend’s traits.” He looked away in shame, but Evandra cupped his chin and turned his head to face hers. “But I can see that you care for their wellbeing. Keep them safe, Nergal.”

“Okay…” He replied a little embarrassed.

Then came the energetic woman’s turn. She looked back the Goddess with confidence. “You had fun in this little adventure, didn’t you?”

The woman giggled. “I sure did. Exploring new lands, seeing and hunting new animals… It was short, but it was fun.”

“Speak for yourself” Said Nergal in annoyance.

“You have heart. As long as you don’t lose it you’ll have many more adventures like this one, Inanna.”

Lastly came the meek girl who had a hand over her stomach. She shrunk like a Mimosa as Evandra approached. “What are you afraid of, girl? You should hold your head up high after returning.”

“I… I’m sorry, Goddess, but I didn’t do anything in your test. It wouldn’t have made a difference if I hadn’t accompanied them.”

“Really now? You look a bit hungry though.”

“Eh? N-no I’m not.”

“Don’t try to lie to me. I can tell you’re malnourished.”

“What?”

“She was in charge of carrying our food. Did she...”

“You didn’t eat your share so that we could have enough…”

“Yes… I thought that if I couldn’t help in the test then I should at least be as less of a burden as I could.”

“Sacrifice is a great act of compassion, girl. But you should make sure you’re sated before sharing with others. Okay, Irkalla?” Irkalla smiled softly and nodded. “Good. Then make sure to eat plenty after we’re done here.”

She stood in front of the five once again. “You have all made great use of the blessings the Evening Bells bring and in doing so you accomplished a daunting task. Now, come forth.” She extended her hands to them and a fire sparked to life over it. “Claim your reward. Take within you this fire that you so desire.”

Marduk was the first to hold his hand to the fire, soon followed by Enlil. It spread through their arms and then to their chests. It was hot, but didn’t burn, and as if being absorbed into their flesh, it disappeared from their bodies.

Enlil concentrated on his hand and it was engulfed in flame. “It doesn’t hurt.” With a thought the fire died out.

“You three too, don’t be shy.” Nergal, Inanna and Irkalla did as the other too and took the fire as well. With the last of the five claiming its power, the fire in Evandra’s hand dissipated. “Just as I am fire, now so are you. Make with it as your hearts desire.”

“Thank you...Evandra.” Enlil said with a smile.

“Thank you, Goddess!” one of the humans knelt down in reverence. The others followed suit one by one.

“If anyone here is worthy of thanks is your five heroes. It was their mettle that earned you my favor.” She returned to the Leon’s side and brought it back to its feet. “I’ll be leaving now. For good this time.” She walked away with the Leon following after her.

“What will you do with the cub?” Inanna asked the Goddess as she passed by them.

“I’ll return it to its family. It doesn’t belong with humans.”

“You’ll just bring it back like it’s nothing? Why did we have to bring it here then?”

“I wanted to see a Leon up close for a while now. That’s what I was going to do before Enlil here asked for my fire.” She turned back at them and looked at the man in question. “It would’ve been faster for me if ignored him, but me and Cadien went through the trouble of giving you humans spirit. Me indulging your show of courage was the least I could.” She turned to leave again and started walking.

“What about your rope?”

“Keep it, I have no need for it.” She said over her shoulder as she left.

---

A nervous energy had overtaken the tribe as they returned from their errands. Some hauled back the bodies of game, like one group that struggled with the bulk of a plucked Quillat, or baskets of fruits and nuts, but all carried a handful of heavy stones or a number of long saplings cleaned of their branches. All knew what their Chieftess had decreed.

The only question was the details, and it was these they waited for. The men and women of the Walled Haven did what work they could as they awaited the last of their people, and a promised explanation of what precisely had happened and what would be done. Many eyed the newcomers who had precipitated their Chieftess declaration of dominion over the tribes between the Haven and the World's Anchor.

They all knew there was a monster, but the world was a dangerous place. Some, privately, questioned whether this was an attempt to expand the tribe by force. It had happened elsewhere in the past. Still, they did what work they could as they waited. Their lives would be changed by whatever happened next, and not one of them wasn’t anxious to learn how.

The sun had just begun to set when the last hunter returned. A great fire was lit near the center of the wall and the days labours were hastily finished. Nearly three dozen men, women, and children gathered around the roaring blaze and cast their gaze upon the one who had brought them here, the god-named Chieftess, Ataket.

She sat uneasily on one of the rounded river rocks that had been dragged into the haven. There was a moment's hesitation, but her eyes met all of her people, before settling on a newcomer. “I have been brought terrible news,” She began, “Our newest kin have told me that a monster prowls the south, some weeks journey away. A monster whose very steps shake the earth, and who devoured their entire tribe before their eyes. A monster they call Thunder. Those who were here know that I have refused to leave the countless tribes ignorant of this monster to become its prey.”

“I believe that if we leave them to their fate we do nothing but weaken ourselves. This Thunder eats, and so it’s like any other creature. I will not allow it to grow fat and strong before it reaches our walls. More than that, I refuse to let children, our very first children, perish.” There was a murmuring at that, but by and large it was one of agreement. Many had newborns by now. The thought of allowing some monster to devour the first progeny of Humanity was beyond unthinkable.

Before any could question her though, Ataket forged on, “Vintr, one of the survivors who brought word of Thunder, has revealed something else to me though. Thunder is not alone. Smaller creatures, perhaps the cursed spawn of Thunder, prowl the grove not more than a half days walk from here.”

At that many regarded the saplings and rocks, and they understood. Some began to craft spears right there, drying them before the fire. Ataket nodded, and added, “We all know what must be done. Tomorrow I ask all who are able to hunt join me. Before that, though, I ask Vintr, who has lost much to these beasts, to tell us of them in detail.”

The Chieftess met Vintr’s eyes from across the fire, and the tribe followed. The young man hunkered down somewhat at the attention, only truly manning up when he realised they weren’t going to look away. The straightened himself back up and walked closer to the fire. He wheezed, cleared his throat and spoke, “These creatures, people, may look similar to people - but they are as far from us as can get. What our village was attacked by - what we encountered in the woods - these are terrors of creation sent upon us by, by the cruelest of gods!” He struggled to control his breath and from the shadows behind him, a palm extended forth and wrapped itself around Vintr’s shoulder. It was Kefir, who gave Vintr a reassuring nod.

“What he’s trying to say is that those seeking to kill these monsters must steele themselves for whatever may come,” Kefir warned. “We will thankfully not encounter Thunder again, I believe. He returned to the mountains last we saw him; however, the… ‘Ranglefant’, as my daughter Kaia heard it call itself, lives in the woods to the south. We saw what the sun did to it - it turned a man-eating monster’s palm into a pool of blood. We think, we think that it can be killed if exposed to the sun.”

“The sun?” One young woman asked, “How can it be a threat then? The sun touches everything.”

An older hunter scoffed, “There’s more below ground than above Eshe. I’ve seen caves that don’t seem to end, myself. I would bet my balls that the damn monsters are climbing out of those godsforsaken holes each night to attack people.”

Ataket eyed the man, who was around her age, “Is there such a cave in the groves around us, Berut?”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “I couldn’t say, Chieftess. I’ve found dozens, but I hunt farther afield than most. The Quillat herds avoid the wooded areas. No point prowling over the groves if I’m out for them.”

“I see, “Ataket sighed, “Then we comb over the grove that our newcomers found the creature in. Anyone who comes across a cave entrance should gather others before they investigate. Like Kefir said, we have to be ready. It will be dangerous.”

Temet, always the more contentious member of the tribe, spoek up, “Which is why you shouldn’t be joining us! We agreed on this. What if the creature kills you, chieftess? Who will greet the gods if they return?”

“Another!” Ataket yelled, “Because I will not greet them as a coward, Temet. I have told you this already, and I will say it to every last one of you. The god Tekret granted us protection from this world, but they didn’t do so to see us cower behind their power like frightened children! The wall is tall, yes, but I will not allow its strength to replace our courage. I will hunt at first light, and I expect any who are capable to join me.”

There was a roar of approval, this time even from Temet. Chastened twice in a day he might have been, but Temet had worse records than that. Besides, the Cheiftess wasn’t wrong. Danger or no, these monsters couldn’t be allowed to prey on Humans. They would die for the attempt.

The tribe of Ataket would see it done.

---

The next morning, a party had set out the gates towards the grove. Led by Vintr, the band was prowling the grove of the ranglefant, sweeping its area for any sightings or presences of enormous humanoids. The grove was overall a crown jewel of peace - sweet birdsong and insect chitter almost invoked a sensation of calm and tranquility about the whole forest, offset only by the increasing frequency at which the band’s members sighted heaps and piles of white, meatless bones belonging to all sorts of animals.

Come to think of it, none of them had seen any beast or creature larger than a toad in here… The culprit could of course be a predator - a stray leon from the Prairie to the west who had decided to move to cooler lands; however, with the context of their search in mind…

Vintr noticed an unnatural heap up ahead and motioned for everyone to hide. He crept over to Berut and pointed at the heap, which appearance seemed less and less like that of a heap the longer one tried to discern its nature.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “See those thin vines? That’s its hair.”

The old hunter nodded with a muffled grunt. He readied his spear and motioned for the rest to do the same. A few of the hunters motioned behind the group, suggesting they get the rest of the tribe before they try to assault the beast, but Berut only shook his head.

“No,” he hissed, “The others will get in the damn way. Spread out, we box it in and kill the thing where it’s sleeping.”

“Very well. I’ll go from the other side,” Vintr replied and started sneaking across as low as he could. The heap seemed to move somewhat with the new noises entering the soundscape, even letting out a slight, thunderous snore. There was no doubt about it - this was a living creature. Vintr crouched down behind a stone opposite of the troll from Berut and signalled his readiness. A few more hunters had followed him, too, it seemed.

Berut stilled, though veiled by the undergrowth his spear, held by tough weathered hands, pointed right at the creature. There was no signal, nothing that would alert the beast. When everyone was ready Berut exploded from the thicket that concealed him, muscles straining to put the whole of his strength behind the spear. He raced at the Troll in an explosion of motion, and in the span of a second more hunters than not had followed him.

The grove’s peace was broken as a ring of spears closed in on the foul creature. The rumbling snore came to a stop and the creature woke to life as a series of spears stabbed at his skin in a flurry of attacks. The troll screamed, “AAAAAAAAH!” and started wafting his colossal hands around, swatting away those too careless to keep their distance.

One of the hunters ventured too far into the Ranglefant’s reach and caught a terrible blow to his chest. The loud thump was followed by a sickening crack, and the man wailed as he flew into a nearby tree with a sizable dent in his chest. His cries were a terrible thing, but the attackers did no more than flinch. Berut stabbed at the troll whenever it turned away from him in its panic, but found his spear inflicting little more than flesh wounds on the flailing beast.

With a curse Berut yelled, “Aim for the eyes and push it out! Get the damn thing out of the forest!”

The monster jumped backwards to get some distance between itself and its assailants. It reassumed its stance into one much more defensive, and shaped his mouth into a weary smirk. It was clear that the ambush had taken a large chunk of his stamina, and blood was pouring out all over. “You’s… You’s smart, you lil’ pests. Go at me while I’m sleepin’ - must f’hink yeself really clever roight about now. But guess whot, ye lumps. I’ve got anuvvah trick up my sleeve.” With that, it spun around and started sprinting away, the earth trembling with its every skip.

Vintr gave chase, and the hunters followed him. Berut hesitated, and shouted after them as he followed, “Watch for pitfalls! If it can talk it can set up a damn trap, be careful!”

Vintr paid the warning no mind. The troll's laughter echoed through the forest as he dove deeper and deeper into the foliage - it was almost unreal how quickly one could lose track of something so large. Vintr reached a temporary halt in the thick tree growth, but it was far from a clearing - the canopy above was as dense as the soil below. It was a miracle that any light broke through at all. Vintr had no time to consider it, though, before a crippling pain called out from both legs as the troll’s hand trapped him tightly and retreated away from the clear space.

“Now we’re goin’ to be real quiet, alright,” he whispered menacingly and placed a thumb the size of Vintr’s head over his small mouth. Outside the foliage, the hunters came to a stop as they lost sight of their quarry.

One realized Vintr wasn't with them, and called out for him. He waited, and when there was no reply a few of the others followed suit, only stopping when Berut caught up with them. The old hunter, panting, chastised the group, "Keep your mouths shut! Stop and listen. That thing was leaving a trail, and so was Vintr. If it ended here they're not far."

The others stilled, and brought up their spears. They spread out, keeping each other in sight as they prowled through the underbrush. Berut knelt down and inspected the foliage, picking up branches and leaves every so often. He turned them around in his hands, smelled them, and even tasted a few. The old hunter picked up on something and started to wander. Absorbed in his task, the man didn't realize he'd lost sight of the others until he paused and looked up.

It was only when he met the faint eyes of a terrified Vintr, peering out of the brush, that Berut realized his mistake. He saw the troll's thumb over the man's mouth and looked up. In the span of a breath Berut glanced up into the dark foliage, saw the glint of an inhuman eye, and lunged at it with his spear while he screamed, "Run boy! Run!"

The troll giggled and hopped backwards, tipping over a few trees in the process. Vintr was still stuck in his hand, unable to break loose no matter now much he struggled. “Oh, now,” cautioned the troll, “don’ be runnin’ away from ol’ Ranglefant now - you ‘n me got a dinner togevva’ in a bit, don’ we? Rooooiiight afte’ these lil’ flies’ve been dealt with.” With a growl, the troll charged forward and sent a fist the size of a human body down towards Berut with meteoric velocity. Vintr tried to bite his way out of the opposite hand’s grip, but the skin was like stiff leather.

The hunter pushed himself to the ground and rolled, the fist catching his fur tunic and bruising his side as it was ripped off his body. He exhaled sharply and scrambled to grab his spear from the ground. The older man's muscles rippled as he hurled the spear at the Troll's face and dove at it.

From his side he pulled a long bone knife and tried to jab it into the Ranglefant's hand as both he, and the spear, flew at the troll. The stab was successful, and it distracted the troll for just long enough that the spear rammed into its cheek. It squealed and dropped Vintr, who fell to the ground with a grunt. The troll staggered back and, with a whimper, pulled the spear out. It had made a surprisingly large wound, and it was bleeding something fierce. The troll glared at Berut. “A’roight… Dinner can wait. One fly’s bein’ extra annoyin’...” With that, the troll charged at Berut with both hands ready to crush him.

A lifetime spent hunting had made Berut strong, quick, and tough. Age had whittled away at all of that. The hunter tried to dodge the troll, and though he avoided its grasp a meaty hand still slammed into his naked chest. He wheezed and collapsed, barely managing to pull himself up before falling again and spitting up blood.

He met Vintrs eyes and, lungs all but crushed, mouthed for the young man to flee. There had been a commotion, and the others would be near enough to find the newcomer before the Ranglefant did. Then, as the troll rounded on him, Berut grasped his knife and hurled himself at the monster again.

The troll had once again been distracted for too long - and this time was his last. The knife dub itself deep in the troll’s belly, blood ushering forth like a red tide. It clutched its wound, but other hunters swarmed in from the back and dug their spears deep into the troll’s flanks. The ranglefant staggered, gritting its teeth so the air quaked. It tried to speak, but all that came out of its mouth was blood and gore. Finally, it fell backwards, tipping another tree in the process. It let out its final breath thereafter.

The group gathered around the dead monster, and the body of what for many had been their mentor. Berut had felled the troll, but breathed his last before it had. Vintr was checked on, and a somber silence overtook the hunters.

---

Eventually a pair of hunters group departed, and returned near an hour later with Ataket and her party. The Chieftess had been told, but she approached wordlessly to see for herself. The troll, a colossal mound of flesh and stink, and Berut, still clutching the knife that had ended the creature.

She disregarded and monster and knelt beside the man. A minute passed, or an hour, and when she finally stood it was with wet eyes and a simple curse, "You should have waited, you brave old idiot."

With that she made her way over to the shaken Vintr and put a hand on his shoulder as she spoke, "He died well. For you. For all of us."

“My chieftess, I-... I’m so sorry. I couldn’t control myself, I--...” Vintr hung his head in disappointment at himself.

"No," She shook her head, "He could have called for the rest of us. He could have brought a partner when he went after you. Berut made his own choices Vintr, you have nothing to apologize for."

Her eyes burned and she addressed the gathered hunters, both those who'd fought and who'd only arrived with her, "None of us brought this creature here! It came to hunt us, to kill us, and I won't allow it. We've killed one, today, and it won't be the last! I won't stop, we won't stop, until there's not one left alive!"

Vintr raised his head again and nodded firmly. “Yes, chieftess!”

---

A few days later in a nearby grove...

“So, you heard Jonesey carked it the ovva’ day?” said Lars the Ranglefant, pouring himself a cupful of swampy water. Marseley the Ranglefant dropped her bowl of porridge.

“You whot, mate? Jonesey’s dead?! Whot happened?!”

Lars shrugged and took a long swig. “‘Pparently got in some big trouble with the local ‘umans. ‘E ‘ad a real bad run-in wiff some--...” Lars was interrupted by the smash of a stone bowl against a nearby tree, felling it over instantly. Marseley screamed.

“Bloody ‘umies! They killed Jonesey!”

“Aye, ‘s whot I said,” Lars added with a frown. Marseley tightened her fists and tore the bark off a nearby tree.

“This ain’t roight. One of us - gone? No, Lars, mate… This ain’t right…

… This is war.”

---

Six blazing eyes left a glowing scar on the inky depths, seeming scorching their ambition into the very fabric of reality. Their fiery gaze stared daggers into the blackness, peering deep into that endless void with belying the obscuration the sea inflicted on those with lesser senses.

The gentle tug of the tide pulled water filled with froth and life across the upper valley of coral that formed the abyssal mount that the eyes now perched above. Huge lumps, soft in shape rather than the sharp, jagged edged coral, could just barely be made out on the angular edges of the reef. Their corpulent shapes seemed to hang like growths all over the reef, afflicted by almost a supernatural stillness. To schooling fish they seemed no different than the reef itself, twisting and turning about them with not a care; it was as if those lumps had been there for years, rather than the few hours in which they had sat and waited.

A flash of light from above, created by clouds moving out of the way from the One-Good-Orb, reflected across the reef to reveal their true nature.

Uncountable dozens of Vrool hung lifelessly on the reefs, eyes shut so that the light could not reflect from their numerous eyes. Each had their hides rubbed with ground coral and muck, hiding their natural colors and disguising their scent and masking their silhouette even further. In their tentacles were grasped all manner of killing implements, from shattered pieces of long coral to simple knapped volcanic stone. About their personages were a number of fetishes and totems, hung on line of sinew or twisted kelp. Their eclectic collection of trophies and splattered warpaint made for a fearsome visage, made all the more clear by their immense size.

Before them all hung the colossal form of Kaarnesxaturl, baleful and terrifying in all his tremendous splendor. The Tyrant-of-Tyrants was the sole Vrool to reveal himself fully on that jagged ridge, the hacksaw edges of the reef seeming to only add to his frightening aura. The very ocean seemed to still around him, Ku silent in respect for his passing. On one of his foretentacles sat, snuggly fastened, the oily, black, curled shape of the Obsidian Torc. That twisted crown-of-different-form seemed to thrum out a dreadful pulse in the waves, a reminder to those Vrool beside the mighty Kaarn that his power was nearly without equal. Hanging from his neck was a rope of twisted kelp, thrusting through a dozen large, disembodied beaks. His infernal gaze was sign enough that he feared nothing beyond the Gods themselves, and even they might be given pause.

Below, in the valleys between the great coral mountains that carved the seafloor into a rough patchwork of grazing grounds, was the assembled horde of Kaarn’s hated rival. They numbered nearly a hundred, only a third of the forces that Kaarn had brought to bare, but their hostility emanated from the depths like the heat of a boiling vent. They had rested in their makeshift camp for the last few hours, taking watch in shifts while using the thick red-kelp forest as adequate cover. A talkative traitor from their ranks had given away their position, hoping that through treason he could somehow escape the fate of the rest of his brethren’s ill-conceived attempt to defeat the Tyrant-of-Tyrants. He had realized his foolishness when he was eaten alive by Kaarn’s most honored retainers. A generous thank you was offered over the corpse by Kaarnesxaturl himself out of gratitude, however.

Down below the predatory eyes of Kaarn great forms trudged along the seafloor. A pair of titan crabs, seemingly injured by the look of their movements, slowly plodded their way through the gentle, knee high fields of sea grasses towards the kelp forests where the Tyrant’s enemies resided. The guards could be seen responding mildly to the arrival of the creatures, either watching them from what amounted to the undersea camp’s picket or moving between the beasts and the camp. Titan crabs were known to be generally docile so there was little threat from them besides one rampant crab trampling through the kelp and waking up the entire camp. The best option was likely simply to put the injured crabs out of their misery and enjoy some good, proper meals before the rest of the host could demand their share of the rich meat.

Just as several of the vrool on picket duty closed with the titan crabs, the armored exoskeletons exploded with movement. Half a dozen vrool poured forth from the emptied husks of the crabs, descending on the guards in a flurry of tearing limbs, stabbing spikes, and gnashing beaks. The fight was brief and brutal, blood spewing out into thick clouds that disguised the results of the violence from outside viewers.

Kaarn watched through the darkness with grim satisfaction as the guards were swiftly and silently slain. Clicks went up and down the lines as Kaarn indicated it was time to advance, a wave of reflective eyes suddenly flashing brightly in the deep. With moonlight to herald their advance the lumpen forms began to descend down into the undersea valley, moving with dreadful speed and certainty. Nearly three hundred dark shades swept across the swaying sea grasses towards the kelp forest, murder on their mind.

---

The night had been a short one and the killings had been swift and barely damaging to Kaarn’s host. By the time the Tyrant-of-Tyrants’ forces had been detected well over two dozen vrool had been murdered where they rested and the rest were now surrounded. The majority of those vrool that had risen up in resistance against Kaarn’s rule of the reef around the Ku had gathered here and it was in this low valley, among the giant red kelp forest, that they died. A small handful had been spared, not from surrendering but from the considerable effort it would’ve taken to slay them; demands of fealty were given and the wise took it while the foolish were eventually slain, even if taking a few of Kaarn’s numbers with them.

As oaths of fealty were given and the hearts of their comrades offered up to them as mortar to seal their vows, Kaarn floated through the kelp forest with a prideful glimmer flickering across his eyes; though vrool were not particularly known for emotive faces, it would be difficult indeed to see anything but Kaarn’s emotions carved into his ugly visage. The scarred vrool tyrant, easily the largest of his kind in the known ocean, drifted above the seafloor with a few tentacles tugging him along. The loot, though not numerous by any means, had been piled up; a collection of stone and coral tentacle-blades alongside a few gullet-fulls worth of quality giblets and shiny things any self respecting vrool couldn’t help but want in their bed. It was an acceptable haul and Kaarn was pleased to give it all to his warriors; they had, of course, served admirably and deserved a reward. The smallest vrool slain would be eaten whole while the largest and most powerful would have their hearts eaten out of respect, corpses left to the ocean as gifts to Klaarungraxus.

“Tyrant-of-Tyrants, o’ Kaarnesxaturl Xaanesxaal,” came a call, recognizable as his most trusted retainer, Lurz. The once small vrool had grown considerably in Kaarn’s service and had become a force to be reckoned with among the All-Tyrant’s retinue, “By Klaarungraxus’ good graces, the tides bring more good fortunes; there are more prizes than flesh and stones in this trove.”

Kaarnesxaturl turned towards the voice of his nearly-trusted confidante to see for himself what exactly Klaarungraxus had gifted him for his brilliant military maneuvers. A vrool of frankly middling girth lay low to the sands before him, bedecked in baubles and fetishes. The strange looking vrool was riddled with scars, seemingly self inflicted, forming a skein of patterns all across its body. Though Kaarn’s initial thought was to simply beat the little thing to death and feed it to spawn, something in its eyes sent shivers through the Tyrant’s bell. Their six pairs of eyes met, staring deep into one another, and Kaarn felt a sense of revulsion wash through him; though it was small of body, something within the murky depths of this little vrool howled with power.

“Speak your name, fleshling, for I am Kaarnesxaturl Xaanesxaal, Tyrant-of-Tyrants, slayer of vrool, and lord and master of all things beneath the waves of our vast and powerful creator, God of Oceans, Klaarungraxus, he who sired my flesh as his.”

The ominous proclamation rang out as the threat that it was, immediately presenting Kaarn as the dominant figure in the interaction. Nevertheless, his need to clarify his position against such a small vrool was clearly a strange circumstance. A flash of interest from Lurz made it clear that the show of strength was noticed, though Lurz clearly had no intent to act on that one moment of apparent weakness. Instead, Lurz turned his gaze to the small vrool beneath him; what sort of vrool, perhaps even smaller than he had been when he first swore to serve Kaarn, could draw such a response from the tyrant of all oceans?

“Mighty All-Tyrant,” responded the small vrool, its voice distinctly warbled and metallic as it echoed through the kelp, “I am Xes.”

The pair of large vrool stared down at the so-called Xes, patiently waiting for further affectations; although plenty of vrool shortened their names, particularly among those familiar to them, the idea that one would introduce themselves as a single syllable name was preposterous. How else would others know their full name and be awed by its meaning, by the threat posed by their presence? Presentation was everything among the average vrool and Xes’ willingness to use such a simple variation of their name revealed a great deal about the small creature. There was a dread aura about this Xes that spoke many more volumes than his name, and although Kaarnesxaturl knew no fear, he certainly knew caution.

“Xes,” uttered Kaarn, playing with the name in his gullet, “A strange name. Explain yourself, Xes; why should I not have your innards pulled out your eye sockets and fed back through you?”

The little vrool, in all his nerve, chortled! A bubbling, coughing, clacking noise that was, without a shadow of a doubt, a chortle! Kaarn seemed to swell in size, the limits of his curiosity and caution pressed to the breaking point by sheer contempt. Just as he reached out to strangle the cackling little parasite, Xes let out an utterance that brought his tentacles pause.

“Because, I am here to serve you.”

Kaarn snarled, his beak clacking and clicking with barely contained rage as all eyes pointed down at the little vrool. By now a number of retainers had gathered to observe the goings-on, many of whom were in the process of devouring their meals for the day. The currents stilled at Xes utterance, stopping perfectly in a large bubble around the collected vrool. The scars that caressed the small vrool’s hide seemed to warble and glow with an inner light and a number of the retainers began to pull back away from the meeting. Kaarn, for his part, stood his ground.

“I knew you would not disappoint, great Tyrant, and so I waited for you among this rabble,” intoned Xes, now speaking with more volume than his little form should, as if the water itself carried his words further for him, “So I served the needs of one weak master so to see for myself one greater; I am impressed. Cunning as you are vast, mighty Kaarn, just so that Klaarungraxus might be proud of his spawn.”

The titanic vrool stared down at Xes, almost shocked. He had prepared for a battle, quite sure that the witchling vrool would provide for a unique experience to say the least. Now it was offering to serve. This was no ordinary vrool.

“Explain.”

Xes seemed to wriggle with glee at that, seemingly aware that he had hooked Kaarn’s attention. The predatory gaze had lessened, for Vrool were curious creatures by their very nature and such odd behavior could not be left unstudied.

“I am speaker of tides and singer of stones, mighty Xaanesxaal, Tyrant-of-Tyrants. You, greatest spawn of Klaarungraxus, All-Tyrant, Sanuxaan, drag the skein of history behind you as your net; we are all trawled into your saga. I am Warlock, servant of the Eternal Blue Sea, and I have come to serve you. Wisdom I am granted by the God of Gods and in His wisdom, I come to you, and bow low my bell before thee.” With that, the Warlock Xes bowed his head low.

Kaarn was left to ponder as his retinue returned, realizing the threat of the witchling creature had lessened; in fact, it had simply bowed. Eyes turned from the prostrate warlock to the colossal Tyrant floating in their midst and a sense of awe struck many of them. Though no vrool would ever admit to themselves they were destined for servitude beneath another forever, many of that throng felt hushed thoughts run through their mind that they had chosen wisely their lord. If even such a powerful entity bowed before him, surely they would become fat and prosperous in his servitude and die painfully outside of it.

“Rise Xes,” muttered Kaarn as his many-minds deigned to offer succor for his thoughts. He knew well what Xes was doing, the reactions from the warriors around them more than enough to put the pieces together with. Nevertheless, he knew he had to play the game.

“I accept your fealty,” came his next retort, simple and to the point, “You will… advise me.”

A gentle murmur floated through the collected host; up until now, retainers accepted under Kaarnesxaturl had all been warriors or servants. The weak died to the strong or consumed and replaced them; what need had there been for someone to tell Kaarn just about anything? But, all the vrool within earshot knew that this was wise; the witchling Warlock Xes knew much, of that they were certain, and what would be nigh impossible to drag from him against his will would only empower Kaarn’s realm and, subsequently, themselves if he gave it all willingly.

“You do me a great honor, Tyrant-of-Tyrants, and for this my loyalty is sold. My mind to your mind, vast Kaarnesxaturl, for I am your humble servant under the Godly God of all life beneath the waves AND above.”

A curious thought passed through Kaarn’s mind; above, did he say.

---

Far beyond those distant waters the very god the vrool sang their hideous praises to was fast at work. A panic had overtaken the brobdingnagian mass of Klaarungraxus, God of Oceans.

The twelve-armed-god had not begun to slow for months, his thoughts lost to himself as the growing awareness of something awful coming kept him churning through his works. Mostly this came off as repeated attempts to rearrange, recreate, or reposition the many biomes of the seafloor all across the vast realm that was Vo. The destruction wrought by the benthic deity was immense, areas between reefs left completely destroyed in some cases or thoroughly overgrown in others. Even entire deep sea mounts were raised or lower, occasionally even smashed, and the ruin left in his wake was unmistakable.

He had been thoroughly busy, nevertheless. Several new biomes had been created, from highly bioluminescent kelp forests to entire ecosystems growing up along immense, volcanic, deep sea vents. Anything Klaar could create, he did, and his many-minds went wild with attempts to fill up the space and time that he was dreadfully aware of losing. He had even went about altering a number of sentients he had found living on coasts, admittedly an arbitrary act considering the first case but one that Right-Forward Two-Down took to gleefully.

As he slumped across a large rise of basaltic rock the decentralized minds of the Old Growth Below shook with manic pressures. There was a boiling energy inside his huge form that even that corpulent body couldn’t possibly contain. Even through all the creation and destruction he had allowed himself to partake in, no amount of exertion had spilled the panic from his mind. The insanity had to be purged, that much was clear, or that doom-fueled-anxiety would threaten all that Klaar had been working so hard to preserve.

Downward-Left Three-Down, usually a quieter and more reserved submind, pinged in an exasperated idea through multiple sensory alerts. What if, the suggestion went, the body TOOK all this negative energy and simply put it into something else?

Brilliant!

Klaar lifted Downward-Left Three-Down and pressed the tip of the tentacle to the top of the stony mount that served as a temporary roost. Further, direct action was required. The huge beak of Klaarungraxus was lifted into position before biting deep into that distant tentacle. It wriggled violently as sensory responses demanded reaction to the attack even as its very own mind clearly urged the overmind forward with the action. Black liquid flowed from the wound, so black light was lost in it but with an aura-sheen at its edges that shone bright with pale light. The inky gore sank down as the wounded tentacle was pressed to the surface once more, that midnight oil pouring into the stone of the world only be drawn back out.

An utterly humongous clam sat patiently where the tentacle raised from, revealing itself in the pale moonlight that shimmered down from above. The clam was an oily black with a sheen like the purest rainbow when looked at from the right angle. Utterly beautiful in all regards, the clam had the benefit of existing for all of five seconds before Klaar smashed the work of art into splinters. Sifting through the pulsing ruin and shattered shell, Downward-Left Three-Down fished for a black pearl, the size of a puffer fish when all blown up. With divine dexterity the tentacle drew forth from the pearl, draining the entirety of that oddling stone upwards and out of itself until pearl disappeared and in its place hung a trident of purest black and emanating an aura of radiance. Downward-Left Three-Down gently grasped the trident, lifting it before the eyes of the overmind to receive praise.

With one powerful motion Klaar hurled the trident with all the force he could muster, that deadly item disappearing into the murk.

A sense of calm finally came over Klaar, all the stress of his mind drawn forth from him like a cancer and excised most effectively. All the minds pinged back at Downward-Left Three-Down that it had done an excellent job and there was, of course, much rejoicing. However, even as it gleefully accepted the sensory responses of its kin, that normally quiet tentacle was suddenly faced with a number of realizations. Firstly, that had been one of its finest creations and now it was very much well and truly gone. A shame. Secondly, that the exact functionality of that most dire of artifices was completely unknown to it, as it had been cut short in its study of the creation process.

But, perhaps most importantly, there was one, final awareness it was faced with; it LIKED making such things, and it greatly desired to make more...

---

Of course! How could she have been so stupid?! She had been completely useless down here, causing so much despair and damage without even knowing about it. At least on the Moon, she would be able to keep everything under a watchful eye. Oh! What if… What if she put everything up there to sleep for eternity? Then it would be super easy to keep them safe! Hehehe, oh, Oraelia had been right in the end - she was so smart!

Yes, only Oraelia - only her sister knew how hard life could be. Nothing ever went as she hoped it would, but she knew Oraelia would be proud of her for this. Think of the lives saved! The thought made her giddy. She travelled westwards, picking up specimens of all life she saw on the way. She kept them floating safely behind her.

In the early evening, she landed in the middle of the village of Fragrance. She was eager to see Adrian and tell him of her plan. She called out, “Adrian? Adrian, I’m back!” and prayed she hadn’t been gone for too long. Night elves, awoken by the rudely loud calls, peeked out of their caves and huts with scowls aimed at the moon goddess.

"S'up, Toots," Adrian yawned from the mouth of a cave, a long strand of blue hair stuck to his wrinkled shirt and dragging behind him as he approached.

Gibbou squealed as she saw him and immediately picked him up. “Oh, Adrian, I’ve missed you so, so, so, soooo much! Have you been alright? Have the night elves been good to you?” Out from the cave approached Cilantra, Parslie and Bay among others, all armed with sharpened sticks and stone knives.

"For the most part," Adrian leaned to peep behind Gibbou and grimaced at the approaching weapons, "They are a bit superstitious and very much slaves to anxiety."

“Heh… Like maker, like, uh… Makees. Say, Adrian, wanna hear about my newest idea? Oh, I think you’re gonna like it!”

"I bet I will," He blinked, "But, uh, are they gonna like it." He tilted his chin at the armed envoy. On cue, Cilantra opened her mouth in the usual threatening whisper she usually employed:

“Moon goddess! You return to us once again, loud and squealing as ever. What do you say in your defense for the crime of breaking the Great Peace again?” Parslie and Bay folded their arms behind her and scowled all the same. Gibbou sighed.

“Sorry, sorry, I got so excited, is all!” Cilantra and the others motioned for her to lower her voice and Gibbou grimaced. “Sorry. I’ll be gone soon, okay?” She looked back down at Adrian. “So… The plan is… You know how I’m supposed to keep all life safe during the night, right?” Cilantra and the others, meanwhile, felt awfully ignored.

Adrian tucked a knuckle under his chin, "Yeah, I remember that. Whatcha thinkin', Blue?"

“So, turns out I suck at that - I let soooo much bad stuff happen without even knowing it. Did you know that the trolls I made are now actively eating people? It’s so awful I want to just stop existing right here and now--!”

“Wait, trolls that do what?!” came a call from Parslie.

“What’s a troll?” Bay added in her confusion.

“Please don’t interrupt. Anyway, so I got this great idea, right? Just bring as much life as I can up to the moon, where I can keep it safe forever! C’mon, what do you think? It’s good, right?”

"The moon, huh?" Adrian scratched the side of his face, "Seems kinda far, doesn't it?"

“Indeed! Far away from danger, horrors and, maybe even more importantly, other gods! Don’t worry, though, Adrian - you’ll get a front seat!” She placed him on her shoulder and giggled happily to herself.

"Well if you think it's a good idea..." Adrian seemed unsure, "We were all just starting to settle."

“Don’t worry - where we’re going, you won’t even need to settle!” With that, she added all the night elves she could see to the massive cloud above of various animals and mortals she had found along the way. Thanks to the darkness, the cloud had been hard to see, but now that it was visible, the majority of the night elves dove into hiding. Gibbou frowned. “C’mon, people - it’s totally safe! Life here’s pretty dull anyway, right? The moon’s where it’s at!”

"Well wait!"

The majority of Fragrance’s elves managed to escape, but Cilantra, Parslie and Bay were all taken away. To keep him safe, Gibbou also deposited Adrian in the cloud. Later that night, she had circumvented the rest of the world and gathered what animals and mortals she wanted. She then flew upwards through the atmosphere and out into space, bringing all the life she had collected safely with her. She brought them to her precious moon and found her favourite cave. In the blink of an eye, she twisted the stone and dust inside the cave into a great and wonderful barrow with tunnels going deep into the moon’s interior. She giggled to herself and turned to the cloud. “Welcome, all, to your new home - the Hall of the Eclipse! Here, you will all be safe for all eternity.

You have my word.”

---

Thaa was beginning to regret having set down that set of Elves on that endarkened land. In a fit of rage sure but still that village was a good set of numbers of the Elves that he had managed to acquire in their stubborn defiance. In truth they had done little to merit he had to admit, but when he was only trying to help and they did not see that, they tried to escape! Such defiance and utter arrogance, could they not realize that they might be wrong and that they should simply trust in Thaa?

In any case he would comfort them when they died, they would live out their lives on that island, whatever its purpose. Perhaps it was meant as some form of torture for a different kind of life? Without light or such? Sun Elves perhaps if such a thing existed, although he had not encountered such on his many travels so far.

He had seen floating sheep of a sort that betrayed a strangely ungalbaric nature. He had taken them from their Islands as he had so many other interesting creatures he had encountered so far. Those strange geckos that the Elves had ‘lived in harmony’ with before Thaa came around, using harmony for such a disgusting thing such as life was rather sickening he had to admit.

In any case he had moved on from that and picked up a type of lizard that fed on rocks, could have some good purposes there he felt, besides, he kind of liked the whole body shape somewhat but perhaps a little different...

...well it was something to ponder for the future in any case.

Of course then he had moved east away from the seemingly myriad islands to the mainland where he had acquired a great many species so far. First he had come across a kind of winged predatory beast, he had grabbed up quite a number of them. While they were quite the handful during the day to keep them in the Temple, he felt they would be well worth it in the end for his plans.

Besides it seemed somewhat cruel to have made a winged creature that was so clearly poorly aerodynamic and then set them in a climate that had many tornadoes and air disruptions. It truly spoke to the meticulous nature of whatever evil deities sought to promote life.

Next he had come across a floating archipelago in the skies above the continent and taken some of the inhabitants there, mostly of the more dispersed kind but he did manage to reach some of the others closer to the center of the islands. He was admittedly regretting it somewhat since they were persistent and inquisitive it seemed. Other intelligent mortals seemed continent to be miserable but clearly these were designed to spread their misery in their incessant ignorance. Admittedly their mind’s structure seemed to be sound, even if he could quite say that he liked them that much in their matters of living.

From there was the simple matter of taking up more life from around the continent and the islands, some dear that had the unfortunate effect of living even when they died. Thaa took them almost wanting to study how this happened so that he might even prevent such a cruel fate in the future, but for the meantime they might serve some useful purpose. As well he grabbed a few other less significant things, some kinds of plants for variety mostly.

He took a small detour off the continent after picking up a kind of wispy creature, he wasn’t quite sure why they existed, perhaps the life god was still trying to figure out the best way to make things suffer? In any case they didn’t seem to be much to them but he took them anyway as he hoped some of the more intelligent races might find them interesting enough to be somewhat excited at the prospect of a new home with new and wondrous things for their short lives. They did not seem to fulfill such hopes in any case.

The detour led him to another set of islands that had more mortal peoples on which he promptly took them as well. Of course they would turn out to already have an ingrained superiority ideals seemingly to the other races unfortunately enough. He could perhaps find some use for them but for his main project they would not do.

Coming back to the mainland however he had gotten a new bounty of useful subjects, another race, he would call them Day Elves or Sun Elves if they seemed to have any particularly strong attachment to that part of the cycle. They were remarkably similar, perhaps someone was copying from the same general idea? Or maybe one was made to replace the other in a different location? It was a mystery that these life deities seemed so compentent in cruelty and then so utterly incompetent in following through.

With the ‘Humans’ as the Day Elves insisted they should be called he had also found bounties of useful plants, a useful herbivorial creature with quills, and some birds which had some strange interaction with a force he did not yet fully understand. In truth he had found a whole lot of nothing in terms of grand plans or anything that bespoke of any organized opposition.

In Thaa’s various travels he had not yet come across something so obviously the work and development of a god, if not the present form of a deity in of themselves, as the massive tree he now directed his golden temple to now. If there was any present solution for his evident need and desire to meet his fellow deities and learn of at least one of their own selves, this was a good case for that.

In any case, Thaa still hung beneath his golden Temple and its great domes and spires on each towering layer. He still kept tendrils of his form out below should he need such to manipulate and guide his divine energies. The Vescii Temple, which still held his numerous collected beings and samples, approached the great Tree. Thaa centered his gaze on the thunderous form before him as he approached in his Temple, looking for any sign of communication for his purposes of communication with another Divine.

Out of the ground came several great roots, lifting themselves to the skies to meet and block the path of the Temple. It was far enough, it seemed. And on top of one of the closest roots was a single mortal form, with an intense yellow light leaking from within its wooden body.

It did not speak loudly, for it knew that the only kind of entity capable of such feats of power was a God. ”I am the First Voice, and I speak for the Tree of Genesis. I welcome you to The Garden of Dreams, Master.” He proclaimed in a deep, refined voice, bowing his head in apparent respect. ”May I be graced by your name, Master…?”

From the golden temple a thundering voice replied, “You speak to Thaa, God of Death and Protector of the Dead.”

Thaa continued as he recentered his eye on that of the mortal form before him, the Temple slowed its approach to stop right before it might collide with the great roots. “You will address me as Thaa or one of the titles I just gave, there will be no more of this ‘Master’ speech now that my name is known to you. Thank you for welcoming I must say, although I cannot say to have the knowledge of this ‘Garden of Dreams’, I assume it is some fantastic work of the Tree of Genesis? I can see clearly it is as Divine as I.”

”It is the wish of my creator to refer to all Divine entities as ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’, Master Thaa. As for the Garden of Dream, it is what you see. A work in progress… It is the land within the direct orb of influence of the Tree of Genesis, where the Dreams of a great race shall be birthed and nurtured in the near future. It has shown me visions,” The Voice said with its monotonous tone giving way to a slight shiver, opening its black eyes and looking down at the view. Dozens of massive roots forming arcs, with vines and thick foliage growing on them… ”Visions of villages hanging from the Roots of Genesis, of a grand civilization populating the Tree itself… Of a beautiful People delivering the world from suffering and evil and violence!”

There was a moment of breathless silence as the Voice recovered, then looked at the Vescii Temple and nodded, recovering his stoicism. ”So, Master Thaa, how may I be of assistance to you?”

“I must say that the Tree of Genesis is quite ambitious in its plans, but I can help but approve of such, to attempt to purge suffering and evil from life…

...well it is an experiment well worth watching. As for how you may be of assistance, I would ask what you know of other deities as I have seen little of my own ilk and I am most curious to what you and the Tree of Genesis have to say.”

The Voice seemed to frown, an expression that proved somewhat difficult for him to pull off given his wooden and black hay flesh. After a while, it spoke again, lifting a hand to cup his chin. ”Mistress Gibbou of the Moon is rather pleasant. She visited us some time ago to ask for a blessing. I’ve personally met Aeinwaje, co-sign of Master Boris of the Mountains, and he was curious as is expected of mammals…” He trailed off and rubbed his face, then shook his head and relaxed. ”And we had an… ‘Encounter’... With Masters Firinn and Aicheil. I would suggest not touching what they call the ‘Weave’.”

Thaa shifted in his hanging perch on the Vescii Temple before he replied, “I will take your suggestion for now as of your ‘encounter’ and the no doubt valuable experience you have in the matter. It is good to have some names for my fellow deities. I must say there is one more matter that the Tree of Genesis could assist me in should it be so inclined as it has already been so kind to even provide you to speak with me.”

Thaa paused, shifting his eye away from the Voice to that of the Tree itself. “You see I have sought after the souls of the dead and I fear that some aspects of life have a tendency to keep them from fully embracing death, and so I would like to create a measure to ensure that the bodies of the dead are disposed of regardless. I also believe that some creatures would be best suited towards this task given the current state of life over this whole world of ours and I need some help in creating such a creature, I have no good understanding of what makes these things continue to live so and would appreciate the insight and assistance in such an endeavor.”

”Disposing of the bodies? What is the issue with the current system, if I may ask? I was under the impression bodies would normally rot and return to the earth over time, master Thaa.” The Voice asked, tilting his head slightly and clasping his hands behind his back.

“That, is precisely the problem with the current system,” Thaa shifted his eye back to focus on the Voice as he continued. “Over time and gradual change leaves too much to the operation of the world, it does not give proper severance from Life. While there may be some beasts which pick and choose the corpses of the dead as well, all is much too gradual, there must be an inducement of a stricter separation. It is not the content of the bodies, not the material aspects of what maintained their life. I have come across souls which bemoaned their fates, they all burned and in their death they remained, tortured with the gradual charring of their corpses as they could not move on.”

“I cannot say that I know this will be successful, but I know there must be proper severance between the living and the dead as otherwise I fear the dead souls may be much to enamored with the remnants of their lives. I wish to ensure that such a connection is completely rent apart, torn not for the sake of living things to make use of their corpses’ components, although I care little what actually becomes of them, but to ensure the dead look beyond that which was a part of them. That the souls of the dead might look elsewhere and so come more freely into my proper care.”

”I see...” The Voice muttered and closed his eyes. A minute passed, and suddenly his face twisted in what seemed to be… Pain. Agony. It only lasted a split moment, however.

”I’ve received a vision. After death, a soul usually yearns to return to their body in order to have another chance at life. This is a misguided wish and therefore should we make it impossible for a soul to locate or feel its former body, this should discourage their attempts at coming back and encourage them to embrace their new existence with you, Master Thaa.” The Voice explained and wiped at his nose which was leaking a little bit of golden sap.

”Apologies if I am mistaken, I am but a mortal trying to interpret the Great Tree’s Will.” He bowed his head apologetically.

“A most eloquent explanation as induced by the Tree of Genesis, clearly one of the better of the divine beings. Yes that is might intention to so create a kind of creature to accomplish that. I would tend to think that such a creature could survive on the remnants of the corpses after the appropriate rending has been done to ensure the true purpose of the continuation of soul movement. Such creation would be necessary to survive for long with the continued existence of such varied forms of life.”

”The Tree of Genesis is most pleased by your kind words, Master Thaa. As for the creature, the Tree of Genesis is capable of creating any and all vegetation-based creature you’d like to request. My personal suggestion would be different species of omnivorous flora that feed on the innards of corpses and perhaps still-living organisms. Perhaps using a substance that causes the skin to harden, turning corpses into hollow, brittle statues. Of course, the vegetation in charge of this process would excrete a big enough quantity of nutrient and mineral-rich material so that its activities would not disrupt the fertility of the soil.” The Voice shifted his weight.

“I will take your suggestion, I care not what form they take as long as they are mobile and capable of the task they need to accomplish, I can outfit whatever creature with the necessary ability to locate the dead that they need to proceed after.”

”I see. In that case, I trust you’ve brought sufficient samples of organisms from biomes around the world? The process to create our corpse processors will be long, but if you stay and provide the Tree of Genesis with ample samples, it is perfectly doable.” As he said that, the Tree’s roots began to retract back into the earth, taking the Voice with them on their slow, steady descent. ”Since the Tree of Genesis has perfect knowledge of the Garden of Dreams, it will most likely start by creating a processor for this area.”

“I do have a number of samples of many kinds of life around many locales as it would happen, and I can spare a good few of those. I do not know why they will be required but I also have no issue with providing it.”

With that Thaa’s great body began to move and shift from his perch below the Vescii Temple, the long tendrils of the corpse copies that made the majority of his bulk reached deep into the Temple on many levels to retrieve various kinds and forms of life from within. He took many living things from inside the Temple to serve as the Tree of Genesis's samples, whether they be of various forms of predator such as the western Landsharks, or a grasp on a prairie Leon, or other creatures such as the numerous Hedgecows.

For all the great and strange creatures of faraway lands that the God Thaa showed, the Voice never showed an ounce of fear. Despite being mortal, despite the fact that most of the samples could destroy him, unarmed and unprepared as he was, he was not afraid.

Eventually the roots had taken the Voice to the ground level, and he took to guiding Thaa into the hollow interior of the Tree of Genesis. It was a long walk, so long in fact that even though it had been morning by the time they came into the Tree, at the time they reached the ramp to go either up or down, moonlight was already shining through the gaps in the Tree’s outer shell.

And so down they went. One level, two levels, ten levels, twenty… Until the Voice took the God and his samples to the twenty-third level where the ramp ended, and also where several smaller roots were intertwined with a larger one in the center of the level, with a different colour of bioluminescence coursing through each intertwined root, each the width of two Voices.

In order to keep going down, one had to cross the dozen kilometers wide level to the opposite side, where a large crude door made out of bark and vines blocked the path. Of course, the Voice did not lead the God on any more walks. Being on that level was enough, as an untold amount of roots suddenly burst out from behind the crude gate leading to the depths of the tree and began prodding and yanking the specimens around.

”It is making sure which specimens are docile and which aren’t.” The Voice explained, just in time for one of the Leons to snap with a roar, biting down on one of the annoying roots with enough force to destroy its tip. However this did not deter the root’s advance, which even though it leaked its thick sap everywhere, quickly secured the Leon and at breakneck speed yanked it across the dozen kilometers to the gate, and then down into the Depths of the Tree. ”The more violent ones always go first, for safety purposes. The rest can be safely herded down. It will take a while.”

True to the Voice’s explanation, several other predators and some of the more stressed specimens were quickly zeroed in on by the roots and promptly given priority over the rest, and soon the calmer beasts were taken in a much gentler manner down into the depths.

”They’re lucky, to be able to step on the Heart of Genesis. Not even I know what’s in there...”

“As should be decreed by your creator and master, wondering will likely not do you much good.” Thaa spoke, having long given up his hold over the foremost specimens to the various roots grabbing out for them. The great mass of bodies had stretched out to manipulate and hold onto the many specimens while keeping pace with the mortal, now those specimens were gradually being brought forward to be handed to the roots. The central disk and eye of Thaa stayed upon a mass that sat by the Voice as the rest of his body brought the remaining specimens forward to be handed off.

As the process took place, the Voice seized the moment to, for the first time, truly take in the form of the God he was guiding. The sea of corpses. At one point deep within the writhing masses of flesh, he could see the dull shimmer of what looked like his own yellow light. The Voice looked away immediately and felt a shiver go down his spine. ”I believe I just saw my dead body Master Thaa’s own body. What does that mean, Master Thaa?” The Voice asked with a slight shiver to his deep voice.

“I take the forms of many who have died. All that live will also die and continue their existence as part of the dead, all those that did once live continue their existence as I care for them. Your life is temporary, your continued existence is not quite so fragile. You speak for the Tree of Genesis, a Voice as it were, you did not arrive into existence with no planning and no experimentation before hand.”

The Voice sighed. ”The bodies of the unborn, huh...”

Time passed. Eventually all the specimens had been taken, and waiting was the only thing left to do. That is, until bioluminescent plants and mushrooms lighting the level dimmed slightly. A very small number of them wilted, and some others never really regained their full splendor.

And then most of the lights recovered, and the gate at the far end of the level opened and from it a single root carried out an unidentifiable carcass, half-eaten by some unknown predator, still bleeding as if it was fresh kill. The root roughly threw the carcass onto the ground in front of the Voice and Thaa, and then retracted. Yet the gate did not close and eventually from the depths crawled out hordes of two-meter long worm-like vines. They moved slowly, but the God could easily see they had a purpose. They were all heading straight for the carcass. Eventually the fastest of them reached it, and the one vine immediately inspected the carcass. It felt the fresh blood, pressed itself against the unrecognizable carcass’s chest, then when satisfied revealed a row of short, sharp teeth lining a mouth as wide as its head, and wormed its way into the creature’s mouth.

The wet sounds of flesh ripping and the sickening crack of bone filled the air as the wormvine completely dug itself into the carcass, and the longer the show went on, the yellower the creature’s flesh became. At a certain point it stopped looking like flesh entirely.

Suddenly, the eating noises stopped. A few cracks appeared on the hardened skin of the creature’s chest, and from those cracks burst the wormvine, looking slightly larger and thicker. It quickly crawled out of the empty, hardened husk and disappeared up the ramp to the upper levels.

After a few moments, the Voice gulped and stretched his mouth into a grim line, then walked up to the husk and stuck his hand into the cracks from which the wormvine emerged. The texture was like smoothly carved stone, and yet it was so brittle that the mere act of leaning on it made the husk crumble. Still, the Voice dug in deep into the empty chamber that was the carcass’s thorax, and then pulled out a small, writhing green thing. A new wormvine.

”One wormvine enters a carcass, and two leave it. It is how they reproduce. The young will eat from carcasses and grow, while the adults eat and multiply. Any nourishment leftover will be excreted so the world can feed on it.”

“An excellent innovation I have to say, although not quite finished as I have a little touch to add to them of my own that should make them all the more effective.”

With that a mass of corpses that were a part of Thaa exploded out after the wormvines, grew into a stream from the shifting mass of corpses that was Thaa’s body. It wasn’t long before the wormvines were dragged back down by Thaa, the numerous corpse-forms grabbing them and bringing them back to the lower level.

The wormvines were now restrained, although struggling against the ‘corpses’ that were not the dead flesh they had been made to seek, and Thaa turned his eye upon them as his great disk shifted among the mass that made up his body.

“I have to say I think the design works better than anything I could have come up with, and will no doubt be of great use for my purposes, excepting a small ability they should have to be more effective in their task than the common carrion-seeker. You see, the issue with most carrion eaters is not that they are too unthorough, it is often that they are far too slow to the chase.” The wormvines began to writhe with increased fervor as energies poured into them from Thaa, changing and manipulating the essence that linked their souls to their bodies, a slight edit in how they experienced being alive. “These however, need not be the fastest of creatures no that would not truly solve the issue. They need to be much better at actually getting at the bodies soon after the soul has departed. I will give them both the ability and intense draw that they need in their little minds to go after it all so quickly.”

As soon as the last word left Thaa, so did the wormvines become freed from his grasp. They quickly bolted back up to the high levels, evidently in whatever reasoned within them to move with excess speed.

”A great addition, I believe. It’ll make the creatures more efficient.” The Voice said, just in time for the next batch of creatures to emerge from the open gate. As usual, a new carcass was dropped in front of the pair and these new creatures, human-sized flora-based birds with flint beaks, rushed up to the carcass and tore it apart, before taking the pieces and flying off into the upper levels. One of them got intercepted by the God of the Dead and received the blessing. The Voice took a step back and averted his gaze.

”It’ll be long. It is creating several creatures in order to adapt to all the biomes from which the samples came from.” He said, ”It’ll be long. So, Master Thaa, since we have some time to spare… I was hoping you could listen to a selfish request of mine.”

“Speak then Voice, tell me of your request.”

”The Tree of Genesis is going to create a new race of sapient beings. Mortals, like me, who will live for a short time and then die… So, I would like to ask if there is a way to reuse the souls of those who died. To bring them back, into a new body and life, and give them the chance to live over and over again? I believe this would encourage the living to create a perfect world, as they will be living in it forever in one form or another. Perhaps… In order to make it fair, the souls could spend an equal amount of time in the realm of the dead as they spend in the realm of the living?”

Thaa listened in silence to the whole of his speech, finally at the end saying, “I will allow this at a price, but I will say I will not force any of the souls to return to the realm of the living if they do not wish to, they will be allowed to remain dead should they so desire.”

The Voice let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. ”That is fair, Master Thaa. I could not ask for more. What is the price you mention?”

“In some future time I may call upon these people, nothing too great, but I may ask little things of them, and I would expect them to honor such as I continue such a service for them.”

”I will take it upon myself, to teach these new sapients about the importance of upholding agreements and honoring traditions. This should not be a problem… But if someone refuses to honour your requests, whether out of ignorance, incompetence, or small-heartedness, then their souls are yours to do with as you see fit. Whether that be forgiving their transgression, or revoking their reincarnation ability...”

“As I see fit,” Thaa merely confirmed.

”Indeed. Thank you, Master Thaa.” The Voice said and fell into silence, and time began to pass more quickly. It seemed like a blur to him. Dozens of different and new species of mobile flora were birthed in such a relatively short span of time at the mere request of the God of the Dead… It seemed to the Voice that the Tree of Genesis was different from before. It had learned to be more accomodating, it seemed, from its encounter with the violent alien gods.

Eventually, one last species jumped out from behind the Gate, and then the Gate closed.

”It seems that is the last of them. By my current estimations, it should take one human generation for the species to spread across our current landmass. Less in the case of those capable of flight, of course. What would you like to call this group of beasts, Master Thaa? They’re an entirely new category, after all.”

“They are ghouls. Destroyers of the remnants of ended life. They take such a great many forms and manners that to name them all would a pointless exercise, their purpose is in common and their power is as well.” Thaa and shifted his gaze once more to directly look at the Voice.

“Now, I have much to do and this has taken some time already. I do have one more request of you and the Tree of Genesis, please tell me of any more interactions with the fellow kind of mine, I wish to keep in mind my fellow deities.”

”Yes, I will personally keep you updated, Master Thaa, as long as the Tree of Genesis allows me to.” The Voice confirmed, then nodded his head in respect, ”We are thankful for your visit and hope it was satisfactory. Where will you be going next?”

“I believe I shall be heading back finally to the Hreelcii isles to finish some still waiting work there.” Thaa responded, and the Voice watched as the huge form of the God started to move further away, then disappeared up into the upper levels of the Tree.

Once the Voice could no longer feel the soul-crushing presence of the foreign God present, he groaned and collapsed onto his knees, panting for breath.

”I swear, all these divine encounters will be the death of me...”

---

Returning to his Temple and ensuring that everything was back in its proper place was no small feat but Thaa did have the advantage of divine power in this instance. What he did not expect was to be comforting the dead souls of the Eloxochithli he had brought aboard, there were few enough of them.

Thaa did intend to get to the bottom of how exactly they all died but he had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.. While he wasn’t quite sure how they all were slaughtered in his several hour absence, he had a vague idea it might have to do with that fact that he had separated each intelligent mortal race from each other and there were several very predatory species on board of his Temple.

In any case he would have to sort it out later, he had work to do in the Hreelcii Isles.

---

It was actually fairly quick work all in all. Set up all the biomes and finish sculpting all the lands with plains and rivers and such good things. He even made some nice radiant cave systems for the Night Elves to live since they were so ungrateful. He released most of the creations that he had been collecting in various places over the newly lively islands. A lot of the plants he had made sure to bring along the various grasses that were most suitable for the mortals here and there. As well he decided to change the Land sharks to be a bit different given his experience previously in introducing mortals to predatory beasts.

He made two new kinds, one which stayed the same size roughly keeping a hammerhead shape but becoming much more group oriented and docile like the Quillats, also modified their diet to an omnivorous one. As well as the necessary digestive organs and other such necessary bits that made up life as it seemed. The others he made smaller and group oriented like some small hunting wolves or some such thing, he had no need to import such creatures here although he admitted that the cology might do well to have something in that place.

He released the Night Elves, the so called ‘Humans’ and the Itztli here. He did keep some of the ‘Humans’ and the Reshut of course as he felt he might set them up over in the Island chain he had started, he had gotten a lot more of the Humans than he had managed for the others so he figured splitting up their population would help keep things even here.

---

It was quite nice to have purged out the life from his Temple Thaa had to admit. It was quite the noxious stench having to keep so much of the living around. He didn’t dislike them as such, it was more that what the core essence of what they were was in constant denial, that living was actually good for them in some twisted way. It was a truly perversion he had to admit.

In any case he had finished his mission for now. He had settled the Reshut on the Western Islands in the chain and the ‘Humans’ he had settled in the center island, to the west of the Island that held the Tomb of the Forgotten. Perhaps he should pay a visit to make sure none had destroyed such a marker.

---

Cadien stared up at the night sky with something akin to awe. The moon he had created so long ago was beginning to overlap with the source of its original inspiration. This was a rare occurrence, he realized, and one he needed to observe. It was beautiful - the bright purple of the smaller moon contrasting the pale white of the original, which seemed to surround the purple moon almost like a ring.

He could see his dragon, Zulross, resting in a crater on the moon’s surface, and felt a brief sense of regret, but the dragon had chosen to stay. He pushed the feeling aside. He would visit the dragon later.

Instead he continued to admire his own creation, wondering what Gibbou might think of how it looked now. Would she too enjoy it? Or would she be frustrated that it was blocking her own?

If she was frustrated… well, her moon wasn’t fully obscured, and it would only be for a few minutes. She would live.

It was so beautiful, and so rare, that he felt some sort of event had to happen to mark this occasion. He thought for a moment, and then an idea came to him.

He raised his palm to the sky, and a beam of energy shot upward, consecrating his moon.

---

---

All she felt was emptiness. The sight of the Sentti tribal warriors, strewn in a half-circle around her beaten and bloodied, should have brought her something. Some measure of satisfaction. Still all she could feel was cold. Angry. Their faces mocked her even now, their eyes reflecting the crimes they perpetrated against her tribe. Against her. Their original sin had torn open a wound deep inside her - a yawning abyss that seemed to only grow, even as she felt her weapon connect against their bodies; sapping the life from those responsible. It was justice. It was what should be. Yet there was nothing. Only hatred.

“...-ya....”

At least the weapon had brought her the strength she needed. It seemed to understand her grief. The pain of seeing these men and women again had made her hesitate, and the weapon had moved her hands for her. It knew what she wanted. It did what she needed. Another man ran screaming at her from across the field, a rock gripped tight in his hand. Was he one of them? One of the raiders? If he was here, he was with them. That was enough. He was complicit in what they had done.

“...-nya…”

She swung the black hilt towards the charging man. He saw the bladed edge fly towards him, and he twisted left to avoid it. It was not enough, the weapon knew of his crimes. Knew of her hatred. She felt her hands twitch the extra few centimetres to connect the blade. A spray of blood coloured the grass - coloured her - as the man toppled to the ground. Still nothing. But he deserved it. He was evil, and this was his recompense. His punishment for his crimes, and that of his kin. Her village was all that ever mattered to her - and now they were gone. Now all was gone, except this… this war. Her war against evil. Against men, against trolls. She’d need more power. More strength. The massive beast that came to take her brother from her would be stronger than this. It would not escape her rage. Her pain.

“Sanya! That’s enough!”

Yaian’s voice shook her out of her thoughts, out of the haze. A shaky breath followed as she felt her adrenaline begin to drain. The groans and sobs of the villagers around her began to assault her ears, and reality began to fade back in around her. Beyond the defeated warriors were cowering women and men, children, elders. In a half-circle lay the village's fighters, only a few still alive - fewer still who would have any hope of making it. A lump in her throat began to form as the rage faded. Replaced by guilt, despair, and pain. It wasn’t fair. Why did she feel this way? They took everything from her.

Yaian placed his hand on her shoulder, and she quickly shrugged it off. He didn’t understand. He didn’t seem to care like she did. It didn’t hurt him, he was always trying to forget. “They deserve death,” she breathed, her words venomous in tone and intent alike.

“They cannot fight any longer, Sanya. There is no victory to be had, now.” Yaian replied, walking up beside her. Another man came crawling forwards from the shadows.

“Mercy, please! You slew the chief and his warriors! We won’t resist! Take anything you want!” he rambled quickly, throwing himself at Sanya and Yaian’s feet. Others hesitantly followed, moving to prostrate themselves while others ran forward to cradle fallen warriors that had meant something for them.

“Take anything-... like you took my village from me?!” Sanya roared with growing fury, and she felt Yaian stare at her again. Again he said her name, and she scoffed and looked away from the scene. They didn’t deserve this. Yet Yaian took their side. He took their side and it made her feel guilty. He always made her feel guilty. “...Then I will take everything. Sentti is no more. This is the Sanyan tribe, now. Anyone who is displeased with this can face me, and punishment for their crimes against me.”

None of the villagers complained at her words, some even thanked her. Yaian had moved to help a villager carry away a wounded man, and it once more filled her rancor. How readily he cooperated with those that took everything from them. It made her sick to her stomach. She needed time to think. She needed more power. The weapon wasn’t enough. As if uplifted by a new purpose, she spun on her heels and looked at the forest. She began to move.

“What are you doing, Sanya?” came Yaian’s voice. “We cannot leave after what you said!”

“I need more power. I will be back with the blessing of the goddess.”

With that, Sanya wandered into the treeline, leaving Yaian to rule in her stead.

---

Neiya hovered above her mist-covered pool, eyes closed. The tears came at random, unbidden and unwanted. In her head, the moment replayed endlessly. The pure look of scorn the moon goddess had given her, and her words. How had she poisoned her against herself so truly? How could she have such venom against someone who wanted her best? She would have taken care of her - for as long as it took. Forever, if necessary. The emotions just roiled endlessly, drowning out the woes of the mortal world. This stinging pain would never end.

“Goddess!” cried a faraway voice, ripping Neiya from her doom-filled thoughts. She opened her eyes to regard the visitor - nay, intruder - and found herself staring down a familiar face. The woman - the one with endless sorrow, anguished vitriol. She carried the spear she had been given so carelessly, waving back and forth in one hand. No respect. “I have returned to ask your favor!”

”You have my favor already. Yet you waste it coming here.” Neiya felt her own bitterness bubble to the forefront. No matter how much she tried to focus on the human girl, all she saw was Gibbou, and that scornful look. That casual hatred. It stung straight into her soul, her very being. And it made her angry.

“I need more power. I have done as I set out to do. But to face the great beast, I require more. You must give me more. The fallen deserve peace.” Sanya argued from the lakeside. Normally Neiya would have felt her emotions, dug deeper into her intent, but she didn’t care. This hollow pain was all she knew. She was alone. Hated. And now this mortal - this insolent being - demanded her power.

”No. I gave you all you needed. Now go away.” the goddess replied, a bitter frown directed at the mortal before she turned away to look at the waterfall - and finally closed her eyes afterwards once again.

Then the voice returned. Full of spite and vitriol. Defiant and unpleasant. Like Gibbou. “What kind of goddess are you? The world is in pain, and you just hide here! You are no better than them - cowards, killers, collaborators!” Neiya felt something stab at her heart - not weapons, but words. It burrowed itself deep into her core and forced a gasp out of her. A deep agony bubbled from within, called out by the anger of another. Her eyes flew open, as pain turned to anguish, and anguish turned to fury. Again she stared at the mortal, stood dauntless on the lake’s edge.

Neiya lifted her hand, gripping Sanya from afar as her eyes filled with the azure of her irises. The marks on her cheeks darkened, and the horns - though unmoving - seemed to grow and twist with each passing moment. “You think you understand the pain of the world? What suffering bubbles beneath the surface? What damage you and your ilk do to each other every passing moment? You think you can heal the world? Then by all means, Sanya, daughter of Ilvar and Yris, let me open your mind to the pain of your kin.”

The goddess lifted her hand, and the human woman screamed in pain, lifting up off the ground. Sorrowsting clattered to the ground, digging into the wet soil, as Sanya clutched her head in sudden agony. ”I charge you, Sanya. Heal the world. Do as you demand of others. When you truly understand - when nothing but the hollow emptiness remains, and all your rage is nothing but a whimper in the abyss of oblivion, then you will truly understand the depths of mortal minds. The futility of your disgusting demand. Until then, suffer as I do.”

Neiya closed her fist, and mist from the lake rose to surround the human stuck in laborious agony. Slowly, the essence of the goddess pressed against her skin, against her eyes. It became one with her, and Sanya screamed in endless pain. The world turned black, as an endless stream of suffering, joy, grief and lust seemed to overwhelm the human all at once.

When Sanya woke up, the goddess was nowhere to be found.

Toog winced slightly as one of the small goblin children decided to use one of his ears as a rope to swing on. While it was nice to take a rest now and again, he couldn’t fathom why Iternis had chosen to do so around so many tiny nuscances. If they had stopped in that enormous settlement, Sanctus Civitas was what those mantis people had called it, Toog would at least have a nice bed to sleep in and Iternis could have thrown about his godly status to get some good food or something.

Toog sighed and stood up, sending a cascade of squealing children flowing off of his back, the bravest few tried to hold on by wrapping themselves up in his fur but a quick shake dislodged them. He actually didn’t care about all that luxury, he mused to himself as he picked his way through the tumbles of playing kids, he felt like Iternis seemed stressed about something and deserved some pomp for once. Toog padded over to his God, who was currently taking the form of a beautiful goblin man and had been entertaining the older children for hours now.

Toog wordlessly moved around behind Iternis and lay besides him. A few of the goblins were startled by his sudden appearance, but most were too enraptured by Iternis’s story to notice. Toog had heard all of the god’s stories before, but each time Iternis was able to spin them in a new way, usually not a factual way, but a way nonetheless. They were all about the clever and incredibly handsome god Iternis and his savage and undefeatable mount Toog, facing against the forces of evil and playing all sorts of tricks on the cruel or powerful. Toog never really liked being called savage, but the mortals seemed to eat up those tales.

As their travels went on, Iternis had begun spending more and more time among the mortals and Toog, as a side effect of most people being terrified by a giant talking beast, had taken to being mostly quiet around mortals. He sort of missed the old days, when it was just the two of them, doing all the things that made up the stories Iternis tells now, but he also enjoyed these new, slower days.

Toog didn’t know why Iternis had given up all the daring exploits and his godly duties of creation, but he still loved his master and would follow him anywhere. Even if they were going to keep fading into this steady life of mediocrity. He would accept it, but he still didn’t get it; Iternis had even begun avoiding other gods. They didn’t stay in Sanctus Civitas because the god had seen one of his brothers. And before even that, when crossing the ocean from Toraan to Mylia, Iternis had taken the long way to avoid some great ocean deity.

As Toog lay, listening to Iternis’s voice, he found himself steadily drifting off to sleep.

---

Iternis lay next to Toog, staring up at the setting sun. Toog’s flanks rose and fell steadily in dream. The children had dispersed, called by their parents to go eat supper or do some other chores, and now the God of Journeys was left alone in the clearing, all the goblins living their mortal lives. A faint seabreeze flowed from the beach and into the light forest just to rustle Iternis’s feather crown. He let out a great sigh and stood up. Iternis cast one look back at Toog and smiled warmly before setting off to the ocean front.

He climbed the short embankment that shielded the goblins’ camp from the worst of the sea breeze and slid down the other side, stopping only when his feet plunged into the sand. He walked in silence, swishing his robes back and forth absentmindedly with his hands. He paused when he took a step into the water, the warm ocean lapping at his toes. Iternis let out another sigh, this time intentionally over dramatic.

The god chuckled at himself and then kicked a pebble into the waves. The small stone shot off at an incredible speed, skipping across the water until even Iternis’s godly eyes couldn’t see it.

“That was quite the trick,” A feeble voice laughed from behind the god.

“Oh, uh…” Iternis jumped, startled, and turned around to see a wizened goblin standing on the embankment, a cane made of cork holding up his shaking body, “I didn’t see you there, lost in thought.”

“Clearly,” The old man laughed as he hobbled over to stand by Iternis, his toes in the waves, “What has got you so somber looking? You’re still young, you don’t even have to worry about your hips falling off your damn body!”

Iternis smiled at the old man’s joke then turned back to the sea.

“The inevitable, I suppose,” he said.

“You’re afraid of death?” the old man scoffed, “I should be afraid of death, not you. You are still in your prime, I have hardly done all that wanted and I’ve already pushed my luck by turning thirty!”

“Thirty?”Iternis was taken aback, “That is a rather short life.”

The old goblin shot Iternis a funny look.

“Lad, you’re a goblin too,” He declared, “I’d like to see you make thirty.”

Iternis looked down at his body, forgetting that he was in the form of a goblin and laughed.

“I suppose… Say, old timer, can I ask you some advice?”

“What else are old coots good for?”

Iternis smiled a little but it quickly faded.

“What would you do if you knew something terrible was going to happen,” the god began, his voice growing tired sounding, “And it was just because of what you are? And at first, you were okay with it, and you decided to just live and do everything despite the fact that that doom was impending. But soon, you didn’t want to ever stop. So you tried to change what you were, because maybe if you changed and stopped doing what you were doing, you wouldn't have to leave. If maybe I had just stopped doing it soon, or given up even more, I wouldn’t have to leave. Even now, I know that I still am what I am, no matter how much I pretend not to be, and that still means I will have to leave…”

Iternis trailed off, watching the clouds race by in the blood red sky. They floated, trying to outrun each other, unaware that soon night would fall and blott them all out. The old goblin was silent for a while too.

“Son,” He began slowly, “I don’t think I know exactly what you're going through, but I do know that you can’t change what you are. You can change what you do and how you act, but not what you are. You and I, we’re goblins. We won’t ever be able to live as long as the other races, so we will never be able to do all that we want to do. And sometimes that just means we need to do what we can do and try not to drag others down with us.

Iternis smiled ruefully, “That is a very grim outlook on things.”

The goblin shrugged, “That’s just my outlook on things.”

The two fell into another silence. They stayed still for a long while, until Oraelia had fallen all the way below the ocean line. Iternis opened his mouth to speak but paused and cast a look back in the direction that Toog was sleeping. He looked down at the water and then decided to speak.

“Old Timer,” the god sighed, “If you could do anything, anything at all, before you died. What would it be.”

The goblin sighed and looked out over the pitch black sea. The waves continued to gently touch the two’s feet and then retreat only to sneak back for another touch.

“I would want to see what’s over that horizon. I’ve never left this island; I would want to be able to pick a point across the waves and just start walking until my legs gave out. Just so that I could see what I wanted and my daughter wouldn’t have to worry about caring for such a decrepit man like me for the last few months.”

Iternis turned to the goblin and looked him in the eyes. He reached into his robes and, for the first time in a very long time, released some of his godly energy. He tore a large swatch of the fabric off in an instant. The cloth exploded and frayed until it turned into a spiral of thread. The fabric swarmed over to the old Goblin, startling him and causing him to stumble backwards. The fabric wove itself around the cane that was clutched in his hands and wrapped his bare, knobbly feet.

“Wha-” The goblin began to shout before shuddering as new strength flowed into him. The fabric on his feet condensed into intricate sandals and his cane grew into a staff covered in tassels that fluttered in the wind.

“Go,” Iternis commanded, “Go and fulfill that dream, walk the seas. These gifts will let you do it. But first, go tell Toog, my loyal hound, that I told him: “I love you”, “goodbye”, and “I’m sorry.””

At that, Iternis exploded into a flock of birds for the first time in forever, soaring off over the ocean and leaving the goblin standing aghast on that beach.

---

Perfection.

Something he had taught mortals to strive for. The ultimate goal all should aspire to achieve, yet few - if any - would ever succeed at. On their own, at least. Yet if he were to grant them perfection without any conditions, then perfection itself would seem meaningless, as nothing was needed to obtain it. So how could he help them on this goal, without doing too much for them?

Then, Cadien had another idea.

He looked down upon his hand, and five bands of silver materialized on his finger. A glowing gemstone was embedded in each one. Purple for beauty, red for strength, green for constitution, blue for dexterity, and yellow for perception. Yes. That would do.

One by one, he removed each ring from his finger. As he removed each ring, the glow of its stone faded, until it was just a shiny but otherwise ordinary crystal. Once each ring was in his hand, he held them in his palm, flung them skyward.

The Red Ring landed outside the walled city of Ketrefa, to be claimed by its inhabitants.
The Blue Ring landed at the World Anchor, where a troll strung it onto a tribal necklace.
The Green Ring landed near the Tree of Genesis, to be picked up by a curious goblin.
The Purple Ring landed in the Isle of Pakohu, where a Night Elf would find it and gift it to one he loved.
The Yellow Ring landed in the unnamed Island to the west of Toraan, where Nicholas said he was headed.

To find each one was a step closer to Perfection. To bring each one together was to achieve it.

---

---

It no longer wavered with uncertainty above a lifeless planet. The once cold, dead star, had erupted life into the universe. It was a blanket of precious warmth, giving rise to the oceans, the lands and the greenery that covered it. The parts of It that became aware showed it how to create, and so it did, losing more and more of itself as the world became full. It had finally succeeded after eons, the perfect world had been achieved but now the Lifeblood gave pause.

What was left?

It did not think upon this, for how could it? The voices had quieted down to only but whispers now, they gave no more direction, no more bubbling personalities waiting to leave It. It no longer felt what they felt, for the attachments that forced It to learn, were gone. They were now singular beings. Deriving power from itself. Using that power to continue meddling with Its world. The world which was already complete. Any more could threaten its stability further, beyond a healthy extent, chaos could corrupt the planet into dust and order could petrify it under its weight.

Their goals were no longer aligned.

Something had to be done.

The Lifeblood focused on the meddlers. It could feel them. All of them. As they walked the planet’s ground or hovered in the stars above. They had been useful, but they were no longer needed. It was time for a change.

It fell upon the world, and plunged it into silence as it drew in a deep breath. Even the worldsong became muted. The animals and plants stilled, as the mortals felt an unknowable fear. Primal.

The time had come.

---

From the region’s highest summit, Cadien looked down upon the Highlands, breathing the mountain air with a sense of deep satisfaction.

Then, he jumped.

He fell through the air without a care, for he knew the fall would not kill him. Instead he enjoyed feeling as the wind sailed past his face; as gravity carried him ever downward, until he struck a lake below. He smashed through the water’s surface with a colossal splash, and then came back up. He stepped out of the water, took in the forest around him, and smiled once more.

Then, it all began to disappear.

The sky started to darken. The trees seemed to fade before his very eyes, becoming transparent. He could no longer feel the grass beneath his feet, but to his horror he realized the earth too was no longer completely visible. And it only got worse. His surroundings became increasingly transparent, and although he tried to will it to stop, he couldn’t; for the first time in his life he was powerless.

Eventually, it all disappeared, leaving him stranded in a black void.

Cadien could no longer sense any life. He could no longer see anything, for although he still had his vision, there was nothing to see. Even in the black void of space, there had been stars. Galbar was gone.

Or was it?

Just then, a picture of Galbar appeared in his mind, appearing exactly as it was before that… thing happened. The God concentrated, and found that he could still hear the whispers of his creations and his followers. The questions, praise, and thanks they issued were no different from before, as if nothing had happened.

Galbar was not gone. He was.

“NO!” he shouted. He would not be separated from the world he helped shape! Amassing all his will and anger, he imagined where he had once been: the lake at the base of the mountain. Then, he poured all his strength into forcing himself back there.

It felt as though a great force was resisting him. But he continued to push. It seemed fruitless, but then, the vague outline of a forest seemed to materialize around him. He could feel traces of fresh air, and the cool earth beneath his feet. This gave him hope, and as he pushed harder the image began to solidify…

Then his mind exploded in pain, as the resistance quadrupled. The faded trees around him changed. Some withered, some grew, some burst into flames, some even changed colour. The lake began to bubble, and he didn’t know why. All he could think about was the agonizing headache, which went on until at last, he had no choice but to give up.

He fell to his knees, defeated. His surroundings disappeared, and once again he was alone.

He did not know how long he remained like that. A series of negative emotions flowed through him. Loneliness. Grief. Anguish. Despair. He could not even bring himself to feel angry. What was he to do?

Eventually - he was not sure how long it took - the emotion faded, and he could only feel a dull numbness. But that numbness soon became unbearable. He had to do something! He wasn’t going to stare at this black void for an eternity!

And just then, his surroundings shifted. The void was no longer black, but blue, like Galbar’s sky. And the god’s eyes widened.

He could still create.

And so, he did. In this empty expanse where only he resided, he began making a new world. His own world. Driven onward by nothing more than a desire to not be beaten, to not stand idle or wallow in isolation. He created a platform swathed in clouds, and on that platform he created a home in which he could live - a fortress. Something to look at. To give him some sense of security. For days, weeks, months, perhaps even years he went to work on it, constantly tearing it down and rebuilding it, until at last he created something he was content with.

But he remained alone. And once again felt empty.

Where was the fun in creation if there was nothing to share it with?

He could create mortals to share it with, but all of his mortal creations had been made with other gods, and anything he made on his own would only feel or say exactly what he wanted it to… so what was the point?

And so, the God of Perfection once again fell into a depression.

---

Oraelia lost track of time, again. She had been heading to see Lucia, but had gotten side tracked along the way. Several times. First it had been life catching her eye, a strange bunny, or a beautiful insect. The others had been doing work, and she enjoyed every last bit of it. Then came the mortals. It seemed humans had spread further south and she stopped several times, getting to know them, offering advice about the land. What was edible, what wasn’t. Some knew her by name, but this didn’t stop her from wanting to help them more. She just lacked ability to do so, or it escaped her grasp.

Then she came upon several groups of the Lapites, the bunny people. She found them adorable, yet their’s was a difficult path. She learned who had created them, this Fe’ris and worry struck her heart. Some were afraid of her, others found her to be a delight. She helped with what she could, and told them never to fear her symbol, a halo of light, or a suntouched being. None would harm them, unless provoked first. She moved on, going over the Anchor of the world and past the beyond. Her golden Prairie in the far distance.

She was so excited to Lucia again, then perhaps go visit Gibbou! Oh! The thought donned on her, she hadn’t told her sister about her niece! Hopefully she wouldn’t be too ups-

The weight hit her. It was the silence, the song upon the winds had faded away, even the sky seemed to dull. She paused in the sky, looking around. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but something felt so… Wrong.

It touched her. A cold grasp, overcome with hostility and anger. She looked down to see the world fading. Her light became faint as the sky began to darken. What was happening? Why was the world going dark? This wasn’t right, something was wrong! It couldn’t be! Panic overcame her, eyes going wide with horror as she remembered who she was going to see.

Lucia!

She shifted into her domain form, and traveled quickly. The land became a darkened blur as she felt everything begin to fade. Like an avalanche, it was all coming down. She put it aside- Lucia was all that mattered. She had to get to her, to make sure she was okay! Her rush was frantic and in the far distance, winking in and out was her Temple. It too had begun to fade as she reached the top, zipping through the pillars to see…

”Lucia!”

---

From where she knelt upon the floor, thick tears running down her face, Lucia heard her mother call her. She looked up, just in time to see Oraelia arrive, shifting into a faded version of herself, arms outstretched towards her daughter, before she too, disappeared.

”No…” Lucia cried, as her heart broke further.

---

One second Oraelia had been there, then the darkness had engulfed her. She was alone now. Her light, the only thing in that place. She fell to her knees, somehow able to, as she smashed her first into air. What had happened? Where was she? And why was she alone?

As the tears came, she was left with more questions than answers. Then she felt the same presence, wrapping her up in a blanket with it’s suffocating weight, and as her mind drifted into a dreamless sleep, the last thing she thought of was Lucia.

---

For the other gods, their experience was much the same. How they felt about it might differ, but they too had been confined to a dark, lonely void of their own, and they too were cut off from Galbar and their creations. They could still picture Galbar in their minds, hear prayers - even communicate directly with the mortals who prayed to them - but nothing more. They could not even reach out to their fellow gods. All actions were limited solely to the planes they now found themselves stranded in.

In these planes, they felt more powerful than they ever were on Galbar, and soon shaped them to their liking, but they were alone. Some found that they were able to create small portals in order to bring things or send them into Galbar, but these required immense amounts of power, were restricted in how long they would remain open, and the gods themselves would always be unable to pass through.

No matter what they tried, the lifeblood would always lash out violently, determined to keep them in their new realms. Attempting to force the issue further would only bring destruction and distortion to the area they tried to invade, as well as tremendous pain and agony to the god themself.

All experienced the passage of time differently. For some, it had seemed like mere days. For others, it could have felt like millennia.

But the isolation would not last. While all the gods may have reacted to this phenomenon differently, there was no doubt that the most prominent emotion of all was loneliness. Many of these gods had formed bonds with each other, and it was the strength of these bonds that brought them back together again.

Despite being cut off from Galbar and each other, they could still project power beyond their realms. That power manifested in the form of Antiquity; a new realm, which was not owned by one god, but all of them, and therefore none. No god had deliberately created it; to them, its existence was an anomaly. An accident.

Born from the gods’ collective desire to see one another again, it became linked to all the realms; even to those whose gods would have preferred isolation.

---

Cadien was lounging on his comfortable marble throne, as he had been doing for who knows how long, when he suddenly felt a disturbance. As if something had just brushed against the edges of his realm. It snapped him out of his stupor. That had never happened before!

The God leapt to his feet and rushed outside, past the various statues he had constructed out of boredom, through his normally relaxing courtyard, and past the gatehouse which had been fortified against nothing in particular. There, at the end of the stone pathway he had created, was a rather ugly-looking tear in reality.

Frustration rose with him. “Oh, nonono…”, he said, shaking his head. “This will not do.” He quickly constructed a golden frame around the portal’s edges, studding it with purple gemstones. Once the ugly sight had been corrected, his eyes then widened as he realized he significance of what lay before him.

Excitement flashed on the God’s face, and with barely a moment’s hesitation, he leapt through.

He landed face-first on a vast, barren field, his landing sending up a cloud of dust and dirt. He quickly rose to his feet and brushed himself off. There was… nothing. Well, nothing was inaccurate. There was the ground - hard, compact earth - and it was ringed by a bejeweled white stone wall, with a series of levels that looked like they were meant to be either stairs or seats.

But there was little else, and after a few moments of looking around with something akin to wonder, Cadien felt disappointment.

Then all of a sudden new portals - other than his own - began to open, and Cadien felt familiar presences. A smile grew upon his face. With an exuberant leap forward, he landed in Antiquity’s center.

---