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Two stalwart and impressive snow capped mountains hugged a valley. Their distant blue walls kept out any oppressive heat, and allowed a summer breeze to waft down and below, trapped in a ring. This breeze carried a sweet note in its wind, and often found itself rustling through thick and vibrant grasses that stood on a deep brown soil, pungent with the scent of the earth. Over the gentle rolls of the valley and alongside the cool crystal waters of a babbling stream, this breeze would travel over endlessly, only to be split across the bark of a small group of trees that stood crooked in the center of the valley. The tiny copse was free of any grand canopy or impenetrable trunks, but rather sported a lazily hung hammock where a man by the name of Illyd Dyll found himself.

It was hard for Illyd Dyll to say when he arrived in this valley, or even how he got there -- but there he found himself. With one leg swung over the edge of his cocoon, he laid in plain woolen robes, his eyes and hair the same deep brown as the soil, and in his hands he held a wooden harp. He wasn’t sure when he made it, but he did -- evident by the scarred wooden frame and the various and dubitable fixes administered to it.

Still, he played it all the same. A knuckle moving, a finger plucking -- he couldn’t quite remember when he started playing, but he was enjoying himself. His notes were nothing that could be considered groundbreaking, and definitely not wild -- but rather captured a sort of relaxed tameness, each pluck following the uniform of the valley around him. Where the river would babble, he would pluck to match it, where the grass rustled, a pluck for each, where the wind whispered by -- he gave a small break so it could speak in between his notes. Now and again the cicadas would hum along, and now and again he would hum along with the cicadas.

This small show had been going on for as long as Illyd Dyll could remember, but he didn’t mind. He plucked and plucked, until finally he just decided not to pluck. It wasn’t a hard decision, and one he made lightly -- opting instead to roll onto his side, the sun hitting him and warming his body. He stretched out to the golden orb in the sky, letting it warm his arms and legs. He closed his eyes, witnessing the pink of his lids against the sunny sky and with a shallow breath, he let himself slip into a sort of afternoon nap.



It was hard to say how long he napped, but eventually his eyes creaked open. The sun was where he had left it, and the breeze was still playing with the grasses of the valley. He wasn’t too sure what woke him up, but there he was. He looked down at his stomach, a gentle rumble calling out to him -- that’ll do it.

“Hungry are ya?” He said to no one in particular, his voice very cool and relaxed, much like the babbling creek.

Of course there was no response, he wasn’t expecting one, but it was nice to hear a voice. With skill -- and several blundering attempts -- he managed to sit up in his hammock. He knew there was an easy way to get the food he desired, he had always known for as long as he could know: the earth would provide at his whim, he had always known that -- he just never had much reason to do something about it.

In fact, there was a lot he somehow knew and at the very same time, didn’t do much with. He never questioned it -- and he wasn’t about to start. Dismissing the complex thoughts, he reached up towards the tree, and it reached back down with a branch weighted by a plump apple. Doing what he does best, Illyd Dyll plucked it.

As he took a bite, there was a single thought that managed to creep in: “I wish I could share this.”

That one fateful day, the Winds of Fate passed through the land and whisked the Great Tree’s soul away.

Everyone felt it. The Voices connected to it felt the agonizing pull and saw with their own eyes how Galbar slipped from the grasp of the Tree of Genesis. The Humans, Goblins and Sylphi were all struck with the heavy weight of responsibility… Responsibility for themselves, and their homes, and the safety of their descendants. It, who had created their home and kept them safe for the last year, no longer was there and for the first time in creation, there was no imperceptible rumbling underneath the earth and soil. Its roots moved and dug and grew no longer, and its presence felt no difference to that of the nearby greater Alders, or the ancient Lonethorn on top of the hill to the north. Of course, the great husk remained. Like an automaton, the Husk of the Great Tree stood proud upon the land. But it was divine no longer, and time and disease would take its toll on the body of the once Great God of Arborea…



It did not understand. Where was it? What was it? Who was it?

It felt like it had just woken up from a long dream, where it… He? She? Where she… That’s right. Where she had been all grown up and beautiful and made nice things from dirt and light.

But it was just a dream. And as dreams went, this specific one faded away with time.

In the end, asking herself questions was no good as she did not know where to even begin answering, and so for the longest time she did what came naturally.

There, in the green grassland she had woken up in, she started to play.

She did and made all sorts of fun things. It was a nice place, she figured, as whenever she needed something, she would find it right away! In the beginning, she had fun caressing the blades of grass and chewing on them. Then, she tried to dig into the earth but gave up after a while. While sleeping in the shallow hole she’d made, she heard the flow of water and woke up to find a small creek next to her little nest. It made her heart skip a beat as she saw the mud and moss and clay. Obviously, she played for a good while with all of those things, mixing them together, sometimes eating them or just bathing in them.

That is how she found out how much she loved the feeling of dipping her feet in extra wet mud while she molded wet clay with her hands. More than once, she made little figurines that made her giggle, so she gave them names. The first one was Tree-Shaquiloneal(shortened to Tree-Jack), who was a figurine just big enough for her to grab onto with her small hands. It looked like the really tall wooden things that had grown all over the grassland while she played. The second one was Moonie, who looked like a ball but was in fact very beautiful even though others wanted to put her down. She knew everyone else was just jealous of Moonie! Why wouldn’t they be? She had after all won the beauty pageant 73 times already!

There were, of course, many others. But they tended to have ‘accidents’, mostly in the form of drowning and being swept away with currents while their maker cried and panicked.

Things were fun, she thought with all her heart.

Until the air got all weird and broke, that is. It happened out of nowhere. One minute everything was okay while she walked around while talking to Tree-Jack and Moonie, and the next she was on the ground with teary eyes and a scraped knee, looking out hopelessly at the tear in space, leading to a grey, scary and empty place… And to her two best friends on the ground in that grey, scary place.

She sniffled and gulped back a little sob, pushing herself off the floor and slowly inching closer to the portal. One step at a time, lest she stumbled again and ended up crying in front of Tree-Jack. He really hated seeing her cry! Mostly because he was too nice and would feel bad too…

She whimpered. Really, she had to save them both from that grey place! A place with so little warm light! She was sure they were about to cry as well. How could she call herself their friend, if she wasn’t willing to do a scary thing for their sake? So she frowned, pushed her lips together as hard as she could, balled up her small fists, and then hopped through the portal.



She landed safely on the other side, and so she quickly got a hold of her friends and hugged them close to her chest, then turned around and hopped back through the portal--Only to bash herself face first against a freshly-grown Tree-Jack lookalike. It blocked the entrance! How was she meant to get back? It wasn’t fair! She teared up and sniffled, her lip quivering and tiny sounds escaping her throat. And now she was going to cry and Tree-Jack would cry as well and Moonie would be annoyed at the two of them!

She looked around for another exit but instead began crying when she saw some really tall strange man in the same grey place as her, then immediately hid behind the portal that brought her there in the first place, trying to stifle her sobbing.

Cadien glanced over at the second god to arrive after himself - one he had not met before - and his face brightened. Once more he leapt forward, doing a flip through the air, and he landed only a few feet away, kicking up a large cloud of dust and making the very ground rumble under his weight. In a split moment, the girl went completely silent. “Hello!” he said brightly to where she hid behind the portal, seemingly unaware of her distress, “my name is Cadien.”

It took a while, but eventually the little plant girl started bawling and immediately ran away, holding tightly onto her friends as she did so. Staying in the same place as the tall man was scary, so she had to risk going through a different exit than the one she had used to arrive!

She headed straight for the first one that she saw that looked kind of like her own home. This one had very tall golden plants instead of grass, though. She definitely had to risk it however, for Moonie and Tree-Jack’s safety! And so she jumped into the thick fields of wheat, easily disappearing into the tall plants.

Back outside the portal, Cadien frowned, unsure of what he had done wrong. He couldn’t help but notice that she had gone through a different portal than the one she had remained from. So, out of concern and curiosity, he followed her through at a calm walking pace. He stepped through and saw the wheat rustling in the distance; he didn’t even need his divine senses to know that was where she had run.

“Is everything alright?” he called after her. “There’s no need to run!” He ventured deeper into the wheat field, following her path.

There was some rustling from the wheat field, but even now the bawling had quietened down to a mere whimpering. After a moment, a handful of dirt hit Cadien’s right leg, ”D-d-d-d… Don’t eat Genesis!!!” Came a tiny, high voice.

“Oh!” Cadien remarked in shock as the dirt struck his ankle, some of it sticking to his skin. He stared at it in befuddlement. “Oh… oh no,” he uttered, all friendliness gone. “What makes you think you can just go and do that?” The mildly enraged god knelt and brushed the dirt off his shin.

The shriek of a sour note stopping brought attention to the fact that a gentle tune had been playing up until this point. The short silence following it was broken by a calm yet curious, “Hello?”

A second hello sounded closer, and a third even closer -- until a young man with a crooked banjo was standing a few heads over the wheat, a quizzical look stuck on his face -- eyes caught on Cadien.

“Hm?” Cadien looked up, having just brushed off the last of the dirt. He rose to his feet, the child’s offense temporarily forgotten. “Oh, hello!” he said. “This is your place, I assume?”

“I never thought about it,” Illyd Dyll replied truthfully, “But I suppose its both of ours now. I’m Illyd Dyll-”

At the moment Cadien fully shifted his attention to the other stranger, Genesis practically shot out of the field and back into the grey scary place, leaving the two scary strangers behind.

“Mmm, that one is rather dim-witted, I think,” she heard Cadien remark as she exited the realm, while Illyd Dyll let out a lone and confused note from his banjo.



Obviously, Genesis couldn’t stay in the grey place either! What if the scary men came back for her? She was way past the threshold of risk, so now she had to commit! With her friends still in her arms, she ran to the next portal. A bright one, full of warm tasty light!

Of course she stumbled on a step and fell down face first on the dusty floor with a grunt.

It wasn’t pain that made her go silent, but the very peculiar feeling of clay breaking under her… Quietly, with prickly leaves and a chill going down her back and a sinking feeling in her stomach she rolled over and sat up, and looked at the mutilated corpse of one of her (clay) best friends.

A breath caught in her throat, and her heart started beating fast. She began to hyperventilate, and could form no words for a long time, until… ”TREE-SHAQUILONEAL IS DEAD!!! WAAAAAAAAH!”

And then she ran away into the bright portal, arms tightly wrapped around Moonie.

---

“Mmm… that one is rather dim-witted, I think,” Cadien remarked as the god-child disappeared through the portal. Illyd Dyll let out a lone and confused note from his banjo.

“Who was that?” Illyd replied as he prepared a second note, just as slow as the conversation.

Cadien shrugged. “I have no idea, truth be told,” he admitted. “One of our fellow gods, I suppose. Rather strange, for her to take such a form and act in such a manner.”

“Such is the wiles of the world, I guess,” Illyd strummed his banjo, fingers trying to find the right note, “What was your name, again?”

“Cadien,” he said with a slight nod. “The God of Perfection. I must say, this is a lovely place you’ve put together.”

“I ‘ppreciate the compliment but truth be told, I don’t even remember putting it together,” Illyd Dyll looked up from his instrument, a goofy smile on his face, “Kinda funny, huh? So what do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to create things, and improve them,” Cadien shrugged. “Alas, after I was separated from Galbar I had nobody to share them with. Until now, anyway. What about you?”

“Yeah! I get that,” Illyd nodded, “I was jus’ talking about how I wish I had someone to share a few things with and then out of nowhere, I hear you and your tiny friend in the wheat -- now we are talking.” Dyll’s face brightened with a thought, “Oh hey! Do you want some fruit?”

The God nodded. “I would,” he said with a smile.

“Great!” Illyd Dyll started walking away, fiddling with his instrument, “there are a few trees over this way, real plump apples -- red as can be.” Confident that Cadien was following him he mulled for a moment before asking, “So who is Galbar? Lady friend?”

“Hm?” Cadien looked at him with a touch of confusion as he followed behind him. “No. It’s the world we left behind. Remember?”

“Can’t say I do,” Illyd Dyll pinched his chin and slung his instrument over his back, “But then again, remember hasn’t been exactly my strong suit as of late.”

“That’s troubling,” Cadien commented with a touch of concern. “And the way that goddess acted… perhaps the separation had more severe effects then I realized…”

Illyd stopped in front of the tiny copse that held his hammock and turned to Cadien, “Now that’s quite possible, maybe even a certainty. It certainly does sound like a traumatic.. Er...” He reached up and the tree deposited an apple into his hand, “Scenario.” He stretched his arm out towards Cadien, “But nothin’ like a lil snack to help with thinkin’”

Cadien accepted the apple with a nod, took a bite, then swallowed. “To summarize what happened, then. I come from a land called Galbar - a land where people like us walk as gods, capable of shaping it and adding to it as we please. Unfortunately, a strange and unseen force known as the Lifeblood, for some reason, decided I wasn’t welcome there, and threw me out. I was sent to another… world… I think, and I shaped it to my liking, but I was alone. Then a strange gateway appeared, and it led to a new world with other gateways. That is how I got here. So it stands to reason that the other gods, such as you and that girl from before, suffered the same fate as I. But with different results.” He punctuated the deduction with another bite from the apple.

“Hm,” Illyd Dyll hummed as he nibbled on a straw of wheat. Plucking it out of his mouth he aimed it at Cadien, “So there’s no going back, then?”

He shrugged, and a sad look appeared on his face. “Nothing I tried has worked. Though, if I’m right, and all the gods are coming back together… perhaps that might change.” He looked back toward the portal. “Speaking of which, someone out there might have known you before you ended up here. Perhaps they can shed some further light.”

“Well,” Illyd Dyll flicked the chewed up straw to the ground and took a moment to think, “I s’pose it wouldn’t be right of me not to at least check this out for myself. You’ve convinced me Cadien, let’s have a walk.” He turned to his hammock and began to untie it from the branches.

“That’s the spirit!” the God smiled. “Though… I suppose it’s also possible that you’re not from Galbar at all, but an entirely different world.” He scratched the back of his head. “That’d be confusing. I suppose we’ll find out one way or another. Let’s go!”

“Now that would be.. Er.” Illyd Dyll pondered the right word as he rolled a bunch of apples into his hammock, “a conundrum.” He winked and tossed his makeshift sack of fruit over his shoulder. His eyes widened, “Oop! Almost forgot.” Acting quickly, he scooped up his harp and banjo, slinging them over the other shoulder, “Right.” He looked around, “Need a bite before we go?”

Cadien shrugged, took another bite of his apple, and then began making his way toward the portal, Illyd trailing behind -- and only occasionally getting distracted by a colorful dragonfly or hovering moth.

---

Iternis was alone when he felt it coming. He had been walking through the terrible crags of the southern pole, not a single soul to see him as he wandered the ever changing lands. He knew Toog was looking for him, or at least he hoped. He also hoped that the dog had moved on, living a full life like he wanted and not continuing to bind himself to Iternis.

Regardless of how Toog was faring, Iternis had felt it coming. He guessed that most of the other gods would be caught unawares, but there was no way that the force he had always dreaded would escape his senses. He could feel, in his very being, the Lifeblood preparing to descend on the world. There wasn’t much he could do about it, either the Lifeblood would destroy Galbar or it would destroy him. Iternis didn’t know what he would do given either outcome. If he was destroyed, what would happen? Thaa would also be destroyed, so who would guide his soul? Did gods even have souls? And if Galbar were destroyed, what would he have to live for then?

Iternis fell to a kneel on the ground and tried to make his presence as small as possible, hoping that maybe the Lifeblood will somehow overlook him.

It hit like a tidal wave. The power of the Lifeblood crashed over Galbar, pounding against Iternis’s very being, drawing him in and destroying his connection to Galbar. This was it, this was his end.

---

All in all, Iternis found not-existing very strange because, as it seemed, he was still existing. Iternis looked around and found himself suspended in an infinite dark void. Given that he was still thinking, despite the lack of a surrounding, he figured the Lifeblood hadn’t snuffed him out of existence and instead had done something else.

Iternis let out a burst of energy, one that flowed much more freely that it did on Galbar, and created a tiny sapling which floated through the endless space. Well, at least he still had his powers. Thinking he had just been teleported extremely far away, Iternis closed his eyes and tried to navigate back to the planet. He pictured the planet in his mind's eye with ease and, raising his hand to open a portal, took a step forward, heading back home.

Before his foot could even cross the threshold, Iternis was doubled over in pain. He felt the crashing sensation booming over him again and again, the Lifeblood assaulting his very being for trying to step onto Galbar. Iternis was launched from the portal, all of his energy being sapped by the Lifeblood. The gateway fizzled out of reality like a door being slammed in his face.

The reality set in. He was trapped.

Iternis hovered in place, feeling like the endless void was a series of walls, closing in. He could still see Galbar, he could see it changing, Toog having to go on without him, but he couldn’t do anything! He couldn’t even see any of the other gods, so he knew there was no way back.

The other gods. What if they were trapped like him? Could he reach them?

First, Iternis tracked down the sapling he had made and then summoned a plot of dirt for it to grow in. He made sure the Sapling would grow in size each year that passed on Galbar, so he would know exactly how long it was taking him, then he set to work. He started by trying to find Fe’ris or Yamat, two gods he had met before, to try and contact them. When the tree grew larger than a mountain, he gave up and tried for Oraelia, Gibbou,Boris, any being he had ever felt a whiff of power for.

He toiled on and on, working against reality and fighting the Lifeblood. The tree grew until it was bigger than the Tree of Genesis. Desperately, he tried to tear holes in space but was only met with the same prison void. The tree was so large it stretched on beyond sight in both directions. Iternis tried to shape his own land, a pale imitation of Galbar, around the trunk of the tree in the hopes that it would release some spark that would allow his escape. The tree grew on.

After two thousand years that felt like ten million, Iternis found it. He didn’t even make it, only stumbled upon it in his efforts. It was a portal, a tear in space that led away from the space that had held the god for so long. The portal was miniscule, barely larger than two atoms pushed together, but nothing could escape Iternis’s gaze in his realm.

The god threw himself against the portal with all his might, forcing the tear to widen. Iternis forced the tiny spec larger and large until he could get his hands through it. Ge gripped the tear in reality with all his might. He had to get out, he needed to get out. To see someone else, anything else. Iternis flung his arms apart, widening the tear in space and tumbled forward into Antiquity.

Act One, Scene Five: The Curtain Closes

---

Yamat. Was. Furious. He could feel it coming, he was sure all gods could feel it coming, his time in this world was coming to an end, his play, his beautiful play! It would all be unfinished, at the very least, his creations might be safe, he was sure the sword would cause problems, and his children, the Reshut and Iskrill would be more than happy to continue his work when he was gone.

He had found himself upon the beaches of the Kylsar isles when it came to come for him, well, they were somewhat beaches, the coast of these isles blended into the inland swamps rather beautifully. Yamat kneeled down upon the shore, looking outward towards the sea and Toraan. Taking it in, taking everything in.

He wanted to fight it, but he knew it was a futile effort, when the lifeblood began to show its presence, he merely sat, ignoring it, he would not show it any emotion, any respect, any acknowledgement, he just looked outward towards the ocean.

It took him away softly, leaving only the quiet wind of the shores in his place.

---

When Yamat awoke, it was dark, painfully so. He looked around, only to see an empty void in all directions. Raising his hands, the runes upon his skin glowed, at least, he had that, at least the lifeblood had not gotten rid of him, only locked him up. There were, worse fates. Yamat merely raised his hands and conducted a silent song once more, his eye closing, allowing the darkness to surround him.

Around him, a shore was created, a beautiful shore, overlooking a great sea with a bright sun, the sounds of animals filtered in from the vast forest behind him, he opened his eye and lowered his hands. Looking out upon the shore.

His fists clenched, his skin turned a stark white, his halo a deep red, his once golden mask and skirt turned as black as his former skin.

He. Was. Furious.

In instants the scene was gone, purged from his prison with the wave of his hand, he did not conduct anymore, this pitiful mockery did not deserve that. Instead, he destroyed, he turned the shore into a barren wasteland, engulfing the trees in a great fire, the ocean was destroyed, and the sun made into a blackened twisted remnant of its former self.

His mask began to crack, yet he continued.

Stones were shattered, mountains created then broken into dust, the dirt was made lifeless, a disgusting grey soot that barely would stay in place as the harsh winds whipped through the vast wasteland. He made mountains and jagged rocks, he searched through his mind and created the bones of creatures upon Galbar, and finally, he created the ruins, testaments to tragedy and its work, each one detailing the scenes of the play of life.

His mask shattered.

Yamat lowered his hand, gazing upon his prison, its broken land, his work, his, furious, work. He gently picked up the fragments of his mask, at least, he did not need it anymore, for he guessed he would be stuck here. He slowly walked through his prison, his skin returning to its normal color, his halo dimming, becoming golden like his skirt and former mask.

He had grown tired of walking.

He raised his free hand, crafting a small canopy, it was shoddy yes, but he did not care, he made himself a table, and chair, a place to rest. He placed himself within the chair, laying the fragments of his mask onto the table. He began to scratch his plans into the table, imagining what could have been.

He stayed like this for a while, sitting, scratching, staring, he did not care how long it had been, time was nothing to him.

That was, until the portal appeared, it appeared a bit away from his simple table, sitting there, Yamat did not know what to make of it. He only stared at it for another length of time, taking in its creation. He looked back upon the fragments of his mask, with a wave of a glowing runic hand, he fused them back together, placing the returned mask back upon his face.

He slowly rose from his chair, taking another look at his plans upon the table. He finally turned back to the portal, pressing forward.

The curtains were opening once more.

---

Qael’Naath had been resting upon one of the smaller floating islands of Xal-Zastarha. The glade gently flowed across the cloudy sky. Sun was beaming down upon him. Offering warmth and light. It felt pleasant, and much needed. Most of the work, for now, had been finished. All sapience that should have received his blessing, did so. So now he could rest a few centuries until the time came for the next steps of his plan. He closed his eyes and imagined how it would feel for a mortal to rest. They called it sleeping if he remembered correctly. But when he opened his eyes, something was off. The world had gone dark. Things were blurring around him. Worst of all, he could barely feel the touch of mana. It felt like he was losing his elsewise strong grip upon the substance.

He reached out to get a hold of it. For a moment it worked but then he could feel that force on the other side. It pulled his creation away from him. “No!” He screamed but the mana was slipping him. He attempted to create spells with what he could hold on to, to attack the force on the other side. Nothing happened, the divine spells just fluttered out of existence the moment they were cast. He was fighting a losing battle, yet he pushed on. Holding on to the barest bits of it. Until it had all fled him. Only then did he realize, it was more than mana that had vanished. Everything around him was gone. The god of magic had found himself alone in an endless, black void. Without the mana around him, he felt cold.

Despite his clear absence from Galbar, he could feel sapience pray to him. Some prayers were severely misguided but they still came to him. As they lit the flames in their hands or levitated rocks and begged for more. He floated through the void, searching for something, anything! The whispers of prayers never got louder or quieter. Nor did the void ever get warmer. After some time, it was impossible to say how long, Qael’Naath resigned to his fate. For the moment, he was chained to this realm. With that acceptance, his burden eased. Prayer whispers faded away. With that clarity came another realization. This place gave him much more power. It was better than Galbar! There were no meddling siblings or foolish mortals. Then he touched his chest. The wound, it had healed! A scar remained, surely. But the wound itself was finally gone! His excitement exploded from him. Mana was suddenly everywhere around him again. The cold was banished away as his realm began to glitter and feel warm again.

Then he got to work. That’s what he had to do. He had to make the realm perfect. First, he concentrated the mana and created the blue sun. It would form the very center of his domain. Then he began to coalesce mana into large, stone rocks floating in various orbits around the blue sun. Each place would become a masterpiece. For many Galbaric years, he slaved away at each garden or glade. Making sure each leaf hung exactly where it should. Offering just the right amount of shade and would move just enough in the wind. Streams of sapphire, emerald, and ruby flowed across these floating islands. Giving them even more splendor. Everything was adhering to some natural patterns. Even if it was impossible for mortals to see it.

This took time. A lot of time. All the while life on Galbar continued. Qael did not register this time. How could he? He was far too busy tending to his realm. Placing every bit of green or stone took time. Vast amounts of time. Yet after what at the end of it felt like thousands of years, Qael sat upon his first glade and marveled at the perfection he created. A realm, born and completely shaped by him. It reminded him of Xal-Zastarha. Then he felt a strange feeling. He felt hollow. Despite the millennia of effort, he suddenly felt as if his whole realm meant nothing. Yet he knew it was everything. Everything he ever wanted. No, not everything he wanted. There were two things missing. Two things that would make it all worth. As if summoned, a tear in his realm formed before him. The god felt strangely drawn to it. Could it be? A way back? Slowly he approached it. There was no way of knowing where it would lead. Perhaps it didn’t lead to Galbar? What did it matter!? It was a chance! With newfound determination, he jumped into the portal.

It led him to a barren field. For a moment he stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to use his staff to regain balance.

“Ugh…”

He twisted barely, feeling as though a layer of dust trickled off of his face. A foul flavour that seemed to have built up for ages coated the inside of his mouth like a stroke of gasoline. His body felt stiff as if frozen or petrified. He tried to move his fingers, but the nerves leading up to his hands seemed about as groggy as he was. It took a full minute before he could properly flex his digits, and even that was an exaggerated description of the controlled twitch it was making.

“Hnng…” he wheezed again through parched vocal cords. He tried to open his eyes, but found they’d been sealed shut by aeons of dried tears. Once he could move his arms, he sent his hands to his eyes’ rescue and had them wipe away the salt and stone petrifying shut his eyes. That’s when he realised the dust he had felt earlier had not been a mistake - according to his hands, which albeit were still prickling with numbness, his face was indeed covered in a thick layer of dust.

This kicked his survival instincts into gear, and ancient organs pumped him full of hormones to wake the rest of the corpse-like body up. Soon, nearly blind eyes were surveying the surroundings hopelessly, seeing nothing but darkness. He tried to sit up, but his core muscles had yet to awaken.

How could this have happened?! Had he been buried alive? For what?! He couldn’t remember anything at all from--...

The adrenaline disappeared and he calmed down uncannily fast. Remember… That’s right. He couldn’t remember a thing. His breathing intensified and he tried to sit up, the sound of what could be anything from grains to many pounds of dust and soil rolling off on him and down on, what he surmised to be, a flat rock floor. Nothing - he could remember absolutely nothing - where he came from, what he was, who he was - all was blank. He patted himself down - his hair was greasy and stiff, but he had hair, at least. His clothing was thin and fibrous of texture, rank and foul of scent. It covered a surprisingly fit form - bipedal, symmetrical on both sides of the middle. His skin was surprisingly soft, if not a little coarse from the remains of dust and stone. He tested the flexibility of his toes - they had awoken.

Alright. He would try to stand. With a sequence of movements that utilised ancient, untested musculature, he set his two feet down on the cold stone floor and instinctively pushed himself to stand. The action was too much for his groggy legs to carry and he tripped forward, catching himself on something warm and soft. He heard a low growl and instinctively tossed himself backwards onto the platform he had been laying down on. Then, he stepped forward again to touch the warm, soft spot. With some further probing and prodding, he concluded that whatever this surface was, it was not made of the same material as the floor. A short distance from the spot, there came another growl and a loud snore. He jumped backwards again, but collected himself faster this time. He approached the sound of the snore and reached out. His hands came into contact with something warm and wet, and he retracted them immediately. He gave them a sniff and recoiled - it stank of death and rot. He looked back in the general direction of where the snoring had come from. Whatever it was, its scent warned his every system that he should move on. He didn’t know where to go, though.

It was then that he raised his head and saw, high above what looked to be the shadow of an uneven wall, rising and falling as though it breathed, a light, faint enough to be invisible, yet so very evident in this utter darkness. He looked back down again and put two and two together - the wall was whatever was in front of him, and whatever was in front of him was likely no wall at all, but a living, breathing creature. He tried to move to the right, but met only a cold stone wall; he tried to move to the left, but the wall just kept going and going, and he didn’t feel comfortable fumbling around in the dark as he did. Eventually, he decided to climb over the creature.

It was difficult at first - its skin was soft and slippery - but his whole body was awake by now - instincts took him to the top eventually. There, from the top of whatever creature this was, he saw it: It was a distant, faint light of blueish white, patrolling between what appeared to be rows upon rows, columns upon columns, of platforms, upon which laid something or someone sleeping. The light kept intimate watch over every single one, stopping by every creature to inspect it thoroughly before moving on to the next. This gave him a chance to see what this room was: A vast, unending dormitory, filled with shelves upon shelves of life. A prison? Perhaps, but he wasn’t going to stay long enough to find out.

Keeping himself as hidden as possible, he descended from the creature he had been standing on and collapsed into a crawl. Snaking his way along the floor, he observed smaller and larger shadows all around him, cleared now as the light drew closer to his part of the hall. Some were bipedal like him, albeit shorter, taller, furrier or nuder. Some looked like they belonged in the sky or in the sea; some were so large as to take up whole sectors of the hall; others were small enough to share platforms with millions of others. What kind of purgatory was this?!

Something changed before him. A growing, black image formed on the floor ahead of him, and it didn’t take long before he realised it was his own shadow. He twisted onto his back and saw another orb of blue light, this one closing in on him while flaring ominously. He pushed himself back and up against a stone platform, and just as the night captured him, he shouted, “NOOOOOO!”

Poof!

He opened his eyes, then blinked instinctively on account of the lighting change. Around him was a serenely dim room, with jellyfish swimming lethargically around in the air. The atmosphere was uncannily different from what he was certain had been either a prison or a tomb just now. The roof and walls were made of clear glass, which allowed him to see into the vast emptiness of what he could only surmise was the night sky - except that it was everywhere.

“My child… You have awoken,” came a voice like silk from behind him. He turned to see the smiling face of a beautiful, plum-skinned woman, with hair like the midnight sky and eyes like two glistening moons. She was dressed in what looked to be a dress spun entirely from the night sky itself. She wore a peaceful, tranquil expression with a small, soft smile and had extended a hand in his direction, invitingly gesturing for him to approach. “Come, come closer, my child.”

He approached slowly, steadily, his experience in the tomb keeping him on his toes. With a slightly hunkered posture, he gestured at the surroundings and asked in as calm a voice, “What… Is this place?”

The woman giggled softly. “Oh, my dear… I have waited for so long for someone to ask me that question. You are in my sanctuary, a place no one will ever come to harm you.”

The man eyed the outside through the glass dome again. The stars twinkled in the distance; further away, a purple, round stone drifted slower than the eye could observe, as if suspended in thin air; if he really focused, he could just the a different shadow, unlike the one blocking out the outside light. It was almost as if… A different world was there below. He turned once again to the woman and asked, “Where exactly are we?”

The goddess smiled wider and closed her eyes peacefully as she gestured skywards. “We are somewhere between realities - a world where all is in our power, and where the light of the sun will never hurt us again. Suspended in the space between Galbar and the great beyond, we are safe from all danger. Welcome, my child, to the dark side of the moon.”

“The MOON?!” he shouted in reply and the woman recoiled a little, seemingly struggling to keep her calm appearance. He knelt down and clutched his head - yes, he didn’t remember anything about his past, but truths of the universe like the existence of the Sun, the Moons and the Stars came as easily to him as breathing - and to think that he currently was on one of these three celestial objects sabotaged what little sense he had made of his situation even further.

The woman waved her hand soothingly. “Do not worry, my child - I have already imbued you with the powers necessary to sustain your existence here for all eternity. Now, I am certain you have many questions, dear, so go ahead and a--”

“Who am I?!” shouted the man again and the woman frowned slightly.

“Your, your name, my child, is Twilight, champion of the moo--”

“Where did I just come from?! What was that place?!”

“Please, Twilight, don’t interrupt me. It was--”

“It was a tomb, wasn’t it?! Am I dead?! Is this the afterlife?!”

“Twilight!” The woman’s smile had faded for an instant, replaced by an annoyed glare. However, it quickly returned - though much too slowly for Twilight not to notice. The man returned a frown and crossed his hands over his chest.

“What was it?”

The woman sighed softly and stood up, gesturing to the right. A mirror of moon dust coalesced over her hand and she sent it floating towards Twilight. The man peered into the mirror’s image and saw an endlessly long set of tunnels going deep inside the moon, each tunnel ending in a chambre full of stone beds upon which slept both animate and inanimate life, sorted by species. The man drew a gasp and looked back at the woman and asked frightfully, “Are you some kind of, of death spirit? A jailor?”

The woman blinked and recoiled. “Uh--! What?!” She then instantly collected herself and cleared her throat. She put back on her soft smile and approached Twilight with slow, controlled steps. “No, my child… I am neither a death spirit nor a jailor. I am the protector of all life, the Lady on the Moon, and the Guardian in the Night.” She paused to see if Twilight could figure it out, but a skeptical frown was the only answer she got. With a slightly more frustrated sigh, she said, “I am Gibbou - goddess of the moon?” Twilight shook his head again, eliciting a groan in response. “Oh, that’s just great… I woke up an idiot.”

“Wait, woke up? What?”

“Yes, you’ve been asleep.”

“For how long?”

Gibbou shook her head and rolled her eyes, shrugging. “I don’t know - a while, I guess?”

“How. Long, Gibbou?”

The goddess shrunk before the scowling man. Sheepishly, she prodded together her index fingers and focused her gaze on anywhere but the man’s face. “W-well… Around, uh… Two, two thousand years?”

“Two thou--!” The man staggered back as if Gibbou had kicked him in the chest - though she may as well have. He supported himself against the ice cold glass wall, cupping a quivering palm over his mouth. “... I, I can’t believe this? What of my family? My friends?”

“Did you have any?” Gibbou asked before she could really analyse the contents of her question. She immediately tried to fix it by saying, “Look, if you did, I’m pretty sure they’re safely asleep in the Hall below!” She paused. “Or not, but that’s beside the point!”

“How is that ‘beside the point’, Gibbou?! Gods, I was kidnapped 2000 years ago and put inside a, a, a tomb with life from all over the world, wasn’t I?!”

Gibbou gulped, but didn’t respond. Twilight grit his teeth and repeated in a roar, “Wasn’t I?!”

“Technically, it’s a dormitory.”

Twilight threw his hands in the air. “You know what? No, I will not stay here with you. Where’s the exit?” Just as he took a step away from her, he felt something wrap itself around his leg, complemented by, “NONONONONO! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEEEEAAASE, DON’T GOOO-HO-HOOO!” The moon goddess laid weeping and rubbed her cheek against his left calf muscle. Twilight tried to pull his leg out of her arms, but Gibbou held on with titanic strength.

“Damn it, woman - let… Go!”

“Nnno! I don’t wanna be alone agaaaaiiin!” the moon goddess wept.

“Not my problem! Go wake up someone else or something!”

“I triiiieed! The others are so mean to meeee!”

“Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you kidnap someone off their damn planet - now let go!” The man eventually managed to pull his foot out of Gibbou’s grasp, who proceeded to rise to a kneeling position and point a quivering finger at Twilight’s back.

“Y-y-you can’t leave! It’s impossible!”

Twilight turned slowly, menacingly, and stared Gibbou down. “What was that?”

The moon goddess nodded rapidly. “Mhm! Yeah - all exits are sealed and, and, and if you step outside, you’ll die!”

Twilight frowned pitifully. “Didn’t you just tell me you gave me powers that can let me survive this environment?”

Gibbou made a sheepish expression. “No, I said, uh… I gave you powers thaaaaat, uhm… Let you… Revive thiiiis man-pyro-scent--No, come back!”

Twilight started to grow used to the weight of a goddess dragging along with his foot. Gibbou choked down some sobs and went on: “Two thousand years, Twilight - do you know what it’s like to be alone for two thousand years?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Gibbou - do you know what it’s like to realise you’ve been -asleep- for two thousand years?” He dragged the goddess along with him down a staircase, Gibbou blurting out the occasional ‘owie!’

“You’re even worse than when I woke up that Vrool last millennia! And he ate a quarter of the aquatic section!”

“Well, that’s nice for him. Now where is the damn exit?” He took a left, and Gibbou nearly lost her grip as she slammed into the corner of the doorway.

“Then there was that night elf that I woke up four centuries ago - she was so, so mean! She even tried to attack me - several times! Why are you mortals like this?!”

“Why are you, a goddess, like this?!” He stopped and looked down at Gibbou with his hands on his hips, a stern frown on his face. Gibbou immediately sat up on her knees and looked down at the ground. “Don’t you have, like, other gods you can interact with?”

Gibbou gave a sad sniff. “W-well… I don’t feel like I have, have the right to.”

“Oh, no…”

“See, about two thousand years ago…”

“You’re gonna tell me your whole life story, aren’t you?”

“... Do you plan on letting me?”

“Not at all.”

“... Not even a summary?”

“Will you tell me where the exit is?”

“... No...”

“Well, guess we’re stuck here, huh?” With that, Twilight sat down with crossed legs opposite of Gibbou. He rested his chin on a balled-up knuckle. A moment or so went buy when the only sounds were Gibbou’s sniffing. Eventually, Twilight let out a sigh and said, “Alright… Give me the gist of it.”

The moon goddess’ face lit up and she took a deep breath, but saw Twilight raise his brows warningly and cleared her throat. “So, uh… Yeah, about two thousand years ago, I did some bad stuff, uh… Caused some deaths here and there and, well, I got a bit of a panic attack.”

“A panic attack as in?”

“As in let me finish, Twilight! So, I got a panic attack and decided that, in order to be, y’know, protector of all life, I should snatch up some of all life and keep it safe here, right?”

“Great plan, gotta say,” replied Twilight with a flat sneer.

“Weeell, it wasn’t--... Oh, right, sarcasm.” Gibbou hung her head a bit. “Anyway, I was confident in that plan for about, uh…” She scratched her head thoughtfully. “Three months, I think…”

Twilight smirked and Gibbou scowled back. “I’m a goddess, not flawless. I’m not my sister, okay?”

“Oh, wooow, you have a sister? What’re you lonely for, then? Can’t you just talk to her?”

Gibbou looked away, and for a moment, Twilight almost looked sympathetic. “Oh, damn, is, is she--? L-look, I didn’t mean it like that, I--”

“What, you think she’s dead?” Gibbou exclaimed. “No! What’re you, stupid? She’s a goddess! She can’t die!”

Twilight exaggerated a shrug. “Well, how am I supposed to know that?! I literally just woke up after two thousand years of sleep!”

“I dunno, maybe you remember at least -something- about the gods?”

“Well, I clearly don’t, so there!” There was a pause. “So… What happened to you then?” Gibbou shrunk together timidly again.

“And theeeen, well… You know what a hangover is?”

“I’ve forgotten memories, not words, Gibbou,” replied Twilight with a lopsided sneer.

“Okay, just checking, sheesh...” replied Gibbou with a roll of her eyes. “So yeah, I had a regret hangover for, like, a millennium - just kinda regretting the whole, y’know, ‘kidnapping a large percentage of the world’s life’-thing, and I got really, reeeaally lonely, and really, reeeeaally sad during that time.”

“Couldn’t you have just, y’know, put them back?”

“Remember how I said there’s no exit?”

“No…”

Gibbou nodded. “Though you can jump around on the moon as much as you want, there’s no way of getting down to Galbar. You can, uh, you can trust me on that. I’ve trink -numous- times.”

“So you mean I’m stuck here…”

“Yup.”

“With you?”

“That stings, Twilight.”

The man bent his head back and unleashed a pained scream while Gibbou sat there with a very insulted frown. As Twilight sat back down with a hung head, Gibbou opened her mouth, closed it again and then opened it once more to ask, “Do you want me to put you back to sleep?”

“Is that what you did with the others you woke up?”

“Most of them…” she replied with a sniff.

“What do you mean ‘most of them’?” asked Twilight with a suspicious frown.

“Some stayed around long enough to die of old age; others, uh… Found the backdoor.”

“You mean they--”

“They died horribly, yes.”

Twilight started hyperventilating again. She caved down so he was laying on his side, empty, whiteish blue eyes staring at nothing in particular. “... Well, guess I’ve got nothing better to do, huh.”

“Than to…?”

He rolled over so he was facing away from Gibbou and gave a wave with the hand not supporting his propped-up head. “Go on, finish your story.”

Gibbou, not quite sure what to feel anymore, wiped away a chalky tear and continued, “So, at the thousand year mark, I decided to wake up some people - y’know, so I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. I tried the Vrool first - we know how that went…”

“What -is- a Vrool, actually?”

“Real mean squids.”

“Are they supposed to be on land?”

“No, but I blessed them to be able to stay on land.”

Twilight rolled back over to face her. “So, lemme get this straight - you went through the trouble of waking up, blessing and explaining the situation to various mortals for a thousand years, and not once did it occur to you that you could just, I dunno, -make- a conversation partner?”

The scene stilled. Gibbou’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as tears welled up in her eyes. Twilight rolled onto his back. “I can’t believe this…”

“Bad things happen when I create stuff! I didn’t want to accidentally create a giant fluffy dragon that would eat everything in the Hall of the Eclipse every Tuesday!”

“Why does it matter?! Can’t you just make more life if the old life gets eaten? Also, what’s Tuesday?!”

“You told me you know words!”

“Well, obviously not ones you’ve made up!”

“Ugh! Either way, I didn’t want to lose the life I’ve kidnapped because one - it’s life and it’s precious, and two - I don’t trust myself to remake it properly!”

The silence settled again. The time that passed before words were said again was just long enough to maximise the awkward tension brewing. “So,” Twilight mumbled eventually, “you have a confidence issue?”

Now it was Gibbou’s turn to turn around, collecting her knees at her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You’ve already talked about it plenty, so you don’t have to.” Twilight scooted a little closer until they sat back to back, Gibbou’s face dug deep in between her knees and Twilight’s face looking up at the ceiling. “... But I do think you’re being a bit harsh on yourself.”

Gibbou looked up slightly and the sobbing recommenced. “... R-... Really?”

“Yeah, I mean… You made all this; you, uh, managed to move all this life all the way to the moon…”

“Pushing it…”

“Got’cha. Anyway, I’m still alive, for one! You -can- do things properly, Gibbou! You just… Don’t get so hung up on the stuff that doesn’t work out the way you hoped, okay?”

Gibbou sniffed and turned her head around sideways, choking a sob. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“Well, y’know… I figured since we’ve got a long time together, we might just bury the hatchet right now, yeah? Maybe even become friends?”

Gibbou let out a weak chuckle, which grew into a genuine one. “Oh, Twilight… Now I almost don’t regret infusing you with my power.” She wiped away a joyful tear.

“Heh, yeah, I can be an ass sometimes… Say, what was that about infusion?”

“Oh, see, I put a part of my soul into you, blessing you with eternal life and divine abilities unlike that which any other mortal can receive,” replied Gibbou faithfully. Twilight blinked.

“Y-... Y’mean I can perform miracles?”

Gibbou nodded, still facing away from Twilight. “Oh yeah, yeah! Go nuts. Would be nice to get a fresh, artistic mind around here. I’m almost tired of making gargoyles everywhere - almost.”

There was no response, except for a gentle hum. Gibbou turned her head somewhat. “Twilight?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright light - it immediately made her turn fully to lay her quartz-coloured eyes upon something that took her breath away entirely.

There, not even four paces ahead, was a glowing, blue ring showing an image of the Boreal Highlands, unchanged as though she had seen them yesterday - and on the other side of the image stood Twilight, surveying the surroundings. Gibbou hastened forward, casting herself at the portal. However, a powerful force knocked her back and into the wall behind her. Quickly, she regained her stance and approached the portal again. “Twilight!”

The figure on the other side turned. “Oh, Gibbou! Heeeeyy…”

“Twilight, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but--”

“Yo, Gibbou, listen… Since, y’know, I’ve god part of your soul and all, I figured it might be wise to, y’know, go down to Galbar for a spell - test this divinity business, y'know!”

“Twilight, I swear on my sister, if you don’t--”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what’s that? I think the portal isn’t transmitting sound anymore.” On the other side, Gibbou started sobbing again.

“What about what you -just- said? About burying the hatchet? Becoming friends?”

Twilight stretched his hands over his head. “Yyyyeeeeaah, about that. I’m sure people say you’re nice once they get to know you, -but- you also trapped me in a prison for most of history. I’m not really sure mommy would approve of me having such a friend…”

“Your mom died two thousand years ago!”

“Proving my point, too, huh.” Gibbou slapped her palm over her mouth and Twilight smirked back. “Well, nice knowing you, Gibs - I’m off to relive some of those lost years.” With that, he started strolling away from the now-shrinking portal.

“No, Twilight - Twilight, come back!” Gibbou pleaded, but all she got back was a sloppy wave over Twilight’s back. The portal finally popped out of existence. Gibbou stared at the empty air for a long time, tears not even able to pour forth. Eventually, she keeled over and screamed her sorrow into the floor. She couldn’t stop bawling - it just hurt so badly. Finally - after two thousand years, she thought she had finally gotten a friend again.

She needed someone - anyone. She laid down flatly against the floor and whispered, “Orey… Orey, help me…” The pain too much to handle, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, there was a familiar, gentle hum on the air. Gibbou scrambled to her knees and eyed the phenomenon up ahead. It was a portal, similar to the one Twilight had made, but the image on the other side was different: it looked nothing like Galbar at all, and it oozed of divine essence.

Oraelia’s was among them.

With a explosive movement, Gibbou charged at the portal. She would no longer be alone; she would face the others regardless of what they would say about her. She needed them - she needed her.

“ORAELIA!” she shouted as she jumped through the portal and into the Antiquity.

---

---

Perhaps, Tekret reflected from within the endless void, this was for the better. When Fe’ris had found him, for he had been a man at the time, Tekret had only just begun to glimpse those earlier memories of his. Now that he’d had time to ruminate on them the God of Contracts no longer felt indignation at the lifebloods actions. They were necessary. It was Tekret’s classic refrain, and perhaps now it rang true more than ever.

From the beginning the gods had been... Flawed. Tekret certainly was. No matter how he tried, the god could never truly pierce the fog that enshrouded their memories from when they were one with the lifeblood, but he’d seen enough. He’d driven the lifeblood to create intelligence before it was ready. That life had paid the cost.

It was all he needed to know. The details, lost as they were, mattered less than the reality. Gods were dangerous, and for all they saw more than any mortal their perception was fundamentally limited. They could never see the consequences of their actions. Even for those born of divinity the future was an impenetrable mystery, and one which they only rarely predicted correctly.

Yes, this isolation was for the best. Tekret still saw through the eyes of thousands of Seer’s, heard the oaths and agreements of countless mortals, but now was limited in his ability to meddle. If the same rang true for the others, and Tekret knew it did, then the world would be shielded from the ignorance of gods. Even as it derived some benefit from their power.

The God of Contracts could respect that.

---

Things, she reflected, had gotten out of hand rather quickly after her banishment from the world. She was Tekret Et Heret, and today she was a woman wearing a rather interesting dress she’d seen a mortal sewing below. It was... Cumbersome, if attractive. Thankfully the god hadn’t need of her arms and legs or the work would have been impossible.

Oh and the work. It was endless. It was everywhere. Literally. She’d made her realm to expand as she needed it, a world on the inside of a growing sphere, but she’d never expected it to grow this quickly. The idea to keep a copy of every mortal contract here, to ease the burden on her mind, hadn’t accounted for mortal’s propensity for utterly ridiculous nonsense. Or how quickly they were breeding.

She huffed, and yes she’d taken to wearing a face here. It was hard to monologue to yourself, or huff, without a mouth after all. The inside of her realm, her great sphere, was lined in an uncountable number of amber buildings, archives holding the records of every agreement ever struck. At least half of them were filled with garbage. Yes, on reflection perhaps she shouldn’t have been counting pinky swears but she was the God of Contracts! It was her damn job to count pinky swears!

“Even if I did stop cursing the children breaking them...” She winced as she spoke to herself.

That had been a bit of a disaster. A demographic crisis, really. She’d only wanted to teach the idiotic toddlers a lesson, how could she have anticipated a little curse like clumsiness for a few years would kill so many? She sighed, again, and filed away more contracts. The work never ended.

Once upon a time she’d cared deeply for every single mortal life. Funny, how hearing ten thousand oaths to kill someone else a minute degraded your belief in the fundamental good of people. Just like cursing the children for that century had degraded her belief in mortal, well, durability?

Anyway, she had too much to do to worry about a few broken eggs here and there. Those breaking contracts made in her name demanded her personal attention, and consequently distracted her from the endless work of maintaining the archives. They tended to find their curses rather brutal. Not that they were always lethal, that was obviously unhelpful. Well maybe not obviously. Again, it took about a century to learn she was being too hamfisted with those.

Plagues had an unfortunate tendency to spread. These days she tried to make the punishments a bit more topical, ironic, even proportional. She bit her lip and admitted, “Ok, rarely proportional.”

Look, if another god ever asked, and they wouldn’t because they were all trapped like her, she was just doing her job. Even when she’d summoned a bit of wind to blow that idiot king off the horse he was giving a speech on the necessity of his war against a people he’d sworn friendship with from. Even when he’d survived the fall to find himself being treated by a displaced member of that city. Even when she’d whispered in that medicine man's ear to mix up a few bottles.

She was a god! How could she know it took months to die from that poison? It was hardly her fault. Thaa would sort it out anyway. Probably? Did souls still go to Thaa? If not there was a very smelly ghost wandering the world. Incontinence. That was a punishment she’d never try again.

Probably.

---

He lounged on the beach and basked in the light of his vault. Today, and yesterday, and most days for the foreseeable future, were part of Tekret Et Heret, God of Rulership and Contracts, century off. The rulership bit was new, but a god had to entertain themselves. Besides, order was doing pretty well. The whole crown thing had worked out well. Sure he’d missed a few, well almost all, species, but he’d gotten a couple! The interesting ones really. Well save the Mantarin, but Artifex had spoiled them to a ridiculous extent anyway. Honestly, Tekret had made a wall but he hadn’t made a wall like that. Some days he wondered how it didn’t go to the bugs heads.

It probably did. Not his department. Mostly. He yelled at the water before him, “Even if it was, I’m. On. Vacation.”

Yep. Vacation. He had a beautiful beach, a copy of one he’d seen through a mortal on Mydia. It took up what was, by this point, an infinitesimal speck on the inside of his great sphere, his archives. It was also growing, as he got bored of a section and added a palm tree here or a solid platinum beach house there.

Sometimes, when he was a woman, he’d try a sundress from here or there. In this form though? Well he took the mortals example. Clothing was a mistake. Especially on vacation. He was absolutely not going to be wearing pants on vacation. That was against the idea of vacations.

Which, to be fair, he only barely understood. He was still doing basic maintenance of his realm in the background of his mind, but the meddling? The interference? Nope. None of that. All the kings and queens didn’t work on vacation, so he wouldn’t either.

He felt vaguely guilty about that, but he’d been at it for what? A thousand years? Two thousand? Every god deserved some time off. He’d even deliberately put up a mental wall between the part of him that was managing his realm, hearing mortals, working, and the part of him lounging on his beach.

He’d been on vacation for three years now, and he was honestly considering extending it for a century or two. Was a hundred years of not having to really listen to ignorant babies swear to eat their vegetables so they can play outside, only to throw them out the window, enough? Maybe... Two hundred would be good.

It was then that, on his beach, during his vacation, a him damned portal opened up.

---

As it happened, a very angry naked man barged into antiquity and with a shaking fist shouted, loud enough for all the gods to hear through their own portals,

---

He was in the air when it happened, as he often was. The thermals over the Blood Basin were particularly turbulent, bouncing him around the cloudless sky like some sort of amusing ride, tossing him one way and the next without him even having to flex a digit. It was a breathless sort of fun, the kind you couldn't have if you were afraid of dying, of plummeting into the sand and becoming nothing more than a stain in the dunes. Perhaps that was why Fe’ris enjoyed it so, the dangerous-yet-harmless joy of being battered by gusts of searing wind. Or perhaps it was the view at sunset, when the already orange land was awash in warm colors, a golden and inviting paradise before the chill of night gripped in its claws. The bat god wasn’t much for art, but even he could appreciate the beauty of it.

It began to fade. He blinked, wondering if perhaps he had stared a little too directly at the sinking orange fireball for a little too long, but no. A wave of unease washed over him, and he tucked his wings, determined to reach the ground and figure out what was going on. But the thermals turned even more violent, actively fighting to keep him away, and that was when revealation dawned on him. There was nothing wrong with his eyes. The Lifeblood had turned on him; the Lifeblood had turned on them all!

Actively panicking now, he flapped with all his might, beating his leathery wings with enough force to punch a hole miles deep into the sandstone. It was to no avail. The Lifeblood had had enough, and with one final blast of scalding wind, it all went black.

---

Darkness. The darkest darkness, blacker than a black Vrool smothered in coal dust inking itself at the bottom of the ocean. He sent out nervous chitters, hoping to hear the frequency bounce back toward him, but there was nothing for it to bounce off of. It was like being unborn again, in that state after Gibbou but before escaping the Lifeblood. The God of Ambition, titanic in size and cunning, curled his wings around himself and wept. He had never even worked up the courage to greet Mother Moon, and now he never would.

He floated there, awash in sadness and self-pity, for uncountable eons, a ball of fur and flesh in the great nothingness. If only he had made that voyage to the Moon, felt its rays up close and personal. If only he had approached her, swearing his love and loyalty, promising to keep her happy and safe all their immortal lives. If only, if only, if only.

A light pierced the abyss; hauntingly orange, yet calm and cool. He raised his head, letting the beams trickle over his sensitive eyes, allowing them to soothe the pain within. Then, a question. Where had this come from? It was no moon he had ever seen before. Gibbou’s was large, but far away, and it certainly wasn’t orange. Nor was the more recent moon, which hung fat and pink in the night sky. No, this moon was gargantuan, hanging low and heavy, blocking out any stars or sun that might exist.

...Where was he, anyway? He had always thought it to be the null world of the unborn, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Curiosity began to whittle away at the crushing depression that had filled him for so long. Had he done this, somehow? Had his pining for Gibbou created an imperfect representation of her beauty, her kindness? How intriguing. He needed to do more, to test this theory.

He thought of the Blood Basin, and it assembled from the nothingness, each sand particle and wayward stone exactly as he had left it. But there were no Alminaki, no Mananuki, no true shrubs or ferns or grasses. Each time he sculpted one from his will, it fell flat. They were like puppets. They moved and breathed and lived and died below the light of the harvest moon, but it was hollow. He knew they weren’t truly alive, not any more than the copycat biome he had willed forth.

Frustrated, he beat his wings, and it crumbled back into the nothing. He swiped a wing through the air, and a channel appeared in the black, wide and red and dusty. Another swipe, and it widened, branching off into the blackness as a snarl of tunnels, each begging to be explored. He stopped his irritated flapping and dropped into the pit he had carved.

Tall, striated walls arced around him, pulsing like the beat of a heart. He looked down at what he had landed upon. It was simple, nothing more than a marble cylinder, floating above the void. Perfectly smooth, it made something very obvious to him: he had absolute control in this pocket dimension. He could make it adhere to his every specification, down to the quarks and atoms. Fe’ris flexed his wings, enjoying every crack and pop of their many joints. For the first time in forever, the God of Ambition had purpose again, and it was better than any drug. He set to work.

The twisting, tunneling caverns took on minds of their own, hewn into rock of all kinds. Some systems were wide and airy, with large enough diameters to allow entire armies through. Others were cramped, chilly, and pungent, barely wide enough for the worms. Tunneling creatures of all kinds filled the earth, and flittering bats came to follow them. Rivers of blood and acid ran through the infinite tunnels at random, sometimes oozing from the banded stone walls. Lakes of magma and mercury bubbled up from the incomprehensible depths. It was chaotic, exciting, and volatile.

He was so caught up in creation that he failed to notice the giant tear in reality, right where the orange moonlight filtered into the caves.

---

“Wow.” Illyd Dyll’s eyes widened as he entered the vast chamber of Antiquity. Scanning the endless aisles of seats and masterful yet oppressive stonework, his look of awe slowly turned to one of a buzzing disappointment, “It’s so barren.”

He looked down at his sandals, little sprouts of clover peeping under his footsteps. He gave the tiny plants a small smile, admiring their audacity to challenge the stone -- making a mere crack their home. He lifted his foot, a green pulse renewing the clover and edging more and more clovers to grow around it, until a small carpet of plants surrounded Illyd Dyll. With bright eyes he looked up at Cadien, “A good start, eh?”

Cadien knelt down and quickly picked something up, just before the carpet of plants consumed it. The fragments of a clay doll, broken and smashed. “That goddess from before was carrying this, wasn’t she?” he asked in a mildly perplexed tone, as he mended the pieces back together, until the doll was once again whole. “Suppose she might want this,” he shrugged. Having nowhere to put it, he conjured forth a belt with a small pouch that he wrapped around his waist.

Idyll’s smile faded only slightly, “Well nevermind, whatcha got there, friend?”

“The Goddess from before. She was carrying this,” Cadien said as he deposited the item in his pouch. “Though, she doesn’t seem to be around any more. Probably went through another portal. No matter, I suppose. More of our kind seem to be emerging now.”

Another jagged portal brought itself to their attention, mainly because a massive mound of what appeared to be fur was forcing its way through, far greater in size than the tiny tear. The fur pile swiveled, two pinkish knobs at the end of its vaguely elliptical shape twitching like mad, and a pair of violet orbs manifested at the rear of the mass. It was only when the lower half of the mound scraped open, full of pointy white cones, that they realized they weren’t looking at a mound of fur at all, but rather a massive, bat-like face.

“Greetings. It appears my head is stuck.”

“Well how do you like that?” Illyd Dyll gawked, instinctively setting his bag down. A few apples rolled out and the God quickly scooped up one in each hand, “How bout a lil snack for the stuck?”

“Well,” the head rumbled, its purple eyes rolling around, surveying the two gods and the coliseum around them, “I am not typically one for herbivorism, but given the circumstances, I think a snack would be rather nice.” The mouth, which was easily as wide as Illyd Dyll was tall, opened as far as it could, releasing the stench of copper around the arena.

With a soft ‘hup!’ Illyd Dyll carefully tossed the apples in, one after the other -- before pulling out two more apples, “Care for more, friend?”

“Could you perhaps assume a smaller form?” Cadien asked, stepping forward.

”Each time I try, the sides of my head get stuck deeper into the rift. Perhaps we could widen it? Surely that is within the abilities of us three.”

Something caught Illyd’s eye as the two others began to talk, causing the curious God to wander off, bag dragging behind him. Cadien meanwhile, stepped forward to the side of the rift. He wedged his hands between the bat’s fur and the portal’s edge, then leaned back and pulled with all his might.

The rift widened the smallest bit, softening around his fingers and palms as he tugged, going almost buttery beneath them. The bat shook his head like a dog drying its fur, spraying them both with clumps and clumps of fine brown fur. A single heave, and the head disappeared.

Moments passed, the portal sparking and bubbling where it had been forced wider, and through it tumbled a much smaller god, this one red and wearing a great deal of gothic black and silver. He rolled to his feet, patting his fluffy hair back into place. The god’s features were a bit too pointy to be considered perfect by Cadien, but he’d be damned if he said the bat god didn’t have the best pair of mutton chops Cadien had ever seen. The god extended a clawed, scaly black hand in welcome.

“I call myself Fe’ris. Many thanks for your help.”

Cadien shook his head. “Not a problem! I’m Cadien. Quick question: do you, by any chance, recall living on a world called Galbar?”

He tapped a talon against his chin, the silver markings across his body pulsing thoughtfully. “Galbar, Galbar…. It does sound familiar. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen anything other than myself, I cannot say I recall much about anything else. Why do you ask?”

[color“I’m trying to figure out how much you remember,”[/color] Cadien explained. “I’ve met at least two gods who were hit hard by the separation. I think. It’s possible they were always like that, but if my mind is still fine and theirs aren’t, that’s a bit strange.”

“I will admit, the passage of time has not been kind to me. It is likely a result of my own behavior that has caused my memory to fail me. Though it does make sense to me, that some gods would be hit harder than others. Have you met more of our siblings?” He cocked his head, russet hair bushing out more. “Like Iternis? Or Tekret? Gibbou?” His skin was already red, but it looked to Cadien that he might’ve been blushing.

“Gibbou?” Cadien’s own eyes widened. There was a name he had not heard in a long, long time. “N-not that I know of. I hope she’s coming here. I mean-” He was interrupted by the sounds of crying and yelling from the other side of the arena. Another deity had emerged.

Cadien’s head turned. “That… that’s her right now.”

---

---

Squinting, Illyd Dyll continued his wobbling walk away from Cadien and the Bat-God, eyes fixated on a particular rip through reality. He couldn’t see much through it, perhaps a beach? Then all of a sudden a tall, entirely naked, man with alabaster skin and hair jumped out of the rip, angrily barking about someone ruining his rest and threatening to beat them senseless.

Illyd’s eyes widened as he flinched backwards, holding up a single apple in defense of himself, “Woah! Hold on, now!”

The naked man pointed at Illyd and continued his tirade, “Was it you! You... God of....”

“Something?” The porcelain man paused and scratched his head, righteous fury fading as he struggled to remember the god in front of him, “Wait who are you?”

“I’m Illyd Dyll,” Illyd cleared his throat clear of his initial fright. He took a moment to observe the angered man and decided on the next course of action with a polite yet small and sheepish smile, “What’s wrong?”

The naked statue of a man stared at Illyd for a second, and wordlessly held out a hand in confusion before, emphatically, gesturing to the portal behind him and shouting again, “What’s wr-? That! That’s wrong! I spend two thousand years doing my damn job, not one break, not even for a single stupid minute, and then, then I take a vacation.”

He paused and exhaled, before bellowing and all gesturing wildly, “And one of my idiot siblings goes and does that. I. Am. On. Vacation. You don’t just kick down a man’s door without asking! It’s not right!”

“I don’t know about any of that,” Illyd Dyll gave a curt nod, “But seems to me that you owe it to yourself AND your vacation that you go on and get back to it!” He nodded again, and pushed the apple forward, “How ‘bout a lil snack, a lil nibble, and you go right back to your business. Don’t ye worry about the lil hole; I’ll put up some stones.”

“No,” The man huffed, “No it’s ruined. It’s ruined and someone ruined it and when I find out who oh you better believe they’ll be getting what's coming.”

The god took a few deep breaths, and then kept doing that for a frankly inappropriate amount of time, long enough for Illyd Dyll to swap out his apple for his harp -- an idle pluck here and there while he waited. When the man finally seemed to have calmed down he sighed and held out a hand, “I’m Tekret Et Heret, God of Rulership, Contracts, and the livin- No not that. Just the first two. Damn, it’s been a while since I spoke to another god. Can’t believe I used to introduce myself like that. Pretentious.”

Illyd plopped an apple right into the waiting palm, “Yer hungry, I can tell. I get a little whippish when my stomach rumbles, too. But as I said before: I’m Illyd Dyll, nice to meet you friend.”

Tekret stared at the apple, at Illyd, and then shrugged and took a bite. After a moment savouring the fruit he noted, “That’s pretty good. Don’t think I ever ate when I was down there. Or up here. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever eaten. Huh. So, Illyd Dyll, what are you the God of?”

“Now see, that’s the interesting thing,” Illyd Dyll plucked at his harp, “Ye saying yer the God of Rulerships and Contracts -- but so am I, ain’t that wild?”

“Yes,” Tekret deadpanned while rolling his eyes, “Wild.”

Illyd Dyll accompanied Tekret with a warm chuckle -- as if he was sharing it with the god, “I’m jus’ pullin’ yer leg. Thought a little joke might clear the mood around here.”

Tekret seemed to deflate, a little, “Sorry, sorry. It’s been... A while. Actually I don’t think anyone has ever told me a joke. Told myself a few, though. Can’t say they were much better than that.”

The naked god glanced at the other portals and asked, “You been through any of those yet? See what the others have been up to for the last few thousand years?”

“If I’m bein’ honest,” Iylld Dyll plucked at his harp in thought, “I didn’t even realize that much time had passed; it’s no short of a wonder or a credit to your intellect that you managed to count that long -- but to answer your question: I’m jus’ along for the ride, recently stepped here myself.” He got lost in a few notes before suddenly brightening, “Oh but ye know what? I did meet a great guy named Cadien, he should still be here -- even. Right over yonder.” Illyd jabbed a thumb behind himself.

“You didn’t realize?” Tekret narrowed his eyes, “You don’t mean to say I was the only one actually working, for the last two millenium? Do you? That can’t be what you’re implying, Illyd. I mean look at you, god of unsolicited apples, people probably needed those. Right?”

A pained expression took hold of the marbleesque god’s face, “And Cadien, God of Perfection! The Humans obviously would have needed him too, he had to have been swamped. Just swamped. Had to be.”

“Now now,” Illyd Dyll slung his harp back over his shoulder and raised his palms, “I can’t rightfully speak for anyone but myself. As far as myself, though, all I remember is a pleasant plucking or two, a nibble there and a bite here -- and one fantastic nap under the sun. Ever have a pumpkin?”

“A... Pumpkin?” Tekret looked positively despondent, and wistfully looked back into his portal at his beach, “No I uh, I don’t think I have.”

“Oh boy, you gotta try one, you have to!” Illyd Dyll looked around ,”No vines here tho- oh!” As if willed -- which it was -- a massive green vine suddenly pushed out of the stone floor and curled around the two. In a span of seconds it matured, thick orange pumpkins bursting out of their buds -- full and ripe. “Well now would you look at that!”

A chalk white hand reached out and, struggling to actually grasp the sizable pumpkin, just scooped a handful out of it like it was butter. Tekret took the chunk and bit into it, rind and all. After a moment of concentrated chewing he swallowed and commented uncertainly, “Maybe, uhm, stick to the apples.”

“Yer eatin’ it all wrong, friend!” Illyd Dyll shook his head and snagged a pumpkin from the vine. He tossed the pumpkin in the air where it floated obediently and instructed, “Ye gotta give it a little zap-a-doo and some razzmatazz, or it’s gonna be all chunky and bitter. Do it right and ye got one of the thirty seven spices of life. Watch see.”

The god stuck his tongue between his teeth in concentration and then with a quick crunch and a soft sizzle, the pumpkin squished into a warm paste. Illyd scratched his chin, and long sugary canes popped out next to the vine, shedding a white powder and bombarding the mush. Illyd Dyll snapped, “I jus’ had an idea!” Next thing the two gods knew, a flash of golden wheat was growing alongside the rest, its plentiful grains whisking around the paste until with a flash of light a wholesome pie remained.

Illyd Dyll nodded twice, “Enough for sharin’ too.”

Tekret’s white eyes skipped between the pie and Illyd, and he let out a half hearted chuckle, “God of Food then? Well, if you’re going to share I’ll try it. If I can’t have my vacation at least I can discover food.”

“Grab a slice, friend!” Illyd Dyll smiled warmly, the pie splitting into two and floating to each.

The God of Contracts grabbed his and took a bite, freezing as he did so. He savoured the taste, and then devoured the rest of the slice in short order. A small smile crept its way onto his lips and he thanked the other divine, “I can’t say you’re bad at what you do, Illyd. Thank you. I... May have needed this.”

“D’aw, well think nothing of it,” Illyd’s slice was already gone, his fingers already back to work on his crooked harp, “Hey, ye see any trees around here? I gotta set up my hammock.”

“Trees?” Tekret asked incredulously, as he looked around at the barren arena they stood in, “I... Haven’t seen any trees.”

He bit his lip and eyed Illyd for a moment before shrugging and pointing behind him with his thumb, “There’s a few palms on my beach, though. I think I might linger here a moment, see if the others have ah, been doing something for the last while. Anything, really. But you can use my trees, if you want to.”

Illyd Dyll narrowed his eyes, his smile growing cheshire, ”Are ye invitin’ me over to yer place?” The arguably shorter god burst with energy and slapped his bag back over his shoulder, ”You sneaky beetle, I think that’s a wonderful idea!”

Tekret pursed his lips, but nodded, “Just, please, stay on the beach. I’ll be back before long.”

”I’ll wait around here until you wanna come, feels weird going in alone,” Illyd Dyll dropped his bag again, ”Probably just string the hammock here on... something ‘nd we’ll cross paths on yer way back in. Easy peasy.”

The naked man nodded, and then glanced at the arrayed portals before adding, “Sure. Now I just need to find out who...”

A small fire lit in the gods eyes as he strode off, once again muttering about his vacation. Now, though, he was also occasionally rambling to himself about pie. An improvement, on the whole.

---

Act Two, Scene One: Magic and Tragedy

---

Yamat was, unsure of where he had arrived, it was strange to say the least, it wasn’t Galbar that's for sure, as he didn’t recount a coliseum ever being created. The wide field in the center was sand like, and Yamat could see a variety of other portals farther off, other gods? Oh, there was a lot of them, his play was more crowded than he expected.

Yamat took in the new scenery, it was empty at the moment, had the other gods not noticed? Or was he the last one to arrive? He pondered the questions silently. Until, they were answered.

It wasn’t Galbar, that was for sure. Qael observed the wonderfully large coliseum he arrived at. He arrived near one of his siblings. A masked figure dressed in gold. The masks conjured memories of the Reshut. Those first blessed with his teachings. He walked up next to him and said: “Do you think it wants us to fight?” He asked, referring to Lifeblood. Even though he asked the question, he showed no sign of hostility. Only curiosity.

Yamat jumped at the sudden voice, turning to look at the newcomer. Upon seeing it was another god, he calmed down somewhat “Oh, you’re another god.” He stated, before turning once more to the coliseum and answering the newcomer’s question: “I’m, not sure, it's certainly a strange place to pick as a meeting point for us all.”

“I think I was a God. On Galbar.” He said as he turned to Yamat. There was no way of knowing the two had come from the same realm. Perhaps there were as many Galbars as there were gods. Who was to know, in a place like this? “Now I’m not sure what I am really. A creator removed from his creations.” He mused with a somber tone. The whispers had returned, though not as many as before. Even his own people had begun to forget his name. It caused him to miss Galbar. It was so full. Even here, with all his siblings, it felt as if something was short. “I am Qael’Naath. God of Magic.” He introduced himself, as he turned back to look at the marble stone. “Considering the shortcomings of some of my siblings, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was its goal.” If Qull would appear here, the entire place would surely be sundered in an effort to kill each other.

“Well, a creator removed is still a creator are they not?” Yamat pondered openly, staring at the somber Qael. “But, I am Yamat, god of…” He pondered for a second, debating whether to reveal his domain, before he performed a rather extravagant bow “God of Tragedy.” His lanky body shot back up afterwards, joining Qael in looking at the stones. “It appears we are the only ones currently, the others must be busy.”

“Tragedy?” There was no judgment in Qael’s tone. In fact, he was thoroughly intrigued by it. Tragedy was a spoke in the wheel of progress. “I must confess, I did not know you existed. Though, I do think that I have encountered one of your creations. Judging from their masked habits, at least.” He said, a bit more cheerful. “Tell me, amongst confidants, what did you do on Galbar?”

“Ah yes, those are the Reshut, my finest work.” Yamat turned somber for a moment, worrying how his children were doing, before addressing Qael. “I, well, caused tragedy, creating tornadoes in a vast prairie, forging a sword that quakes the mightiest of mountains but once removed from its hold, curses its wielder, I created the Reshut and Iskrill, and caused tragedy across the world.” Yamat stared off towards the portals, wondering if Orealia or Iternis were amongst them. “In essence, I crafted the beautiful play that is tragedy.”

A smirk formed on Qael’s lips. Finally, he met someone who was not so hung up about all the bad things happening to the mortals. He turned his back on the stone to watch the many portals open. Wondering if he’d see any familiar faces. His mind pulled up a memory from Galbar as he observed his siblings from a distance. His talk with Lucia, despite the time, still resonated with him. “Do you care?” Qael suddenly said after a period of silence. His tone was dead serious however. “About your Reshut and Iskrill? Would you be sad if some of them died…tragically young?”

Yamat was taken aback by the sudden question, Qael could not see it behind the mask but he held a bit of a confused expression. He thought for a moment, thinking about the question. “I, am sure it would be sad for those around them, but I personally? It is a matter of life is it not? Mortals die, some even young, it is tragic yes, but, that is my work is it not? I care about them. Yes, I wish for them to grow strong and live as full as they can, but even my own creations are not free from their mortal existence and tragedy, it does not discriminate afterall, and I should know.”

“You are quickly becoming the most intriguing sibling I seem to have, Yamat.” Qael said as his smile grew. Finally, one who understood. Cherish life but accept the living die. Alas, while it was comforting to have a sibling who grasped that concept, Lucia’s words would require far more contemplation and reflection. Though his eyes and focus now were in front of him, looking at all the siblings that were arriving. Noting one angry, naked god in particular. Perhaps he was the god of loud drunkards? Who was to say? “So what will you do should you get back to Galbar? Any big plans prepared?”

“Well, I have a play to begin once more, the curtains are opening on what i'm hoping will be an incredibly interesting act.” Yamat spread his arms outwards, taking in the plethora of gods, before turning once more to Qael “Though of course, getting back to Galbar will be the hard party, what are you planning to do my magical sibling?” He asked.

Qael thought about it for a moment. What would he do back in Galbar? Despite the millennia of time, he hadn’t mediated upon Lucia’s words nearly enough yet. So no doubt he would be doing that first. But then what? “I don’t know.” He finally said. “I suppose I first should know what happened with magic while I was gone. But as you said we first need to find a way to get back.” He turned to face Yamat. “It’s been a true honor and a comfort to get to know you, Yamat. I hope me and mine will play our parts expertly in your grand play. Now, however, I must go. Someone has to start getting us back and I’m not sure if any of my siblings will be industrious enough to start the process.” Qael’Naath was well aware that tragedy would not discriminate. He would suffer it too, no doubt. As would his creations. It was best to simply accept the inevitable. With that he left the god of tragedy alone, moving to a more secluded spot as he summoned his magic around him and ordered it to prod every stone, bit of ground or even the supposed empty air.

“I wish you well in your endeavors.” Yamat spoke as he bowed to the leaving Qael, he turned back, taking in all the gods. Plans began to form in his mind, the great play would continue, and he had countless actors to perform within it.

---

Thaa was in the Vescii Temple, he was comforting the many souls of the dead as it orbited over the surface of Galbar. He had not felt it coming, if he had perhaps he would have done some more, or taken other actions, but as it was he was preoccupied with the souls of the dead.

It hit without warning, the power of the Lifeblood drew Thaa out, taking him away from Galbar. Thaa tried resisting but such was nearly pointless, he did manage to grab onto one thing, the Second Soul Crystal before he and it were whisked away to a void.

---

Thaa was not pleased, although he kept himself enough in good mind to set down the Soul Crystal, for what limited value of setting something down was in this void he found himself in.

Returning to Galbar had turned out to be a complete waste of time in the attempt, still feeling the effects of trying Thaa was mostly creating and then destroying various stones or such things to try to release some of his anger. He had been getting close, he thought, he was getting a good picture that it might just be possible to make things better, to ease the tyranny of life. And now he was whisked away by the same foolish lifeblood which had birthed evils of the first life gods. In his rage he released endless waves of death energies out into the void, filling it with a deep fog.

A small whisper interrupted his ruminations, a soul. A dead fish as it was, or better yet its soul was here with him.

How…?

Thaa traced it back looking for the source of this surprising interruption, the Soul Crystal he had managed to bring with him, it was still in resonance with the First Soul Crystal, back on Galbar.

He moved quickly, he created many things. Towers and an endless world, not for some means of gratification but because he knew he had a purpose here. He was not yet finished and nor was him grip completely gone from Galbar, he could still comfort the dead.

He brought peace to fish as he set up the most important work, deep within the realm he was creating, although it did not follow those same rules off Galbar it did make sense to Thaa. Amplification. A stronger connection so that the dead may cross over into this place this…

...Aquibeophates. It would have to do.

And then they came, the souls. Those which he had stored away in the Vescii Temple and those of the newly dead. Drawn by the First Soul Crystal on Galbar and then in resonance with the Second Soul Crystal and with Amplification from Aquibeophates, they came to Thaa.

Thaa would bring them peace, joy, and a better existence then Life.

---

Thaa did not know how long he had been, there was always a new soul, with a new story, new developments but never any real change. They had not wanted to die. A last curse of life, to prevent the living from realizing the superiority of the dead. But Thaa knew better.

He watched them sometimes, and spoke with those who prayed. They were annoying for the most part, they did not listen. They spoke of relief from death or to bring it upon others, foolish nonsense.

Some however, wished to speak with those who had parted. They often begged. Thaa told them how to come and be with those they loved or needed. Some came then, others came later if they did not listen. He brought them comfort all the same when they arrived.

---

Thaa did not see the portal form, he had not bothered to try anything with portals for centuries. But he did notice it, and Thaa went silently to it.

This was unwelcome, but with many unwelcome things there might be an opportunity in it. And so Thaa prepared to go through, two thousand years was a long time, even if it was not in isolation. First however, he created some guardians limited to the realm, they were of death and imbued with purpose to protect the dead. They would serve him while he explored this new possibility.

The pleasant thing about traveling through portals is that, for however short a time, you briefly get to cease to exist. For mortals and the less observant of gods, this period of time is so short that they are either incapable of or not bothered to go about perceiving that it had ever even happened. This gives very overworked and stressed minds a brief respite from all the worries and troubles of existing. The problem is, not existing quickly goes back to existing and all those problems punch you in the gut like a ton of bricks, sending you pinballing back to square one of Not Having a Good Time. And, as it happened, square one was exactly where Iternis was as he tumbled head over heals through the portal and into Antiquity.

Iternis skid face first along the marble floors of Antiquity, his gray cloak fluttering about like the most useless of sails in the middle of a summer storm. The god ground to a halt, and lay on the floor for half a second, groaning. It was strange to feel pain, he hadn’t had to deal with unexpected outcomes for so long. The fact that his nose felt like it had been torn off and his palms were shredded by the stone flooring made Iternis exceptionally happy.

Iternis sprung to his feet and with a very excited look about him, his eyes flying around wildly and his body being forced to follow.

“Hey! It’s me! Is anyone here!?” Iternis bellowed at the top of his lungs as he scrutinized every corner of the enormous arena.

Iternis took a deep breath to shout again but then his eyes locked onto something, onto someone. Specifically, a very naked, very shiny someone who was walking away from a portal. All the breath ran away from Iternis and he was briefly frozen in place. That quickly faded, however, and the god let out what could only be described as an excited squeal and then exploded into a cloud of small songbirds and swarmed over to the unclothed god in a blur.

Tekret et Heret hardy had time to react before the frenzy of feathers that had suddenly filled his vision coalesced into a man with a wild look in his eyes who tackled the God of Contracts, wrapping his arms around his waist in a desperate hug, babbling the whole time:

“...Oh thank the Lifeblood, another person! It’s been so long! So Long! I’m Iternis, I don’t think we’ve met! It’s been 2000 years! I’ve been working so hard! Two Thousand years!” Iternis’s words ran together as he clutched tightly to the first soul he had gotten his hands on, tears starting to well in his eyes and his voice cracking, “I shouldn’t’ve counted, it made it feel so much longer! I was alone! For so Long! But I’m Here! We’re here! Seven Hundred and Thirty Thousand Days! I’m so happy! I'm free! I’m so happy, so happy--” at this point Iternis had collapsed into a sobbing ball of relief slumped against Tekret with his face buried in the other god’s stomach as tears of joy freely slid down his face, “Anyway… How are you?”

In lieu of a reply Tekret started lightly smacking Itneris’s head while demanding, “Damnit, get, get off me what are you even doing you ridiculous-”

After about the twentieth smack, Iternis released his vice-grip hug on Tekret and slumped into a puddle on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” He blubbered, trying to wipe away his tears, “I just thought I’d never see another person again. It’s been so long. Have I mentioned that?”

The naked god glared at his sibling and huffed, “You thought you’d never see another person? What? Right now I’m wishing I could never see another person! Did you do that!?” Tekret demanded, pointing at the nearest rift, “Because if you did, oh do I have words for you.”

“Did what? The portal?” Iternis blew his nose into his robes before continuing, “I wish! I had tried for so long to make a way back to Galbar or even just to find another god! I just could never do it, I just found this one and then I made it real big and then I fell through it and then I was here and then I saw you! Hi, I’m Iternis.”

He extended his hand which only had the slightest bit of snot on it.

Tekret glared at the hand, at Iternis, and with a massive sigh grabbed the Iternis’s hand and pulled him to his feet before actually shaking it. “Tekret et Heret,” The porcelain god began, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “God of Rulership and Contracts. And what do you even mean, you thought you’d never see a person again? Just because we were cut off from Galbar didn’t mean we couldn’t see it. Influence it. Are you seriously telling me you spent two thousand years trying to break through the Lifeblood’s resistance and get to Galbar, instead of doing your job, whatever that is?”

“Well…” Iternis flicked his robes around as he talked, “My job can’t really be done from afar. And even when I could see people, I couldn’t see people, if you get what I mean. I’m the God of Journeys and of Travelers, I can’t be that if I myself am not travelling! I was stuck in an empty cage with nothing to do and no one to talk to! So of course I spent my whole time trying to get out!” He paused, as if he was going to go on but decided to just fall back into a lean on the floor with a harumph.

There was a long silence as Tekret stared at Iternis, wordlessly. The God of Rulership and Contracts worked his mouth, but time and time again words failed him. Eventually he just joined Iternis on the floor and muttered, “Two. Thousand. Years. I spend two thousand years doing my job, keeping mortals to their oaths, teaching their rulers, recording every fucking agreement ever made, and you did nothing but fail to get out of your own realm. Oh. Oh my. They all did that, didn’t they. That’s why I never heard about them. Two thousand years of work, and I was one of the only ones who even...”

The alabaster god held his face in his hands and yelled.

Iternis slipped so that he was laying flat on his back and twiddled his thumbs as he watched the God of Contracts and apparently Being Overworked scream into his hands. He waited a while for the stress to die down a little before talking.

“If it is any help at all,” The God of Journeys began, “I’m pretty sure that I am not a good case study of what everyone else did. I… probably handled it worse than everyone else. Counting each day as it went by certainly didn’t help it go swimmingly… I’m sure someone out there was doing their job?”

Iternis went to pat Tekret’s back to comfort him but decided that that role reversal was probably not what the god needed. He settled for drumming the ground awkwardly.

“What about that Fe’ris fellow,” Iternis offered, “He seemed like a very industrious fellow, did you meet him before?”

“Fe’ris?” Teket asked, “I haven’t heard a thing about the man since he threatened me two thousand years ago. Not a peep. If he’d been doing something someone would have noticed! Ambition. The God of Ambition. If that ridiculous bat didn’t do a single thing I swear I’ll-”

The god stopped, and for the second time that day fell into breathing exercises.

Iternis layed next to Tekret the whole time, watching his heaving chest. After Iternis felt the other god was sufficiently calm, he sat back up and looked Tekret in the eye.

“Hey man,” Iternis started tentatively, “I know this isn’t my place, but... You seem a little stressed out. I know you value work and all, but have you considered taking a vacation?”

“A... Vacation?” Tekret’s voice shook, “Have I considered...”

Hands. Face. Yelling. Breathing exercises. Tekret, for the third time that day, went through those motions. The breaths failed to come and hitched in his throat. A deep flame burst out of his chest and flushed into his face, all that was holding it back was the smallest of corks, plugging up a volcano. The god exploded to his feet, screamed, “Fuck!”

And stormed off, leaving a bewildered Iternis alone, again.

---

It was finally time. The calamity began to manifest before the God of Truth’s practically omnipresent eyes, the Subtle Web informing it of the happening as it began. It had not expected to simply fade away into uncertainty, severed from that which it was sworn to protect, but as it witnessed the disintegration of its connection to Galbar and the very same phenomenon happening to all of the other gods, its thoughts only turned to its dear twin. Perhaps, alone, Aicheil might feel the impact of this strange phenomenon. Perhaps he could process what it was like to no longer be as one once was--perhaps he would experience rage, or terror, or sorrow. Perhaps it would be like a sudden, tragic accident as so often occurred with mortals, or perhaps it would be a serene moment of acceptance and understanding. There was no way for the God of Truth to know, for whatever strange cataclysm was befalling the Gods had stripped them of their divine unity in that moment. It was the first time that Fìrinn had ever felt truly alone, but it felt only an empty reflection where there should have been terror or serenity.

Its gaze focused intently on the holy Tairseach before it, gazing not into its eternal store of reflected images and thoughts but simply into its reflection. The images seemed to fade into the background and slip away beneath that silvery veil. Each element of the web that it could call upon dissolved into an opalescent mist, dissipating just as quickly as it had formed. Every image shattered itself into nonexistence, and every thought flowed through the god into its embrace as if they did not exist. Very soon, Fìrinn began ceasing to exist themselves, its lustre and sheen sloughing from its body and its colours dripping into the reflecting pool below. Very soon Fìrinn could no longer keep itself aloft, and its true feet rested steadily upon the serenely still waters, and then began to disappear themselves, leaving behind only a reflection of what was.

Fìrinn’s true hand reached out to caress the holy mirror, finding purchase only for a moment. Then, like its feet, its hand simply ceased being able to interact with the mirror before disappearing too. The God stared at the reflection of its former hand before nodding into the mirror and simply walking forward through that glassy surface and leaving its corporeal form behind. It did not try to hold on to what was or to what might have been, simply accepting its departure as a Truth of the universe, or perhaps the lifeblood, or perhaps even a reflection of its own ideas and desires--it simply acquiesced with what was being asked of it knowing that, on some level, what was happening here was right.

It did not know what it expected as it passed beyond the glassy pale, but it did not expect an ocean of never-ending blackness. It attempted to cast its senses into the Great Weave, to see the comings and goings of mortalkind, but found only a distant haze through which it could not perceive. It attempted to touch the mind of one yet living, and was rebuffed by the echoing of an infinite and empty void. Finally it called for its twin, speaking that one anchoring word which had always brought them to one another, and was answered only by the finality of its fate.

Fìrinn pressed its senses against the barrier keeping it from Galbar, never attempting to penetrate the inescapable prison in which it was entombed but rather listening for the reverberations that must surely exist beyond its prison. To its surprise it could still hear the invocations of its name in the very background of infinity--those mortals who had found their way to the deepest recesses of the dream, and the cries of the Night Elves who had so long ago listened to its words and changed their ways. They still called out to the Two-as-One, and with that tenuous connection to what once was Fìrinn could still influence the mortal plane, watching and guiding as it had before. And so it focused upon those threads of creation, pulling them taut and instructing the mortals it had helped to spread the word of Fìrinn and Truth to all that would listen. Time passed by in uncountable and unknowable eons, each new thread piercing the blackness of Fìrinn’s new demesne like an argent spear. Soon, if it focused, Fìrinn learned that it could mould those spears--and, indeed, access the full extent of its deific prowess as it had when it walked Galbar. For each person helped, for each prayer answered, for each Truth aligned with Galbar’s reality a new mirror appeared before the God of Truth, filled with playful lights and images of that mortal’s life. Each a small anchor to what was and a connection to its beloved Tairseach.

It took somewhere in the region of seven hundred mortal years for Fìrinn to be able to access the extent of what it had once done previously on Galbar--access all of mortal perception and experience. It had reconnected itself with the reflections within the Tairseach, though could extend its senses no further than that--it could look through the mirror the opposite way, peering at Tír na Íomhá from a perspective it never thought possible. Soon, the Buaileagan Aimsireil flourished in full force and what had once been an inescapable prison of endless nothing was alive, a tapestry of what could be stretching into endlessness.

Fìrinn traced its entire realm nigh endlessly, gazing into those reflections it captured and aligning what was with what should be. At some point along its infinite journey through infinite reflections, it noticed a mirror that it had never seen before. It peered through the glassy depths studiously, attempting to divine which thread this mirror connected to, before noticing its divine kith from afar. There was yet hope for it to reconnect with its twin, then, it seemed--and with nary a thought it stepped through that divine portal and into Antiquity.

On a tiny beach, off a small peninsula, just east of the Weeping Plains, there is a spot where the land moves on its own. It is not every day, or even every week. But the movement always returns.

There are lines in the sand. Many are nothing more than the idle doodles of a creature lost in thought, but many more form letters, which go on to form thoughts and stories and feelings, footsteps circling around each and every piece in a winding lattice. The land here is blank, and there is no wind to erase the works.

There are pictures in the nearby cave. A silent museum of stories both mortal and divine. A mighty troll being felled by a band of humans, the jagged etchings doing well to capture the cutting edge of the spear points. A young goddess screaming at a giant boar, the swine only laughing in response. One is much larger and more detailed than the others, springing to life in vivid color that is absent in the surrounding works. An almaniki, clutching a bow, testing out it’s string in a wooden cabin.

Farthest to the right, a picture of six humans tossing a rope at a lion cub. Only the front end of the cub is drawn, the newly bipedal creature looking as if about to flop flat onto its face as consequence of its lopsided center of balance.

The drawing remains unfinished.

And the land is still once more.

---

Oraelia gasped. Consciousness returned to her as if the sun had exploded. Her eyes opened to find herself in the same place as before, a dark void with herself being the only source of light. As she tried to calm herself, her thoughts turned to Lucia. She grabbed her head and let out a small wail, remembering her last thought of Lucia. Her daughter’s face had been one of pain and sadness, a thought that cut deeply.

Before she could even think about it more, a bright tear in reality ripped open in front of her. She recoiled, even blinked as she looked upon the intrusion. Wait- Was it an intrusion? Or was she… She shook her head, reaching out a hand to it and felt… She felt several presences, divine in nature. Siblings? Gibbou! Where was Gibbou? Why didn’t she feel Gibbou!

Then before she knew it, a small thing came out of the portal screaming and wailing as if her best friend had just been murdered by a clown. Golden coloured tears trailed her cheeks, frow burrowed as she desperately tried to get away from the portal, only managing to flail in place in front of the rift.

The void wasn’t a proper place for a plant girl like her, it seemed. As she started to visibly panic, she turned to the Goddess of Light and threw the misshapen ball of clay she had been holding toward Oraelia. ”TREE-JACK IS DEAD, BAD MEN WILL EAT GENESIS SOON!! BUT MOONIE WILL BE OKAY WITH THE SUN, MOONIE! D-don’t forget Genesis...” She pleaded, reducing herself to a whimpering, quivering ball towards the end of her heartfelt speech.

Oraelia caught this 'Moonie' before she could even react to what had just occurred. "Genesis?" she asked herself, feeling as if she had heard that name once. The one before her was Divine but also a… Child. Made of plants? Or she was plants? Her thoughts quickly flashed to the baby she had once carried before she swiftly made her way over to the little one and knelt down beside her.

_”Ah!” The little plant girl squealed upon seeing what she had thought was the sun move, and so she curled into a ball and tightly closed her eyes.

Oraelia shoved her thoughts aside and her feelings, instead choosing to focus on the life that was before her. In a gentle voice she began to speak. "Is your name Genesis, little one?"

After hearing Oraelia’s voice and her own name, Genesis hesitantly opened her eyes and looked at the Goddess of Light, then nodded once. The movement was so small it was almost unnoticeable.

Her heart broke a little, seeing the child so afraid. ”Hey, heeeey. There’s no reason to be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do that to a friend of Moonie’s!” she whispered with a warm smile. Genesis’ golden eyes sparkled slightly as she perked up.

”Y-You know… Moonie?” She asked in a small voice, hopefully. ”The Sun saw um… Her beauty page-ants? She won-” Genesis frowned and started counting with her hands, one finger at a time until all ten fingers were outstretched. Then she showed her hands to Oraelia. ”Um, she won more page-ants than this!”

Oraelia nodded, happily smiling as her heart began to feel warm again. She moved from her knees and sat down cross legged before Genesis. She looked at Moonie and with one finger, touched the misshapen ball of clay. It stirred to life, floating up like one of her wisps, before circling Genesis’ head. ”There! She’s awake and ready to win more Page-ants.” Oraelia winked at the girl.

”Oooo!” Genesis cooed, looking between Moonie and Oraelia as she wiped at her old tears, ”Moonie was sad, ever since the others told Moonie she was ugly. Now Moonie is happy again!! Thank you Sun!!!” Genesis grinned widely, springing up then twiddling her thumbs as she looked up at Oraelia. ”Ummm… _Hug?” She asked quietly, hesitantly spreading her arms.

”Of course!” she said, happy tears coming to her eyes as she enveloped Genesis in a very tight and warm hug. ”Oh you sweet little thing, I’m so glad I could make you smile.” Oraelia said. Genesis let out a little happy squeal as she was squeezed and she squeezed back, not letting go.

”The Sun is very nice! Genesis knew someone that makes tasty light has to be good! And you made Moonie happy!” Genesis said quickly, her leaves quivering almost as much as her over-excited voice. Meanwhile, Moonie floated over and settled on top of Genesis’ head. ”But you see Sun! I escaped from these big bad men! I came into this grey, big place and there was a man. The bad man saw me and jumped to me and it was sooo scary! Like… Like a biiig giraffe! The bad man was going to eat Genesis’s leaves.” She explained with a pout.

Oraelia frowned slightly. Who would want to hurt her? Then again… She was a child, or acted as one. No, she was probably a child. Could she have perhaps, misinterpreted what was going on? It was likely, but Oraelia wouldn’t know for sure until she met these ‘bad men’. What was this place she talked of? Her gaze wandered to the portal. What was through it?

She turned to look back down at Genesis. ”I see. Well, you know what? I’m not going to let those bad men hurt you. This is a safe place. But…!” she said looking around while Genesis squirmed giddily in her arms, ”This place needs a touch up, don’t you think? Would you like to help me?” she asked excitedly.

Genesis pursed her lips, then nodded. ”O-Okay. Will Sun show Genesis how to help?”

”Of course!” she said, getting to her feet and helping Genesis to hers. She took the child’s hand within hers and gave a little squeeze. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but it felt right to do something, anything, with the space before her. But what to make it? She thought about this for a moment before an idea sprung to her mind. She looked down at Genesis and said, ”Alright, all you have to do is raise your arm up like mine, okay? Then think about a really, really big sun and a blue sky, and fields upon fields of grasses with a gentle breeze. Can you do that for me?” she asked.

Genesis nodded and closed her eyes tightly as she imitated Oraelia’s raised arm, then groaned a little as she started to think harder than she ever had before. ”O… Ooo! Genesis can see another Sun! And sky!!” She almost shouted, her eyes still closed.

Oraelia giggled, and willed it to be. First came a sun, far, far away. An imitation of her first born, but it would work all the same. Next, the blackness that surrounded them erupted with grass and trees, and the sky became a beautiful blue. A gentle breeze began to blow, carrying with it pleasant aromas. From the endless grasses burst forth flowers upon flowers, coming in all different colors under the sun. It was a start and one that Genesis would think she helped with. She gave a slight frown at the thought of lying to the girl, but she doubted she would know the difference. Plus, she would soon forget anyway.

”Alright Genesis, open your eyes and look at what we’ve done!” Oraelia exclaimed and Genesis positively jumped, gasping as she opened her eyes and took in the view, quickly turned to look at Oraelia with starry, wide eyes and an euphoric grin.

”G… Genesis did THAT? Yaay! Genesis made a new Sun!”

”You did such a good job Genesis! Look at all the flowers, oh and the breeze and the blue skies… Oh, it’s beautiful… But… It isn’t really Galbar is it?” she seemed to whisper to herself. Where was Galbar?

Genesis frowned and tilted her head, confused. ”Galbar has… Very big mountains, Sun. and a big tree! And very big, like, bowls of water. Galbar is very big. Genesis thought this for a long time. Genesis has many thoughts, but they all sound different, It is a little scary.” The girl admitted a little sadly.

Oraelia quickly returned to the moment and bent down with a look of concern scrawled across her face. ”What do you mean, Genesis? You have different thoughts?”

”Uh-huh… Many thoughts in many voices. Genesis thinks it’s the voices of her drowned friends, but there are too many new ones, and sometimes they say scary things. O… O-One time Genesis thought of burning plants! It was very scary. Fire is scary. It is not like pretty Sun. Genesis likes you, Sun.”

”Oh Genesis…” Oraelia said, wrapping the girl into another hug. It was a frightening development, and a reminder that not everything was what it seemed to be. Genesis was a god, after all, and it seemed Gods were many things.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar voice echoed throughout her realm. Gibbou! Her head snapped to the portal, as she heard her sister cry her name. Then she heard another god, angry or perhaps annoyed, talking about... Vacation? What even was that? She shook her head, and pushed it from her mind- Gibbou was all that mattered.

”Genesis… Listen. We need to go back through the portal, okay? I promise I won’t let the bad men hurt you.” Oraelia pleaded.

After a moment’s hesitation, Genesis nodded and grabbed Oraelia’s hand. ”O… Okay. But if they try to eat Genesis, Genesis will run.”

”Then they’ll have to eat me too!” she said playfully, walking towards the portal.

---

“Oops, sorry, coming through! Out of the way! Watch out, running through here! Wide load, out of the way!” Xie Tuzi of the Bu Lineage barreled through the warrens as fast as she could, a leaf pouch packed full of chalked tucked closely to her chest. She ran at full pelt, paws thrumming against the hard earth in what would’ve been a decently pleasant rhythm, had the heavy beats not been rendered inconsistent by her wild jumping, off walls and occasionally other people. Xie received a great many nasty looks, but it was okay. This was Low Warren, home to the dregs of society; the dirt-sweepers, mine-pickers, and of course, runners like Xie. Sure, she might start a fight if she jumped off the wrong ‘pite here, but it was still less risky than sprinting through High Warren. That was a death wish.

The Lapite girl continued running, bouncing off the various shops and residences of Low Warren, which were packed so tightly together that they rattled when someone rolled over in their nest, three dens down. The urban tunnels made for fun running, but they were crowded and stinky, and the dim mana lanterns were older than old. Heck, they were so old, the sparks from the mines were a more reliable light source! Xie clucked to herself at the thought and kept running.

The closer she got to the Shaft, the wider Low Warren’s tunnels became. Here were the artisans, skilled enough to earn a living, but not enough to live in a higher warren. The lanterns were better maintained, the paths were actually swept properly, and the ceiling reached up higher than her ears. The walls weren’t smooth because of the constant wear and tear on the stone, but because someone had taken the time to properly smooth it out, with tools. Granted, it was still Low Warren, meaning the air itself was practically magnetic from all the hematite hanging about in the dang air, but it was an improvement! She liked it here the most. If only her family could afford it.

Her breakneck pace slowed to a patter, and Xie hesitantly hopped up to the Shaftguard. On good lightcycles, it was Jianyu, the portly and humorous guard that rarely bothered to inspect how much chalk she was delivering. But this time, it was a new face, and new faces usually meant trouble. Just to be safe, she thumped over as lightly as she could, ears flopping down in a sign of submission.

“State your business, lightfur.” Lightfur! Better than halffur. He clearly thought she was solid white, without any patches or markings at all. This could be easier than she anticipated.

“Important chalk delivery to High Warren, on orders of Archbishop Jingjiao. I have an identification cord right here.” She set the packet of chalk atop her head, securing it snugly with her ears, and used a paw to pat around her thick chest fur, combing through the strands until she found what she was looking for- a simple grass cord, strung through with three beads: iron, on the bottom, to represent her; see-through zircon in the middle, to represent her transparency; and finally, a mana-infused pebble on top, to represent the clergy. She thrust it at the guard, hoping he would hurry up. Jingjiao was nice enough to employ her, but nice enough to tolerate tardiness. The longer the guard looked it over, the harder it became to keep her bare paw from tapping nervously in the smooth, compact dirt.

“Anyone could’ve made this,” growled the guard, glaring at her from beneath a copper helmet. “All it would take for a criminal to fake identification is a piece of grass, a piece of glass, and a good paintbrush.”

“Take it up with the administration, not me,” scowled Xie, no longer submissive now that she was sure she’d be tardy. “I’m sure they’d love it if a newbie called them down to handle a girl with a now VERY LATE and VERY IMPORTANT shipment of chalk, whose credentials are completely valid! Do you want the gods to be angry? Huh? HUH? DO YA? Because if I don’t get to High Warren, right now, they are going to rain down a storm of fire and fury upon us! The ground will shake! The mines will bubble and burst with floods of acid and magma! Blood, death, everywhere! Pleaaaaase!” She got down on her knees and begged, hamming it up to the best of her ability, pouring all her irritation into the theatrics. “Think of the does! Think of the kittens! Have you no lapititiy?!”

He threw the cord back at her with contempt and jerked his head at the gaping hole in the wall behind him. “Make it quick. I’ll be listening for your pawsteps.”

“Please, nobody’s ears are THAT good!”

“Try. Me.” He bared his teeth and she got the hint. Xie Tuzi, fastest “lightfur” in the Warrens, jumped into the dark shaft and vanished.

---

“H-hello?” cooed the frightened moon goddess through a number of sobs as she collected herself off the stoney ground. Behind her, the portal back to the dark side of the Moon hummed faithfully and unmoving, as if beckoning her to return - to forget about this place and to remember the safety of her home and--

She completely ignored those thoughts, desperate and starved for attention and contact. She almost clawed herself forward before she realised she could, in fact, stand, and proceeded to run forward, waving her hands wildly while shouting, “Hello?! Is anybody out there?! It’s me! Gibbou! I exist again! Anyone?!”

Then suddenly, Cadien landed directly in her path, having leapt from the other side of the arena to meet her. “Hello th-” he began to greet her, before she collided into him and sent both of them to the ground. Gibbou shook her head wildly to shake off the dizziness, then focused her eyes forward to see Cadien. Without even thinking, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his torso with a squeal.

“OH, SISTER! A FAMILIAR FACE!” she screamed victoriously as her hands nearly clawed up his back, weeping giddy tears like a waterfall.

Cadien looked at her in confusion, then slowly returned the hug. “I’m not your sister,” he said gently, “but everything should be alright now. Do you still remember my name?”

Realising how she probably came off, Gibbou tossed herself backwards as quickly as she had attacked him, then hesitantly tried to reach out to him again before sitting herself down for good. “Mhm! Of course I remember your name!” There was a pause, during which Gibbou’s face twisted around awkwardly. “... Carl, right?”

“Cadien,” he corrected, “but I suppose you were close, so you’re better off than some. Don’t worry. I remember you, Gibbou.” He smiled. “I see that time has done nothing to diminish your beauty.”

“Cadien! Right… And, uh… Thank you… For the compliment, I mean… And for remembering me.” The moon goddess’ face turned a shade of pinkish purple. “You’re still just as, uh, just as handsome, I think.”

Dusting himself off, Cadien rose to his feet, and extended a hand to help her up.

He then remembered the bat god, who was standing off to the side, nervously tapping his claws together beneath the gaudy cape he wore. Cadien wasn’t a love god, but he definitely knew shyness when he saw it.

“H-Hello, Gibbou,” stammered the extraordinarily red god, “You’re as lovely as your moon ever was.”

Gibbou looked up from Cadien to spot the bat-like humanoid behind him. Her eyes went wide with wonder as she was helped to her feet, shuffled over and took the bat god by his clawed hands. “You are the coolest, cutest thing I have ever seen - what’s your name?!” She was skipping giddily at the end of the sentence.

“I go by Fe’ris,” squeaked the god, all pretenses of dignity gone as he burrowed down into his cape, eyes barely peeping out. “And if my memory serves correctly, you created me. Or rather, you created the bat which went on to become me.”

The giddiness faded and Gibbou’s face lost all colour. Her grip loosened and she raised one hand to cover her mouth. “You mean… You mean you’re…” She stepped back a little and once again, her eyes welled up with tears of quartz. “... Oh, sister, the first life didn’t die.”

“Goodness, please don’t cry!” He took a lurching step toward her, then stopped himself, not sure how to comfort the teary goddess, or even if he should. “It’s perfectly alright. I quite enjoy existing! Your shaping gave me purpose and direction. Really, it’s a good thing that I went through what I did.”

“I’m so happy you exist!” Gibbou sobbed through the tears and shuffled almost zombie-like over to Fe’ris, arms presented to embrace him. “Imshoreliiiiiiiieeeeeved-uhuuuuuuuuh!”

He held her awkwardly, every part of his shape too sharp or too soft, too stiff or too flexible, but his eyes were shining as brightly as Gibbou’s moon. “It, it is, wuh, rather nice, to finally meet you,” he managed to get out, as he patted her on the back, not wanting to let go but also not knowing what to do. “Have you met Cadien before? A rather charming fellow, I must say.” Cadien, who had been awkwardly standing off to the side, perked up at the sudden mention of his name.

Gibbou turned her head around, regarding Cadien with swollen eyes. “Uh-huh… He tried to kissh me shome millennia back.” She ran her forearm under her nose with a long snort. “Oh, sheesh, sorry…” She distanced herself a bit from Fe’ris and sniffed. “My, uh, my manners have kinda… Died… Over the last millennia or so. Weird how that happens when you’re alone all the time, y’know.” She gave another snort. “So what’s up?”

“Well, none of us are alone anymore,” Cadien remarked. “And… I am sorry again for that incident,” he said, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I’ve been a bit starved for social contact myself, but that also gave me time to reflect on things, I suppose. Had plenty of time to remodel my realm, too. You’re both welcome to see it, at some point.”

“I should love to see it,” hissed Fe’ris through gritted teeth, still hung up on the “almost kissed Gibbou” thing. He took a step closer to the goddess. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

Cadien raised his eyebrows. “...Is everything alright?” he asked after a moment’s pause. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Fe’ris sniffed, relaxing his fluff in a bid to make his jealousy less apparent. “Oh, nothing, nothing. Live in the moment, as the mortals say. Or will say.” He tapped his chin with a thoughtful claw. “Do they say that yet? I am rather curious as to the state of Galbar. It really is such a shame we can’t bid it a visit.”

“I think I said that a few times myself,” Cadien shrugged. “Anyhow, I know a bit about Galbar’s state, as I can sometimes hear the thoughts of mortals who try to speak to me. They seem to be doing fine, I suppose. They still exist. I’ve tried to offer advice where I can. The occasional blessing. I hear they’ve developed some new methods of finding food, but I didn’t have a hand in that. Some areas seem to be a bit troubled, though. But maybe now that we’re all in one place we work together on trying to return, hm?”

“That seems a wonderful idea,” nodded the bat god. “The more deities lending strength to this task, the better the chance of us succeeding. Gibbou, what say you?”

“I mean… I’ve tried lots of times, but portals always seem to end in knockbacks or pain, or, or…” She hung her head. “I miss Twilight…”

Cadien nodded grimly. “It’s been the same for me, but maybe there’s something we haven’t tried. Say, who is this Twilight?”

Gibbou blinked and suddenly looked to be sweating. “OH! Uh, uhm… He’s, uh… A g-guy. Yeah! A guy. One who I definitely didn’t kidnap two millennia ago - and if I did, he’s the only one. You can’t prove anything!” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, I haven’t slept well lately.”

”Kidnapping?”

“Ah. There was a mortal in your realm?” Cadien asked.

“NO! I mean, yes - yes, there was,” she replied while prodding her indexes together. “He’s, uh… He’s not there anymore.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t mean to pry, but can I ask what happened?”

“He-... He dumped me!” Gibbou burst out. “Opened a portal and just ran off! Oh, I’m so easy to fool, it’s insane!” She hunkered down and placed her face between her knees.

Cadien stepped forward and knelt to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There, there. If he dumped you, he must be a fool. Anyhow, if you don’t mind me asking, how did he open a portal within your realm? Could you not have stopped him?”

“W-well…” she sniffed, “I, uh… I didn’t want him to die, right? That had already happened to other mortals-- I, I mean! Other creatures that I totally haven’t--... Anyway, I didn’t want him to die, so I gave him a bit of my soul to make him immortal - the moon’s a harsh place to live. Also, it would be nice if he could make stuff by himself, so that was an added bonus.” She shrunk ever tighter together. “... But first thing he did was walk out on me. Uuuugh…”

Cadien had many questions. Firstly, had Gibbou truly been kidnapping mortals out of loneliness? Secondly, why would she give part of her soul to a mortal, when there were other ways to make him immortal? Thirdly, his eyes widened… ”You’re saying that this mortal, with a portion of your soul, sent himself to Galbar, and the Lifeblood didn’t spit him back out? Not only that, but he can… create things? Like we can?”

“I know, right?! It’s so unfair!” whined Gibbou into her forearms.

“That… that…” Cadien was astonished. At a loss for words. Then suddenly he leaned forward and threw his arms around her from his kneeling position. “That’s brilliant! I think… I think you just found our solution!”

Fe’ris seemed less thrilled than the situation would warrant, given the revolutionary news. He had been quiet for a while, only slightly following the conversation while lost in thought. “Gibbou,” he said softly, “you’ve been kidnapping mortals? To your moon?”

Gibbou squealed as she was hugged, and now it was her turn to awkwardly pat at Cadien’s back. She rolled her eyes over to Fe’ris meanwhile, then looked away somewhat shamefully. “I, uh… Only once. It was only once. I had a really bad day and just wanted to protect everyone.” She gently pushed Cadien away. “I didn’t know I’d be sitting two thousand years later with a zoo on my hands.” She offered them both a small smile. “Glad it was of help in the end, though. It’s nice that something good came out of that fiasco.”

“Indeed!” Cadien excitedly rose to his feet. “If we can repeat what you did with Twilight, but solve the issue of loyalty, then we may be able to once again hold direct influence over Galbar.” Then his excitement died down a bit, as he looked to Fe’ris, then he turned back to Gibbou. “Sorry to hear about those other mortals though. I can’t say I agree, but… the Separation was hard on us all, I suppose. Just don’t do it again, yeah?”

“I won’t! De-definitely,” Gibbou swore and smiled sheepishly before looking at Fe’ris. “I really can’t stress how much I like your form, by the way. Have you, too, been spreading bats all over the world?”

“Not quite. I never did get the chance to spread bats themselves, though I did have a hand in creating bat-like creatures.” He flushed an even darker shade of red, not meeting her eyes. “My realm is full of them though, if you’d ever care to visit. I can’t say no to the cute little things.”

“Yay!” celebrated Gibbou and giggled. “Oh, by the way, Cadien - how would we solve the loyalty issue?”

Cadien stroked his chin. “Hmm. That has yet to be determined. Perhaps instead of taking a mortal from Galbar, we could create new ones from scratch, with minds and personalities that are loyal to us. Or perhaps we could just make someone who is more or less an exact copy of ourselves - sharing our ideals. I’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

“You could create a puppet some sort, perhaps. A hollow vessel for your soul, and a direct extension of yourself. It wouldn’t be a perfect copy, however- I believe the Lifeblood would be able to tell if you stuffed all of yourself into a single receptacle.”

“Huh. It’s that smart, huh?”

“Well, it was able to keep us all trapped for two thousand years,” Cadien shrugged, “but maybe if we only send a small part of ourselves through it doesn’t notice?”

Gibbou shrugged. “Thoughts, Fe’ris?”

“The Lifeblood is more intelligent than many of us give it credit for. You said it yourself, Cadien: It was able to trap us for two thousand years. If we are truly to return to Galbar in any way, shape, or form, it requires wits, not force. I fear that, even if we all attempted to return at the same time, it would still be able to push us back out. This vessel, or representative, idea has merit.”

Cadien nodded. “We are in agreement, then.”

“... Toooo?”

“We are in agreement on how we are to return. To attempt what you did,” Cadien said. “How exactly did you remove a piece of your soul, anyhow?”

“Oh! Uh…” Gibbou gave her head a scratch, then her chin, and finally, the side of her nose. “Don’t get mad, buuut… Oh! Wait, actually--... No, no, no, that couldn’t be it, I-... No wait! Yes!” She pointed triumphantly at Cadien and declared, “I just imagined that the mortal should acquire divinity!”

“It was… that easy?” Cadien furrowed his brow. “Hmm… I thought dividing one’s soul would be a more arduous process. Well then. I suppose that’s good to know. Thank you, Gibbou.”

“Now,” Cadien said looking around. “It seems that more of our kind have emerged,” and indeed, a number of other gods had already emerged from their own portals. “I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves, and… wow, that has to the be the brightest goddess I’ve ever seen.” He looked past Gibbou’s shoulder, at someone on the other end of the arena.

Fe’ris audibly winced, slapping a claw over his eyes. “Do pardon me, I suddenly have business to attend to… elsewhere. Somewhere very, very dark. We ought to reconvene later. It was a pleasure.” He hustled away, to a shadowy spot in the stones, whispering “ow, ow, ow” under his breath.

Gibbou immediately turned her eyes to the light, regretting it instantly, but also being terribly thankful she did it. In an explosion of movements, she charged at the light as though chased by a maniacal beast, screaming, “ORAELIAAAA!”

---

---

A wandering Dream thrust across Galbar's shifting sky, its aura a piercing memory, an echo of something seen and felt and heard and tasted in the hours before first light. It was a starlight figure, a silhouette of grey. A shroud of passing interest, a mind of unknownable proportions. Divinity.

Though yet unaware and uncaring of the growing tension in the world, Àicheil remained prescient to the shifting attitudes of the vast Dream, the subtle weave. Across its expanse he felt his twin, he knew their workings and he rejoiced in the strength which was granted to their prime creation, their vast Collective Consciousness. Contentment swirled within his mind and it felt as if the Dreaming God had been holding a breath for a very long time, and now he'd released it.

However, this calm could not last it seemed for no sooner had Ѻs-fhìreach made seven circles seven times about the glittering planet, the world began to darken. Àicheil stopped his drifting dance, his observation of the heavens and the earth that was Galbar. Held in place for a frozen moment, he released his hold completely.

Where there had been a form defined a swell of color and starlit black expanded like a stain of ink across the entire sky. He felt, through the Dream in that moment, a great absence, a great fear, pain, relief, suffering, distress, and a myriad of emotions left like cosmic ripples upon the minds of mortals. Àicheil breathed then, without mouth or lung, but with his consciousness, and with each breath his dark body, his grey shroud, and the storm of color held within, covered the planet's skies. Just as edge met expanding edge and all light, but those shifting clouds, was snuffed from the heavens, a dimming began.

He did not resist, he was too tired already, and in a far off place within his mind, he had known this was coming--as he knew all things. Yet, he did not understand it. Despite this lack, he did not resist. The fading starlit black, limned and suffused with prismatic color and greyish mist lost its substance. Light peered from the heavens and through his vast divine form. A whirling rage crashed against him. It was like a hurricane, like a mind unleashed, like a thoughtless thing railing against a wrongness it knew, but could not be or understand.

The Grand Design.



A faded vessel, a vanishing presence, a final thought, then nothing. Emptiness. An abyss without limit or direction or intent. Slowing, rising madness. Fear. Anxiety. A heartbeat of thoughts all his own, frantic. He felt, not calm or content, not serene, and yet his thoughts were placid and clear--transparent. It was a strange thing this.

It was a brief disconnection. Oh so brief. So mercifully temporary.

Reaching out, Àicheil's godly vessel stretched out through the endless, formless, thoughtless void. Free of context, free of everything, it made and unmade, harmed and destroyed and created anew. Swirling color. Smells, sights, and sensations. Pain and agony; lust and pleasure. Every experience, every thought, every piece of knowledge--none of it.

An echo. A crystallized rumination, an endless experiential malestrom--ordered, yet so vast that no one could truly grasp such. Then, seeking tendrils of thoughts, prayers, requests, emotions, sights and sounds and scents and sensations. Every single thought of him, then more beside.

A rippling cascade across his newfound realm. A coalescence of thought, a resurgence of identity, an interruption in the endless beauteous dance of past and present and future all. Unmade, but born again.



A thread of connection true. Remembrance. A tide of feeling. He longed for unity, something once forgotten, now remembered. It overwhelmed him, this Dreaming God. It overtook his mind, it swelled to bursting his emotions, as if he was a cup with limits. He cast out, thoughts drifting like gentle feeling threads against a rift in this, his favored place.



Overtaken. Numb. Unfeeling. Uncaring, that Dreaming God passed beyond his domain and into the harsh atmosphere, a place of substance. A place which was Antiquity. A word leapt into his mind without reason, but with meaning, as a label. One he did not need, but remembered and held within nonetheless. As he crossed that portal threshold, all the other gods would see was a maelstrom of color. Their senses would tell them far more.

For now, with his entrance, the Dreaming God's gravitous attention, his eyeless gaze, it fell on them all, and permeated the air. He filled the space, without touching it, merely by being. His mind, here, was unrestrained. There were no mortals, there was no need. He did not care. He could not care. Not without an anchor.

The question was, after so much time, did he want one?