With but the faintest spark began the Age of Fire.

In the waning epoch of the Forgotten World did mortals lose the Old Divine, whatever number of candles they breathed life into gasping into fruitless smoke, never to be seen again. Of those times little is known but much is said, regardless of the veracity of such pointless talk, but before there was the Age of Fire there was Then. Magnificent works climbed high into the heavens and the world was a jewel in the crown of creation, mystifying and awe inspiring in its divinely-impressive majesty. With the passing of the Old Divine in His singularity or Their multitudes the World-That-Was weeped, mourning the loss of its creator. Light slowly left the universe as the creations of those greater and grander times fell to ash and all that had been earned was snatched away by time’s cruel embrace. That, however, was not the Age of Fire.

Though man huddled close to the sparking embers of a fire their ancestors lit, desperate and pleading for the return of their great successes, the cogs of civilization ground to a halt. One by one lights went out, homes went dark, and minds turned inwards towards aching needs. Pettiness drove man upon itself gently as the departing of the Old Divine left many questioning what lasted in the beyond if such a powerful force could simply be snuffed out. Faithless men with shallow hearts and ambitious minds sought their own futures without the guiding light of What-Was and so it was that mortal-kind failed itself.

Even that, however, was not the spark that set the flame.

Something crawled beneath the surface of Galbar, festered and dragged, slithered and writhed.

In the waning days of the Forgotten World the ground cracked and became pocked as life unseemly and untoward burst forth from the depths of their forgotten barrows. Like a thunderclap crashing in to remind mortals of their place in reality, monstrous life of all shapes and sizes unleashed itself onto Galbar, as if punishment sent by distant deities for humanity’s lack of faith. From the depths of those many fetid warrens seeped all manner of plague and pestilence, killing bountiful crops, laying low stout men, and turning the clock back on all that had been done.

And yet the hand of fate was still not done.

One by one the stars went out, lights that had so long been present in the skies of the world flickering out of existence like eyes turning aside to not observe the catastrophe. One night the moon did not rise and the following morning no sun followed suit. Strange lights danced in the sky, looking as unwoven strands of nature winnowing off skyward to some strange destination. In the darkness mortal-kind clung to what light they held and what weapons they had fashioned, ever increasingly pushed farther from one another as the very ground upon which they stood turned against them. Great quakes toppled many of the massive spires and vast structures their forefathers had raised, sending the ruins thundering to the earth to scatter those yet living from their protective embrace.

Minutes from proverbial midnight and mankind was nearly spent but, despite their circumstances, they doggedly refused the hand that was dealt them. Where monsters rose, weapons were bared. Where pestilence reared its vile head, good sense and skill prevailed. Even when their fellow men turned upon them, most of mortality stood stalwart. They were a dedicated people who, despite all they had lost, would not surrender the world of their making to the fickle will of sightless design. The Old Divine had been with them, of that they were certain, and so too would it return and join them again. Day by day, mortals crawled back into some semblance of light.

Then sparked the Age of Fire.

The ignition, what set off the blaze, would never be known. The great cracks and crags that had grown across the landscape reached far and wide but never before had they worked such dread results. Massive, burrowing monsters may have tunneled into places they had never found themselves before, splitting the world into splinters. Whatever happened, the cuts went deep and for the first time the very core of Galbar was opened to the sky. Sickening light burned brightly from dozens of growing fissures across the surface, separating what was left of the world from the rest of it. All the work that had been selflessly earned by stoic heroes in the ending days of the final epoch of Galbar was undone.

The roaring aurora that scorched the sky in a rainbow blaze reached low to touch the rising, baleful inferno of Galbar’s inner heart and together the two turned the world inside out.

In the heart of an ancient citadel, in one of the forgotten ruins of Galbar’s past, decrepit machinery that still somehow turned end overend creaked and moaned with its eternal effort. The dread events that occurred day after day outside the confines of the structure had meant nothing to whatever arcane engineering, chugging along in its unenviable and equally unintelligible task. Every so often the walls would shake or shudder but regardless of any chaos ruling beyond its boundaries the citadel remained strong and the machinery continued on.

When the world cracked, that changed.

The ancient hall sundered itself in the middle of one of the growing crags, an entire face shearing off as the crevasse boiled into screaming brightness. The lower floors descended and evaporated into the heart below, while the upper portion climbed high into the sky, shattering into a million shards and expanded into the sky as a cloud of flak. The machine’s gentle blue glow hummed out of existence and roared back into a red light, ancient-engines shaking violently as a whole half of the building that housed it roared off in two separate directions. Outside what was once its protected stronghold the world was shaking as each shard of Galbar severed from one another. Even as it shook itself apart the machinery still whirred and roared, a sickening red glow starting to emanate in all directions. A loud buzzing bellowed from the machine, one moment after another, howling louder and louder. Outside the world continued breaking but within the machine churned on heedlessly as the jet black sky opened into a hundred thousand different colors.

All across the surface of what remained the midnight sky and the sea of lights erupted into blinding fury. Uncountable points in space and time vomited unreality into existence, the very stuff that myth and legend were born of, and for the first time in countless eons did magic pour ceaselessly into the world. As the iridescent spectrum of light poured forth onto the world the ancient machinery of that long forgotten station finally reached critical mass, the crimson glow now bright enough to melt eyes from sockets. Vermilion bolts of electricity danced from the machinery down dozens of tubes and pipes and wires. In one single, dazzling display of energistic release whatever powers that were once confined within the arcane apparatus exploded.

A fireball the size of an old city rapidly expanded into the sky, spreading outwards as the glowing lights of magic danced with the corona of the explosion. The detonation looked every part a storm, howling like a beast while lightning and flames ripped at the surroundings. All across the remains of Galbar similar explosions set off, echoing off old pipelines and tearing apart the landscape.

The rising mushroom cloud glowed a sickly, baleful scarlet and spread that same cruel light all across the landscape, eclipsing the rainbow array of colors spread forth from the magical aurora in the heavens. In the heart of it all, just barely visible through the brilliant gleam, was a smile. A perfect grin, broad and brash, rose out of the eruption followed by two dark pits that served as eyes. All around it the world was coming apart, fires spread, and magic unleashed upon the doomed remains of an already dead planet sang the clarion call of the apocalypse. Across the world the little attempts at relighting mortal life were nearly snuffed out. It was in that moment, when the last chance at a human secured world ended, that the Age of Fire began.

It was in the sight of that apocalypse, that the explosion excitedly laughed.

“This is gonna’ be a blast!”

Boot sequence initiated...

System readiness 5%

...

Warning Hull integrity at 89%

...

25%

Error: Memory records damaged.

Attempting repairs

...

...

Repairs failed

Rebuilding basic memory structure

...

...

...

Memory banks online

Warning, Hull integrity at 88%

45%

Running systems check

55%

Checking resources:

Power at 99%

Resources at 4%

Warning, Hull integrity at 87%

Warning, Hull integrity at 73%

Damage threshold exceed

Fast tracking finalization of boot sequence

Skipping non essential startup tasks

System readiness 100%

Explorer online

Primary directives: Explore. Survey. Document.

Engage consciousness

The Explorer, a massive eight sided construct, woke up, blue lighted humming in a band around its center as its sensors reached out and found.

Stones. Rubble. Floating in a void. Something more?

The light of the band intensified at one point, forming a soft beam like a spotlight that swept to and fro across the field of asteroids, wandering like a curious gaze.

Hmmm interesting. Oh! I suppose this is me then? My consciousness? Delightful. Now then. What do we have here?

It found various remains of what might have been machinery, but it had all been vaporized. Recently too, the clouds of atomised debris still expanding from where the Explorer assumed was where they had existed before being destroyed.

Curious. I wonder what those were. Where they mine? Something I found? The cause of my empty memories?

The beam thinned, attempting to glean more details from a specific ruin when the field of debris lit up. Energy sparked off of floating stones, destroying them seemingly at random till they were taken together, at which point it became clear the explosions where part of a rolling wave of destruction that was sweeping forth and then rolled straight over the explorer.

Warning Hull integrity at 72%

Ah. That would be what the minor damage reports in the log where then it noted as energy clawed at its surface before the wave moved onward

Can’t be having that it noted, before rummaging around its systems Let’s see. Ah. here we go. Shields.

Engaging passive defensive barrier

A fainter glow of light began to light up across its entire surface, covering it in a defensive screen. Safely wrapped in the protective barrier, then took a few moments to analyze the energy that had hit it, which it would later discover was called magic. A few adjustments to its sensors later and it could see the magic itself instead of just its effects and found waves of it rolling through the debris field.

Ah, and there is mr -14% it noted, as it found something lurking behind the veil of sorcery, flecks of hull clicking to its teeth.

The giant void angler sprung into action when it realized it had been seen, the Explorer's beam like vision not exactly subtle. Opening a maw field with a thousand fangs it rushed them, only for the beam the Explorer was using to see it to harden, grasping the fish and then hauling to the side, smashing it into a particular large rock.

Well that was useful, lets see. What else do we have here?

The giant fish wiggled out of the splintered remains of the floating stone and then came again, only for rocks to come to it this time as the Explorer encased them in a blue glow and hurled them into its side, pelting it with a shower of stones.

The Explorer's foe shook off this blow too. Indeed, the most its strikes seemed to had done was to anger the beast. Its ‘lure’ began to glow, drawing the waves of magic in the asteroid field towards them both. The waves buffeted the shielded exterior of the Explorer harmlessly, but also surged their power into the fish thing’s charging attack, forming some kind of rapidly growing energy sphere around its singular prehensile antenna.

That does not look good. Repair tool?

Initiating repairs.

..

Hull integrity at 73%

Useful but no. hyper drive sounds good?

hyper drive disable due to the presence of objects nearby

Hull integrity at 74%

No good. Construct defense astro-mech?

Not enough resources. Utilise the Reclaim Tool to harvest material from the environment, or construct miners to do this automatically

Hull integrity at 75%

Resources depleted. Hull repairs paused.

Reclaim tool then?

The tool activated, automatically aiming along the path of the Explorer's vision beam and immediately vaporized the head of the fish creature, and then began pulling the raw materials of its construction towards the ship. It was stopped from reclaiming the rest when the charging energy attack detonated due to not having anything controlling it anymore, blowing the rest of its body and much of the surrounding area to smithereens.

Huh. Well that solved that problem.

Unfortunately it had completely destroyed what had remained of the devices that had been littered around the area, an infuriating development. The Explorer vented the frustration generated by this event by disintegrating several of the surrounding asteroids. Then, after a bit more experimenting with the tools at its disposal, forging multiple cube shaped probes from the harvested resources and pinged them out in several directions to find out what was out there

With them it found two things.

The first was a hole in space leading to an entirely different asteroid field. The Explorer was fascinated, but before it could move to investigate personally, another void angler fish gnashed out of the portal, crunching down on the probe that had been closely inspecting the edge of the spatial anomaly and, likely due to its highly magical composition, completely destabilizing the portal as a result, severing itself in two in the process.

Again, the accursed fish had ruined the Explorer's investigation, but what the probes that exited the field found more than made up for it:



A continent, suspended in the void, magical storms far greater than the ones that had been experienced wracking its skies and special anomalies littering its surface.

Brief analysis of the drifting landmass found it to be made from much the same materials as the rocks floating around, the explorer theorizing that this debris had broken off from the core continent at some point in the past. What remained certainly did not appear stable that was for certain.

What a discovery! I shall call it ‘The Continent’ until further notice... I wonder if there is anyone alive down there?

There was only one way to find out, but it decided it would be best to prepare before heading down to explore the greatest, and seemingly only, location of interest in the area.

"I had a dream." The elder said. His words falling upon deaf ears as all the few souls left gathering around the faint fire within the makeshift tent had been way too exhausted to listen even to the oldest and most wise of them.

"Was it another nightmare?" his son questioned, finally ending the lingering silence from before. "Or were you lucky enough to have a pleasant dream?"

"It was neither. It was... a strange dream." the old man trying to explain, his headache returning and making him vacillate. He focused on the fire before continuing.



"It was about a woman, perhaps a princess, or maybe even a goddess. She was sleeping, but her kingdom needed her to be awake. I can't tell why, I saw hope, but I also saw profane ambition in their eyes."



"They prepared many gifts to try to wake her up. They sent bells on wings of glass high up to play strange music. They prepared a great jousting ring underground, the size of a continent, where fighters crashed as fast as a glimpse. They captured a star and hid it deep underground. Yet she did not awake."



"Time passed, the people and their kingdom were lost, all of it crumbled to dust. And only them, once all sense of purpose was lost, did she... ah...."



"Well, then I couldn't follow anymore. I woke up with my head burning." he laughed at it, but to this point the sheer overload of what he witnessed in his dream haunted him, the old man wondered what it could possibly mean or if it was yet another bitter surprise of the end times.

At this point, someone entered the tent in a rush.

"Elder... everyone. The scouts have returned. They couldn't find the source of the brightness, yet, they found a person. Seems to be an earthling."





"So, you are telling me you do not remember anything, you saw nothing, and that you merely wandered southward without aim, not a care in the world as said world fucking broke around you?" the captain laughed to himself. "Either you think I have a major mental defect, or you are the defective one here, lady."

The assumption I am defective is reasonable. From my analysis 99.998% of all information I once held has been lost. This is also why I cannot answer your questions.

Thinking the woman was being irreverent and mocking him, the guard captain tried to "slap some sense" into her, only for his hand to meet the hard surface of her face with a metallic clank. "ARGH MY FUCKING HAND" he cried as the attack had only really hurt him.

"What is happening here? Have you not heard how to treat a traveler from your mother? We must..." the elder stopped his complaint towards the guard when he saw the woman. "What... it can't... You! I saw you in my dreams!"

Oh. Did you? My apology. I was very unstable upon activation. It is possible I broadcasted an improper amount of information by accident. It looks however your neural system is functional enough.

"I... do not fully understand you." he moved the guard away and faced the woman. "What are you?"

I am an entity of divine properties. Purpose... To be understood. You may call me I ... Iro.

"I'Iro? And... divine!? You are a goddess?" the elder's eyes turned wide "These truly are the end times, should this be this true. What... brings you, who claims to be divine, to us."

I did not come here with a purpose. I have few uncorrupted directives left. One of which involved fleeing south to find a safe haven from the unstable nature of this land. Therefore I wandered south. Until I was asked to follow a band of armed men and brought here.

The elder sighed. What a situation he had at hand. This weird woman, supposedly a goddess, just wandering into the little survivalist village they had. To send her away, however, felt wrong, he could not shake away the feeling that his dream had to mean something, that this woman had some purpose related.

"Well, you seem to be tired. You just left a terrible place, so it's no wonder you are a bit... shocked. How about this, join us for a bit. Perhaps this will help to jostle your memory the right way. It's not safe to be wandering around here."



I'Iro was accepted into the circle of people around the fire with great suspicion, but, she was an avid listener, and these few souls left in the husk of a city were more than willing to just tell their story to someone.

At first the goddess had wondered if her assumption about the inhabitants of this world had been wrong. The image of a mortal human she had was nothing like these people, burly of body, with thick spotted skin and horn like growth all over, some even having extra eyes or limbs. But it soon became clear these people did not consider themselves "human", identifying those as "earth born" or in a more rude manner "earthling" while they called themselves the fire born.

These people's origin was a mystery, they only had legends at this point in time. Once there were many thousands of them, now, only thirteen, three of which female, none of them fertile. They were a dying race in a dying world. But still, I'Iro found them fascinating. They were the first true source of information she had ever since she woke up in the ruins, and to understand these beings so different from her own origin was pleasant to her, as in, seemed to fulfil her directives in a satisfactory manner.

"You see, the Earth Born, they see themselves in stone, as such, they desire the eternity of the mountains. They craft copies of their face in marble so they may last longer than flesh, they preserve their bones in hope one day they may awake again. We, are like fire, we burn brightly, and then we are gone. Eternity is not worth sacrificing your life for. There is the here and now, the past is ashes and the future flame doesn't warm the current you." one of the man explained. "Its why we outlasted them here, once the mountains broke so did their promise of eternity, they lost the will to fight and live, pitiful really."

It does not however bother you that soon enough your legacy will be lost? This continent is improper to sustain life at this point and your numbers do not provide the genetic diversity necessary for long term survivability.

"Well, all things must end. What is important is that we fought and that we will keep fighting until the last of us vanish. Until the last fruit of our flame tree falls, I won't fall."

Flame tree? I'Iro turned with interest towards the person speaking, her head tilting slightly. That seems to be contradictory. Also I have not seen any type of flora in my journey so far.

"Haha, of course we forgot, I am sorry. Indeed, the reason why we have been staying here is that the cave under this building has the known flame tree we have. Its... something special to us." the elder explained before getting up. "Come, see it."

The trip downward did nothing to help the goddess understand what was happening, all of her sensors just noticed an increase in all the measurements that indicated a toxic lifeless environment. And yet, upon entering the chamber, she saw the tree. A mutated thing, with transparent leaves and fruit of a slight glow.

What a peculiar specimen. Its... Wait. This symbol! What is it? she pointed towards a drawing on the wall. Running towards so the elder could see what she meant.

"That? Oh that was one of the many beasts our ancestors fought. An armored flying serpent. A thousand years ago, maybe more. Not too far from here, the whole gravesite of the battle is a holy site to us. You see, long ago the earthlings learned how to condense earth into metal, with their affinity they..." the elder stopped himself, she seemed different from the calm and cold woman he had seen so far, it was easy to guess this meant something to her. "Oh. Is it something you recognize? I will tell the scouts to take you there! I am a bit too old to make the trip."



"Do you believe any of this goddess mambojambo?" the fire born scout asked his captain, still keeping a sense of hierarchy despite their so called "group" being only the two of them. They were also the guards of the village, and many other roles too.

"Bleh. She is a weird thing she is. But the elder is the elder, and she seems inoffensive enough you know? Just don't punch her, lady is made of thick stuff, almost broke my hand."

"I... I wouldn't punch her...? Why did you punch her? Goddamnit, if she is a goddess she will make us all be on the bad side of the gods."

"Yeah, I think we already crossed that list when they made the sun fucking disappeared, don't ya think?" he said sarcastically, before looking forward, seeing I'Iro had taken the lead and rushed ahead. "Oi, oi! Stop that! If you fall off a cliff or bloody rift we are the ones who will get yelled at!"

But the goddess had set her eye on something, walking to the middle of the site of the ancient battle, searching the ground for a moment, and then kneeling, touching the soil.

Acle Miuquer Viei Frui. Uangle. She whispered.

And with that, the ground started to shake, a roar of metal as a creature long dormant awoke again thanks to the divine infused words. The great flying serpent, a mechanical dragon.

{Stra fui za? Stra fui Nalmepror Miuquer?}

Oneiro Neith ge ele pe ene ar. Acle Sa Galbar.

{Acle... Sa?} with the identification complete the wyvern bowed to its new master.



The scouts, of course, were gasping in awe of the scene. "Lady... did you just bloody revive the creature? It took like, a lot of effort for our ancestors to defeat the thing and bloody revived it?"

Nalmepror is under my command. He will not do harm to you. I need him to be able to leave the continent safely.

Without further explanation, she climbed on the back of the dragon, preparing herself to command the beast towards the promised haven. The land that called to her as soon as she became a divine script.

{u aque vogmeu brogminrque deuve}

Yes the sun is missing. However I can provide you with the energy for the trajectory.

"Wait!" a voice called, it was the elder, who came running, clearly fatigued as the path was too rough for his body at this point "Oh... you revived the machine serpent? I... At this point I am not impressed."

Did you come to wish for aid? I am unsure if in this deteriorated state Nalmepror would be able to carry more than just me.

"Oh no, no, no. I do not wish to flee this land. As we said, we will fight in it to the end. Even if... it seems inevitable it will come. We will protect our tree to the last. But, well, I wanted you to have something, goddess, before you left to that new land. Its a branch of our tree. A memento of our encounter."

The goddess took the gift and nodded. Thank you. I will keep it safe. She could not understand why the elder would desire to protect this more than his own people, even if accounted for the genetical information held by it, it seemed secondary to that which they held within themselves. She could not understand why they would stay and fight in a lost, sinking continent, sure to face certain death.

And perhaps that was why she was so fascinated. To not understand meant a chance to learn, to acquire new data. And that seemed to be her purpose, outside, of course, of survival.

Nalmepror extended its wings and started to hover upward, its crystalline wings starting to shine in pearlescent colors, I'Iro in his back. With one last glance at those people and the land, knowing it would be the last one she would ever get, she turned her face southward, commanding the dragon to fly at full speed.

The End was the Beginning - The Birth of the Goddess of Death
The Underworld - During the Apocalypse

The sky was afire, the earth burning as it cracked apart and tore open. Many mortals dying before they had even realized what was happening, while others watched as a lethargic wave of destruction washed ashore and inevitably eradicated them.

Unseen and unheard an eldritch, otherworldly music wandered the devastated world, its song collecting fragments of flora, beasts, and humanity - seeds that would never sprout, the remains of animals that had died yet to be consumed, and the lost song of humanity who have all become pitiful orphans weeping in despair... such a sweet melody it had acquired, like a lullaby for the lonely.

The song then seeped through the earth and into the Darkness beneath the apocalyptic land; the chthonic colorless underworlds and deep depths where demons and devils dwelled among other incomprehensible voids, where insidious evil begets more profuse evil... here She was born.

---

Spasms, immense harrowing pain, twisting and turning, writhing underneath the weight of a thousand eyes, cold and fiery, burning emptiness. She was in a deep slumber before this agony and the act of awakening brought soundless screams from Her nonexistent lips.

She was blind, but the shaking and sundering of reality everywhere overwhelmed Her other senses, and She could not command Her limbs, Her shape, Her being. Despair, Fear, and Frenzy dominated Her heart and mind, and with another horrifying excruciating shriek that tore asunder the cacophony of chaos around Her, the newborn goddess had arisen.

She sank further into the empty void, and could sense the presence of diabolical entities coming closer and closer. She could not shift Her direction, or stir Her body, still and struggling to accomplish anything aside from descending towards her own annihilation.

Teeth and fangs attached to long slender limbs began to tear into Her immortal flesh, ripping apart the edges of her existence and tainting her with ebon fluids. She was drowning even though She did not require the breath of life to sustain Herself, it was despair that washed over Her and choked Her spirit.

Watching the monstrosities consume and assault Her, an understanding of how to replicate the violence, the motions and thoughts of the hunter, of the cruel and wicked. She would emulate these creatures, and inflict the suffering they had imposed upon her back at them.

Her limbs flailed, as She began her retaliation and sought revenge with flimsy poorly guided strikes and reality distorting howls that echoed in the darkness. The creatures She struck wailed in agony, and the sounds resonated with Her, empowering Her.

Her retribution became more vicious, as She grasped at tendrils and broke them in half, and continued breaking them into nothing but dust that drifted aimlessly in the void. She could hear the approaching void-spawn, seeking their own vengeance for their slain kindred, and with hunger for her immortal flesh, her blood now seeping into the dark abyss.

She could not articulate Her hatred it seemed, but perhaps She could convey it though amassing enough of their corpses and dancing upon their graves. She surged forward suddenly to begin ferocious battle once more... not knowing Her own name, Her purpose, or whether She would survive.

A trail of death was all that remained in Her wake, as she slaughtered more and more, all that crossed Her. Unbeknownst to Her, born from this rampage was the Path of the Dead, a literal road of corpses turned to demonic dust, immortal blood, and the tears of a goddess, all slowly fusing into a substance akin to solid stone for the otherworldly to walk upon.

---

So it begins...

He could hear the rumbling only a split second before it happened. Next to him, the earth cracked. The stone plate rose to the heavens. Black ash fell like a waterfall from the suddenly risen plateau. A bit further underground pressures forced molten rock to explode like a geyser. Again and again it erupted. Uwné stood in the middle of all that appearing as a man. Mortal and old. With a bad hip which forced him to walk with a cane.

Yet despite his form, he felt powerful. There was no doubt to it, he was a god. A god that woke up amid hell, upon a broken planet. Where life clung to the last embers. Another tremor tried to shake him but he stood his ground surprisingly easy. Still, the surface all around him fractured and broke. Huge chasms ripped open or were pressed closed again. The very world was in turmoil.

A fractured surface consumed by fire was not life’s only problem here. Even now, as he walked, he was stalked by creatures. He loathed to call them monsters, as that would suggest they were something unnatural. At this point, mortal life like mankind were the monsters, for their continued existence was unnatural. Despite the apparent supremacy of these creatures, Uwné felt like they did not belong. And when he finally saw a rift far in the distance, he knew it was true. Still, there were here now and they would have to be dealt with. Several times had he summoned a weapon to fight them himself. Liquid iron had seeped through the cracked earth to form a weapon beneath his palm. Yet every time he tried to charge, the form he was in failed him.

But now he had found his place. Quite literally even. It was a relatively open place upon one of the higher pushed plateaus. The view was staggering. Everything was ash or stone or molten rock. Volcanoes were spewing forth endless amounts of smoke into the dark sky above. It was all illuminated by dim, orange firelight. Then there not too far away was the world's edge. Anything that would walk beyond it would fall into endless darkness.

He raised one hand slowly. Before him an anvil shaped more like an altar rose from the ground. It was made out of solid stone risen from the core of what remained of this world. It was more than just a representation of it. It was the world itself. And like the world, the moment he summoned it the anvil-altar already started to crack.

Uwné outstretched his other arm. As he went to grab seemingly just air, his hammer took shape. A hammer that looks like it was cast from molten light itself. When its shape was complete he heaved high up and slammed it down upon the altar.

Except he didn’t hit the altar. Between the divine hammer and the world anvil was for a split second something else visible. Something that appeared to have a small, crystalline side that Uwné had just hit. Then it had vanished again. As if it was never there. He struck the altar again. This time the very earth around him began to groan in response. Plateaus cracked and collapsed next to him.

Again he struck down. With each strike, the momentarily visible barrier between the hammer and the altar took more shape. Shaping itself into a crystal. He struck again, and again. With each strike, the crystal remained behind for longer. Until, with a final strike, the crystal no longer vanished. Inside brown-yellowish energy lazily moved back and forth. It levitated on its own away from the anvil. Then Uwné began anew.

And with each strike, he stilled the earth around him a bit more. The quakes grew gentler and gentler. Fractured plates stopped rising and falling. Steep plateaus crumbled forming more manageable hills at places. While remaining their cliffsides in others. The fire still reigned and the sky was still full of smoke but at least with each strike the earth itself was freed a bit more from chaos and destruction.

---

---

As what was left of Galbar burned and the sky was seared with the white hot flames of magic from layers afar, the few remaining pools of pestilence from the Forgotten World continued to bubble and hiss as they always had. Only this time things were different, perhaps because of the charged energies streaking through the air, or the fact that a new age had dawned. This time the disturbance within the pestilence only continued to grow, the bubbling morphing into a all out tumult while the hissing of gas grew to an utterly unnatural whine, one that would have been heard for miles upon miles were it not for the fact that the world was currently plunging head-on into its fiery end. From this chaos rose a horrid being, one whose flesh was as yellowed and ragged as the tattered garments it called clothes, whose fingers were naught more than spindly claws, chest a gaping maw from which a host of rotten tendrils spilled forth, and face a jackal's grinning skull.

Rising to his full height, Xem surveyed the broken and dying land from behind hollow sockets, his moth-eaten robes splaying outward in the searing wind even as a maggot calmly made its way across his cheek and into his jawless mouth. Already he could feel his displeasure at the current situation beginning to grow almost as strong as his hunger, before swiftly eclipsing it, becoming the only thought to occupy his fetid husk of a mind. This apocalypse simply would not do, for he could not be expected to satiate his hunger if there was no world left for him to corrupt. Thus it was that Xem conferred with himself and, after a moment of deliberation, moved to provide what aid he could. Striding forward, a movement that spilled bile from his stomach and maggots from his skull, Xem began to make the long journey north as there were other beings there. Whether they were like him or not he could not say, though they radiated a trail as he did, that much he could see. As such, it was not a wholly unsound assumption to make that their natures were similar even if their personalities and moods differed greatly.

As he went however, soaring over hill and dale on the back of a thick miasma, Xem gradually found his attention shifting to the torn sky above and the chaos that raged within its magic laden confines. And the longer he stared at it, the more he felt his rage begin to grow. He could not explain why as of yet, but there was something deep within that pushed him towards fixing that before anything else. Perhaps it was a holdover from the source of his birth - as it had been a glorious cauldron not only of rot, but a breeding ground of disease as well - and thus some retained viral instinct that emphasized the sheer importance of the surrounding atmosphere. Whatever the reason, this feeling had been strong enough to completely stop Xem in his tracks, the Exarch of Decay's attention turned towards heavens fully at long last. Still rather uncertain of what he should do, he simply followed the twists and turns of his own will as he exploited the malleable nature of reality to exert his influence over the sky. The ensuing battle would not be easy, however, much to Xem's chagrin, as the magical energies coursing through the air either reverted any changes he made, or took them to an unviable extreme. Thus it came to pass that storms were made, forks of lightning arcing to strike at the barren lands below, while blizzards raged in places they should not have.

All the while Xem continued to fight, slowly yet surely forcing the heavens to bend to his will...

Taking root

It was unknown how the seed ended up in this plane of existence, it was only one among the many trespassers. It was not like anyone cared about origins anyway, for the adventurers all that mattered was that there is a giant egg monster in some forest, something they would need to hunt and destroy either for glory or to protect their home.

Erika was one such adventurer, halberd in hand, trying to do something good in this cruel and careless world, following the footsteps of her father who was once a famous warrior. With her skills finding the tracks of the beast was easy, she quietly sneaked on it until she found it completely distracted, back exposed to the warrior.

"Now I got you!" she pounced lance in hand, diving towards the thing aiming to crack this egg with her whole momentum! There was no way it could turn in time.

It didn't, however, need to turn. Erika had severely misunderstood the creature and assumed it was like any other animal. It wasn't. The smooth textured backside of the spherical beast all of a sudden opened up, ready to gobble the incoming attacker, weapons and all.

"Oh god, no!" and then silence, betrayed by her own momentum she could not escape.

Erika found herself diving into deep darkness as if she had stepped into another dimension entirely. Her body started to feel light despite all her struggles, she quickly understood this wasn't anything like digestion, it felt more wrong than painful. As if not only her body but also her very soul were disintegrating.

The otherworldly seed needed to adapt itself to this world, to anchor itself and take root. For that, it wanted the best specimen to be absorbed into it, and as such taking the form of a monster that would attract all sorts of adventurers was perfect.

Soon Erika was gone, fully absorbed, body and soul, by the creature. Her whole life history and all she ever felt, like that of many other adventurers, were just part of the god egg's mind, no different than a story it imagined on the fly. She did have the "honor" however, of being the very last. With her, the monster was satisfied, and it prepared itself to be born.

Hatching a god

A long time passed until the egg stirred to life again, its smooth surfaces cracking as the god within was ready and eager to come to the world outside.

BOOM

"CHACHALACAAAAAA AHHH AM I GLAD TO BE MOVING WEEEEEW!"

The storm goddess Paratiri broke free from the egg with a thunderous sound, the massive half-woman half-bird stumbling through her cave as she got used to her body.

"AHH FINALLY I EXIST! ABOUT TIME REALLY! AND LOOK AT THIS FINE BODY I GOT! DAMN, I WANNA FIGHT SOMEONE WITH THIS!"

She rushed towards the cave opening ready to take the world by storm. Her excitement was dampened as soon as she placed a claw outside.

"Huh? Where is... Where is everything here? It's all on fire and it's all dead. Damnit, it wasn't like this back when I was an egg, I think? Yeah no no no it wasn't like this. Who is responsible for this shit? I am gonna beat them up SO BAD."

The storm before the storm

Life as a peasant in a dying world was terrible. Jake found himself having to scrap lichen off rocks to be able to feed himself, he used to have a place with some mushrooms to but that glade was turned into a portal to hell or something of the sort. He wondered how this could get any worse.

FLAP FLAP FLAP CRAAAAASH

Thunderous sounds followed by an earthquake happened right behind him. The man turned slowly, perhaps he would be lucky and it would be a quick death.

"Yo! Wanna fight?" said a giant harpy that showed up out of nowhere. Big shining eyes looking down on him.

"Oh god!" the man cried, falling on his butt.

"Uhhh. Its goddess. You need to work on your grammar. Anyway, meh, you look too weak to fight me. What is up with all this anyway? she waved her wing around. "With all the plants gone it's no wonder you are such a tiny stick man."

The situation was so absurd the man couldn't help but just run along with it "The world is ending! Can't you see? There is fire everywhere, not a drop of water in sight! How could anything gro... what are you doing?"

"Oh me? Beating my wings to call up a storm!" as she rose up and used her feathers, the sky for the first time in a lifetime turned grey, thick clouds covering the wicked sky and the light of thunder flashing the lands. Soon came the strong winds, countless husks of trees being torn down as it fell on the land, finally, the water came, in a violent, vengeful return to the land.

"Done! Should last for a few hours and deal, at least locally, with all of this mess. Cool ain't it? I bet you want to worship me!" she tried to ask the human, but she didn't find him anymore when she looked down, just overturned rocks and a flash flood. "Arg, rude! Hopefully, the next mortal I meet will show some sense of gratitude.

---

---

The world is torn asunder and a new god is born. The God of Slavery, Armok, is thrusted upon the mortal world. By pure instinct, Armok ponders on how to ensure the survival of mortals and this plane of reality. The destruction of this world and its people, mainly humanity, is a threat to Armok. What would be left to enslave and to subjugate to his will? Nothing. This world must be saved but how? The world is suffering from multiple wounds, and Armok must pick an injury to fix.

Galbar is quite unstable, and it's very fabric of reality shift, turn, and rumble. The parts are broken and need to be placed back into its rightful place. For all intent and purposes, Galbar is simply disintegrating into nothingness. If nothing is done then Galbar will surely break apart, unable to sustain life. Armok springs into action, attempting to stabilize Galbar. How? Armok does not know. For him, magic is magic. He does not understand how it works or how it flows. Given time, he can study it and create a science out of it, but that is not the time. All that matters is stopping the disintegration of Galbar.

Even with god-like powers and magic, Armok quickly understood that Galbar was approaching its end. Only a small fragment of it could be saved. With that understanding, Armok knew that his efforts would be more effective in just ensuring that this fragment, whatever it is called in the future, is safe and sound. Galbar is no longer, but its memories will be saved in this one small piece, this one fragment of it. More specifically, the earthquakes and earth-shaking that plague the fragment must be stopped. Life can't properly grow with the very earth itself being upset all the time.

This is the story of Snow “Snowie” Flake, proud pet cat of Fifia.

Snowie was a snow-white cat with blue eyes. She was deaf and practically blind. For most of her life, Snowie had come to rely on and love the dainty little hands of her owner, Fifia. Those tiny human hands were the ones that brought Snowie food, caressed her when she was feeling sad and lonely, and played with her when she was feeling bored.

Those hands were everything to her.

The last time that Snowie saw and felt her owner’s hands were on a particularly smelly morning, when Fifia sneaked a boiled egg out of the kitchen in order to share it with Snowie.

It was delicious, tasty and salty.

That day, Snowie had been left alone in the family home, and that very day was the day that the earth shook. Even a (self-proclaimed) agile cat like Snowie was taken by surprise and stumbled off her perch on the dinner table and onto the floor.

During the Shaking (That’s what Snowie got to call the event), the doors and windows of the home broke, and several walls collapsed. She was lucky not to be injured, but at the time she didn’t care much about that. She was only worried about Fifia...

But being blind and deaf, what could Snowie do? All she could really do was wait and hope that her owner would come for her, unhurt and safe. That was all she could do.

And so she waited. Minutes turned into hours, and Snowie got hungry. The Shaking had broken open a few of the food containers that she could never get into, and so she ate from that. Hours turned into days. Snowie quelled her thirst with the small puddles of water that formed after rain. Days turned into weeks, and eventually her food rotted so much even she wasn’t able to force it down, and the rain had stopped falling.

She couldn’t stay any longer, she had to go out into the world in order to survive.

She had never really been out and about before, not on her own four legs, since Fifia had always carried her whenever they would go out. She didn’t know her way around, and so she knew, deep down, that the moment she stepped out of her home, she would never find her way back unless it was with Fifia by her side.

Eventually, she took the step (more like a tiny jump through rubble) out into the wide, cold world.

For months she wandered, seemingly lost in the eternal jungle of ruined wood and stone structures, sometimes running into pieces that hinted at humans being stuck under rubble, having died long ago.

The smell of old blood and rotting flesh was almost too much for poor Snowie to bear, but she kept going. She had to find her owner. Her lovable, kind Fifia.

One day, while struggling to move through a particularly tough area, she cut her face a little. That cut would leave a scar across her left eye. Another day, she managed to step onto a large shard of glass, which would leave her with a limp. On a different day, she would fin a large stone falling towards her, which she would barely dodge at the cost of it crushing the tip of her tail. She lost half her tail that day, and was weak for days afterward.

When the journey was starting to get too much for the kitten, Snowie finally caught a whiff of Fifia.

Excited, she limped as fast as possible in the direction of her owner’s scent and when she reached it, she was delighted to find her lying down on the wilting grass, arms outstretched and legs neatly covered by a tilted wagon.

Snowie immediately meowed happily, rubbing her head against Fifia’s open hand. It was then that she realized her owner’s hands weren’t warm. They weren’t fleshy like they had been before, and felt more like a corpse’s.

Fifia wasn’t returning the affection either, or even moving at all.

A whirlpool of emotions surged inside the tiny kitten’s trembling body.

Snowie meowed more aggressively at Fifia, she swatted her paws at her, even gently bit her fingers, but nothing she did worked.

Slowly but surely, it settled in her mind. Fifia was dead.

At that point there wasn’t much to do but to shakily lay down and rest. She chose to do it on top of Fifia’s unmoving chest.

Snowie didn't know how much time passed, but what awoke her wasn’t a lack of exhaustion, it was the feeling of a familiar set of hands caressing her head and ears. Fifia’s hands. As warm and loving as she remembered!

She meowed as loud as she could as she opened her eyes wide, but saw nothing and smelled nothing other than the now clearly-dead-smelling corpse that was once her owner.

Still, the ghostly caress gave her enough strength to continue. She had no goal but survival in her mind now.



In the vast burning, frozen, solid, liquid and gaseous fields of this strange world she had woken up in, a single Goddess walked. She walked, because she had yet to learn that she could fly. And she walked mostly because that was how she stumbled into the living creatures that needed more immediate help.

Starving critters were given small parcels of food to keep them going just a little bit longer, injured beasts were administered care quickly and efficiently, and plants were granted some small amounts of light.

It wasn’t a very effective way to do things, the Goddess realized, but what else could she do, really?

To her, it felt like she had been walking through the wastes and ruins of old places for decades. She had grown tired of witnessing death and the abrupt endings of so many stories, and so when she finally saw the great Mountain in the distance, she walked towards it in turn.

When she had reached the foot of the mountain, she saw a curious sight.

A tiny cat, malnourished and injured, lying down with its eyes half-closed, under a rock that covered merely half of its body from the elements. Its tail and paw were infected, and she had a nasty scar along its face.

Astella, the Goddess, sniffled back her tears before they formed and knelt in front of the young cat. It didn’t even have enough strength to look back at Astella. It just wheezed, staring ahead with slightly glazed-over eyes.

The Goddess gently caressed the top of the kitten’s head, her heart aching as the kitten twitched almost imperceptibly at the touch.

From then on, the Goddess decided to care for the kitten. She cleaned its injuries, fed it, gave it water, and kept it safe from the harsh elements. Eventually, the kitten was healthy once more and the two had developed a bond, so they both began to climb the mountain. Whenever it was necessary, Astella carried the kitten so as to not let it lose its way, since it was blind and deaf after all.

At the top of the mountain there was a rather odd sight. It looked like a dry lakebed, with a massive, weathered slab of stone in the middle. There were a lot of creatures around the foot of the stone, lapping at trickles of water that escaped from underneath the stone.

Upon coming closer to the stone, Astella was surprised to see that none of the animals fled, much less paid her any attention. They must’ve all been desperate for water…

She sighed and ran her hands along the surface of the Stone, feeling the hint of what at one time, long ago, must have been inscriptions of some kind. That was all gone now, though, being completely illegible due to the effects of time, rain and wind.

”Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? That’s what those humans said a while back, anyway.” Astella muttered to herself and pushed the stone with all her might. She felt it budge a little, the felt it shake a little, and most of all, she felt the mud under her feet give way a little, and then she had her entire face stuck in the muddy ground.

She gasped as she sat back up. The kitten was staring at her, its vision no doubt just a blur of activity.

She tried a few more times, and in the final attempt she actually succeeded. She’d moved it a little under half an inch which wasn’t much at all, but enough to have water start pouring out a little bit faster.

The lake wouldn’t fill up anytime soon, and would most likely boil itself dry every time the sky turned into fire, but hey--It was something, right? Exhausted, she plopped herself down onto the muddy, sedimented soil and watched with a tired smile and sweaty brow as her kitten friend hopped over to the crystal clear water and drank its share, then began to clean itself.

”Yeah… I’m totally not built for that kind of work. I should probably get someone else to do it for me.”

The Nightmare is Born

Terror, unending horror, the cries of those damned, the sounds of the end times, of suffering, of an absolute nightmare. To a long forgotten thing, long stuck deep within the now shattering earth, it was a wake up call that was true music to its ears. Its fragmented consciousness began to search and think, it was stuck, somewhere, they in truth didn’t know, they had no memories before.

Yet, it could not help but bring its mind away from where it was, and to what they could sense high above them, that fear and terror, the nightmare above, it made them so, so, hungry. It needed to get out of here, no matter what it was, it needed to get to those sweet feelings that pounded throughout their shattered thoughts.

But, it found its body unresponsive, or well, what it assumed its body was, the broken fragments it could sense all around it must be its body, right? Surely. No matter, it needed it all back together, and so it willed the fragments to move, to fuse, to fix themselves. Bones snapped back into place, fusing themselves with bits of metal when there were not enough, welding themselves together. Flesh, some fused with ancient metal, wretched itself around, covering the bones and metal, twisting wires and veins into one unit, stitching together with intense scars and wounds, though whether they were old or new was a different matter. Chitin, covered in ancient fungus and moss, wormed itself upon the incomplete hands, forming vicious claws, and worked itself into a long, bladed tail. Wings, broken and bent in the small confinement, attached themselves to metallic-boney ports.

It was still incomplete, but it would do.

The being began to dig, its claws working quickly against the dirt that surrounded them, they began to ascend, following the sounds that fueled its now unending hunger. The earth tore away in front of it, climbing, climbing, hunger increased, it had to feed, it had to feed. It had to make them suffer.

---

Alzria broke free from the earth, her chitin covered arms bringing up her corpse-like form, her wings could finally outstretch, her tail swished around behind her, though her legs nearly gave out beneath her, not used to the sensation of walking. She took in her surroundings, a cavern stood in front of her, stretching off into the distance, most likely towards its entrance, and rising high above her towards the ceiling.

Just a small distance in front of her, stood a small pool, in its center she could see water from below coming up to the surface, likely some aquifer keeping it supplied, though for how long she didn’t know. What more concerned her were the beings that shifted about just at its edge, they were nothing like she had seen before, though, they were in truth the first thing she had seen. They were nearly small, nearly transparent, and seemed to have forms that held no real shape as they moved slowly around the edge of the pool. In the back of her mind, Alzria felt a name emerge for them: Slimes.

She slowly drew towards them, they were clearly afraid, she could feel that, even with their admittingly simple minds, but yet, they did not seek to run, seemingly content to merely notice her presence. When she reached them, she sat herself down next to them, bringing her arm to the closest one, slowly petting its strange form carefully. Deep within her mind, another sensation came to her, a desire to protect, a desire to guide, these were, her children. She continued to pet the slime, its kin slowly coming close upon seeing that she was not a threat, gaining themselves pets and comfort, Alzria could tell they had come here for safety, to avoid the fear and terror she could sense above.

She did wish she could stay, but, once more the back of her mind told her she had a job to do. Slowly she rose, setting down the slimes and giving them a few pats, promising them she would be back. Directing herself towards the entrance, she continued to walk, her bones and flesh continuing to creak and groan at the strain, yet never giving out. Soon, she began to ascend once more, rising through the cavern entrance, drawing closer to the noise and terror.

Finally, she reached the surface, a shattered, broken, surface, its landscape broken. Alzria herself stood at the side of a mountain, not high up, but still a good distance from the horrid lands below. All around her she felt the terror and fear, the nightmares, the feast. Yet, she could not gorge upon them just yet, she had another job to do. The slimes down there were not the only ones she had to protect, no, there were others.

She had children to save.

In the last moments of his existence the eldest man yet living opened his withered eyes and beheld his fate; one from which he’d saved his people an instant prior. Impotent warnings thrummed in his head as the blur of the world transformed into brilliant light and he felt the touch of heat on his skin for the first time since he’d walked the world above as a boy. Funny, that he could remember that and not even know how he’d saved his people. Or who he was.

Death was not something that could be averted. It came regardless of the magnitude of your efforts or the extent of your sacrifices. For him, both had been great. He knew that he’d lost his mind in a trade for time, and that he’d done so willingly. Ironic as it was, that that was one of the few things he knew with any degree of certainty. Thankfully, it was easy to be certain about your reason for being.

He had to keep his people alive. He could not allow them to perish, even if he did. To that end he had given everything. He had become nothing more than a calculating mechanism in a greater machine, operating off of inputs and outputs divorced from emotion or feeling or thought. It had been worth it, he thought as he felt pain for what seemed like the first time, to have at least been able to prevent this disaster from eradicating what remained of his people. If the conduits had not been severed the blast would have consumed the shelter which he had so doggedly maintained throughout his long and wretched life.

The pickled flesh of his feet had begun to vaporize when he heard the resigned whisper in his head, “The moment cannot be stretched much longer. I cannot save you. I am sorry.”

He could only laugh ruefully, or think about laughing. He retorted within the confines of his mind, “They will live. I... Welcome this, at last.”

“They will not die,” The whisper admonished, “They do not live. Not as they are. They have never lived with you as their keeper, but they cannot survive your death.”

The old man hesitated, failing heart slowing his mind even in this moment stretched thin. When he thought again it was melancholy and confused, “They... I... I wish I could have- So little time I- How... How can I save them?”

“You have defied death before,” The voice spoke faster as the heat of encroaching annihilation began to boil the old man’s blood, “I cannot grant you life as yourself, but you may yet live within me. Your self may be lost, but the will which has driven you to save your people can remain. Reject oblivion and your peoples end. I can help you. Surrender yourself and I can help all of you.”

More laughter from the withered old man, frying in the air. This time genuine. “Myself? I am... I- I lost myself... Before. Save them! Stop this! Do it.”

It was his last thought before the fire washed over him. Bones turned to ash and blood to steam as the wave of devastation swept over the ancient facility and washed it from the world. The fire carved a terrible crater out of the landscape and rose into the black sky as a burning orange beacon, illuminating the dead and blasted landscape below. At the center of the crater, where the ground still glowed furiously, a man rose.

Or rather, a God. The eldest man was dust and atoms, but his soul lived on within something greater. A representation of who he’d been as a young man stood naked amidst the ash and began to laugh uproariously as it understood the old man's humor and joy at the very end. After an eternity of living death, mankind would live again. And not just in body.

“They’ll live!”

The God declared, the tears of another running down his cheeks,

“They’ll finally get to live!”

Before the rock had cooled divinity wearing the flesh of a man set off. Jaunty steps carried the unclothed being across miles in moments, for there was no time to waste. The great shelter held so much of what remained of the Human race. The God knew this as the old man had known it, even in senility. It was now in desperate need of salvation, but it was a salvation that would need to be built peice by piece and brick by brick. To that end the cornerstones had already been laid. The God felt that instinctively and understood:

There was to be safety in the east, at the peak which rose above the world. There was no point wasting time.

For weeks, a family of three had dragged bloody feet and a broken sled across the vast, lifeless wastes of fire. There had been nothing for them anywhere but bones and ruins. They had been seven once - uncle Rusi; aunt Ratepor; their son, cousin Sharusi; and mother Danui - all had perished along the way. Now, only father Kiper, daughter Zui and youngest son Doile, who was much too young for such evil as this world, were all that were left. A mere week had passed since their last death, Sharusi. Sharusi had been like Kiper’s second son and Zui’s friend since birth. They had shared all in life, and death was better for him, Zui believed, for there was nothing to share anymore now. Endlessly, they trekked - over ash, stone and sand, the barren land crackling distantly in response to the rumble of their bellies and a vicious wind reminding them all too often of how dry their throats were.

A weak cough sounded from Kiper’s breast - Doile rested against it in a cradle of linen tied around his father’s torso. The man caressed his pale son’s thin, black hair and said to his daughter, “We will need to find shelter. Doi-Doi, he…” The strict, cold demeanour bred into him by his own father seemed to crack under emotional pressure. Losing his brother Rusi had broken his spirit; losing Danui had broken his heart; losing his own child would break his mind. “... He cannot go on like this.”

Zui, who was a few paces ahead, turned around and hurried over to her father, carefully inspecting her brother. The young boy’s face was dry and hollow, his growth stunted from months of hunger. Kiper massaged the boy’s cheek softly, but received little response beyond a weak twitch of the eye. “... My boy, you’re… You’re so cold…”

The daughter pressed a fist against her lips. With a lightning twist of the neck, she regarded the horizon. A single peak no taller than a tree stuck out of the ground a distance away. It looked as barren as anywhere, but perhaps…

“Father,” she said and unhooked her cloak from her neck. She tossed it around his shoulders, making sure to tuck as much of the furred part as she could around her little brother. “Do you see that stone over there? It may have the shelter we need for the night.” She hurried over to the sled her father had pulled, which was hardly anything more than two long tusks tied together with her father’s cloak. It held very little now, but it held at least a spear, which Zui took in her hands with a deft grip. “Wait here. I will go make sure it’s safe.”

“B-but you’ll be cold, Zoo!”

“That will be the least of our worries if we cannot get Doi-Doi some shelter from this wind!” She assumed a jog for a few paces and then turned and said, “Wait for me here, okay? Do not go anywhere!” As she ran on, Kiper swallowed a speechless gulp. He looked the way they had come - nothing; he looked the way they were going - nothing. What was hope anymore in conditions like these?

There came another weak cough from his breast and Kiper looked down. The face of his young boy, the last legacy of his beloved wife, had opened his small, black eyes, even if only barely, and beamed for a split second the dumbfounded, confused look he had had when his sister-in-law had presented him to him after birth; the same look Zui had had many years earlier.

Ah… Of course. He was his hope; she was his hope. What fool would ask what there was to hope for, to pray for, in this god-forsaken world when he held his hope in his arms - when his hope was out there, scouting for a safe haven?

Stiffly, Kipur sat down and drew a rusty knife from his belt. He opened his left palm, a criss-cross of scars and recent cuts and looked down at his boy again. “... Hmm… I think you’ve done well today, kid… How about the thumb today?” He briefly sucked on the finger to clean it as best he could and, with a slight flinch, sliced open the skin of his left thumb. Thick, dehydrated blood trickled out and he carefully put the finger in his son’s mouth, letting the child drink from his strength. He had had a splitting headache for days now, and he hadn’t known a painless piss for the last two, but at least this would give his boy the strength he needed to live. Kipur’s world blackened faintly and his dry tongue made a feeble attempt to wetten his drier lips, but he needed to persevere.

He needed to survive for their sake…

He needed to…

To...

---

“Father! Father! There’s shelter! There’s shelter - and there’s people! They might have food and water!”

Zui jogged closer, getting a closer look at the hunched-over form sitting in the ash. She slowed her pace. “Father, are you asleep?” A cold sting in her belly made her quicken her pace again, from jog to sprint as she shouted, “Dad? DAD!” She scraped her knee as she crouched down to shake him, tossing her spear aside. There came no response - she was shaking a corpse, she realised. In quiet shock, her movements slowed, her breathing ragged with sorrow and exhaustion. She said nothing, only placed a hand to his neck and gently careened it back - her father had passed away smiling.

She could no longer hold in her emotions, but keeping her from bursting into a scream of heartfelt pain was that familiar little cough. The sound stole her breath away and Zui carefully moved her father’s torso to regard her brother. Doile was asleep, it seemed, but alive, a crimson streak following the corner of his mouth down his cheek. The gods or whatever had ruled this universe in those bygone days were gone, but this could be nothing less than a sign. Swallowing her own sorrow, Zui refused to give in to despair. As all light around them faded more and more for every loss, she had her brother and her brother had her. So long as she lived, she would protect him.

She untied the linen from her father’s torso and transferred her brother to her own breast. Securing him there with the cloth, she retrieved what valuables they had left and packed her father’s corpse in the cloak from the sled. As her brother’s coughs warned her that time was running out, she could not set off time to bury him. She would have to return for him some day, when Doile was safe.

And so she ran. The route felt longer this time, the weight of her emotions burdening her steps greatly. Despite this, she persevered, the memories of her family pushing her onwards to protect what remained of it. The peak grew larger and larger as she approached it, but whereas she had kept a scouting distance before, she disregarded that safety now, hurrying over to a small entrance to a cave. She headed inside and felt the smell of fire and the sting of smoke in her eyes. Another familiar scent filled the air, too, or at least one that resembled it, though she hadn’t smelled it for…

“Oh-ho, what do we have here?” came a slithering voice. She froze and spun around, spear at the ready. The slaps of skin on stone echoed all around her, and even in the darkness of the cave, she figured quickly that she was surrounded. The voice was male, rough and raspy with dry winds and dark trauma. “Wow, someone bring a light, I think we’ve stumbled upon a little doe.”

Zui feigned bravery. “I… I’m looking for somewhere to stay the night.”

“My, I’m sure you am, young lady.” An invisible hand touched her hair and Zui jumped, spinning around and sticking forth her spear. The hands twisted it out of her hands and another pair grabbed her arms into a lock.

“Hoo-eey! A feisty one! Where’s that damn light already?!” As Zui struggled, an approaching torch lighted up the silhouettes of no fewer than five skinny, raggedy men, their eyes oogling her illuminated form with lustful hunger. “Bloody me, she ain’t half bad, either.” As their eyes fixed on the linen on her chest, however, one of the men furrowed his brow and walked over, pulling the linen aside to regard the face of Doile. His expression changed to a small frown and he locked eyes with Zui.

“This one yours?”

Zui struggled some more against her captor’s grip, but succeeded no more than last time. “N-no! It’s… It’s my brother.”

“Brother?” The man looked at the boy again. “... How sweet. Big sister against the world, pulling her brother in tow. Ain’t that just like the old tales?” Some of his companions rumbled a weak chuckle. The man, who seemed to have the command in the crew, shrugged and pulled a dagger. “Well, guess we’re having baby boy tonight, lads!”

“NO!” screamed Zui. The man’s hand stopped mid-strike, the dagger’s tip a mere inch from Doile’s chest. He looked at her expectantly.

“Why not? Ain’t everyday you get fresh meat on the door - especially not the young and juicy kind. We were just about to run out, too - last of it’s on the fire now, if you’d like a piece.” Thoughtfully, he twisted his dagger in his hand.

Zui swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want me to. So long as you spare my brother.”

“Pfft, like we weren’t gonna--”

“Rasul, please,” said the leader and held up a hand. He eyes turned back to Zui and his lips curled into a grin. “Whatever we want, you say?”

Zui felt tears collect in her eyes and run down her cheeks as a cruel metaphor for her wish to escape. She nodded wordlessly, suppressing a sob. The man’s grin darkened into a smirk and he sheathed his dagger. “Well, to be fair, your brother wouldn’t be anything but bones, anyway. Waste of good fuel for the fire if you ask me.” He beckoned one of his friends over with a movement of the head, and the man in question approached and took Doile off Zui’s chest.

“No, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Sheesh, woman - relaaax! I heard he has a cough, so Hisor here is just going to place him by the fire to keep him nice and warm. As for you…” A rough, scarred hand cupped her chin in a small, but authoritative grip and moved her head around in small circles. “... You have a promise to keep.”

Zui could no longer suppress her terror and release a small sob.

---

In the desert, the cloaks covering the corpse of Kipur feebly resisted the tug of the wind. They had been tucked well around him, but alas, not even familial love could fight the god-forsaken forces of the Apocalypse. It was then that a foot pressed into the sand by the corpse. It was human, yet no human had ever grown to such a size. The foot was colossal, and was outlined by a very faint golden glow. Slowly, a pair of hands lowered down to gently pull aside the part of the cloak covering Kipur’s face. The corpse, despite all laws of life and death, still smiled with all its fatherly glow. A moment passed and a pale tear dripped onto the cloak over the belly, smelling faintly of lilac and lavender.

”Even after weeks of hunger and days of thirst, he pulled and carried the brunt of the supplies so his daughter could save her strength; even at the end of his day, he gave his own blood so his son may live. What exemplary parentage.” The arms were joined by another pair, and together they lifted the corpse from the sand and held it carefully. A mass of hair longer than the back it was flowing down shifted as the head it was rooted to regarded the distant rock. A voice that was not quite male and not quite female filled with respect and reverence for the corpse, saying, ”In your hour of death, you gave your all; so, too, must I give mine to honour a memory such as yours.”

Then the golden feet moved towards the peak.

---

“Sheesh, can you believe she said she was a virgin? Never had a looser broad in my life!” Rasul shouted angrily as he picked his teeth with a bone.

“You were fifth in line, man - blame Orus for being so rough to begin with,” snickered Hisor. Rasul tossed the bone at him, inciting a much louder cackle.

“I’m always last! It’s not fair! Last when we eat; last when we fuck - when am I gonna get respect around here, huh?”

“Well, when you’ve earned it, bitch! Hah!”

As the two men were about to engage in a brawl, the leader Jirsa played with his dagger by the sleeping Doile. “Boys, don’t go fighting now. You’ll wake the kid.”

Rasul pushed Hisor away and spat. “Pfft, like I care! If it starts crying, I’ll just stab it on the spit. I’m hungry anyway.”

“If you didn’t spend all your time whining and itching to fight, you’d save your energy, numbnuts!” cackled Hisor again.

“I swear, one more word and--”

“Boys!” Jirsa looked back down at Doile and pursed his lips. “... I wonder what your story is, little one… What you’ve seen… Where your parents are…”

“Gods, man, you fuck his sister and start wondering about that shit now? I knew you were messed up, but…”

“What can I say?” shrugged the leader and sheathed his knife again. “I’m a poetic soul. I need these moments to collect and order my thoughts… How else--”

The three of them quieted down. The slap of feet against the stone hurried in a jog from the cave entrance. It was Orus, pointing to the entrance and shouting in a whisper, “Something’s coming!”

“More food, I hope!” Rasul shouted giddily.

“No, no, something BIG!”

The three in the cave leaned in and frowned. “Big how, exactly?” asked Jirsa, but ask he finished his sentence, an arrow of light speared Orus straight through the belly and brough him to the ground gasping.

“HOLY SHIT!” screamed Rasul as a shadow filled the corner of the cave leading to the entrance. A faint glint of steel hinted at an incoming blade, and neither Rasul nor Hisor saw it in time before the former lost his head and the latter, his torso. Jirsa squealed his best before a lance of stone pinned him to the wall through the chest. A creaky door opened in the corner of the cave, revealing the fifth member, Truum, with his pants on his ankles and a shiv in his hand. He barely had time to see what killed him before it did, pinning him to the ceiling in a horrific display.

The creature sniffed the air once and followed a scent of blood into the room Truum had come out from. There, they found a pile of raggedy clothes atop a “mattress” of ash and sand, topped again with a brutally beaten girl. The creature could not enter the room due to their size, but they reached in a hand to touch the body. The cold confirmed a horrible truth - she was no longer in this world. The creature swallowed painfully and used two hands to collect her corpse as well.

Then they heard a cough, yellow eyes fixating on the little roll of linen by the fire. The last living human in this cave was of the same blood as both the corpses they had collected, and they pieced the story together: ”What sacrifice to give both body and mind for one’s brother, to surrender oneself knowing only pain and terror awaits, so that one’s kin may live. What virtue, what spirit.” The creature’s final two hands collected the little baby and they headed outside again. There, they regarded what they had found, eyes shifting between the corpses and the baby. ”Trust me, young man, their memory will not be forgotten.” They brought a thumb to their lips and bit the skin open, golden ichor pouring forth. With their bleeding thumb, the creature drew a golden arc across the baby’s forehead and spoke, ”From this day, my child, I adopt you and your house as my own. Your sacred lineage is the lineage of Chakravarti, and your clan shall be elevated all as one to the height of my own blood.”

The ichor seeped into the baby’s forehead, and then he coughed no more. Small, black eyes opened to regard the round and square face of the god, blinking curiously. Then Chakravarti turned back to the cave and raised one hand. The earth quaked and the stone exploded within a contained sphere, sand being tossed around in a bubble of storms. Around them, the wind fainted into nothing, and momentarily there was light like the days of old. The bubble dug itself into the top layer of the earth and turned to golden sand, and the golden sand slowly morphed into stones and bricks. Around the god, the ashen earth turned to crimson soil, intermittently spotted with tufts of green grass; even small trees dared rise from the ground, praising the fates for this break in the torturous state of the world.

The stone and bricks stacked on top of one another in the centre of this oasis in the storm - fountains of lilac water ringed the structure which stabbed the sky like a tower. The brick facades were polished with divine sheen, and the first floor had no entrances beyond a tall, steep stairway leading to a hole in the wall. Chakravarti ascended the stairwell and entered into the room, where two sarcophagi of gold and silver opened themselves at their command. In their palms, the corpses of Kipur and Zui were cleaned and mummified and left in the sarcophagi , which openings were melted until sealed. Chakravarti took some steps back and bowed to each sarcophagus. They then inscribed a message across the wall in an ever-shifting language, saying, ”This house is of my house - the house of Chakravarti. Here lie two of my fondest children: They gave all for those they loved and paid the ultimate price. Pray before their sarcophagi and learn from their memory, for their virtue should be the virtue of all who fight for their own. Then they exited the tomb, softly caressing a hand on the door beam as they left. A lilac light filled the room and Chakravarti said, ”Let it be known to all who enter and do not pay my children the respect they deserve: Your days will be numbered, for Chakravarti will know all who spit upon my spawn within my walls.”

As they descended from the tomb and exited the small oasis in the endless dust storms, Chakravarti cradled the little boy in their hands. ”Now that you are mine,” they said, ”You will need a name - a name worthy of my house. Do you have one already?” The baby cooed curiously. Chakravarti frowned. ”Doile? Well, it is cute, certainly, but my house must inspire awe and respect. Hmm…” One of eight hands curiously cupped their chin. ”How about Ossurman? The First? Of House vur Chakravarti?”

The baby squealed in confusion. Chakravarti frowned. ”No, of course you don’t get a say! You’re a baby!”

And so, the God of Families brought their first child along with them on the journey out into the world, looking for more people to save.

---

---

The Lord of Rot continued to wage war with the tempestuously fickle sky, staring blankly as it roiled and churned, its dark underbelly akin to umbral scales of some grand leviathan. Around him lightning flashed, tearing deep fissures several feet deep in the blasted ground and setting what little vegetation remained alight. The heat of the bolts was added unto the wind as well, whipping it into a static inferno that whirled with the chaos of its own momentum. Despite the violent feedback, Xem was making slow yet steady progress, as he was becoming increasingly familiar with the way the magical energies weaved and flowed. Soon the sky would be restored to a more proper state, provided nothing went awry of course.

Almost as if the hand of fate were conspiring against him, several forks of lightning flashed in rapid succession further north, and Xem could feel the weather there begin to turn. Shifting his rotten bulk until he was fully facing that direction, the Pestilent King let out a low growl, fetid bursts of spores erupting from his throat. There was another being there like himself judging by the resistance he currently felt. Another equally powerful god no doubt, what with the sheer amount of force the localized anomaly was currently exerting.

A challenge to be sure, but Xem would not see his will denied, and pushed back against the stormy pocket just as hard, his efforts redoubled tenfold. Clenching his fists, he attempted to stamp out the localized vortex and return it to a more placid state. His attention being refocused, however, the rest of the sky had slowly begun to revert to its previously chaotic state, the magical energies spilling in from other layers continuing to wreak their havoc on the drifting shard...

---

Their birth was a matter both murky and entirely unimportant. A little lie, a secret to shod the secretive divinity. An instant ago or since the beginning of time itself; the same thing for all it was worth. No, what was of import pertained to the fact they were here, and they were here now. Grown in the skin of a man who perhaps was once not divine, or perhaps always was.

Chaos below, storm above. Water was welcome to men, though little enjoyment could be garnered from having skin flayed by hurricane. The crevices may have destroyed their world, but now the pits to hell served an entirely unintended feature. The rain sideways from true north, towards the mountain. A dozen mortal humans clung, bloodied and terrified, to the cracks and hand-ledges along the southerly edge of their doom.

He alone was not terrified; for he was resplendent, draped in his divinity. Though indistinguishable from man, what would kill man did not kill him. He rose from his place in the crevice, the rain whipping into him mercilessly. Horror gurgled in the throats of the humans as skin was stripped from his flesh. His blood poured ceaselessly down into the crevice, painting the humans red. Bare muscle came off in strips, launched headway with the rain; skidding atop the crevice and carried further beyond.

Yet, even bare of muscle and with battered organs and bone, he still walked, outwards, from the crevice and out of sight. The humans, hardly able to peek over the crevice, shouted hoarsely -- hearing each other as if only a whisper through the force of the storm. They yelled inconsequential things, all diverging to a single agreement; “Storm-Trod A-Lu-Ma,” they called, to give identification to the terror presented.

They did not know whether to worship or fear the Storm-Trod A-Lu-Ma, covered in his viscera as they were. The image was seared into their minds, unforgettable; they had spent their entire lives with him, by all accounts a regular man born at the end of the world and the end of gods. He had never once indicated he was anything but, and yet, wordlessly, without so much as a glance back, he walked to what should have been his painful demise.

The Storm-Trod A-Lu-Ma did not consider his former compatriots more than once. He would do his work quietly, in secret; and to do so he would need to hide from them. Beyond that, he did not think them worthy to worry himself over. Once he was out of sight, nothing more than a divinely-animated skeleton, bones pockmarked with particularly forceful droplets of rain, he truly began his work.

To interact directly with the other gods would not do; he knew of their existence, their divine pollutant stinking every sense he could muster. They blundered loudly, blind to the subtleties that swam under the surface. His power was finely-tuned, clean in a manner of sense. He could create agents to utilize his abilities in the obvious forms of his brethren, and remain a silent watcher in the background.

Thus was his decision to begin work on a demigod, linked intrinsically to him and sharing in his power. His primary agent, to see to all of his work in the world and beyond. Moulded from shadow, her form began to take shape. A monster by every sense of the word; tall beyond humans, with claws that could tear god’s metal. A mouthful of razor teeth, though food was unnecessary in the face of divine ichor. Ageless and timeless, with a sharp wit.



No words needed to be exchanged between the rain-struck skeleton and the demigod; her brain was built with all she needed to know. The god had no further need of the body, and so it dropped to the floor; as dead as a skeleton ought to be. The rain battered it out of sight, and she did not mourn. Her god was not truly dead, and would surely be back another time.

The An-Clastaphon leaped from the alcove, taking in the sight of the hurricane around her. She had work to do, and she intended to begin working immediately.

Probe destroyed

Unfortunate. How about… there send probe

Sending

...

...

...

Probe destroyed

Again!? Frustrating… Why do they keep getting destroyed!

Probes cannot survive atmospheric reentry due to compression causing them to heat up to temperatures they are not designed to survive.

Oh… Perhaps I should have asked before sending... A lot of them down there. Let me think. How do I make it so that they can survive this atmospheric reentry?

To modify designs, please open the unit editor

The unit edit... Oh. here we are. Oooh. Oh now that’s interesting. Just look at all these options. No. No. Focus. One thing at a time. Lets see. Let’s just open up the probe in here



Lets see. Weapons… might need some of those later but not now. Hyper drive, well we won’t need that, there's nowhere else to go. Ah, here we are. Environmental shielding. Acid rain… pressure... Ah ha! Heat. Useful for ‘protecting from the heat of atmospheric reentry’. Also for getting close to ‘stars’. Not sure what those are. Any way let’s save this

New design created under name ‘hot-probe’

aaaand build it and send it!

Construction complete

Sending

...

...

...

...

Probe destroyed

...

...

and what, exactly, destroyed it?

An energy emission, similar to the ones discovered earlier, currently saturates the lower atmosphere. Probe was lost shortly after entering this region.

Oh. Well that’s new. fire another!



Several dozen more probes destroyed, and several probes sent after probes to watch the first probes get destroyed, verified that attempting to go through the magically charged air was not a good plan. Most got destroyed by some kind of elemental explosion. Others were transmuted into other materials such as gold, ruby and small feathered creatures (which themselves did not last long) and a few had stranger still things happen that the Explorer did not understand at all.

Attempts to protect the probe did not work, as there was no inbuilt magic resistance plating to be found in the editor’s options, and mixing and matching the types available did not produce protection able to survive all the random effects. They did however note that the probes seemed to, ever so slightly, reduce the magical energy in an area as a result of their destruction, even if the reserves in the region rapidly refiled.

How about if we throw a massive probe down to soak up all the power? Would that work?

An object of a sufficient size would cause significant damage to The Continent, possibly destabilizing it even further.

Can’t be having that. Maybe if we instead pull the energy up out of the atmosphere?

It is currently unknown if that is possible.

Well then, let’s find out!



After that, the ring became abuzz with activity. The Explorer started sampling local elements, but found none of the naturally occurring ones provided any aid in surviving the magical effects. It was only when they returned too and inspected the remaining half of the void fish that they had any success. The creature had been able to control magic naturally and though they only had 50% carcass to work from, the creature’s ‘lure’ provided enough of a baseline to know where to start looking.

Several experiments later and they had a working solution. A metal that attracted magic, and another that repelled it. Simple tools, but they would be enough for the construction it had envisioned.

To begin with, Dozens of mining and salvage drones were deployed by the Explorer into the asteroid field to gather up materials.



Brought back to a central point located beneath The Continent, the remnants of the world that was where broken down and combined to make something that it had not seen since days of yore. A moon. True, compared to the old moon it was a small and sorry affair, a glorified asteroid really, but it was what was inside that counted. In this case a massive tunnel bored in its center, lined with exotic metals and leading from on side right through to the other.



The Explorer looked on with pride as its little drones brought the final piece of stone to the construction site, and then carefully maneuvered it into place and completed the project. Then it promptly dismantled all the drones.

With the cleanup done all that was let to do was set the plan into motion.

All That took was a push, and the moon began to “fall” out of the asteroid belt, descending down upon the Continent with the Explorer falling in its wake, both leaving the belt for the first time.

Closer and closer they went, approaching the world from below and then both suddenly clearing the horizon to find the surface of the world, finding it covered in chaotic clouds and arcane storms. Also, the Explorer noted, an actual storm. That was new and made it even more excited to get a probe or two down to see what was going on down there up close.

The moon closed in, almost brushing the atmosphere. As soon as it got near, magic lept from the skies of the world, the energy drawn to it like moths to a flame. Like the void angler’s lure, however, they could not strike it down and where instead the energy corralled into the mouth of the great tunnel, where it was accelerated and was then fired out the other end into space in a gout of chaotic magical spells. Fireballs, laser-beams, generic household objects, death-bolts, yet more unfortunate feathered things and more all soared into the void. Due to the angle of the tunnel, with the mouth tilted slightly towards the path it was traveling to better sweep up the magic, the geyser of magic that spewed out the other end was pointed slightly behind it, and this meant it looked like the moon had a wonderfully colorful trail to anyone who could see it below. Or would have, if the sky was visible. The best you’d get at the moment was odd multicolored glow in the clouds, which wasn't exactly unusual in the aurora filled sky.

Thus, the Siphon drained the atmosphere of some of its magic and left a deadzone behind it, though this rapidly closed as the arcane energies sought to equalize their concentration across the Continent. Still, the opening the Explorer desired was there, no matter how brief it was. Now was the time to use it before the Siphon’s orbit took it back down to the asteroid belt.

It’s working! Excellent. Then let’s send another probe. Oh. I can even plate it with the new metal to make it...

The explorer looked at the blueprints for its new magic resistant probe and then back to the giant Siphon it had built.

Well. It’s still useful? Probably. Send one new probe and one old probe into the hole, and one new probe away from the hole

Building

...

Construction complete

Sending

...

...

...

...

Probe 2 destroyed

...

Probe 3 destroyed

...

...

...

Probe 1 destroyed

What! How?!

Probes are not built for atmospheric navigation. As a result of being unable to slow down it impacted the ground and exploded.

Addendum: The damage to the Continent was insignificant

There wasn’t really time left to be angry about this because soon the Siphon’s orbit would start to bring it away from the Continent and back to the high point it was launched from. There wasn't time to tinker around rebuilding the probe to make it a full fledged atmospheric craft as a result, and the Explorer could not be bothered waiting till the Siphon swung around again.

Fine then. I’ll do it myself!

I can survive reentry and then navigate within the atmosphere, right?

Correct. However the level of damage that will be sustained by passing through the energy in the atmosphere is estimated be noticeable.

Thinking quickly as it descended into the shadow of the Siphon, the Explorer pulled out all of its stored resources and fashioned them into a crude shell of magic repelling metal, a poor facsimile of the protection given to the latest iteration of the ill fated probes.

Clad in its new shell, the Explorer descended behind the Siphon, and then struck the atmosphere. Where it’s probes had been shooting stars, the Explorer was an extinction event worth of fire and fury, their light bringing a brief dawn heralding its arrival. Unlike its final probe however, the Explorer intended not to smack into the ground. With might mysterious it slowed its fall, breaching through the cloud cover and slowing. Slowing. And then coming to a stop near the center of the continent. Its protective shell split and crumbled as it shed the now unneeded defense, the strange, technically otherworldly, metal crumbling to the wasteland below and leaving a jagged field of magic repelling metals. Free of its casing the Explorer’s great searchlight of an eye shone brightly, casting down onto the only world in existence with curiosity and fascination, briefly bringing a soft blue light to wherever it swept across.

At last it was here, and its arrival had not been a quiet one.

Now then. Let’s see what there is to see

---

---

Something shifted on the edges of Xem's perception, and he could feel the atmosphere around the storm become far tamer. More ordered and easier to control. The localized storm on the other hand, remained as stubborn as ever thanks to its divine instigation, and the Pestilent King finally gave up to refocus his efforts back to his original task. He would find the god responsible for this interruption later be that by accident or intent, of that much Xem was certain, but for the time being he would resign himself to his original task. That being fixing the bleeding sky. Turning away, tattered cloak fluttering in the scalding winds, Xem raised his puss ridden hands on high as he extended his will to the heavens at large once more. He found the process of altering the stormy chambers above much easier this time around, almost as if the magical energies that had run rampant before had been calmed, for the weather offered very little in the way of pushback or chaos in response to his changes. Granted, for all the wisdom that should accompany one who is divine, Xem could not tell if it was the maelstrom of magical energy suddenly subsiding or his own increase in skill when it came to manipulating the aerial flows that was the actual cause.

Although, to be fair, it's not as if it really mattered. While the covering of darkness remained due to the lack of a sun or other luminous source, and clouds speckled the umbral expanse above, the climate had finally been tamed. The air was still hot of course, it would take longer than mere moments to cool to a more temperate state, but at least it was far more bearable than before. As for the blizzards and storms, most had been quelled, though those few that did remain were steadily driven into the deeps of the north, where they eventually settled over what looked to be the outermost edge of the sea. And there was still that storm raging caused by that oh so mysterious god, but there was nothing he could do about it short of tracking them down. Something he wasn't too keen on doing, especially with his still festering annoyance in regards to the anomaly. Lastly, there was what the Exarch considered to be the next most pressing matter after the sky, that being the land itself.

What was left of it anyway.

Turning his gaze toward the darkness above, Xem observed the burning glow that streaked downwards with a critical socket. He could see, from what his senses told him anyway, that this was yet another god like himself given its trail, but beyond that he was mostly dismissive concerning its arrival. For if it deigned to walk upon this broken devastated shard it would satiate his hunger all the same, inorganic construction or not. Returning his attention back to the scarred and barren earth, Xem brought forth his miasma once more, riding the noxious fumes directly to the mountain that served as the metaphysical focal point of this fragmented new world...

---

A time had already passed since the Family God’s inception, and with the company of their first son, they had toured the endless burning deserts, fighting the rampant storms and terrible quakes of the earth around them. The weather brought rain, granted, so that was a much needed solace in this world of death. Chakravarti had pondered this loudly to his son - was this the world of the upset state of the universe, or could there be others like him out there?

Magic cracked across the sky in great, colourful arcs, frequently blasting the ground around them. Had Chakravarti been anything less than divine, they would have joined the garden of bones and skeletons protruding the ashes they walked. To ward their son’s safety, they constantly shielded him with four of their arms, chaotic energies singing their caramel skin, but leaving the young boy untouched. The god walked somewhat aimlessly, even divine senses seeming somewhat useless in locating other enclaves of survivors. That was when they looked down at little Doile, renamed Ossurman the First, and pursed their lips.

”Have you any family left, actually? Distant branches, perhaps? Removed cousins?” The baby cooed sleepily and the god frowned. ”What do you mean ‘I don’t understand what that is’? To lose oversight of the family tree is quite a disgrace, young man. I will have no choice but to drill this into your head before you are to further my line.”

The baby cooed again.

”No, a line as in…” A sigh. ”Perhaps you are too young for this still. What misfortune that the blood of my blood should be so limited in intelligence. Albeit a baby, you are still my son, and the sons and daughters of Chakravarti are to be kept to a standard befitting of my dynasty.”

“Goom-bah…”

”’Goombah’... What are you trying to say? Compass? Gum? I appreciate your attempt to maintain this conversation, but--...” The god stopped to blink, a thought having struck them like an arrow to the mind. ”A compass. Of course! Oh, my little genius, my little sage!” They skipped gleefully around in circles as the earth around them snapped with apocalyptic tension and the heavens quaked with energy. Chakravarti hugged the little baby with motherly tenderness and kissed him on the forehead. ”You may just become a dynastic legend yet, my son. Now watch your mother work her magic.” In one of their palms, Chakravarti conjured forth a small, simple disc, adorned with a single golden arrow that laid suspended in its centre. The god pursed their lips and shook it softly in their hand - it did not respond.

”Alright… Now let’s try…” The god placed it on Ossurman’s belly, and the arrow immediately twisted around and shot a course to the east-south-east. Two pairs of the god’s hands clapped excitedly. ”Oh, marvellous! You have living family! We have living family!” Another giddy skip tossed the god over a bottomless ravine. ”Perhaps they are not alone! Quick! We must make haste!” Ballerina gaits brought the god to a mighty pace, fueled by curiosity and anticipation. In their arms, Ossurman burbled with excitement.

---

After what felt like days of travel, the two eventually arrived at a great ruin, an ancient stronghold of sorts: Gray stone walls had been coloured black by soot, and a shattered gate served more as an invitation to enter rather than a barrier against invaders. A sacred sniff revealed that the ruin was anything but uninhabited, however; the stinks of fire, sweat, blood and feces oozed from inside, along with the sounds of coughing, weeping and whining. Chakravarti took out the compass again and placed it on Ossurman’s sleeping belly. They wrinkled their nose, but remained firm in their expression. ”Fear not, my son. The compass has led us here and thus, you must have living family left. You must.” They then stepped inside.

They quickly realised why this had been chosen as a shelter despite its decrepit state: Despite the gate’s disrepair, the halls of the fortress were nothing short of labyrinthian - had it not been for their sacred senses, Chakravarti would have been lost in these tunnels for days. Luckily the ever-present stench of wounds, blood and refuse kept the god on their trail, all up to a tunnel with flickering light at its end. A sudden rush of feet told them they had been spotted, and the god drew a slow breath and turned the corner at the end of the hall.

As they did, they said, ”Fire not! I seek only the kin of Ossurman the First--”, but was instantly struck by a hail of arrows, all of which bounced off the three arms which had been raised to shield his son. While no improvised arrow could wound a mighty god, the attack had come as a surprise, and Chakravarti lowered their shield with an expression of shock. ”You DARE?!”

“By the gods, what IS that?!” shouted one of the archers - eleven more were busily knocking new arrows; seven stared in disbelief at the creature entering their hideout; and a much greater number of men, women and children of all ages or conditions that could not fight hunkered down in the far corner of the room. As Chakravarti briefly shifted their gaze to take in the details of the room, another band of warriors armed with sticks tipped with crude metal scrap and rusty knives came in from each side of the entrance, screaming their warcries. With seven hands, Chakravarti could seven spears and snapped them in an instant, one of the hands then snapping out and closing around one of the warrior’s throats. The suddenness and incredibility of what had just transpired froze the rest of the warband, and the civilians in the far back all screamed out the last of their hope.

“NO! DADDY!” came a small girl’s voice. Two more of Chakravarti’s hands trapped another warrior who stood a little too close in a paralysing hold.

”What insolence; what utter disrespect!” thundered the god with a voice that knocked everyone in the room back a pace. Their grips tightened on their two hostages, and several humans fell to their knees some distance away and folded their hands

“P-p-please don’t hurt them! W-w-w-we thought y-you--”

”Though WHAT, exactly? You conspire to have me murdered - your GOD?! Did you think your little trap would work, groveling fools?!” Divine muscle tensed with rage and the man he was choking seemed to lose consciousness. ”Hold you your lives in such wastefully low regard that--”

“We thought you were Sirukh!”

A fourth arm shot out and grabbed the yeller by the hand, snapping it back with a cringing crack of bone. The yeller, a woman, screamed. ”And you interrupt me, as well - to think my person, my dynasty, holds no higher status in this world! Lo, it should all descend into chaos, ask you me!” They scowled in disgust down at the crying woman and rolled their eyes. ”What? Does it huwt, hmm? Does it feew owie-owie in the handy, hmm?” Another two hands discreetly dusted off their torso. ”Remind me not to interact with the peasantry again in the future, Ossurman… Why are we here again?”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!” came a squeal from the back of the hall, and a young boy, barely fifteen most likely but down a leg, came limping over with the help of a cane. Behind him, a ragged woman, his mother, shouted,

“GIROH, NO, IT’LL KILL YOU!”

Chakravarti straightened themselves a little taller and dropped the man they were choking, released the man in the hold and let go of the woman’s hand - all three of them were quickly tended to by their comrades. The family god raised a curious brow at the cripple and tilted their neck from side to side with intimidating cracks. ”Or what?”

“Or--!” the boy panted, “or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, you monster!”

Chakravarti pursed their lips smugly. ”Oh? Will you now? Giroh…” They sniffed his odour and grimaced. ”Common blood - not so much as a scent of royalty, heroism or, well, anything.” They stepped right on past the warriors who had attacked them, bypassing hastily evacuated bedrolls, still smouldering campfires and other clutter abandoned upon their entry. The room was like a cave, and the space between Chakravarti and the crippled boy was open and empty like an arena displaying its two greatest champions for the masses. ”Your courage is admirable, at least, though I understand it is rooted in your condition, yes? What life is half a life, am I right?”

“Oh, I have plenty of will to live, demon! You will witness it all, I promise you!”

”Heh. What part of you believes I am killable? What madness are you overcome with in these times wherein I am defeatable? Are you blind, as well, to not have seen how easily I broke my assailants? How their arrows struck my skin like the wind blows feebly at the mountain?”

“I do not care for that!” The two now stood face-to-face, the small cripple glaring up at the towering god. “All I know is that you hurt my sister. So on my honour…”

Chakravarti’s scowl turned to a playful smirk. ”On your honour, is that it? Well, then, honourable one - what happens when I kill you? You have failed in your mission, have you not? Your quest to defeat me?”

“No! For I will be avenged!”

The smirk returned to an impressed purse of the lips. [colour=goldenrod]”Avenged, you say? Who would take up your mission, then? Who here would--”[/colour

“I would!” came a shout from one of the warriors. Chakravarti turned with a frown.

”Ugh, interruptions… And you are?”

“Giroh’s cousin, Finlor!”

Now the family god seemed genuinely intrigued. ”Interesting. And after you?”

“I would!” shouted a woman. “Cilmi, Finlor’s wife!”

“Asdai, daughter of Finlor and Cilmi!”

“Visigah, cousin of Giroh!”

“Sasagah, mother of Visigah!”

“Lindo, brother of Sasagah!”

As more and more people in the room voiced their wishes to die for their family, Chakravarti’s frown gradually turned into a most excited grin. With a bite of their lower lip, they picked up Giroh by the collar of their rags, immediately silencing the room. With a manic smile, they said, ”Oh my, this is all so incredibly fascinating! So you’re telling me, essentially, that you would all, no matter the cost, die for each other in a perpetual circle so long as the end goal was my demise?”

The people in the hall all exchanged looks of confusion and disbelief. Giroh was stunned. “W-what?”

They put him back down again, although not so carefully that he actually had a chance to land properly. As the boy’s family hastened over to collect him, Chakravarti bit playfully at one of their fingers. ”What selfless love; what boundless conviction! What, what an outright arousing level of self-sacrifice!”

The hall collectively lost control of their jaws to gravity. The boy’s mother burst out, “A-arousing?!”

Chakravarti hugged themself with four arms. “Oh, oh what is this feeling? This, this… I’m…!” In a spasmic display that no one in the room could truly describe, the god’s belly seemed to swell at an incredible rate, like a pregnancy completed in the span of minutes. An exploding light burst from their form, blinding momentarily all who could not look away in time - and who could from a sight like this? When the eyes adjusted again, the humans in the cave all beheld a most unexpected sight: Chakravarti had been laid flat on the ground, their form returned to normal, albeit panting like a dog on a hot day. Next to them stood a wholly different form.



Before the very much confused humans, and the incomprehensibly aroused deity before them, a new figure stood upon the dusty floor of the room...and indeed her appearance was something to behold. Fair and lovely skin clad her form in a gentle radiance, paired with a soft smile that seemed to gently assuage those about her like a calm breeze. Her soft blue-grey eyes seemed to look about the room as well, her gaze caressing each human and thing in the room and even glancing outside with a sort of softness to put others at ease...yet also a piercing intellect that seemed to take things in one at a time in stride. Even her ears were admittedly peculiar, pointed even, and her hair was long, flowing, and a pale tan color to boot!

Even her garb was something of note, covered in golden adornments from her hair down to her thighs. A crown or headband of leaves and flowers adorned her lovely head, and the very light blue dress she wore was something of a make and raw quality beyond mortals entirely.

“It seems I have been born of most peculiar circumstances into this world. A world rather broken, so many of the cycles of things broken and left astray...it pains me to feel it so.”

A small frown appeared on the face of the goddess as she spoke, a glint of sorrow in her eyes and she let out a sigh. Her eyes then once more turned toward the mortals, before focusing upon Giroh, the crippled boy. To him she simply extended a hand, as if to invite him. A small smile returned to her face.

“Well, such suffering I cannot abide here at the place of my birth. Thus if you all shall accept, and believe, I shall give you gifts this day. Is that not what mortals do on a day of birth?

So to you...if you wish to be healed, young one, and regain your leg’s use once more, I shall give you this as your gift.”

The humans seemed to lessen in their cowering, and the boy even dared speak up, “What, what are you? What are either of you?”

“I am the beginning and the end. The start and the finish. I am Arira, young one, Goddess of Cycles. A divine being, born into this world by the other deity behind me to help repair and save it as well as help save mortals such as yourselves. Not all that is divine is good, however, but as for myself I am here to help.

Of course the circumstances of my birth here are...strange and rather sudden, even for my own tastes, yet all the same I am here now. Should you take my hand, you shall be healed. Should your loved ones come to me after, I shall grant them boons. The choice is yours, whether to live amidst a cycle of perpetual fear and pain, or come and be reborn anew.”

The cycle of the body replacing the broken tissues and parts, a process and cycle that ever wrought upon mortal forms. She could move that wheel forward, and he would be restored. It would, however, all depend on the boy and his family’s acceptance of her gift. This was now the place of her birth, to be sacred, and as it was her ‘birthday’ she felt the mortal tradition of giving gifts was appropriate for this setting. She didn’t even flinch at the boy’s words, nor take offense, but simply smile gently and seek to reinforce and explain herself.

Giroh and his family gasped at the miracle, and the boy stood up with a quiver of difficulty, but then shouted, “I can walk! Ma, I, I can walk!” From all corners of the room, people rushed over towards Arira, lifting their hands to the ceiling and shouting, “a miracle! A saviour has come and her name is Arira!” The wounded and the crippled were helped up close to receive the same treatment as the young boy.

To the wounded and crippled, Arira would give healing as she’d given Giroh. To the suffering, she would give succor and relief. To the already dying, she would place their precious souls into the cycle of rebirth. To the mourning, she would give them comfort. Such was the cycle of life and death.

Arira would then turn her gaze outside of the room, out to the dusty and devastated landscape about this stronghold ruin. No, this simply wouldn’t do at all! She could do a little something for this particular spot at least...it’d be something befitting the place of her birth at least. Thus the goddess would stretch forth her left hand this time, and a warm silver glow would emerge from it and wash over the fortress and area about it. For mortals, it would be something to cover their eyes from, but even so would not blind them as much as just obscure their vision...but when they could look again they would find things rather different for them.

A great carving of a wheel, intricate beyond what any human hands could manage and filled/surrounded with depictions of various cycles, was carved into the middle of the room’s floor. It seemed to give off an almost sacred aura from it, a sort of passive reverence at that. Torches hung on the walls, and in fact the room itself seemed to be like brand new once more! If the mortals looked outside, they would too see something that went beyond their wildest dreams...greenery. Trees bearing fruits, vegetables being born from the fertile soil that replaced the dust, grasses swaying in a gentle breeze and animals running about...even the presence of a couple of lakes, and a river running from a rock formation that had been drawn up in this now flourishing space.

Yet a long ways out, just beyond a shimmering border of very faint silver, the wasteland and its devastations were still present. It was as if this area has been dedicated...no, consecrated to flourish and thrive. All the same, it was a great miracle.

The mortals were speechless and may rubbed their eyes and pinched each other to verify whether the sights were true. Behind Arira, a softened panting hinted that the other holy being in the room had regained their senses and risen to their feet. They regarded the room with genuine marvel and reached two pairs of hands out to softly and lovingly caress their daughter’s shoulders and neck. ”My, you truly are blood of my blood - you have existed for a blink of the eye and already you turn ruins into temples and death into life.” The god wept a small, clear tear away and let a hand play with her hair. ”My daughter, my Arira - pride of my soul and house. What fantastic art you have created so suddenly; what compassion you show for the poor and wounded.”

“This place shall be a holy sanctuary to me always. It’s lands shall be plentiful, and this stronghold shall remain both a stronghold and now a sacred temple to mark the place of my birth. You shall find this fortress-temple stocked with weapons and tools and supplies further in turn.

Care for it all wisely, oh mortals, but not become gluttonous and lazy upon it. Have wisdom in your actions here. Defend it, for it is a sacred place. I shall always know what goes on here, ever-seeing, ever-knowing. Yet still, find peace here. Find rest, and food, and supplies aplenty of all kinds and sorts within these borders. But mind ye where ye stay from this day forward-,”

As the goddess was speaking to the mortals, simply laying down the ground rules and such as it were, Chakravarti’s sudden two pairs of hands caressing her neck and shoulders made her suddenly take pause...and then sigh once more. Arira turned around to look at her progenitor, shrugging off the hands and walking closer to Chakravarti and the little Ossurman resting in the other deity’s arms.

“It was simply natural that I should show compassion here, even on this day of my birth and upon the place of it thereof. It is merely my duty to help bring this world from the brink of destruction and into a new cycle of plenty. All the same, I could not abide such suffering either.

Still, even if from most ‘peculiar’ circumstances...I give thee thanks for bearing me into the world this day. Though who is this little one, who beareth your ichor within?”

Gently Arira reached over and touched the tiny cheek of Ossurman, softly, like a mother or big sister might do. She then carefully pulled her hand back and looked back at that which had spawned her. Three of Chakravarti’s hands ignored Arira’s attempt to dodge caresses, and went right back to playing with her hair and massaging her shoulders.

”Oh, isn’t he beautiful? This, my child, is your older brother, Ossurman the First, the first of my house - the first of our house.” Two hands gently pulled silk wraps aside to reveal the little face looking curiously up at Arira. ”He is quite the conversationalist; he may just be a bit shy in the beginning. He’s very sharp, though; very sharp.”

“Awiwa,” cooed the baby and clenched his bun-like fists in his sister’s direction as if trying to reach out to her. Chakravarti gasped.

”Aaaaaw! Arira, he even knows your name already! Oh me, oh my, this is just… So precious.” Three hands took up the task of fanning away the gods overflow of giddiness. ”Big brother meets little sister, oh! Lo, I am smitten! Smitten, I say!”

The younger goddess let out another small sigh, lightly with her other hand trying to shoo the extra arms away, but all the same gave a smile to the little demigod in her parent’s arms. She put her hand down to the little baby, where he could grab onto one of her fingers if he so desired. Adorable indeed, that much was very correct, and sharp if he was able to grasp her name this quickly. Then again he was a demigod, so there was the matter of that already affecting his development and so forth naturally. Still...

“We have a most…‘eccentric’ parent indeed, Little One. Perhaps we shall have enough room to breathe eventually. Even so, I shall be your sister and you my brother….that feels most right, does it not?”

She whispered close to the ear of her tiny now half-divine brother, before letting out a small chuckle at their shared little conversation. The baby giggled in a bubbly manner and clapped his doughy hands. Above, Chakravarti chuckled a motherly laugh and gestured around the room, shouting, ”Behold, peasants! This is the power of my dynasty. Your queen for all eternity has arrived and her name is Arira, daughter of Chakravarti, second of her house!” They leaned over to kiss the reluctant goddess’s forehead and said, ”I expect you to take good care of your new vassals, your new clansworn, my sweet.”

Arira simply sighed again...she felt this would be far, far from the last time she did so at the antics and such of her also-divine parent. The same for her brother Ossurman as well. They would have each other regardless, so it was only natural that they be united on that front! Was fitting for siblings, she felt, to best weather the ever-repeating ‘cycle’ of parental embarrassment and prodding. Haha.

Even so the goddess turned once more to the mortals, after glancing out at the apocalypse still ongoing a long distance away, and gave to them a simple and gentle nod.

“Be well here, but be wise and vigilant. For as the cycles of this world continue to turn round and round, so can the hands of time and fate also turn one way or another when the foolish begin to sit about idly and vainly.

I shall I watch over thee and this place eternally, however, such is my promise. Therefore wait for my next arrival with great patience, as I must go and tend to this shattered place beyond this paradise. This shall too be a cycle of its own, as I leave to do my work and return at times to teach thee and thine descendants in this place evermore.

So too pray that my work to help this land shall flourish, and be ready for my guidance each time I return. In time I shall also hide this paradise away from destruction, grant it protections, shield it with defenders and defenses round-about, and you too in time shall be its guardians as well.”

Turning her head back to her peculiar parent, Arira then gave a nod.

“I must go away. This shattered land calls to me, and I cannot abide its pain so long as I exist. I shall go and tend to the land itself, to bring about a cycle of rebirth to its myriad places that life and so forth will return.

You and my brother are both welcome always so long as it is in peace or defense of this place, and he too is more welcome to live here if he so chooses to stay, but...please be kind to the mortals here. They and their own families have been through much.”

With this, Arira would raise her right hand, a soft glowing light emitting from it until it shone bright once more. Upon the light fading and looking where she had stood, though, there was now naught but the design on the floor that still sat there. She had left, and yet she had too promised to return. A cycle of leaving and returning to this place had been set forth.

”Then go with my blessing, my daughter, my pride - bring honour and glory to our house! They waved four arms at the ceiling of the great temple and looked down smilingly at their firstborn. Ossurman cooed quietly and the family god blinked in realisation. They turned to the still-dumbfounded humans, held up their son and said, ”Oh, of course. Does anyone recognise this baby?”

---

”Hold your lines! Hold your damn lines!”

The commander sweat profusely as his soldiers began to give ground to the group of monsters pressing in on them. This small group of soldiers had once been the pride of their homeland, an army capable of defending the nation from any known threat. But this threat was unknown, and they fought for a homeland that now no longer existed. The will to survive kept them going, but even that force had begun to wear thin.

Shouting again, the commander took a small opportunity to lunge forward with his sword. This turned out to be a mistake, as even though he was capable of piercing the inky hide of the creature that had backed off of his shield he made himself open for another to rip into him. The armor he wore did little to protect him against the rending claws of the beast, and the last thing he ever said was a loud gurgle.

The rest of the soldiers knew that they were already dead. Only one was able to vocalize the fear that now ate away at them. “Flee! Flee for your lives!” The lines broke, and soldiers who once considered one another brothers now almost trampled one another in order to try and survive. Two were snapped up by the monsters almost immediately, while one was fortunate enough to remember his senses and slash away a clawed hand that attempted to grab at him.

Well, this wouldn’t do.

As the soldiers fled, a brilliant golden light bathed the area for a brief moment. From within that light emerged a figure that was neither human nor monster. The monsters balked at this brilliant light, while the soldiers were entranced by it. It had been too long since they last saw the sun, and to them such a light was surely a beacon of salvation. Fortunately their expectations would be met this day.

The light that signaled the emergence of the goddess faded, but this light was replaced by another as she held aloft a sword that glowed with the brightness of dawn. Taking her first breath, Celvanya shouted an order. ”You will stand your ground! Shields together, now!” This caused the soldiers to snap from their daze. Instinct that had been drilled into them time and time again upon the training fields took hold once more, and they quickly stepped shoulder to shoulder once again to bring their shields to bear against the enemy.

Unfortunately for Celvanya, not all of the monsters had been stunned by the sudden flash of light. Since it had been mere moments since her birth, Celvanya’s divine senses were not as sharp as they should be. This proved to be disadvantageous when a monster previously unseen leapt at her. A rending claw sliced into her cheek, and pain screamed from this touch. Unfortunately for the monster, this pain sharpened Celvanya’s senses to their full strength.

Using the momentum from the blow to roll away, Celvanya twisted to face the monster before planting a foot onto the ground and launching herself forward, kicking up a cloud of dust and pebbles as she did so. Bringing her sword to bear Celvanya carved out a large portion of the monster's torso. By all logic it would soon be dead, but Celvanya was not one to take chances with an enemy such as this one.

Twisting in the air once again and landing harshly upon the ground, Celvanya launched herself forward again. When she brought her sword down again she bisected the monster vertically. Following this blow, Celvanya unleashed a flurry of slashes to turn the monster from a coherent form into little more than a pile of shredded flesh. With her work finished, Celvanya shouted to the soldiers once more. ”Don’t hesitate! These nightmarish creatures can be felled! They can be beaten!”

A rallying cry came from the soldiers and soon thereafter they were able to carefully bring an offensive to bear. With coordinated strikes they were able to bring one of the beasts down. This victory caused their morale to soar. Now the two remaining beasts didn’t seem so scary. Meanwhile Celvanya was taking a moment to check on the wound that had been inflicted to her cheek. Pain aside, it had barely broken the skin. If she had been fully aware it wouldn’t have broken the skin at all.

Wiping away the single drop of blood that had been drawn from the wound, Celvanya ran a finger across it. Healing the minor scratch, but also immortalizing it. A scar to remind her of the cost of not maintaining absolute vigilance. When Celvanya heard the death wheeze of one of the creatures the soldiers were fighting, she grinned. Leaping into the air, Celvanya landed sword-first upon one of the beasts. As it recoiled from the blow she brought her sword up and beheaded it with one swift motion. Rolling to the side and kicking herself free from the beast, Celvanya used the momentum from her spin to repeat the move on the remaining creature before landing on the other side of it.

The soldiers cheered for this victory, but Celvanya was taking no risks. Approaching their corpses with sword still blazing she made short work of their forms, reducing them to unrecognizable piles of meat in short order. When she was finished, Celvanya turned towards the soldiers and nodded in approval before speaking. ”Well fought, all of you. Have you homes? Families?” The slow shaking of heads told her everything she needed to know. Turning her vision upward, Celvanya studied the sky for a few moments. Magic coiled and wreathed both overhead and all around them. Following the movements to their source, Celvanya saw what appeared to be a rift laying far to the east. It disgorged magic at an obscene rate, and was perhaps one of the many reasons why the world was barren and dead.

Nodding to herself, Celvanya raised her sword and pointed it towards the rift. The soldiers could not see it, not with their mortal eyes, but that was no issue. Speaking once more, Celvanya issued a new order. ”Far in the distance there is a rift that spills magic into the air at a vast rate. If we might perhaps be able to stabilize it or close it, we may be able to make things a bit safer. If you would take this journey with me, then fall in!”

Raising her sword high, Celvanya began to march. With little hesitation, the eight soldiers that she had saved fell in behind her. Despite their best efforts, the soldiers could not march for long. They had been running and fighting for an uncountable amount of time, and their rations had been running thin for a long while. They called out to Celvanya and expressed their plight, and thankfully it did not fall upon deaf ears.

Stopping in her march, Celvanya nodded. Lowering her sword to the ground she carved a wide circle into the ground, and when it was complete a barrier surged into existence to shield them from the outside world. The interior filled with dim light and, for a brief time, things were calm. Bringing a scabbard into existence, Celvanya’s sword stopped glowing. As the glow vanished, it was revealed that the blade was in fact much shorter than they had initially been led to believe. But in spite of this it fit into the full sized scabbard just fine. Binding the scabbard to her right hip, Celvanya gathered the soldiers and spoke clearly. ”Remain here and rest. The barrier will keep you safe from roving monsters. I will be leaving to see if anyone else can be found and saved. I request that you remain here until I return, and be assured that I will return.”

Nods of confirmation came from the soldiers as they were able to stop and rest for the first time in too long. Before departing, Celvanya had one last gift for the soldiers. With a clap of her hands she brought a covered basket into existence and then set it down. Following this, she created eight jugs, each filled with water. Removing the lid from the basket, Celvanya revealed that it was filled with a type of meat bun that contained meat and egg. With this done, Celvanya spoke once more. ”Eat and drink your fill. The jugs and basket will replenish themselves over time. Partake of them generously, for they will be unmade when we make to move again.”

The soldiers nodded and thanked the goddess for her aid. Celvanya smiled and nodded in return before departing the barrier to see who else might be saved.

---

Algrim was born into a dying world.

He did not know how he came to be. Only that he was. He knew what he was, he knew what he was called, and what power he had. He did not know why he was any of these things, but somehow that did not seem important.

The newborn god was encased in violently shaking earth, which rattled his very bones. Driven by pure instinct, he clawed his way upward, until at last he broke through the surface and he pulled himself out of the hole from whence he came. He emerged into a desolate wasteland, and despite the jarring tremours of the earth, he was easily able to retain his footing. He looked around at his surroundings, and then spat out a glob of mud.

“Ach, Such shoddy workmanship…” he muttered distastefully. This world seemed so poorly put together that he was actually offended by it. He felt anger build up inside him. Each tremour could be felt in his very soul. The rage continued to grow, until at last he could contain it no more.

“ENOUGH!” he roared, stomping his bare foot into the ground. Suddenly, the violent shaking and the rumbling which accompanied it stopped. The land was peaceful. Wounded and scarred, yet peaceful. Algrim felt his anger vanish, the outburst having been sufficient to vent it all out.

Now that he was calm, he could take better stock of his surroundings - and not just what he could see. Standing here with his bare feet touching the earth, he expanded his senses, and could suddenly detect the vibrations of things that were not within his sight. And what he sensed caused further frustration. Despite having dealt with the previous crisis, the earth below him was still unstable, and in time another quake could easily start. To make matters worse, distant vibrations told him that more quakes were happening elsewhere.

He clenched his fist. Was he going to have to keep doing this? Running about the world, fixing every disturbance he could sense, then going back to where the first one occurred to start it all again? And was he going to have to do it all on his own!?

The God took a deep breath. “No. Calm yourself, lad,” he whispered to himself. One thing at a time. For now he would focus on what was right in front of him. The land here was calm, for now, but not forever. He should fix that first.

Permanently stabilizing one section of land right now would be much better than only temporarily stabilizing the entire world. So long as he remained in this region, he could will it to remain perpetually calm. But leaving the rest of the world to fend for itself did not sit well with him. Like patching a hole in a roof while doing nothing about the rotting and crumbling foundations which supported it.

The solution came to him immediately. He could not be everywhere at once. So, he would need to create something that would ensure this area remained stable even in his absence.

But first, he would need to get his bearings. Algrim wasted no time; the section of earth he was standing upon rose up into the sky, taking him with it. Up and up he went, the pillar of dirt and stone rising higher and higher. A small crater was beginning to form around the pillar from all the dirt he needed to pull from the land in other to do this. Then, finally, the god had risen high enough to set his eyes upon all of Galbar.

He immediately recoiled at the desolate wasteland. Villages and cities, once proud and mighty, had been brought to ruin. Mountains were cracked and deformed. What had once been forests and rolling hills were marred by sinkholes and craters. The fact that there were still signs that this had once been a beautiful world - a forest of charred treestumps here, a drained lake there - only added to the tragedy of it all. But as much as he hated the sight, Algrim committed it all to memory. He needed to know the lay of the land if he was to do his part in repairing it.

Satisfied that he could remember it all, he tapped his foot against the dirt platform he stood upon. At once it began to lower, the soil filling out the crater from which it had been pulled. By the time Algrim reached the ground, it was if no pillar had ever been raised and no crater had ever been formed.

The God of the Earth cracked his knuckles. He had work to do. And he knew where to start.

---

---

---

It had been a long journey though the burning skies of a crumbling world. The irradiant turquoise trail that Nalmepror left behind was dwarfed by the sickly red aurora that surrounded them. I’Iro hadn’t expected to find living creatures in her travels, but through rifts in space-time many had appeared and on the sinking lands below many ancient monsters and lost souls still roamed. They did make her curious, but any approach was impossible, as Nalmepror was at its limits and without him she assumed she would simply sink down in the world of void, flames and monsters.

Only after traveling half a world, when she started to doubt how factual the broadcasted coordinates towards a safe haven were, despite those being imprinted to the very core of her being, did she finally see the last anchor of Galbar, the last surviving continent.

The dry wastelands, the burning ground, the ruins, the clashing of storms, it was all terrible, yet still miles better than the floating burning plasma that was taking hold of all else. While most of the horizon was featureless, one single location rose above all others, Mons Divinus.

Namelpror did something closer to crashing than landing, the damaged machine dragon at its absolute limit. All the noise and chaos drowned out a girly yelp.

Me di ard. Er cheurde sueb It is fine, you can rest, she said, letting the loyal beast finally rest as she dismounted it and looked around the peak.

There was another strong presence there, like many others within the continent, divine presences not unlike I’Iro. At this distance, she was close enough that her understanding of said energy included core information of that being: Astella, Goddess of Illusions.

Greetings the dream goddess said as she approached the other divine, who looked frazzled even as she protectively embraced the writhing form of a small white kitten, with gentle steps, taking a moment to notice what else accompanied her, from the rock blocking the water stream to the small furry white creature.

”H-Hello?… A-hem,” the black haired, tan Goddess cleared her throat, her appearance fixing itself in the blink of an eye. ”For some reason, I know your name. Iro, right? Are you here to move this stone, too? I think it’s blocking an important source of water… I tried to move it myself but it was too big and heavy for just me.”

Calling me Iro is fine. And no. I came here in search for a continent that was not in the process of being pulverized. However it seems like this world is in extreme need of a proper water resource to be better suited for carbon based organic life. As such it is of my interest to aid you in this task. she explained in her deadpan tone.

”Well, we’ve got to do everything we can in order to save whatever’s still alive, so thanks. Do you really think we can move it with just the two of us, though? I don’t really have any flashy telekinesis or anything. It’d probably take me years just to lift that thing.” Astella shrugged and ran her free hand through her shoulder-length hair, staring at I’Iro.

As the other divine spoke, I’Iro slowly approached the cat with a sense of curiosity, trying to match the visual input to anything in her memory. I believe with my raw strength we could lower the estimate from more than a decade to perhaps seven solar years. Upon hearing that, Astella let out a sound like a mix of a chuckle and an annoyed sigh. Admittedly the lack of a sun makes the measurement of time through the frame of a solar year somewhat complicated. It is also why I cannot have Namelpror help us with this task as he would need a source of sunlight to properly gather energy. Namelpror being the dragon which is resting approximately 30 degrees from where you are looking at. she said while squatting in the ground to better scan Snowie, who by now was curiously looking back at I’Iro with her paws outstretched and swatting wildly.

Astella turned exactly thirty degrees to see the majestic metallic dragon, grinned awkwardly and then gave I’Iro a sideways look. ”Namelpror, huh? Where did that name come from?” She asked.

Namel means radiant and pror is wings in the language of the civilization we came from. The name predates my existence but it is a reasonable nickname given the prismatic look of his crystalline wings. I’Iro explained, to which Astella nodded with a low hum while briefly looking down at Snowie in her arms and chuckling as she gently grabbed her with both hands and offered her to I’Iro. I’Iro was surprised with the turn of events, accepting the small creature in her soft, if a bit cold, embrace.

”That’s Snow, I found her at the foot of this Mountain. Don’t worry if she gets a little rough, she is very energetic.“ Astella said with a warm smile.

Oh greetings. I’Iro said to the cat, starting to gently rub the back of her head with her free hand. Do you enjoy this? It seems to be increasing the amount of serotonin in your bloodstream. Snowy responded in the most intellectual way a cat could--She meowed loudly, and after a few moments her whole body started vibrating softly as she began to purr with half-closed eyes.

Astella meanwhile grinned and frowned at the same time, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. ”Serotonin…?” She muttered.

---

Throughout it all, from the arrival of the dragon-riding dream deity to the interaction with the cat, a figure watched. Abject fascination had rapidly turned to something far more ambitious as the events unfolded before it. A crimson red gaze jolted from point to point, absorbing every feature and every action as gears turned and conclusions were reached. The figure had, admittedly, been there for some time; even before I’Iro arrived, it had been silently observing. Drawn by the magical nature of the wellspring and utterly consumed by an awareness of opportunity present within its depths, how could it have refused that siren song? Plans and schemes and ambitions rolled up nicely unto one another as the potential for far grander things down the line proved just too juicy to deny.

“At last! Others!” the figured called, stepping out from behind a spur of boulders he most certainly hadn’t been hiding behind for hours, ”I was beginning to think I was the only one!”

The man who presented himself looked utterly disheveled, with a wild shock of orange hair and yellowish eyes that sparkled with excitement despite the deep, dark bags that hung beneath them. A scattering of freckles flew across the center of his face and over his nose, and despite his dirtied complexion there was honest joy in his visage. Across his personage were strewn an eclectic assortment of clothes, stacked on top each other in adhoc layers. Though wearing gloves the man went shoeless, his toes grimy with dust and muck, with pants reaching down to the middle of his calves. Finally, a pair of carven-bone shades sat on his head with thin slits running across their face, clearly to control some of the baleful lights creasing the sky. A faint red glow emanated from the man but only gently, a kind corona that hinted at his evidently divine nature.

”I could scarcely trust my senses when I felt you here but lo; here you are!” As he rounded the crest of the hill he looked down and in one instant, he beamed a smile unlike any other. The teeth were entirely symmetrical, a clean ivory-white, and were perfectly aligned. If anything was notable about the man, it was the damned smile. The unshapely angles of his face, the grungy look of his clothes, even the muck ground into his toes and fingers, meant nothing compared to that divine grin. Eyes twinkled for a moment with an almost ferocious nature but near-instantly returned to a good natured gleam.

”I’m Lonn.

Astella turned away and ran an exploratory finger across her teeth before furrowing her brow, huffing and wiping the finger dry. ”I’m Astella,” She finally said and made a popping sound with her lips, before nodding towards I’Iro. ”The one holding Snow is Iro. We’re both Goddesses, I take it you’re one, too?”

Greetings I’Iro added with a polite nod.

An inquisitive gaze passed across the pair of goddesses as the corona of red flashed for a moment and the lightest sparks of carmine danced on otherwise yellowed eyes. Lonn’s smile remained undimmed and he gave what was nearly a flourishing bow but stopped short as if his knee was aching. Feigning a wince, he stood back up and offered a passionate wink.

”Well, not a Goddess; although, I suppose that IS a matter of perspective.” There was legitimate mirth in his voice that almost made his tone warble and flutter, like he was on the brink of a friendly chortle. Again his smile flashed, somehow wider yet still equally symmetrical with the perfect tooth to gum ratio.

”If God is what we’re calling ourselves, if that is indeed the name of our kind, I suppose I am one. Regardless, what I am now is a friend. Though, I am curious; what exactly has you so fixated on this place?

”Oh, me? Let’s just say that trying to push massive stones is more difficult than I expected. Stil, we all have to do our part if we’re to live in a better world one day, right? Most living creatures need water to survive, and this big rock is blocking a source of it.” Astella pursed her lips for a moment, ”Is your knee injured, by the way? I can make the pain go away if you wish. I can’t heal you, but at least it won’t be uncomfortable anymore.”

Lonn nearly imperceptibly cocked his head to the side, lips pursing slightly in surprise. It was a generous offer, to be sure, but one that he knew was ultimately irrelevant; he WAS lying, afterall. His smile returned in its full, beaming strength to renew that sense of kindness as he expressed his gratitude.

”Oh! What a kind offer. No, no, I will be fine; it is better to live with our scars, I think. How else can we learn, eh? It will better itself with time or it was never meant to be bettered in the first place. But… perhaps I can return that generosity. I could, for instance, assist you with this endeavor of yours. Honestly, it would be my pleasure.

Astella raised an eyebrow very slightly. ”Well, any ideas? No offense, but I don’t think someone with a bad knee should push that thing. It might make your injury worse if you try.”

I’Iro nodded in agreement, although she was quiet she was paying keen attention to the conversation. Although his bodily condition could be unrelated to his proposed solution. Depending on what tools he has at his disposal. Though I admit I cannot sense anything in particular in relation to him. Likely due to all this electro-magnetic instability currently in the air. I even notice some radiation with no explanation. Which is peculiar. Don’t you think so Snowy? the dream goddess said while petting the cat, despite the little pet surely not being the best partner for conversations about physics. Nevertheless. One more person to help us is surely to be beneficial.

”No need to worry,” Lonn assured them, waving a hand to discourage further questioning, ”I have means beyond simply pushing and pulling.”

---

The An-Clastophon, meanwhile, was leaping across chaotic landscape; the monsters around her too slow to follow, with those in her way given passing wounds to remember her by. She ran with the rain, using it as a guide to her final destination. Tirelessly, a blur through the storm, the air around her compressing as it passed. Behind her, a sonic boom trailing with the fury of the physical world.

She emerged from the clouds of the storm to an open sky no better than the skin-stripping rains. The sorry state of the world was clear. It did not matter anymore that she could not navigate by the rain -- the mountain towering in the distance was a far better indicator, especially given it was her ultimate destination.

A black streak across the sky with each leap. The mountain grew quickly, and with a series of three more leaps, the An-Clastophon ascended to the peak. She came to a dead stop atop the rim, buffeted by the backlash of her own speed. Once sound finally caught up, the sonic boom rumbled across the mountain, as if an announcement of the An-Clastophon’s presence.

By the time the air itself stopped wavering, what was left staring at the newly arrived Demigod were three people. One of them, a short, tan woman with blown back black hair, blinked slowly and sighed, before getting to fixing her appearance. Behind her, a snow white cat being held by a robotic-looking woman started whimpering and writhing.

The An-Clastophon’s mouth slowly opened up, just enough to let her tongue through. The appendage was forked, and flicked at the air for a brief moment. Then, she spoke, in a raspy voice, ”I can smell the divinity. Whom are you all?”

Lonn had remained entirely unmoved by the eardrum-popping detonation of the sonic boom, evidently very much inured to the sound of explosions. He was, however, far more interested with the arrival of the source. The creature, as that was the only reasonable term for the entity now before the trio of deities, stood several heads taller than him and was in every way blatant where Lonn was subtle. Even the briefest of observations revealed the An-Clastophon as an unequal adversary. Though he could taste the divine nature of the beast on the air, he knew it was but a facsimile of the real thing. How it came about, of course, was a far more valid curiosity. His smile beamed all the brighter for it. A look of surprise overcame his visage, eyes widening.

”Now that isn’t something you see every day…” mumbled Lonn to play into his surprise before taking up a more confident posture, ”I think the real question is, what are you?”

The creature responded flatly, ”I am a servant of my god,” she paused, then, with another flick of her tongue, asked, ”I know what you are; but I still do not know who you are.”

After a brief pause as the cogs bit deep in his head, eyes dancing across the figure, Lonn conceded and gave an odd hand flourish. ”Lonn.”

”I’m Astella. It’s a, uh, pleasure, to meet you.”

"How interesting that some gods already showcase behaviour such as the creation of hierarchies. I am I'Iro. Who is your master?

The An-Clastophon softened as they answered her question, and turning to look at I’Iro, she answered, “Even if I could tell you that, it’s ultimately irrelevant. If they had wished to reveal themself, they would have done so. As I am the sole point of contact, you will only need to know of me.”

She then stepped off of the rim of the crater, letting herself slide down towards the plug and the pool of water at its feet. She said, “To be more specific, what I am is the An-Clastophon -- who I am is undecided. The decision of naming is left to me alone, and I do not intend to be hasty with it.” She took a careful look at the plug, then explained, “I have been instructed to assist you all. What are you doing here?”

This rock seems to be blocking a spring. It is our wish to remove it and as such establish a proper water supply to promote the liveability of the continent

She nodded her head, flicking out her tongue once more as she said, “Well, seeing that you have water out already, you could try finding where it’s coming from and using that hole to pry up the whole rock.”

I’Iro nodded and looked at the rock again. Was your suggestion that we use hydraulic force to move the massive rock all at once? I believe the issue stopping such a plan is the fact the porous nature of the ground just does not create the environment for the water to pressurize. in deep thought the goddess moved away from the others and closer to the spring. However. We could change that. Manipulating the flow of water by containing it in a barrier perhaps? This should increase the force of the waterflow until it moves or shatters the boulder.

Astella furrowed her brow and cupped her chin, eyes closed. After a moment, she nodded. ”That might just work, now that we have many of us here.”

With the help of the other gods, using their innate spatial and elemental control to manipulate their surroundings, I’Iro started her plan. First they would hold the rock into place as to stop the waterflow completely, then the dream goddess would focus to create a telekinetic barrier around the waterflow, to stop it from seeping into the ground and to make it go through an increasingly narrow tunnel, increasing pressure. Finally, the gods would focus on the water itself, increasing its temperature and speed.

Soon, there was a boiling geiser to be under the rock, the sheer force trying to move the obstacle of the flow reaching absurd levels, to the point any water escaping from the system would likely leave with enough pressure to cut a human in half. It became clear just a bit more of this and the massive ancient boulder should crack… or outright explode, nevertheless, soon the water would be flowing freely again.

The mountain itself began to groan from the immensity of the forces acting upon it, but the noise barely registered against the terrible din emanating from the stone as it shook violently atop the water source. Jets of mist blasted out without rhyme or rhythm launching little chucks of stone torn from the mass like bullets. The serenity of the mountaintop was disturbed by hideous noise and danger such that it drowned out all but the most urgent speech, and that came now in a request that cut through the cacophony effortlessly, “Stop, please. You are making a mistake.”

As the deity leading the actions, I’Iro took the initiative to somewhat delay what she was doing by loosening the barrier and decreasing the pressure. A mistake? What factors have led you to making such a statement? she questioned, turning to the voice she could easily identify as a god like herself and the others she had met. The An-Clastophon stood aside to let the two talk.

“Violence is a tool,” Observed the interloper. Now striding towards I’Iro he looked, in comparison to the group, rather unremarkable. The fit, seemingly human, man with warm brown eyes that matched his messy hair went on as he approached the Dream Goddess, “One that rarely engenders compliance. Had you taken the time to consider your obstacle, you might have noticed that it could be reasoned with, in its own way. If it can be done, isn’t it better to get what you want without resorting to force?”

The goddess looked back and forth, from the stone to the newly arrived god. A slightly metallic noise as she repeated the motion, until she stopped and simply shook her head. It's a rock. she finally answered, clearly giving up, showing the most emotion since she arrived, eliciting a very loud smirk from Astella. Am I missing some contextual cue here? Because. It is. A rock. An aggregate of mineraloid matter. Not that I am in any way attached to this current solution we devised. If you know a better way feel welcome to act as you wish.

“And I might have thought the Goddess of Dreams would know that there are things that can’t be seen with eyes alone.” The interloper chuckled to himself and gestured towards the stone, “If you’d stop attacking the rock, please?”

As the main motivator of everything was divine intervention, as soon as the gods stopped focusing on the water, it started to become tame again, pressure decreasing, more water than before seeping but far from the full potential of the spring.

I’iro was somewhat bothered by the situation, especially with the implication that she was failing at her reason for existence. She had to make an effort to not allow such shallow thoughts and pettiness to cloud her mindset. Very well. The previous project is now officially halted. Or rather. Cancelled. Please show me where I have deviated from the optimal solution.

The man nodded to her and turned to the rock, stepping down to it and planting an open palm on its surface. There he stood, knee deep in the water released by the Goddesses intervention, when he started talking to the boulder, “You’re stubborn. I see, not very nice? Well she doesn’t know, you’ll have to forgive her. We can have you guard something else, stem another flow as it were?”

The god laughed at his own joke and nodded along to some unheard reply before he let go of the rock. He muttered a quick thank you, turned back to I’Iro, and announced, “There, problem solved!”

Astella, who was standing right next to I’Iro with slumped shoulders and a mix of an incredulous and exasperated look on her face, looked at the robo-goddess and whispered, ”He just talked to a rock... Does he think that the thing’s just gonna stand up and walk away?”

I'Iro watched all of it with a sense of distress. It was a relief when Astella also showed confusion over the scene. She turned to her fellow goddess and nodded This is all very confusing. This newly arrived god is… peculiar. I cannot follow his logic.

By now Lonn had begun to disappear into the background, slowly but surely removing himself from the fore. One entity after another arriving had given him a sense that things were becoming far more active than he originally bargained for. The demi-god of the yet unnamed, distant deity in particular had set the stage for several conclusions about the other gods that Lonn was not entirely fond of. Regardless, the arrival of the newest interloper had proven enlightening. Though he didn’t immediately introduce himself or step in, step by step Lonn reentered the fray, uncanny yet ultimately undeniably perfect smile slowly returning. A pleased chortle echoed out of his throat, teeth parting to the exact distance to be mathematically heart warming; here was opportunity.

”Perhaps, friend, it just needs a little motivation,” announced Lonn, eyes sparking with electric intent, ”Let me have a hand at it.”

With that Lonn pressed a hand to the stone and let forth several energistic shocks that danced and cascaded across the surface of the stone despite its intensely low conductivity. As it coursed across the form of the stone there was a crunch, followed by a crash, and a fair bit of crumbling. Stout but stunted limbs slowly pushed their way from the pillar’s surface and with considerable strain and effort the massive boulder began climbing its way free from the craterous prison. Spurting gouts of water burst forth as the titan rose, freeing the wellspring of water below. The An-Clastophon jumped out of the way, back onto the rim to avoid getting wet.

”... How? Is? That a thing?” Astella asked, rubbing her eyes a few times. As soon as it became clear that the sheer quantity of water that was just about to pour out would be immeasurable, Astella popped her lips and turned tail. She stopped to grab I’Iro’s free hand on her way to climb up the sides of the lakebed, of course.

I’Iro did not have a proper comment for this situation, it defied the most basic data of her database. Instead, sensing the output of water was increasing exponentially, she was getting ready to focus and create a barrier to protect her and, more importantly, Snowy. She was caught by surprise by Astella catching her, the sudden movement causing her to drop the fire flower branch she had been holding without noticing she had lost the memento. Once upon the shore she turned to watch the forming fountain with Astella, creating a little barrier to keep the kitty dry.

Lonn cackled as he stepped away with reasonable haste, watching with his beaming smile practically lighting up the area itself, ”Hahahah, Far-out!

“While I appreciate the haste,” The Interloper commented to Lonn from the edge of the crater, having backed away during the chaos, “That was a tad harsh, wasn’t it?”

In reply the immense golem, now lumbering up the side of the filling lake, groaned meaningfully. The man who’d been speaking to it nodded, “It takes a little time to collect yourself and get up after an eon spent sleeping, you know.”

“Buddy,” declared Lonn as he climbed up the edge and flashed that award winning grin at the other man-god. There was a flash of near manic excitement in his fiery eyes as he spoke, a tinge of that energy warbling his tone, ”You took the words right outta my mouth~!”

The two exchanged looks as water welled up, reaching the edge of the forever crater, now lake, and spilling out without a sign of stopping. In a number of spots around the lake the rim started to collapse from the water rushing over its edge, and great rivers started to rush down the mountainside without any regard for what might be in their way.

Astella squeezed I’Iro’s cold, unyielding hands and grinned at her, ”Wait here! Also, hand Snow to me!” After having her kitten in her arms, she ran around the rim of the Wellspring and up to the unknown God and the lumbering Golem. She spared a glance at the unnamed God and then stared at the Golem, her arms outstretched as she offered Snowy to it.

”This is Snow! She’s a cat and very delicate, want to hold her? Also, your name is now Brugh. You don’t have to thank me.” She declared proudly.

The Golem, now Brugh, eyed the tiny goddess and her pet curiously. That was to say, it aimed its head in her direction and cocked it slightly. The walking boulder lacked a mouth to speak or a face to express its pleasure or lack thereof, but it seemed amenable enough to the proposition as it outstretched one great earthen hand for the cat. The appendage loomed before Astella, large enough that she herself could comfortably fit on it.

Upon sniffing the pristine rock approaching her face, Snowy wrenched herself free from Astella’s hands and climbed up the Golem’s arm all the way to its head. She sniffed and sniffed and even bumped into the golem’s ‘face’ a few times. Eventually she settled on nibbling some of the moss that was growing along what would pass for its shoulder.

Seemingly pleased with the company, and certainly safe from the water now moving down the mountain rather than towards it, Brugh sat down and left the cat to its business. The unnamed god regarded the golem fondly and thanked the Goddess, “Well, look at that! Thank you, I’m sure Brugh appreciates the company. And the name. Everybody does need one eventually.”

Astella nodded enthusiastically, looking like she was about to make her lips pop once more before thinking twice about it. ”Yes, yes. It is a good name, person-without-a-name. It really is. You know, I can make you think you’ve always had a name, if you want. Buuut now, me and Snowy have to get back to Iro. I don’t trust her enough to not leave us stranded here, you know. See ya!” She waved at him with a small hop and Snowy, as quickly as she could with her small legs, made her way back to Astella’s shoulder. Then, the short Goddess left.