---

She stood alone in the abandoned halls of the celestial palace, with its immense empty corridors and forgotten chambers once illuminated by wondrous beauty and majesty, but now drowning in such a haunting song - a sorrowful silence that suffused the fractured stone and tarnished furnishings. It was all that persisted of a divine dynasty that had been desecrated by insidious demons from within, and yet she endured… lingering like a lost memory as she wandered onwards further and further.

The fathomless void awaited her outside, beckoning her to embrace oblivion. An ending to her inner turmoil. However, Anath Homura found herself stepping back from despair and seeking a new hope - seeking a new home for herself and her family. She had faintly seen that there were other realms beyond the most distant threads of the tapestry and beyond the endless sea of shadows, akin to those immaterial planes that had faded from existence and were alien to her senses. It was within the unknown depths and darkness ever-endless, wherein she may perhaps discover other deities that similarly desired a true home for themselves.

Then her diminutive form began to drift aimlessly along the nothingness in all directions until she came to a halt. She would sow the first seed for a nascent world to be born; summoning earth for the lands, water for the seas, wind for the skies, and fire for the life that would blossom - the four elements proceeded to merge into a single shape that would be the foundation of further creation. The world that was her conjured canvas stayed blank, waiting in a state of emptiness for the hands of the artists that would come in due time. She knew she must call to them now:

The heavenly voice of the red goddess echoed across the infinite void, resonating with otherworldly power and divine absolution. “I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!”

Her proclamation thundered throughout the tapestry, reverberating with revelations, and stirring forth from their slumber the myriad of stars and spirits that wove time and space together, so the awakened once more began to spread beauty and wonder with their radiant song and graceful dance in the vast darkness. Louder and louder, the celestial children of the cosmos greeted the desolation with their laughter and eager anticipation for the arrival of those that would truly weave the world into being. The new era of the Divine was beginning with a lively and luminous festival.

The barren orb to be a new world that she had created still silently hung in the center of the celebration, like an immense heart that had yet to begin beating with the hum of life. It would be the source of so much more; clever civilizations and widespread wilderness, creatures of all shapes and sizes, a melding of simmering imagination manifesting such wondrous sights that would inspire those that would be witness to it all. At the moment, there was only a single large featureless continent surrounded by numerous islands that contrasted with the seas, and little else to be seen that decorated the planet. Anath Homura hummed to herself, content with what was happening and what would happen.

Existence swirled with revelry as it revealed itself to the unknown, and allowed outsiders to enter through whatever means they chose. The newcomers were free to claim their mantles as deities among the burgeoning pantheon - to become the gods and goddesses of this world…

---

What is it you desire? The voice, dripping with an ecstasy she couldn’t understand, mingled and layered with an uncountable amount of others, asked her. Men, women, children and more she could not even fathom, all came together in one. She knew it was probably terrifying but she also didn't know if it was even real or just a trick of her addled senses. It lingered in her mind like the last trickle of rain. Her eyes were hazy, she could not make out where the voice came from but had the stars ever been so beautiful?

She groaned, wiping away the sweat from her brow, smearing more red all over her face. It was hard to focus and her mouth was so dry. If she only had some water… A cold pressure in her mind jolted her awake. The voice, she wondered if it was real, spoke again.

What is it you desire?

What did she desire? Thoughts flooded her, of a home lost and a family she never really had. Of a world that had been beautiful but she had been too blind to see. Of her failings, only needed to be rectified.

No, she weakly shook her head. That world was hers and she needed no family. All those she had ever interacted with were just tools. Means to an end. Her home, it had been ugly, they had made it ugly and it needed to be purged! To start over! So she could make it in her own vision. So it could be truly beautiful.

She gritted her teeth in anger. She wanted them dead. She wanted them all dead! She would bathe in their very ichor! Wipe away all they had created like it was nothing and then she would do it again and again all across these infernal planes that had imprisoned her so. She shut her eyes, just imagining it all; a vicious smile forming on her lips.

Her pale eyes snapped open, grief overtaking her features. No, no, no… She just wanted to go home. She was sorry. She wanted to be better, not worse.

What is it you desire? The voice cooed to her, as if her lover… No… She had used him too.

“Oh Uwné…” She cried. A violent cough wracked her chest and she felt the end nearing as blood and spittle ran down the corners of her mouth.

What did she desire?

“I…” She breathed, sky shining brilliantly. “I want to…” Her eyes narrowed, taking on a fierce glint as she raised her neck a little straighter. “...Power.”

The word struck her like a blow, so sure she had said home. So sure she had grown beyond such pitiful needs. Was that what she really wanted? Did she desire power? She didn’t have time to think further, for the night sky swirled as if a meteor shower was caught in a whirlpool. Then in the briefest of seconds, a giant purple eye awoke in the cosmos and peered into her very soul.

Then everything went dark.

---

She awoke with a scream, collecting herself as she sat up from where she lay. Had it all been a dream? Why was it so dark? How was she alive? She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself but it was to no avail. Something was different, she felt it in the air and within her very being. Strength had flooded into her once more, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be a divine. It was such a riveting, exhilarating feeling! She could not help but smile bur as she stood her feelings quickly took a spiral. She became aware, that try as she might, she couldn’t see. It was not that it was dark out, for she could feel the warmth of a shining sun in pinpoint accuracy, nor was it the fact she couldn’t open her eyes, for she blinked and fluttered them or even that something obscured her vision, for her hands found nothing on her face ghat would debilitate her so.

No, she had gone blind.

The realization was sobering. She fell to her knees and stayed there for a time, trying to fix her eyes with her reclaimed power but try as she might, even that did not work. How was a Goddess of Beauty supposed to work if she could not see? That thought struck her as foolish. She was stupid. Had she learned nothing in exile? Beauty was so much more than appearances, was it not? It was more then puddle deep. She would strive to be better this time. Eyesight or not, it was a fresh start.

It was only when she felt wetness accumulate on her cheeks, did she snap out of her thoughts. She touched it gingerly, hot and thick. It smelled of rust and when she placed it upon her lips and tongue she knew what her tears were made of.

Blood.

This newest revelation overwhelmed her and with a shaky hand she wiped away her tears, staining her pale face in the process. She bled more though, the stream became unabating and Wyn, for that was her name, was terrified. She cupped her hands over her eyes it would not stop. Her panic only made it worse and worse until the very ground quivered with great sorrow and bled as she in sympathy for all she been wrought by.

Thus the Goddess of Blood was born anew and in that birth she sank ever deeper into a mire of her own being.

There were many, but they were few. A chorus, a choir, a harmony over the roaring fires. With each burning glade, the songs rose higher.

A branch broke here, a few silenced there. Soon just the crackle of flames remained, and then nothing as even that charred its last.

---

“I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!”

Ia’Akhul was and wasn’t. It did not matter. Life mattered, she knew this. She knew life mattered more than any deeper essence for her. Gently, her form had coalesced. She flapped her wings for good measure, testing their workings.

Her head moved, glancing this way and that, saying nothing. Her leg moved and brushed her antenna- ensuring it was clean. With a small leap, she took to flight. Looking below her there was a world, barren but there. Great seas and oceans crashed across craggy shores and rocky isles. Particulate swirled in those waters, an endless dance with the flow and movement of the newborn world.

Grand sheets of glacial ice, capping the farthest reaches of the northern lands and the south escapes far beyond. Broken fragments drifting free, smallest flakes floating gently.

Air gathered dust and fragments of powerful stones, each moving and rumbling across that land.

She mimicked and gazed. A world below, so full and so empty. She soared and swirled her path, trying to see the joy in action. But there was none.

The smallest stone adrift in a sea had no more desire or course of action than the great sheets of ice or the far rocky plains. Solid perhaps, active in other aspects. But resoundingly lifeless.

It did not make her sad. That was too small and weak a word to describe the fullness of her feelings. She turned away from the brightly lit orb, countless dazzling lights surrounding a place more empty to her than nothing. Nothing promised nothing, it gave no hints, whispered no dreams. Something, a rock, a sea, a sky clear and free. That gave ideas, it gave options and dearest thoughts.

That was her joy, something yet to come, something more.

Her wings made a turn, a flap that was not needed with the power that coursed through her, but kept all the same. Orbiting as if drawn in, around that loud spoken seeker. Pantheon and Divine. Cultivator and Architect. These meant little to her in that most deepest sense. But it meant enough.

Circling gently, a lazy path of flight she came close and far again to that speaker and guide light. Anath Homura. Ia’Akhul was and wasn't. But, she planned to bring surety to that, as she drifted to her joyful dreams of lost and free thought. What was to come, what could be.

There are times when the axis shifts. Changes so drastic, that it completely changes how one thinks, and the mindset of the past now seems alien. It can be a simple feeling, perhaps one had only heard of a person or a city, creating images and sound in their heads, however, upon seeing the real one the imagined one breaks away like mist after the sunrise.

Sometimes, it is greater, and to her, that was the first time she saw the planet. A thing so immense, so powerful, that it seemed to bend the very notion of space and time around it, the immaterial spirit was not merely grounded into the physical chains of the planet, she was forced to kneel, not even she knew if it was by gravity and physical forces or awe, but she was rendered unto the ground. Others too came soon, either attracted by the raw and newborn existence of the planet or the luring words of the lone child, Anath Homura.

But none seemed to feel just what she was feeling, the beating heart of the planet called her, she was sure of it, it whispered and yelled at her, and she understood that she was not chained, but was gifted a chainmail. A proof of office. In her newfound servitude.



Clad in gold, with beating wings, she rose, ruining the glory of her first arrival with an undignified stretch and yawn.

"Myeeohwow. You would think it impossible for newly made limbs to be fatigued. Yet. When I think of all the work there is to do... They surely do feel that way."

She rubbed her chin and overlooked the room and ruins around her, her sharp eyes stopping when they met Anath Homura's, feeling a certain pressure equal to that of the planet's gravity. "It is not to say it will not be done. Do not worry. The planet screams to be its will. And what bad first impression it would be to ignore it." she said already in an apologetic tone.

Feeling the arrival and formation of more gods, she nodded to herself. "But delay it too much... And there will be many on the path of my work. Perhaps it is the wisest act to rush ahead before more come."

Without ever allowing a proper conversation to start, the golden-clad sphynx jumped in the air and started to fly off, diving upon distant lands like an incoming meteor.

---

The First Command was a genuine worry for the present and future. Given the form of the world and its vast ocean, the wind howled too loudly, the water and wind currents grew too powerful and when they met, what was born were true storm dragons that would assault the land with a fury unmatched.

"I see you grow ashamed of your nudity." she said to the planet. "Yet what can grow when the wind falls like blades? That will not do."

And so the earth was forced to shatter up and rise, a great wall would be raised all across the land, at times breaking even under the sea. It would hold back the winds during these troubling times, and when gentler times came they would be home to the earth's riches, ready to be shared with those who dwell within.

From the cold pole down to the warm waters of the equator, a chain of mountains rose and took shape, spreading out like the scars of a thunderstrike.

Its name was The Stormbreaker Mountains

---

An idea for a design most peculiar infiltrated her mind, but as it stood, her endeavour was impossible. There was great rage still in the movement of the lands, and she supposed her act of breaking it open did not do anything to quell the primal rage.

The land shook too much, creating great instability. The area near a massive freshwater lake, for example, instead of being a welcoming sight to what was to come, was instead home to crashing quakes and waves whenever the pressure of the magma beneath became too intense.

That would not do.

And so, with a rather aggressive action, the goddess re-arranged the local plates, to deal with the excess pressure and raw power, she cut off a section of the land and rose it high above others, as if sliced by a sharp blade and pulled upward. While rough, the design had been made to quell quakes, natural or divine-made.

It remained true however that all that would come and see the block of land artificially raised would find it quite odd. The mesa was so high that despite being in the subtropical zone, its livable layer was temperate and cold, meanwhile, geysers born from the excess energy of the re-routed magmatic power would clad the lower lands in a foggy mirage.

Its name was The Misty Tableland

---

Finally, as far as her surface work went, one last worry filled her mind. Creation was a rough process, mothers would know to bath a baby after birth as to wash off leftover blood and other materials. With a planet, the process was somewhat similar, much was left scattered across the surface during creation, some good, some bad, some very, very bad. The idea of engulfing the planet in water however, to rinse off such impurities, was not possible, even if easier to do.

Instead, the path Lektor would take was to simply call all of the heavy elements, toxic salts and crystalline fragments under her command, sweeping off the toxic and bothersome materials in large dust clouds, leaving behind however what would make the land fertile and fit for life.

The toxic dust was then separated, the most dangerous of materials were left to fall down deep into caves where it would not bother most beings, the others, which were not dangerous but still would stifle life, were sent to a location the goddess had set far off to the west, beyond her mountains and away from the great lake.

Properly working the materials, the goddess would allow it to be deposited as a great sandy plain, a controlled wasteland. Perhaps given time life would find a way, and dominate even a land such as this, which actively fought against her.

The name of the desert born westward was "The Sunset Sands"

---

A leftover product of the former universe: death. It reeked of it. Of course, the cosmos wasn’t a great, big screaming void of suffering, but the stench clung to it like the mouldy odour of an old washroom. The death and suffer of the primordial universe had long since peetered out on its own, flocculating into globules of non-living energy that could not even be separated anymore. Powers oozing from the origin of creation - so raw and basic that they only possessed instinctual processing power - still managed to think, hmm, maybe someone should ensure that doesn’t happen again.

And so it was that Anath Homura’s message snuck through a cut in the fabric of space and time, echoing between the realms of the multiverse until they bounced off of something. A pair of eyes rolled open. A misty hand grasped at a long staff. A pair of mysterious feet settled in the bottom of a cryptic boat. The hand on the staff tightened its grip, and the robed arm leading up to the rest of the body flexed its muscles. A second hand coiled around the staff at a higher point and pulled down as well. A blink of a million worlds passed by before the vessel emerged through the cut in the fabric - a small, grey dory with a tall bow and an equally tall stern. Standing a bit further behind than in the middle of the boat, a lanky, featureless figure sailed a constantly forming and disappearing river through the empty space above the palace. A purpose laid stuck in his head like dust glued onto a wall: Find the souls of the dead and take them somewhere - anywhere - just so long as they do not just sit around and cause havoc.

Sounded reasonable enough, he thought.

The Ferryman sailed gently, for he needed time to smell the world he had been birthed into. Dared he sail too fast, the coldness of space would pollute his soul-smelling nose. Yet the universe was in its infancy; he soon realised this when there were no souls to smell - none except those of the other divines brought into this reality, and some weak, very weak signals coming from the world below.

The Ferryman scratched his bald head in thought. Had not the powers of the universe been urgent? Why make him now if there was nothing to ferry? After much a-pondering, he found himself gently miffed. First day on the job and nothing to do.

Well, he could wait either here or down there. He saw colour flick across the world below. Something was happening there.

Seemed like a good place to start.

The grand wrym with pale splotches that decorated its scales of deepest blue like stars in the sky was not lost. No, not at all. The [boundless explorer] was simply doing what he did best, which was go where no one had ever dreamed of going before. Of course, this time, he may have gone just a touuuuuch too far to somewhere he had no way of getting back on his own, let alone being resuced.

Piercing the veil between universes and then going in near blind had perhaps not been the wisest move in hindsight, and though the view might be wonderful (swirling masses of color, writhing with potential and power surrounded the wrym as far as the eye could see) it did lack somewhat in things like: food, water, companionship and, well sanity.

Drifting here in the void, the wrym had long since expended all his supplies, but fortunately his [greater resistance: starvation] and [greater resistance: dehydration] perks were keeping him going, though only with enough energy to just barely turn the page of a book. The wyrm had a fair few of those, all his favorite kind, and the kind that had inspired him to be who he was today: tales of adventure. They were the kind of stories he could never get tired of, which was a good thing indeed, because he had lost count of how many times he had read them over and over and over and over again while drifting here in the void, the words, ideas and tropes all melding into his mind with each repetition.

Then, it came, salvation, heralded on the cosmic wind.

“I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!”

The wyrm stirred, eyes painstakingly turning away from the pages and towards the source of the sound. With that first and only fixed point, everything suddenly, briefly, made sense. Distance was nothing, not even a concept, in this place. All he needed to do was reach out with a thought and a wisp of power and he could be where the voice had come from.

Yet as he did, he felt a barrier, an insignificant thing really, a wisp of a field that kept what existed separate from what did not and yet, and yet, it was still far too much for the withering wyrm.

“Ah, curse, this… this… this tease!” he spoke with cracked lips “My mind is willing but my body, oh my body, i cant, it wont…” the wyrm despaired, curling in on itself in misery.

But then came a thought. And idea “if this body is dead and gone, why not just burn it for power? Yes. Yes! Oh it will cost so much but, ah, what is that compared to this sad bitter end” the wyrm said, before it coiled in on itself yet further, not to despair, but to consume. Like an ouroboros it devoured it’s own body for power and then pushed what little remained through the barrier and into the new world.

---

Then he opened his eyes, and though he was no longer a wyrm, he lived nonetheless

“AHAHAHAHA I AM A GENIUS!” he declared triumphantly, arms pumped up in the air. Or up in the void.

Then he looked down and saw the world, the only world, far far below him, yet also rapidly approaching.

“Oh No!” the new thing cried out, chestnut skinned limbs flailing as he plummeted towards the ground without a wyrm’s majestic grace.

“[Featherfall]! [Defy Gravity]! Damn it, why isn't it working!” He cried out as the powers of old failed to even manifest. Then he hit the atmosphere screaming and burned, burned, burned and his worldly possessions that he had spent so much power taking with him burning too. Fire consumed him and then, it ended.

For a moment he thought himself dead, and then he looked down and saw the same world below, still approaching, but slower now as terminal velocity took hold and the air softened his fall. Somewhat. Hitting the dirt was still going to hurt.

“What. how. Oooooooooh. ‘Join my pantheon, and become Divine’ of course, of course. Guess there was no vetting or application process then huh. Just stringent into the job? Well. if I’m divine then i should be able toooo” the new god put his hands together and focused for a moment, then cast them out and grasped onto the handrail of his new bright red canvased glider.

Then the screaming began again, but not of fear but of joy as the god claimed control of his fall and turned into a ferociously fast glide, the explorer rushing over the new land at terrible speeds. Blasting over the path of a butterfly, beneath that of a floating ship and across a marsh of blood till at least he slowed enough to come into a landing atop the tallest peak of a chain of mountains running from pole to equator.

The glider came in for a landing, flipped up at the last moment and two cat-like paws hit the surface of this new land for the first time. Then a second later a spiked end of a pole struck into the earth, and a flag unfurled at the top of the world.

“I calm this land in the name of… uh… where was I from again?” the alien invader asked himself, staring up at a set of colors on cloth he no longer knew the meaning of “Weeeeeelllllll shoot. Um. Oh! I know!” he said, before clearing his throat, and trying again “I claim this land in the name of Jeon Du Termas!” raising and replanting the flag that had become emblazoned with his own name, written in electrical blue cursive on a light pink background.

Jeon stood around for a few moments, feeling mighty proud of himself, and then rapidly got bored. “Eh, it’s not the same when there aren't some baffled natives around” he complained.

Then he looked down and realized that that was probably for the best.

“Ah so that is why it was feeling a bit cold down there. woops”

As funny as it would be to meet a local or other god in the nude, his new body made that a pretty embarrassing prospect , and so a nice pair of shorts, a waistcoat, and some fluttery flowing garbs for the arms and butt were in order. Throw in some glittering jewels here and there and he was the picture of princely finery.

“There we go. Nice and presentable. Oh and one last thing” he said after his makeover, before adding a nice curved rapier to his hip. Just because he was a god didn't mean he shouldn't be armed after all. “Dangerous world out there after all. Probably. Maybe. Better be, won't be exciting if its not”

All suited up, he put two scaled fingers to his lips and whistled, causing his glider to get picked up by a gust of wind and blown back to him. The god leapt, snatched the bar of it again, and then was off, swooping across the world once more to see what there was to see.

“I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!"

And thus did Myrtu finally stir from their slumber. Around him, the wispy iridescent simmering of the nebula swirled as his eyes opened. Slowly it shifted and spiraled, as multicolored smoke, in response to his every motion, as he unfolded his legs. How long had he been asleep? Crackling sheets of ice cascading off of her body, as she shook the grogginess from her frame, implied that the gentle nap had lasted for quite a while longer than expected.

She had found this frozen hunk of matter on her travels. Trailing sparkling dust, it had been sprinting through the depths of space. Joyful and believing it to be another of her kind, she had taken great strides to catch up to it. Though disappointed it was not another- neither bearing horn nor mane- Myrtu had still sprinted along with it, in admiration for its freely chosen path through the cosmos. Togethrt they had romed until there came a time she had grown weary from the joy of it all. With the sprinting hunk's permission, she had settled onto its surface, which had proven to be quite the gentle resting ground, indeed.

And now look!

How wonderful, that it had taken their mutual traveling path through such a vast nebula- one whose colors were just as beautiful as their own! Had it wished to ease the last of Myrtu's fading sorrows with one final show? Together, theyd traveled to many beautiful places, and slowly the burden of loneliness had indeed faded, but still Myrtu had felt the pangs of emptiness within- were they truly the last of their kind, after all?

But such beauty lifted the darkness of such thoughts.
And finally, Myrtu once again could think:

Someone else should see this!

Because they'd heard her voice calling from the distance.

Myrtu had liberated their world and all it's people- set them free for they had begged it- so none of them could see this. Not anymore. Not as they once had- with joyful eyes and hearts- and laughter that had filled the skies. There had been no one else for perhaps longer than they had slept- or maybe even longer than he had ran? He wanted to ask the hunk of space if it was able to see as he could, but Myrtu had never been able to communicate with it.

Then again, the mass had brought him close enough to hear the Voice- that faint call from the distance. Could it be that it wanted, at last, to show him that he may be the last of his kind, but not the last that could communicate as he could.

Another run was due, then.

Now, in order to show others his beauty- to show her- whoever had awakened him, the beauty of this nebula as a recreation, perhaps. Myrtu had always been told his creations were magnificent, after all.

"Farewell mine silent companion- forever shall I remember thee- for without thine stoic steadiness, I surely would Have submitted to the vile madness of loneliness and seclusion," Myrtu told the comet, her horn touching its surface, in gentle adoration, "Until we meet again."

And so it was that Myrtu sprinted across the stars- their power and speed unmatched by all but the Divine. They sprinted, seeking... searching...

Ah!


It was from this barren rock that the voice did come- this fragile world shifting before their eyes, which was alarmingly too small. Myrtu had arrived in MAXIMUM size before the world, which was only as large as half the size of their comet-friend. Politely, she shrank herself- down, down... To the size of something more suited for such a tiny planet. Such a cute little stone hanging in space.

She paid no others any mind as her eyes were set upon a singular path forward- to the perfect place where she knew she was meant to be, for now.

So it was in that cold and barren pole- that place as cold and comforting as the surface of that sprinting comet- that Myrtu landed. She found herself still towering, horn brushing the lower atmosphere, and once more had to shrink herself. Now that she was here, she wanted to the run needed to be enjoyable! And that could only be done on such a small rock in a vastly smaller form, of course.

Myrtu regarded the goat-fawn-cat-being for a moment, then equated her size to that which stood only four heads taller than him, before taking to the skies once more.

In such a place, in the cold and barren, with the skies so thusly open and blue, Myrtu ran wildly, trailing behind them a dazzling display of color and shimmering lights. Despite the light of the currently eternal day, the sparkling colors dancing above the pole could be seen with their wild and free run, hanging behind their path.

When at last they had completed their sprinting, bearing not even a pant or huff for the exertion, Myrtu's hooves halted once more. Their horn aglow, they pointed them to the sky above the pole, with all its vastly dazzling colors, and set their creation... free.

To no one in particular, he shouted, "As beautiful as mine resting ground, in distant depths of black and frost, so too shall these lights roam the skies- wild and free! To it, I gave no name, for it is free of my own declaration! Behold!"

The Unamed Creation of Myrtu, a phenomena of multicolored lights, will 'roam' the skies freely and slowly. They will appear bright or faint, dazzling or dull, no matter the background light in the sky, and will return to 'rest' at the pole when eventually comes.

^{Edit: Fixed number of AP. Changed arrival size. Changed Chaos to Potential.}

---

It was a beautiful melody and gentle radiance that surrounded her as the symphony of the stars continued, and so she contemplated in solace.

The red goddess did not seek to claim the nascent cosmos as her divine demesne, yet the truth of her inner authority and nature could not be concealed for a long period, and it would lead to terrible conflict. She had seen and experienced it many times, but it did not intimidate her. She would still invite others into her world, and accept the consequences... She did not wish to be alone any longer, and was not afraid of outsiders coming to her.

Was it because she remained faithful? A question that haunted her as she murmured to herself reassuring words that she had proclaimed long ago:

“I will bring Honor to the world…”

Once again… as she lingered in the heavens above, Homura allowed her gaze to languidly drift towards the empty world she had created, so small and insignificant compared to the black abyss all around, and yet it evoked something special inside her - a yearning. A fulfilling purpose.

She would continue to create beauty and traverse farther along the Sacred Path in search of whatever awaited ahead of her. She would be devoted to freeing herself and her family from the Eternal Cycle of Endless Return, and shatter the unseen chains that imprisoned all of them.

Anath Homura felt her shape twist slightly inwards, and she placed her hand upon the shimmering white rose that resided where her second eye should be. The acquired asymmetry bothered her, accompanied with a defiant agony that continually threatened to tear her apart. Her other hand was placed upon her quivering chest, where she felt the pain of heartache swell. She could not simply reach within herself and quell it, regardless of her tremendous efforts. It was a familiar paradoxical pain, healing and hurting her simultaneously. The ache would fade away soon, but it could not be ignored now.

- - -

Nothingness. Light. Nothingness again. Bright burning light and then pain, more than anyone should be able to handle. More than it should be possible to exist and then, again, nothingness.

“ Ahhhhaaaaaa! Blasted creature! ” yelled a creature as she popped into existence, falling towards the barren orb at a very high speed.

A loud burp sound could be heard from where she first appeared.
Shaking her head and coming fully to her senses, Ashevelen stopped herself in mid-air. She proceeded to brush off specs of slime off her clothes and with a smile on her face look around. The orb below her majestic form looked empty, sad, vacant. Nothing interesting. Sensing another presence around her, she turned towards it.

With a small bow towards it and a grin on her face, Ashe addressed the divine being.

“ Apologies for my entrance. Those Blergarianian creatures are powerful but damn, it hurts going through them. I’ve got a myriad of names spread around the cosmos, but you may address me as Ashevelen. May I enquire if you are the one that called me here? ” her voice was friendly but guarded.

“I am Anath Homura, and I am the one that called you here. Be welcome, Ashevelen.” The red goddess answered solemnly.

The impassive visage of the Anath Homura consisted of a small and simple shape with lithe limbs sprouting from a torso, and a single head connected via neck to the chest, all of her body adorned with a modest carmine attire trimmed with white. Her long crimson hair was tied back by ribbons resembling roses, and her one fiery eye relentlessly stared at Ashevelen.

Anath Homura carried no weapons and wore no armor, but wielded an aura of immense power that resonated with the rest of creation and brooked nothing resembling resistance to its absolute authority as a warning. Though she stood upon nothing, hanging in stillness in solitude, Homura also exuded a semblance of subtle joy and obvious etiquette, as she then bowed in return before returning to an upright and straight stance.

Ashe rose up from her bowed position as Homura talked. A sign of humility or weakness in front of another divine being but such was her way, appearing weak when needed, strong when not. Her form was indeed simple for a divine being, two arms, two legs and a well formed body with a long golden robe covering it.

“ Truly a pleasure to meet you. My old place got very boring after the first millennia and I was in need of something new. I thank you for your invitation to share this place with you and others who might answer your call. ” said Ashe, her tone changing to match Homura’s.

Looking at the barren orb below her for a second, she shook her head.

“ A bit empty down there for now. Lonely place. I shall get onto that later on, but first…” continued Ashe before making a small pause to turn towards Homura, looking her in her normal eye.

“ It is in my nature to offer you a gift for inviting me here. Call it a sign of goodwill and, hopefully, the start of a good relationship. Tell me what it is that you wish, great Homura and if it is within my power, I shall make it. ”

“It is my wish to be with my family. Hmm… therefore, your presence here is enough of a gift from you that I gladly accept and appreciate it. Let it be known that I have no intention of harming you, Ashevelen… or the others that arrive here - let us all enjoy peace and prosperity together.” Anath Homura replied, gesturing outwards with open arms and a poised smile conveying a much more amicable attitude than what she had earlier presented. However, It was also evidently cryptic and contradictory; a strange melding of sincerity and secrets behind an exquisite facade. She spoke both truth and lies using the same words and mannerisms.

Ashevelen nodded sagely, as a trader with experience, she knew how to discern the meaning behind the words of people. Even if those people were divine beings such as herself.

A hole in existence appeared next to her hand and she put her hand through it, concentrating for a few seconds. A bright light came out of it, illuminating the surrounding space. As she pulled her hand out of the hole, it closed itself as fast as it appeared. In her hand, a small mirror rested. Golden on the sides and the glass which the mirror was made of shone bright.

“ You wish to be with your family and with your family you shall be. Concentrate on the mirror, imagine the person you wish to see and they will appear to you. Just an illusion based on your memories and imagination, mind you. ” said Ashevelen with a bit of pride in her voice as she made the mirror levitate towards Homura.

“Indeed…” Homura said as she beheld the golden mirror after receiving it, and then tipped her head with gratitude towards Ashevelen. A motion that was accompanied by a slight smile that seemed bittersweet. The red goddess slowly closed her one eye and she spoke again, exuding an aura of serene calm, as even their surroundings emulated this tranquility through a sudden stillness, a soft and almost silken suppression of the ambient song of the stars.

“I will be returning to my realm after I have greeted the other gods and goddesses that are willing to speak with me. Hmm… Ashevelen, I ask that you please visit my home and share the gift of your presence with me again.”

“ I shall graciously do so, Anath, but first…I’d like to have some fun. And so, with the initial pleasantries done, I will take my leave as well. ” said Ashe as she bowed once more to Homura.

Looking down, she noticed other divines answering the call and she grinned. With a whoop , Ashe sped downwards at high speed towards this new world. A new beginning.

---

At first there was nothing. Peace. Quiet. Tranquility. Silence. There was an overwhelming nothingness that permeated through thought and time. A great hollow that was forgotten by almost all… Save one. The last of the deities that chose to exist from a time long waylaid and obscured. Sleeping quietly within a grand yet empty castle, surrounded on all sides by nothingness was a goddess. Clad from neck to toe in gleaming plate armor, an empty scabbard lay at one side. In their left hand was a broken sword. Perhaps some conflict had taken place, and even though victorious the goddess was left exhausted of all of her power? There was no way to be sure.

One might have assumed that this goddess was human, save for the fact that her ears were most decidedly not. It became apparent then that this goddess was an elf of some kind, though whether or not they were the first of the elves or the result of the elves was a mystery that had been lost to time. But all of that had faded away into irrelevance with the perpetual passage of time. For now the goddess slept and dreamed of times where things were better. The goddess did not know how long the dream lasted, but all at once she was stirred to life once more by a voice echoing beyond the boundaries of time and space. “I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!”

At first there was no motion, but after an unknown collection of moments a blue eye opened, then the other. Their color stood in stark contrast to the washed out surroundings that the goddess existed in. Stiffness creaked within their body as the goddess began to move for the first time in ages. Placing a hand upon the arm of the throne they had been slumped in for so long, the goddess rose from her idle position and looked around what was left of their realm with what could only be described as curiosity. How had it gotten this bad?

Remembering their discarded scabbard, the goddess returned to the throne room and retrieved it. As it was moved, an ample amount of dust fell from it. How long had it been since she had dropped it there? Looking at her broken sword, the goddess gave a sigh before coughing. It had been so long since she had spoken that her body had grown unaccustomed to it. No matter, that would recover soon enough. Placing what remained of her sword back into its scabbard, the goddess remembered two other things that were out of place.

The first, which was addressed immediately, was her hair. The goddess bid it to grow as it wished once more, and as she walked towards another room in the castle her hair gradually restored itself to its proper length: Mid calf. The second was contained within this room, albeit discarded in haste and not properly stored as it should have been. Laying upon the ground was a hooded cloak, and it too was covered in dust. Lifting the cloak gently, the goddess frowned at the fact that its brilliant red color was washed out by the overwhelming light of her realm. No matter. It too would be restored in time.

Slinging the cloak around her shoulders gently, the goddess walked out to a balcony and looked upwards towards the encroaching darkness. It was there that she saw a faint glimmer of light. The source of the voice that she had heard earlier. The goddess paused for a moment and then some. Was it for the best to leave everything behind? Perhaps not everything. Returning to the various rooms of the palace, the goddess retrieved something that seemed small and insignificant, but the ring that they tucked away meant much to them. That, however, was a mystery for another time.

Returning to the balcony with her keepsake in hand, the goddess turned to look longingly at what once was her realm one last time before she turned her attention towards the small glimmer of light hanging in the middle of a vast sea of darkness. Perhaps it was for the best to try and begin anew. Reaching towards the light, the goddess allowed herself to be pulled toward it. Casting a look back at her realm for just a moment, she watched as it began to rapidly crumble away without her presence. She had but a moment to reconsider, but in the end decided that it was best to let go.

Closing her eyes as she was pulled into the new reality, the goddess felt her form begin to morph and change as she was touched by the raw cosmic energy that dwelt in the space between realities. This caused her no small amount of disdain, as the goddess was quite happy with her form. Focusing upon how she viewed herself within her mind's eye, the goddess shunted away the meddling energy and recomposed herself as she was.

Feeling the firmness of ground beneath her feet, the goddess opened her eyes to the sight of a barren continent. Behind her was an ocean, deathly still and seemingly devoid of life. Before her was a barren landscape. Raw, untamed, and untouched. A blank canvas to call her own, then. Looking down at herself, the goddess noted that she was seemingly much bigger than she originally was, though otherwise things remained the same. It would have to be lived with. She was at least glad to see the proper red and gold color returned to her cloak.

Turning towards the water, the goddess reached for her broken sword and began to slowly draw it. As she did, a brilliant light began to emanate from the scabbard and what was broken was made whole again, although it was now considerably massive to match her enlarged stature. Holding the blade aloft for a few moments, the goddess studied it before nodding in satisfaction. Approaching the rough beach, the goddess gently raised her blade aloft before bringing the edge down harshly into the water. The result of this was a massive wave of water throwing itself into the air as the sea parted before her will. Following this, the goddess raised the point of her sword towards the now exposed sea floor and issued a simple verbal command. ”Rise.”

Soon afterward the ground began to shake and a bridge began to come forth, pulled straight from the bedrock of the world. The stone gleamed white in color, polished smooth by the will of the goddess. As the bridge was formed, the goddess began to slowly walk across it, sword still held forward as she commanded the fortress into existence. Once she was far away enough from the shore, the goddess stopped and pointed her sword straight down. Grasping the hilt with both hands, she brought the tip of her sword skyward and willed the grandest portion of her city into place.

With an earthquake-like rumble, a huge fortress erupted from the sea floor. It was made of the same gleaming white stone that the bridge was constructed from, and it too was polished smooth. Immense and powerful walls rose into place, followed by buildings of various types and forms. Finally, a grand tower rose into place in the middle of the Fortress-City, and the goddess released her will upon the water. Once the water had finished rushing back into place, another wall was willed into being, one capable of being opened and closed. It swallowed a portion of the sea, and the stone once more warped to make way for a set of docks that could hold large and mighty ships as needed. Holes to allow for the passage of water in and out of the captured sea were formed, and with the last touches in place the Fortress-City was complete.

But for all its might and all its majesty the city was empty. That wouldn’t do at all. Walking through the city and making sure that everything was in place, the goddess climbed to the top of the central tower. Looking towards the horizon, the goddess blinked a few times. For a time, she thought about the failures of her previous plans. But now many of the things that were the end goals of her previous ideas were now already complete. But there was still one that had yet to be finished. A goal that had been so long in the making that in the end it had never come to fruition. The creation of her people: The Virtus Elves.

Holding her sword aloft once more, the goddess brought her scabbard to its point and focused for just a moment. Gripping the scabbard tightly, she rammed the sword home into it, deliberately dragging the edge of her sword against the inner wall of the scabbard. This sent a shower of sparks down onto the city and into the wind, free to drift away wherever they would be taken. Hundreds if not thousands of sparks landed upon the city, and from each one of them came an elf. Each of them was fair and beautiful, and they came into being as if they had always existed.

From one moment of deafening silence to a city that was filled to the brim with activity, the goddess lowered her sword and bound the scabbard to her side, as it was meant to be. Looking down at her people, she could not help but cry softly. Tears of joy and fulfillment at plans long overdue finally coming to completion. Perhaps this new start was just what she had needed. But as soon as her small celebration ended, a realization set in: With this new start it was inevitable that new responsibilities and conflicts would come to her gates. And with this inevitability came the thought that it was entirely possible that she would not be around to manage every aspect of her people’s lives. Nor did she really want to, for that would take freedom away from her people.

It was best to warn them, then. Descending from her tower, the goddess called out throughout the city, summoning the populace in order to explain her hopes for their future. Once all were gathered, the goddess explained that while she would do everything she could to protect and lead them, she could not be present all the time. Thus she explained that it was their charge to be ready to defend themselves and their city as often as they could. A wave of silent agreement spread through the crowd, but then a question came forward. One of genuine curiosity: The elves instinctively recognize her as their creator, but who was she?

The goddess blinked, realizing that she had yet to introduce herself at all. Embarrassed that her manners had faded so harshly, the goddess placed a hand across her chest and bowed deeply before speaking. ”My apologies to you all. It has been so long that I have forgotten my manners. I am Celestine, goddess of war. You are my people, the Virtus Elves. And this city is Earthwall. It is your fortress and your home. I will shelter and lead all of you as best I can…” It was here that, upon standing up, Celestine’s eye traced across someone towards the back of the crowd that had gathered. As she finished her sentence, she began to walk forward. ”But I cannot do so alone. Nor do I wish to have a hand in each of your individual lives, for this would most likely stifle your ability to function without me. So to this end I will work to gather those who have the greatest potential for leadership. These people will become your leaders, and in so doing I hope to create a chain that will bring all of your collective concerns to the people who can, and will, act in your best interest, even if I should not be here.”

And it was here that Celestine stopped, standing before someone who to most was yet another elf. But to Celestine’s eyes she saw the potential for greatness. Placing a hand upon their shoulder Celestine asked their name and was given Navari Sathia. Nodding, Celestine spoke softly to them, illustrating the role that they were being offered: Championship. The removal of mortal limits and the ability to rise and meet any challenge that would come to face them. At first there was hesitance, but then came acceptance.

Thus did Celestine draw her sword once more, and instructed the elf to kneel. Following this, she carefully tapped each of their shoulders, and announced that they had been knighted with the title of Ser, and they were now the champion of the city, second only to herself in authority. Offering the elf a hand, Celestine spoke softly once more. ”Come. There is much that I will tell you.”

---

How long has he wandering the void? He thought to himself, always at the edge of sleep. Barely awake and aware of things and with little knowledge of how he got in this position. Or much else really other than his name, his honor, how to fight, and not much less of his past. A strange circumstance he is in, and he does not know why. And as he was starting to think about thought, he heard it.

"I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!"

And the voice did something unexpected to him. It woke him up and made a thunderous yawn. Now fully awake and clear-minded. A state he has not been a in a long time. Ravdur stopped immediately in his tracks as he pondered the call. A call to a new world, to shape and sculpt to one's desire. A compelling offer, he does not remember the last world he has seen, and now he is awake and aware. It does dawn on him that he has been alone for who knows how long. "Perhaps it is best to heed the call by this Anath Homura and venture forth to claim my role in this pantheon." Talking to himself and it did not take long for him to come to a decision. Aligning himself to the direction of the voice, Ravdur launched himself through the void like a comet. Finally awake and with purpose once more.

It did not take long for Ravdur to reach Galbar and landed somewhat hard on the surface. Looking around, he could see a few gods and the caller, Anath Homura. Ravdur locked eyes with her and, rather than speak. He simply made a friendly smile and nodded to her. Then making his way to glaze upon Galbar. "Hmmm, so the others have started working, I see." He could sense them, the other gods, and see their work on the planet. A massive mountain range, mesa, desert, a swamp of blood, and a city with mortals in them. The last one caused him to raise an eyebrow. Mortals and a city already? "Either I was slow, or they are fast," he chuckled to himself. But, still, the world was still mostly barren, and he ought to help change that.

So Ravdur made his way towards the northern half of the northern continent. Moving like a comet and landing like a meteor. Making a small crater when he landed and looked around. Barren wasteland, nothing but dead black earth that was waiting to be remade with life. And he knows exactly what he wants to do. He does not remember if he has done this before, but he does not care.

At that moment, from where he was standing in the crater. Life erupted from where he stood and spread out at the speed of light. Soon reaching the parts of the continents where it was best suited for. An environment that, while cold and can be unforgiving. A place where others could live and thrive if they were hardy enough. Along with the animals need to sustain it. He would leave this new land unnamed for the moment. Waiting to see what mortals would come to this land and settle it. What next? Well, Ravdur has a few ideas.

There once was a city ruled by a tyrant. This man was not especially cruel for his era; his measures were harsh, but necessary. Under his rule the thieves were hanged, the beggars were lashed across the back and driven away, deserting soldiers and disloyal nobles were beheaded, the greedy merchants were cast out into exile (their possessions were naturally forfeit, seized by the tyrant to fund his army), adulterous wives had their ears severed, the wicked and impious were burnt at the stake in gruesome displays, and the grisliest punishments of all befell the runaway or rebellious slaves. All of these punishments were carried out by the tyrant’s men in a public square for all to see, before a great monument hewn from gray granite. This ostentatious monument had been raised by some long-gone lord that few remembered, and whatever its original purpose, by virtue of its place in that square the people came to connote it with their tyrant’s justice.

The monolithic structure was then something of a shrine to the civic rule of law, to punishment, to order, to the structure and hierarchy that had restored the failing city from the brink of ruin at the hands of its many rivals. Life was good for the average man of the city in those days, even if they lived through almost perpetual war! Indeed, by having driven out the filth and created discipline, the tyrant had single-handedly staved off a long decline and cultural decay, his soldiers even making some gains and reclaiming long-lost lands from neighboring city-states. But he was only a man, and so the tyrant passed as all mortals do, and the city was not long to outlast him. A soft man succeeded that tyrant as lord of the city, and his reign ended a decade later when another lord’s soldiers broke down the gates. The streets were choked with blood, the men massacred while the women and children were dragged off in chains, the temples and the tyrant’s palace ransacked, the houses set aflame, the tomb of their hated enemy the late tyrant was leveled and his many statues cast down, and finally, a once-great monument to justice was defaced.

The collective consciousness of the people – their unwitting reverence and mild idolatry – had made the monument into something more than mere stone. Though they did not know it, they had given the thing an essence and life; however, when nought remained but bones and ruin, the spirit that had been born within the monument eventually moved on. It might have exacted retribution in the ways that it knew against those who had destroyed its first home, but it possessed no such power; it was condemned to be a silent witness to the world, not a shaper of it.

The spirit was immortal, but it knew only justice and law and punishment and order, so it meandered across the land and observed the executioners with an interminable, puerile fascination. Nothing else held its interest, and in truth it was barely even sentient. Eventually the world itself came to die, that first city having been just a microcosm of a greater decay. Still, the spirit persisted. Weary and sad, it drifted away. It slept and was lost to time, until eventually, something roused it.

It sensed somewhere new, just barely flourishing: yonder there was an infant world, not a fading one like it had once known. Justice could be observed once more! It raced forward, rocketing through the cosmos; it must have been asleep for countless aeons, for it tore through the void with power and swiftness that it had never known before, and it realized then that it was an infant no longer.

During its approach, it realized that it no longer had a shell to dwell within like that granite monument. It had accreted… something of a body, but that form did not please it. So its will seized the void and rent order and substance out of chaos and nothingness, and so a great mass of metal congealed in a familiar dull gray hue. The spirit’s unbreaking will wrought the gigantic asteroid into an impossibly dense, divinely-imbued suit of armor. No eyes or senses, be they divine or mortal, would be able to penetrate through the plates or visor and see what dwelled beneath; he had privacy again. Likewise, the armor could defy magic and steel with ease; this would not become some cairn heap of stone pieces. The spirit reckoned that by virtue of this, it could be both invisible and safe during its observations. Now, it – no, he – was ready.

---

When he finally drew near to the nascent world, its atmosphere clawed at him. It couldn’t do the faintest bit of harm through his armor, but the sense of it pushing and dragging his mass during the fall was a novel experience. It was a strange feeling, to feel. The friction quickly grew great enough for a majestic cloak of fire to wreathe him for his descent. Fond memories returned: great heaps of wood, majestic blazes, screaming witches and warlocks.

Ecstasy filled his being when the spirit realized that now, he could bring about justice himself! Perhaps he needn’t merely observe passively from afar! But then he was filled with an inscrutable turmoil that coursed through his every fiber of being – was it justice if he did it? Was it legal? He contemplated that for the rest of the way down, and even once he landed gently.

Absent-mindedly, he looked around to see the depression in the sand that he’d disturbed, and also the listless motes of dust thrown up by his arrival. It was certainly not his prerogative to go about defacing the landscape another had wrought. But perhaps it was his right, or perhaps even his duty, to bring justice to this world? As he delicately put the coarse earth back into place, he reflected upon his qualifications for the role. He had spent thousands of years bearing witness to justice at the ends of justice, and then for an eternity thereafter he had meditated upon all that he had seen in empty darkness and in silence. That settled it – he realized that none were likely to ever be so learned or worthy to carry out Justice as he!

He paced for a moment, weighing these revelations. There was suddenly a great pride that lifted his heels, a heavy burden upon his shoulders, an eagerness swelling up somewhere beneath his breastplate. As if to denote the great significance of that moment, the ground itself trembled from some distant perturbation.



Then with the lifeless wastes as his witness, the god made a solemn vow:

"I will be True, and hold all else to the same precept."

Tiny flakes of dirt and regolith drifted through the air, cast up by his landing. The motes of dust were silent, and they seemed to meet his words with equal resolve. He looked around, restless.

To be true to himself, he could never rest, would never tire, until all things were exactly as they should be, guided by the tenets and laws of those whose will shaped the world; but not by his, certainly. He did not presume to determine what was lawful or orderly, though he knew that he would be able to innately sense anything that rebelled against its lot. By that feeling if nothing else, he would find the faults in the universe and right them.

He felt it right then, even in that earliest of days. The towering metal giant spun around suddenly and fell onto his knees, brushing the ground with his hands to fill in the tiny depression left by his landing and ever so carefully restore it to exactly what it had been a few moments before. His passion compelled him!

Of course, his work was undone soon thereafter when huge clouds of dust and toxic metals, hurled from beyond the horizon, came to rain down on him. His first instinct was fury – he considered hunting down the perpetrator of this calamitous destruction, the one who had undone his very careful restoration of the ground over the last few moments and punishing the criminal severely. He stormed forward as a colossus with massive strides, effortlessly fighting against the flying clouds and rivers of earth, the metal of his armor groaning as it warped to match his growing size. Yet then he peered through the sandstorm, his divine gaze reaching out the horizon, and he beheld the perpetrator and sighed in disappointment.

Yonder there was no criminal, just some spirit like him – no, nothing like him. She had no armor like his to hide her spirit, so he could perceive her easily enough, and he recognized her as a goddess of earth. Such a dreadful, useless aspect, he found himself suddenly thinking, but then he fondly recalled memories of gray granite, and judged her much more fondly for it. In moving that earth, careless and bothersome as it might have been, she had been fulfilling her role and prerogative. She’d therefore committed no great crime that he could discern, and so he could take no action… alas! He deflated and shrank a bit, then began to wander the world. He sought out an opportunity to witness justice, or better yet, deliver it himself – the time would surely come soon, and he’d waited so long.

---

A fiery black entity hurled toward Galbar.

This entity was intelligent. Or it had been, once. But its mind was fragmented. Only powerful-yet-vague emotions remained. Now, however, as it entered into this new world, driven by sheer instinct toward the mysterious voice, it - no, his thoughts began to reform, and with them came memories. Memories of the emotional pain of betrayal. Of the physical pain of a mortal blow. Death had not stopped the pain, however, for his betrayers had then went on to target his very soul. Then, once they were done with him, they had cast him out into the void between realms. Or had he fled? He was unsure. It was all so blurry. There was much he did not know.

How long had his spirit been adrift?

He had fallen through the cosmos like a shrieking black comet, howling for justice, then for vengeance, then simply for someone to know of his plight, until his mind had fractured to such an extent that all he had left was incohorent rage and occasional bouts of intense sorrow and loneliness. Then at some point he had stopped moving, and his burning hot rage slowly transitioned into a cold fury. He had forgotten why he was angry, but he knew whatever he was angry at, he was justified, and became all the angrier for not remembering.

Then he had heard the voice, and had felt a pull toward it, which he had decided to follow.

And now he was falling once again.

He slammed into the ground, shaking the earth and leaving a vast crater where he had fallen. He felt no pain from the impact. The black energy swirling about his soul then slowly began to coalesce into a form.

---

He lay there in the crater for days, trying to make sense of his newly-repaired and yet still so heavily-damaged mind. The sunlight shone on his red skin, and he rose to his feet. The memories came clearer now. Still fractured, still unclear, still in bits and pieces, but better than before. A word sprung to his mind. Aldion. What did that mean? Then it came to him. A name. That was his name. He was Aldion. He had been powerful once. Then he had been betrayed. By those he had expected to be loyal.

He flexed his muscles and felt divine might course through his veins. He still was powerful. Then, he began to laugh. His struggle was over. He was alive. His memories may be fractured and clouded, but his mind was lucid once more. He would not be fooled again. And vengeance could be his. "The traitors will pay," he declared quietly to nobody but himself, before it occurred to him that he had no idea who those traitors were or how to get back to them.

Vengeance would have to wait, he grudgingly conceded.

And then he climed out of the crater.

---

No sooner had he crawled out of the crater did he see a figure approaching him. A bipedal creature, perhaps six feet tall, with disheveled golden hair and pointed ears. He noticed her hands were stained with red. Despite her unkempt appearance, there was something graceful about her. As soon as he set eyes upon her, she stopped, and suddenly dropped to her knees, as if compelled to by some unknown force.

"And who would you be?" Aldion asked, curiously, before furrowing his brow. He could sense something in her. Something dark, and treacherous.

"Z-Zylana," she answered, nervously.

"Zylana," Aldion repeated, as if testing the name. "You are covered in some sort of life essence. Blood, I think. Is it yours?" He began to approach her.

"I..." she stuttered. "I killed, and ate an animal. I was hungry."

"An animal, you say?" He looked about the desolate landscape. "Where did you kill it? Describe it. I am most curious to know what sort of life can be found here."

She did not answer. Her gaze dropped to the ground. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Her expression was obviously full of remorse and guilt.

"Well?" Aldion prompted.

Still no answer.

"I can sense the stain of betrayal in your soul," Aldion continued, his voice quiet and gentle. "A grevious crime, one that there can be no attonement for if you hide it."

"I..." she was beginning to sob. "I didn't... we thought..." She took several long moments to collect herself. "We were created in a shining city," she said. "And... well, we left. Falyn and I. Not too long after we were created. The city was beautiful but... it just felt too closed. Too constricting. I wasn't the only one who felt that way. There was another. Falyn. He and I, we left. We wanted to see if there was anything out there in the fields. If we kept at it in a straight direction, it wouldn't be hard to find our way back..." the tears seemed to redouble, and she once again paused to compose herself.

"We got lost," she admitted. "I don't know how. But we did. We were hungry, and thirsty. We thought we were going to die. He blamed me, and I blamed him. I..."

"You killed him," Aldion concluded.

Zylana nodded, letting out a choked sob. Aldion reached down and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Stand," he ordered. She did not move. "Stand," he insisted again, this time more firmly.

Slowly, Zylana rose to her feet. "What are you going-"

Aldion seized her by the throat, and lifted her into the air. Flames of black, green, blue, and orange raced across her body. She became to scream. It lasted only for a few moments. Within seconds, her flesh melted away and her bones were reduced to ashes.

"Betrayer," he hissed with contempt.

Then, something rose from the pile. It was shining, although Aldion could see a black darkness within. He looked at it, intrigued, and then realized that was what he had sensed. It attempted to move away from him, but then he reached out toward it, and suddenly it flew into his palm. He held it out before him, and peered into it, studying it. He saw images of her brief, short life - of the city of which she had spoken, and of her companion. He saw their treck through the wastes, their desperation. Their shared realization that it had been foolish to so brazenly leave the city without first talking to their goddess. Their decision to blame one another rather than work together. Their fight. The murder. And in addition to seeing what she saw, he felt everything she felt.

"You enjoyed killing him," Aldion realized. speaking directly to the soul. "You enjoyed it." He continued watching, until he saw her fateful encounter with himself, and this time witnessed her true feelings. "Your tears were a deception, to gain my sympathy. But I have no sympathy - it was burned from me long ago." He ruminated for a moment. "I will give you some credit - you put on a good act, and it was a deception based on truth. You did feel sorrow. But it was a selfish sort of sorrow. You were sad because you knew your life was at an end. Some part of you knew I would see through you. And even if I couldn't, you knew you would die out here. And even if you did find your way back, you knew your kin would suspect what you had done."

"And I can see things in your soul that not even you knew," Aldion whispered coldly. "You were carrying his offspring." The soul began thrashing in his grip, as if in agony. As if it could hear him.

He did not let it go. Instead, he offered a cruel smirk. "You are mine now, little soul. I shall think of a suitable punishment for you in time. But for now, I can use some company. Although I must admit, I have little desire in seeking out this city or goddess of yours if you are the sort of creature they produced. No doubt there are more like you, and they must be punished too. In time."

---

“Boring boring boring, it’s just rocks rocks rocks,” Jeon complained as he soared above a particularly barren part of the southern continent, having accidentally gone in just the entirely wrong direction when it came to cool places to see. Then, all of a sudden, he spotted something out of the ordinary. Sparkles, drifting on the wind.

“Ooo what is that” the god cooed and swept down after them and followed in their wake till they rained down on an unremarkable patch of land devoid of life. Till now.

The sparkles burst into bright flashes where they landed, and unveiled tall creatures with fair skin and pointed ears. As the god swooped in they began picking themselves up and looking around in a daze, only to startle as the god leapt from his glider and landed among them.

“Hello hello! Don’t be afraid my tall elvish friends, it's just me, your friendly neighborhood god, Jeon Du Termas!” the adventurer assured the beings, having assumed their species correctly, amused by how the towering beings shied away from his comparatively short form.

One (male, long flowing black hair down to his shoulders, a bit scrawny but tall even for his kind) found the courage to speak up and ask “G-god? You are a god?”

“Yup. immortality, impossibly good vision, spontaneous creation of whatever I want. The works.” Jeon elaborated, making a little shower of sparkles appear from his hand to show off. Then he realized that most of the elves couldn't see him and ordered the asker to “You, minion, pick me up and put me on your shoulders!”

“I... yes my god, right away” the bemused elf replied, and soon enough Jeon was riding piggyback on the shoulders of the tall elf, now nicely in view of the others as he held up a hand and shot a series of magical missiles into the sky like fireworks and declaring “Behold a god!”and revelling in the oohs and aahs he got in response.

“If.. if you are a god then.. Did you make us?” the one hesitantly asked once his little show was over “and.. All of this?”

“... sure!” Jeon lied, before taking another look at ‘all this’ and adjusting “Well not all this. This lame dead place was here when I got here. Not exactly a fun to explore let me tell you. Once you’ve seen one field of gray rocks you’ve seen them all to be honest. But don’t you worry, ol Jeon’s going to get you covered on that, because as your gracious creator I'll also be making this place way more fun!” he declared, before adding “Oh and also livable” almost as a second thought.

That whoever had made these tall folks had allowed them to come to life in the middle of nowhere with no food or shelter made Jeon consider his impulsive directions to claim to be their creator entirely justified. Never mind that he too had almost forgotten about their basic needs too.

“Now watch, as I bring this dead land to life before your very eyes!” he declared, before conjuring a single seed and tossing it over the heads of the elves to land in the dirt beyond their gathering. After a moment a single tree began to rapidly grow from the earth

There were gasps of amazement, and then an awkward silence as the single tree just kept getting bigger and bigger which, while impressive, didn't exactly constitute enough plantlife to live off of.

“I’m sorry but, ah, is that-” one began to say before Jeon held up a hand and said “Waiiiiiit for it”

The tree grew to maturity, bloomed and then sprouted seeds, which fell around it. Then those started growing, flowering, and seeding too, each sequence going faster and faster and faster, till hundreds of years of cycles of growth where occurring in the blink of an eye and then after an age and no time at all the elves were left standing in a clearing in the middle of a vast and positively ancient woods.

“And hey presto, that’s how you make a quintessential dark forest” the god declared, giving a little bow from atop his godly shoulder throne. The elves eyed the woods, which were quite dark and foreboding truth be told, and which echoed with the sounds of strange beasts, with a certain amount of apprehension.

When one of them asked what was in there Jeon shrugged his shoulders and replied “I have no idea!”

“But.. did you not make it? Do you not know all?”

“Nah, omniscience wasn’t part of the package, plus I also made myself forget what was in there so I could join in the fun of discovery with you!” he declared, right before a fish burst from the tree line. A tuna, to be exact, one that floated through the air in a brief moment of confusion that the leaves it had been swimming through had ended, before doing an about turn and darting back into the safety of the treeline.

“Was that a flying fish?! Wow past me was silly” the god declared, giggling with delight at the nonsense (much to the elves confusion) before thrusting a pointing finger dramatically forwards “Now into the forest with you all! Adventure awaits!”

The elves hesitantly entered the woods, and found their iris widening greatly to take in the low light far better than any human could, while their strong limber forms picked their way through the gaps between trees with supple sturdy grace.

It was as if they were made for this.

It was, of course, the other way around, or so Jeon assumed as he admired his own work for the first time, watching an octopus grappling from branch to branch as it chased after a minnow, or catching a glimpse of a deer made of root and branch that blended in so well with the other foliage none but he saw it.

The elves meanwhile, after they got over the simple awe of all the life around them, had more base desires than sightseeing.

Namly food.

“My god, can we eat those?” one asked, pointing at some bright and colorful mushrooms growing on a rotting log.

“Well there’s only one way to find out!” Jeon declared, “and that is to first give it a sniff, then you first take a little bit of it and put it on your elbow and wait to see if you get a rash, and then put some on a finger and do the same. Then you do that with your tongue for the same again. Then you take a liiiitle bit in your mouth. Then finally you eat a little bit and see if you get sick and then, only then, do you actually try eating a lot of it”

There was silence from the elves after this sudden technical explanation, which after it dragged on for a bit too long the god said “What? Did you expect me to say ’eat it and see if you die’ or something? Sillies, exploring new places is what I do, and knowing how to survive out in the wild without any prior knowledge is a key part of that!”

“Could you not do that now?” one asked “as a god, you would not die even if it was not safe”

“Yeah, sure, but then you wouldn't learn how to do it and then where would you be after I leave?”

“You're going to leave?”

“At some point. Gonna go see all there is to see once you're all settled and stuff” he replied, before moving past that and commanding “Now get to taste testing all the things, we don't have all day!”

And that they did, long slender arms picking fruits from the vine, berries for the bush, roots from the soil, mushrooms from the rot, prawns from hiding spots and fish from the air and testing them all out as their god had instructed.

It was a pretty slow process but it did work to ensure there were no casualties.

Well almost.

The god found himself standing over the body of one sorry sod who had gotten impatient, skipped steps in the procedure and poisoned himself to death with a berry as a result.

“Poor guy, should have listened…” the god sighed while shaking his head, feeling a little bad about this before looking up, squinting and saying “hey wait a second” when he saw an identical figure to the dead elf standing above the corpse.

“Hey, hey you, is that your twin or something?” the god asked, pointing at the figure to which both the identical elf and one right behind him replied “me?”

“No not you back there this guy, the one standing right above the body” he clarified

“Me?” said another crouching to the side of the corpse

“No no here” the god waved a finger and caused a glowing arrow right above the twin

“I, my god, there is no one there?” his shoulder throne informed him

“Yes there is” Jeon said, to which the twin concurred “Yes I am!”

The others looked very confused.

“... maybe it's a god thing” Jeon guessed, watching as the twin tried to get the attention of another elf, getting more angry that he wasn't being heard and then finally ended up phasing right through the other elf when he tried to hit them for ignoring him “yeah, definitely a god thing” he added, before glancing around and, now knowing what he was looking for, seeing a whole lot of other things just like the dead elf, mostly consisting of stuff the elves had eaten. There was in fact a whole world invisible to the mortal eye full of plants and animals and even rocks just casually phasing through solid matter and all looking as bemused as the god currently felt, which was quite strange.

“Well that’s weird. I guess ghosts exist?” he said to himself, before declaring that fact “neat!”

Unfortunately any deeper investigation of this would have to wait, as the scent of death, or more specifically the blood vomited up by the poor elf before he died, had drawn in those that fed on life.

Creeping through the undergrowth came wolves, but not normal wolves no, these ones had bright green glowing eyes and coats of foliage that had allowed them to go undetected to all but the god.

“Careful, predators!” Jeon shouted, pointing towards the plant beasts and cluing the mortals in on the danger. They all turned to look where he was pointing as the wolves, seeing they had been detected, rose up and began circling and growling menacingly, trying to spook the tall things into running so they could single out a victim from the crowd.

“Nobody panic! Just stick together! There’s more of you than there are of them!” the god declared to the subset of elves currently in danger, trying to ensure that was no rout as they huddled together on instinct

“Won’t you protect us god?” an elf begged, to which the still mounted on another’s sholder’s Jeon shook his head and replied “No, you need to be able to do that yourselves.”

“But how, they have sharp teeth and we do not” another cried out as a wolf darted forwards and bit the air intimidatingly.

“You have hands, gods… my gift to people! Now use them! Pick stuff up and toss it at the wolves you apes!” the god demanded, and the elves, after a moment of hesitation, obeyed, grasping whatever they could find.

A few moments later the wooden wolves were fleeing in a confused panic while being pelted with rocks, dirt, sticks, leftover food, and anything else the elves could get their hands on.

The elves rejoiced, but the god just shook his head “Yeesh, you people don't know the first thing about how to survive do you huh?” before cracking his knuckles “but that’s fine, my little birdies, because Jeon’s going to teach you all the secrets of survival for this very nasty world”

“What’s a bird?” one asked, having never seen one of those in the god’s flying fish filled forest

The god pursed his lips and then sighed. This was going to take a while.

---

Time passed, and through teaching and learning by experience the elves adapted to their new forest home. They sharpened sticks into spears using wolf fangs, made bags and clothes out of bark and leaves and crafted nice treetop meditation spots where they could be safe from ground based danger while they rested.

As they adapted and multiplied the god came and went, Jeon traveling around and finding other elves that had been caught up in his tree expansion and teaching them too, while also plumbing the depths of his own creation and unveiling every secret it held, though he kept them all to himself so the elves could make their own discoveries.

Eventually he would grow bored of this and set out to see the rest of the world once more, but for the time being the woods were an adventure well worth exploring.

The spirit of justice marched on over the dusty wastes towards the horizon. He never slowed or showed any indication of fatigue; step by step he marched on. Eventually the sun fell below the horizon, but the stars were so bright in those days that day and night were almost one and the same.

The flatlands eventually gave way to a great spine of the world where the ground itself had been thrust upward. Indifferent to the obstacle, the armored colossus walked up the slopes, and when they became too steep even for his great strides, he climbed a sheer cliff face. Once he reached the top, the lifeless environs were broken by a radiant sight: atop another summit, a red spirit stood. Determination yielded some ground to curiosity, and so without breaking stride, the god adjusted his course and approached.

It took some time to descend down from the first peak, even for a being of such long strides and inexhaustible stamina. He lost sight of the little crimson speck, but trusting that he would find it even if it had moved, he slowly ascended up to the next summit. Still, when he reached the place where he’d first spotted the red spirit, he found her right there as if awaiting his arrival.

For the first time in a day and a half, he halted and looked her over.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Anath Homura. I do not intend to harm you.” The red spirit said, her voice lacking inflection, but imbued with authority.

The metal suit twisted about as the god looked backwards. There was nothing else out there, so she must have been speaking to him. "You perceive me?" a similarly flat voice rumbled out from within the suit. Nothing and nobody had ever seen him before, ever. "How?”

“With my sight; as I see the true shape of the world, and it was I that invited you here.” She answered solemnly.

The other one mulled over that answer for a long time. If his armor was of the world, and could touch the world, then maybe it could be seen by the world. Gray granite had never been invisible, even if the being that dwelled within it had been. The surprise faded as soon as it had come; it didn’t matter if people could see the manifestation of justice coming. Perhaps it was even better if they could!

"So you are the Tyrant,” the god finally declared, "...which means that it is you who must dictate the laws of this place. Issue your decrees unto me, and I shall see justice carried out. I have sworn it.”

Anath Homura tilted her head with curiosity as she briefly considered his statement regarding her position and prerogative. “Hmm… Then you will walk upon the Sacred Path. That is my sole decree, and I will uphold you to your oath. You wield the power of the Divine, which means that it is you and the others among the pantheon that shall dictate the laws and rules of creation. The will of the Divine shall be the justice enacted upon the world.” The red spirit proclaimed with cosmic power woven into her words that resonated with the land they stood upon.

Him? Others?

He recalled that dirt-flinging spirit, the one that he had recognized for its aspect of the earth. So there were even more of them out there, it seemed.

"So you are not a Tyrant,” he corrected himself, "just a Steward, because you have delegated some of your authority unto a council. So be it.”

Left unstated was his disappointment – experience had shown him that realms without a strong leader tended to fall in short order. But perhaps this one would be different.

"And who prescribes the appropriate punishments for those who would violate the order of things – or is that left to the discretion of the enforcer?”

“Indeed… You and the others will be the visionaries with the shape of the world left to your discretion. I will not intervene unless you stray from the Sacred Path.” Her response remained as cryptic as her impassive visage, yet there was no hint of malice or deception that he could discern, and his perception in such things was sharp. Without armor like his, the souls of other spirits were naked before his gaze.

"I did not come here to shape the world, Steward. My intent was to observe justice wherever it may happen; yet I have accepted the mantle of enacting it myself wherever it may be lacking. The commandments of the divine will be obeyed, and any who defy that rule of things will be persecuted and destroyed.”

Then the Divine Enforcer trotted off, his purpose perhaps a bit clearer. He never did offer any name to Anath Homura.

The visage of the lake was quite a welcoming sight after such a long time working, she knew this had to be the work of the planet, perhaps wishing to reward their dutiful sphynx. She landed on the ground, moving to the shore and touching the hot springing liquid, letting it flow down from her hand.

"And a nice temperature too. Just right for me." given the nascent status of the world and the notable lack of people, she didn't feel like there was any sort of trouble in taking off her golden armour, golden linens, golden sandals and golden platted matching underclothing.

After that, all that was left was a quick dive into the lake, first swimming by and diving, before merely relaxing on the edge of it, resting her arms against a rock while her feet and wings splashed about. With a happy sigh, she took a moment to observe the lake, to be prideful of her own work shaping up the region.



"Ahh. Molten tellurium does wonder to the skin. Silicate lava just doesn't compare to..." there was a crash, and the whole of the massive underground chamber echoed with a rumble. "Another foreigner arrives... What a crowded world you are becoming. So many sparklings throwing their power around with little aim..." she yawned "Just thinking of interacting with all of them makes me quite exhausted. Thankfully. They do seem to like their open skies. The underground world should be notably more serene."

She cast forth a stone tablet with imprints depicting all of her work to establish a true underground continent beneath the one established by Homura.



As it had been decreed by the planet, the earth goddess had worked tirelessly underground soon after she was done stabilizing the world above. Most of the tunnels and chambers were already there, but significant work had to be done in strengthening them, carving them and at times rearranging them. Along the way, she had found many notable locations, from the lava lake where she was bathing at the moment, to the cave of porous sea salt stone, caves where lava rivers flowed and caves where sea water fell upon heated stone creating a humid and thick mist, there was a cave that glowed green with active radioactive materials and not too far a putrid sea of muddy waters poisoned with heavy metals. Chambers big enough to host a country of mortals existed underground, some solid with stone almost impossible to break, others flowing, with stalagmites and stalactite and rock that seemed to drip away. Some zones were void of anything, even stone, big dark chambers were the fall seemed endless, only small stone spikes and other sorts breaking apart the endless nothingness.

It was all notable lifeless at the moment, but the goddess knew given time, life would enter the underworld, there was plenty of energy hanging about with magmatic flows and dust geysers, and if it did not come, then she would drag it down there herself. For the planet wished life to not merely spread out over the surface, but to rise up and dig down, giving true three-dimensional depth to this newborn world.

For what ultimate purpose, the goddess did not know yet, but she would have to learn soon, as she was to now observe the surface gods.

"But later. As for now... I just want to relax a bit... the goddess said, before gasping as a small shake caused a stone to fall into the lava, close enough to splash at the goddess. "Fine, fine. Do not be grumpy. Silly rock." she pouted as she got out, drying up before readying herself in her armour.

"Any directions on who to interrogate first?" she pondered, and at that moment a blast of wind echoed across the tunnel, the goddess nodding in acknowledgement before taking off in flight.

---

---

Initial pleasantries accomplished, Ashevelen left Homura and looked at the planet with interest. Already other divine beings started to populate the place, mountains moved, a small city was built and mortals appeared.

She nodded pleasantly as she saw the others either arrive from whatever part of the cosmos or wake up now and learn about this new world they now live in. The new creations of a different divine being already started to move around and while they looked cute, they weren’t enough.

Carefully avoiding the other divines, as her next task needed solitude, Ashevelen circled the planet a few times to search for a place where her first mortals will be brought to life. Memories of past creations moved through her mind and after a few minutes which seemed like ages, she shook her head. This time they will be different. This time, she will start from scratch and differently from before, she will dictate what they have to do in order to gain her favour. She tried so many times to let them have free will and it ended the same, destruction, war, famine and worst of all, her teachings lost.

“This time it will be different!” whispered Ashevelen to herself. A way to solidify her resolve or at least to alleviate her fears.

Eventually Ashevelen settled on a place for her mortals to exist. A forest, deep and dark. She sat on the ground in full majestic form, contemplating different designs of mortals she could make. All the mortals she’s seen in her travels and all those she created before, they all seemed inadequate. She had to make something new. Something that she didn’t do before, nor has seen other divines do.

In her deep contemplative state, she didn’t notice the passage of time and soon shadows started to form as the sun moved in orbit. Moving her hand through the minimal light, the shadows moved and swayed under her hand’s movement.

“ Aha! I know! ” said Ashevelen loudly as she sat up, breaking the twigs of the tallest trees.

Concentrating on the shadows, her hand became incorporeal and with a whoosh she flung her hand inside one and pulled hard on it. Suddenly, hundreds if not more solid shadowy orbs were clinging to her hand and as she waved it around her, in a circle, they all fell on the ground. Growing faster and faster until eventually, they stopped. Forming creatures akin to shadows, incorporeal most of the time but with the ability to become solid.

These creatures, alive but not yet fully aware of what was going around them, stared at Ashevelen. Their minds not yet understanding the divine being in front of them. Ashevelen shrunk to their size and grinned.

“ You may not understand much yet but you will in time. Know that I am your creator and know that it is due to my will that you exist. I have pulled you away from darkness but I will throw you back into it if you dare disobey my commands. I am Ashevelen and I am your god. I am Ashevelen and I have only one command for you for now. Evolve. . ” her voice was similar to a thousand thunders. Her form radiating a divine aura strong enough that the shadow creatures put their hands to cover their two blank orbs which acted as their eyes.

“ Know that your race is now named Umbra and that I shall visit you again soon. I shall always be watching over you and I shall always protect you from harm if you follow my commands. Now. GO!” continued Ashevelen.

Immediately the Umbra quickly started to spread out through the forest, following their most basic instincts but knowing full well that the thing that gave them life, it will always watch them.

---

Someway or another, Po ended up on a rocky peak that jutted out from coastal shallows. The sky above was pallid, as if threatening rain (much to Po’s dismay) and there was an unpleasant chill in the ocean air, one that just made Po hungry and upset with the two emotions not being exclusive to one another. However, the fiery goddess did find some comfort in being perched so far above the coastal shallows below, and with the veritable buffet of crooked and stunted trees that had clawed their roots into the rocky spire.

So that’s where she was, standing under bloated clouds, snapping twigs and branches from defenseless trees and shoving them into the fiery white void that peeked out from under her hood of flames. The only sounds to accompany the snapping of the branches was the gusto of her gulps and the crash of the water below, that is until someone else spoke up.

“Who… who are you?” A confused elvish voice creaked from behind the goddess. Po turned, an ash covered branch poking out from her hidden mouth. Her gaze fell on the figure of a young elvish man, draped in nothing but the wind. Goosebumps pricked at his arms and a slight shiver caused him to shuffle with every burst of sea air. Po swallowed her meal and let her glowing red eyes soak in the scene.

“Are you cold?” Po’s scratchy voice asked with genuine care.

The man was thrown back by the sudden compassion but nodded nonetheless. The glow of Po’s eyes softened to one of helpful pride. Her voice came again.

“I can help!”

“You can?” The man didn’t dare take a step forward.

“Mm!” Po nodded. “But after, you have to promise to hangout — it’s getting awfully boring ever since I left the others.”

Before the man could even utter a response, Po shouted “Here goes!” And lobbed a pillar of fire at the man. The air screamed with the sudden intensity of heat and the shadow of the man’s body imprinted on the sudden blast of white and yellow, only to disappear along with the flames. All that remained was licking red embers that clung to whatever vegetation wasn’t wafted away by the blast.

“Hey!” Po growled. “Where’d you go?”

A ghastly specter materialized above the largest of the scorch marks on the ground. It was silent and had fear painted on its blurry face.

“Oh, there you are!” Po said… loudly.

---

“You’re… Sure you know where you’re taking me?” said one of the impatient passengers. The Ferryman’s first day at work was growing more stressful by the minute. First, he’d have nothing to do; then, with the appearance of mortals and beasts, the requests ticked in by the minute. Problem now was: he had no place to take them. He pursed his unclear lips and shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” came a snap from another passenger.

“It means, uh… Yeah, I’m not too sure here, fellas,” the Ferryman conceded to a choir of sighs and groans.

“Life was already shit -before- I died,” muttered a third passenger.

“You can say that again!”

“Hey, it’s not so bad. My dysentery has passed, my bowels are all calm…”

“Yeah, that knife wound doesn’t hurt anymore!”

The Ferryman felt a smile return. Like they said, a smiling chauffeur was paramount to a happy and successful voyage - it just felt a little easier when the positive energy reflected back.

“I’m bored!”

Well, it couldn’t last forever - hardly a minute, really.

“Say, have any of you got any stories?” the Ferryman prodded. “A story makes the day go around, as they say.”

“Who says that?” came a knife-like reply.

“I did, just now,” the Ferryman glimmered back. “C’mon, anyone? Franky, how about you? C’mon, you ate that poisonous mushroom. That must’ve been something, right?”

The one named Franky shrugged somberly. “Peak of my three hour existence, I’d say,” she mumbled in return. The Ferryman deflated a bit.

“Well, uh…”

Then it came again - that snap in his nerves; a little, instinctual bell knelling softly to let him know that, indeed, another one had passed. A little scroll of cosmic paper appeared in the breast of his robe and he fished it out with the expertise of someone who has been practicing all morning and afternoon. The scroll unfurled and depicted the story of a very unfortunate little elf - death by disintegration. The Ferryman eyed briefly the passengers - one more would fit, but it’d be cramped… Very much so, admittedly.

“Say, I think we’ve reached out stop, fellas!” he said suddenly and stopped in the middle of the tundra. The passengers looked around bepuzzled, heads spinning and bobbing around like the blinking eyes of a frog. The Ferryman brought Wellington to a stop at the metaphorical shore of the perpetual magic river beneath it and tied the boat to a nearby tree. One of the passengers raised a hand.

“Are you sure this is the afterlife? It looks an awful lot like the now-life, in my opinion.”

The Ferryman knocked at the bark of one tree and paced over to the next, knocking on that one, too. “Well… Your afterlife started the moment you died, so the time you’ve spent away from your corpse until now - that’s your afterlife. I’d call it your afterbirth, but that’d force some nasty associations, forgive me.” Knock, knock. “Oh, this one’s good.”

The passengers were beginning to exit the vessel, the Ferryman having weakened the seal around it. The ghosts, too, paced around the nearby woods, kicking through rocks and wailing creepily at the birds, who couldn’t hear them much but nonetheless flew away out of some esoteric fright. The Ferryman had by now chopped down several trees and fashioned from them good-quality planks. In the trees’ stead appeared ghosts of trees, leaves blowing angrily in ethereal wind at this blatant murder.

“Look, apologies, fellas, but you’ll get a very nice place in the garden, how’s that?”

One of the ghosts came over, curiously regarding the Ferryman in action. The god had quickly built a fairly large house of planks, leaves, ash and fibre. All around, he dug out a small beck, filled it with aesthetically pleasing stones and built small wooden lanterns all around. More ghosts had by now come over to behold the spectacle.

“Say, what’re you building, mister Ferryman?” came an inquiry.

“Oh, I’m just building you a little resting place, if you will.”

“But I’m already buried, I think.”

“Oh, apologies, uh… Well, I guess an inn is equally descriptive, huh?”

The ghosts exchanged looks. “What’s an inn?”

The Ferryman took a step back from his creation and wiped some non-existent sweat off his forehead. Before them stood a two-storied house with several entrances and windows, complete with tables in front on a neat little porch. The Ferryman turned to the ghosts and exclaimed, “BEHOLD!”

Then the whole inn was reduced to ashes.

Clapclapclap! sounded the palms of one of the ghosts before the others stared him down. One of the especially grumpy ghosts muttered, “What’d you do that for? What, you expect us to cheer? To laugh?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t expect anything from you,” the Ferryman replied diplomatically, “but I hope the lodgings are to your liking.”

“Lodgings?” Then, as quickly as it had burned to the ground, the ghost of the inn appeared in its stead - the same building, but visible and usable only to those who could see the dead. A choir of gasps restored the Ferryman’s confidence and he took them for a brief tour around the facilities: He showed them the kitchens, the bedrooms, the wine cellar and the main room. In the beck, there were ghost fish to pike for, and the lanterns provided an eerie light which could give them comfort during those scary nights. Around the inn stood the ghosts of the trees used to build it, horrified at the angles the Ferryman had bent their bones and organs into. All in all, it was a wonderful place to be a ghost.

“Right!” said the Ferryman eventually. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you in a bit. It’s just… Until I have a proper place to send you all, I’ll have to ask you to stay here and, uh, please don’t wander off.”

The mood averaged out in a semi-patient miff, but the Ferryman didn’t stay long enough to hear the complaints. He just rushed off to his boat, untied Wellington and soared off to the next passenger-to-be. It wasn’t too long of a trip, but so few were aboard Wellington. After a brief detour around a sour-lipped cumulus, he came to a stop on a small mountain top surrounded by shallow sea. Eyes fixed and nose dug deep in the text of the celestial scroll, he read, “Mollart Lark?” He then looked up to see a horrified ghost and a very active fire.

“That’s…. that’s me.” The ghost wailed.

Po’s voice came in stronger, pushing herself between the god and the ghost. “Are you fellas friends?” A tinge of jealousy or at least worry seemed to seep in her tone.

The Ferryman blinked between the two. “No, we’ve just met.” A small lip smack indicated a hint of disconcertedness. “Are, are you fellas friends?”

“N-”

“Yup!” Po shouted. “We were just about to do some stuff. I was thinking of starting a few fires; are you in?”

Growing increasingly disturbed, the Ferryman exited his vessel and walked over to the ghost. “Ma’am, you do realise…” He stuck a corporeal hand through the very incorporeal body of poor Mollart. “... That this man is dead, right? Gone? Kaput?”

“Dead maybe, but not gone, see!” Po waved her hand through the very upset ghost as well. “He already promised to stick around with me for a while.” She swallowed and pushed forward a serious tone. “But are you in or are you out, because we’ve burned enough time on this as it is and there is plenty of places me and my new pal have to see and light up.”

“N-no, see…” The Ferryman sighed. He had been practicing a few sentences for thing in his head during his downtime, but he wasn’t ready just yet. This would be the first draft of a first draft if anything. He drew a breath and said, “Mister Lark here, he’s… He’s passed on. He’s no longer alive, which means that the time has come to, well, move to the next phase of life - or death, in his case: I’ll be taking him to the, uh…” A second went to naming his earlier structure. “... The Ghostel, where he’ll be staying before he’lll be moving on to the next place (wherever that may be).” He sighed. “Sorry, does that make sense?”

“No, it doesn’t!” Po crossed her arms, her fires growing hotter. “Because Mister Lark is coming with me to set some fires, and no scrawny boat-boy is changing that fact.”

The Ferryman frowned. “Look, no need to get upset. Death is as natural as life and he’s got to move on - like you should.”

Po’s red eyes turned to slits as she hissed. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She took a menacing step forward, her shoulders squaring. The Ferryman raised his staff defensively.

“Look, ma’am… I’ve never fought anyone before, but I have a purpose, I do. If you get between me and Mister Lark here…”

“What?” Po goaded. “What happens?” She took another step forward, her flames turning white hot and igniting any last holdouts of vegetation in the area. The Ferryman took a small step back, trying to find a balance between standing his ground and deferring diplomatically.

“All I will say is that he’s coming with me.” He tested the balance of his staff with small movements.

“No he isn’t!” Po shouted back, her bellowing voice sending a wave of heat outward. By the hem of her cloak, the ground started to bubble and melt. “He’s staying with me! I’m not done with him yet!”

“Mister Lark, please feel free to have a seat in my boat,” said the Ferryman while his eyes remained fixed to the glaring inferno before him. Around him, eerie lights began to bubble forth, flocculating into a halo around his silhouette. “We will be leaving shortly…”

“Rah!” Po shot off from her back foot, arms outstretched as she dove for the Ferryman, tackling him to the ground with an explosive blast. Volcanic ash thrust into the air from the impact and drips of molten rock splashed from the crater of the struggling gods. The Ferryman’s halo, a shield as it had been, shattered under the destructive power of the blast. He groaned sharply and struggled to regain his composure, now being under his adversary.

The crater was a hissing heat as glowing rock started to drip down the edges towards the fiery clash. Po’s eyes were a glowing blue as she stared down at the Ferryman. Her usual scratchy voice was akin to a roaring fire. “Do you give up!?”

The Ferryman’s frown had become a light glare and he felt the blazing heat sear at his body. Hot brimstone still drizzled from the sky above. The Ferryman then sucked in some air through his nostrils, swiftly placed two palms on each of her shoulders and… Pushed. His body phased straight through the ground and out of sight.

“WHAT!?” Po shrieked and let loose a massive punch where her nemesis once was. The mountain cracked and a splash of molten rock blasted from the growing hole as she punched again. “Where did you go!?” She roared.

Debris started to rain from the sky as she continued her barrage, the molten rock splashing into the sea below in all directions. Po screamed, “Show yourself, coward!”

Just then, a foot placed itself right under her chin - the Ferryman was back up, both hands sticking straight up, one leg pointed out perpendicular to the torso and the other bent under his bottom. “HYAH!” he shouted mid-jump and followed his kick up with a downward smack on her scalp with his staff. Po smashed into the ground from the blow, a billow of smoke and flame spitting from her cloak. The already cracked and molten mountain shook from the blow and one half of it began to slide off with an ear-splitting grind.

“You bastard!” Po’s shout riled back up after a moment and she sprung up, one hand on the top of her hood, the other slugging the Ferryman in the gut. The Ferryman went flying into the sea, the seabed folding up behind him like a scoop of ice cream. Sand and stone crumbled into a small island, and the Ferryman stood up groggily in the centre of the crater, the seawater rapidly washing in around him. Before the sea could swallow him, however, he kicked off and flew into the sky. Mid-flight, he pointed his staff at Po, the tip flaring blue. Nothing happened. Po growled from below and shot up into the sky after him, her take off ripping another side off the mountain below — the sea hissed with molten rock. Then, before she could follow up her earlier attack with another, the bow Wellington the Dory smacked her straight down from above.

“WUHB!” Po went slamming down into the sea below. The water screamed as the goddess of fire entered the already bubbling waves. A second went by, long enough for the Ferryman to lower his guard, but then an eruption of magma blasted from the waves, forming a cylinder of rock hissing at the angry waves. Po was at the center of the trail of flame, blasting straight up. Her hood was knocked off her face, revealing an angry grit, narrow eyes and streaming hair of fire. With an explosive bang, she reconnected with the Ferryman, her lightning fast punch uppercutting his chin, only for her to pull him back with a terrible grip. She pulled him in tight, her hug pinning his arms to his sides. A devious grin split her face and with a puff of her flaming wings, she flipped them both upside-down. The Ferryman struggled, but realizing the ground awaited him, he only focused his energy into forming another shield - it would not form in time.

The sea all but jumped in the air along with a shower of stone and fire, a clapping explosion blinding the area as the two gods stamped the ground with all their power. Dust blocked out the sky and the smell of sulfur gripped the region. Minutes went by, the only sound being hissing stone and angry water, until suddenly the gasp of breathing life joined it.

Po was still struggling with the Ferryman on a small volcanic island as the sound started. She was just putting him in a headlock as he was prying her away when she froze in surprise. Mortal eyes were peering at the wrestling gods with wide, astonished gazes. The Ferryman squeezed his head out of her arms to get a better view, freezing in equal manner.

“What is tarnation?”

The mortals had an elven shape - two legs, two arms, a head and a torso to connect all these. However, that was where the similarities began to fade. When Mollart Lark and the rest of elfkin would usually sport a mane of hair, these creatures’ heads had more in common with torches and braziers. Each one blazed with a brightness close to Po’s very own, illuminating and warming the surroundings to the extent that they could be made any warmer. One of them stepped forward, then spun around and shouted to the rest, “BEHOLD! OUR CREATORS!” All of them descended to their knees and hands, humming and mumbling prayers in chorus.

“Um… buh…” Po scrambled over the Ferryman and found her footing. She stood up straight and pulled her hood back over her face. Her fire died down to a red and she peered out at the people. “Hello.”

“They acknowledge us!”

“Praise be to the creators!”

The Ferryman squinted. “Hey, you’re obviously hers, alright? I think there’s been some mistake here…” He wormed himself up to his feet as well and dusted himself off. “Well, if you don’t mind, I have a soul to ferry. So I…” As he had spoken, he had spun on his heel and extended his leg to take a step. Then, right before him, he saw one of the mortals - however, its presence was obviously one of the soul, and not too far away laid a corpse bobbing in the sea. The Ferryman, God of Death, almost fainted. “Good cosmos! H-how has one of you died already?!”

“To die is to live!” exclaimed the soul with feigned pride. She was obviously in deep shock.

“It’s the water, sire!” said one of the living, oblivious to the soul. By the corpse, others had begun to tearfully attempt to fish it out of the foaming waves. “It’s coming for our fire! Everyone! Shelter your flames from the water and wind!”

“Uh oh!” Po’s demeanor was completely different now. She gripped the Ferryman’s robes and gave him a tug. “We have to help them!”

The tug pulled the Ferryman back into reality. “O-o-okay! Okay! Uh! Uhm!” He bit the nails of his free hand. “Uh… Houses! Mortals like houses, right? I mean, I built a house for some ghosts–!”

“Houses!” Po exclaimed and leapt forward. She slammed her fist into the ground, popping a slate of stone into the air with a crack. As it landed she smacked it in half so that the two sides leaned against each other like a tent. Filled with the same gusto as one of their creators, some of the fire-haired people were already diving into the shelter. Po yelled at her nemesis-turned-partner. “Quick! More!”

“O-okay!” The Ferryman followed her example and stacked slates into lean-tos and triangles. “I, uh, think it’s working! Hey, are you comfortable in there?” A small family of lava-haired mortals packed themselves together in the improvised shelter. The mother of the group looked sympathetically grateful.

“It’s better than the wind, that’s for sure,” she replied with a smile. The Ferryman sighed in relief.

“It’s been confirmed, it’s working!” He then put his hands on his hips and looked around. “... I feel like something’s missing, though,” he mumbled as his eyes jumped from one lean-to to the next.

“You’re right!” Po gasped. She started pointing to various locations across the make-shift settlement, sprouting blooms of fire to each location. “We need more fire!” One of the fire-people’s children waddled over to a fire and stuck his hand in it. The little girl pulled out a lick of fire and quickly sucked it down like a drink before smiling content, the tiny flame on her head growing brighter. The Ferryman clapped his fist in his palm.

“Like that thirsty guy earlier! Well, you wouldn’t know him… Plus he drank the same water a rat had died in and… Well, that’s not important. They drink fire - that’s nice to know. Uh… Let’s see…” He looked around the still barren archipelago. “They’ll need stuff to burn. A lot of stuff to burn.” With the snap of his fingers, Wellington filled with all kinds of seeds that could handle the cool air and chilling storms in this part of the ocean. “I’ll just fly around a bit and plant some! Keep the people here safe, alright?”

“Uh huh!” Po nodded eagerly. She paused as a thought crossed her mind “Before you go, what’s your name?”

“Oh! Uh… Just the Ferryman’s fine.” There was a small pause. “What’s, uh, what’s yours?”

“Po.” Another pause. “I guess that makes those guys… Po..fers? Ferpo…” She pinched her unseen chin. “Feporry…?”

The Ferryman glanced over at the small rock village now forming. “Does Porries sound nice?”

Po gave a deep nod. “Yes! I think that’s perfect.”

The Ferryman nodded. “Right, Porries it is!” He glanced over one more time. “Look, uh, sorry for hitting you with a boat. I did many stupid things, but that in particular was pretty uncalled for.” He bowed remorsefully.

“Erm.” Po crossed her arms, clearly struggling with pride before sighing. “And I’m sorry for throwing you off a mountain.”

“It’s okay. It happens.” He put one foot in the boat and said, “Well, I’ll be taking this around the island. Don’t really know what else we should d–” He paused. “Say, uh, do these porries eat?”

“If they are anything like me, they definitely do.” Po held her stomach with one hand. “I’m starving, I could eat an entire everything.”

The Ferryman stepped out of his boat again, conjured forth a stick and walked over to one of the porries. “Here, friend,” he said with a smile, “have a nibble.”

The porry eyed the stick searchingly, then took it and bit into it. She gnawed and exerted great effort in doing as the deity had said, but after a minute or two, she surrendered the stick back with a hanging head. “Forgive me, my liege… I simply cannot chew through it! Plus it tastes yucky!”

The Ferryman felt himself begin to sweat. “Po, they don’t eat like you do! What do we do?!”

“Quick!” Po stomped the ground, summoning a myriad of animals and knocking them right into the air. She flicked a dart of fire at one particular squealing and very upset pig, roasting it midair before it fell to the ground, sizzling and ready. All the other animals, from birds to mammals to lizards scurried (smartly) away. Po pointed at her prize, a hunger in her tone as she said. “Try this.”

A porry man standing by the crisped animal poked it with his finger and then licked his prodding appendage. His eyes lit up and his hair perked. “This is delicious!”

The Ferryman ignored the weeping ghost of the pig for a moment and went over to poke the crisped animal. “Dang, you eat this?” he marveled. Looking at the scurrying animals and the great ocean, he cast a piece of pork into the sea. A minute later, great rivers of silver flowed to and fro under the waves, fish filling the waters with bounteous food. Seaweed rusted the shores with a brown sheen, and seals with wooly fur and walruses with six tusks crawled out of the foam to relax on the beach. “Diversity is the key to survival, me thinks. Let’s see, what else?”

Po shivered for a moment and looked around. Despite the various volcanic spouts, geysers and hissing hot springs, the place was rather cold and snow was already starting to layer on the archipelago. “Maybe you should plant your plants so we can get to making some fire for our little friends.”

“Oh yeah.” The Ferryman hopped back into his boat and took off into the sky. As he sailed between the steamy clouds accumulating over the hissing seas, he cast fists of seeds all across the archipelago. Some places filled with thick, diverse forests of pines, evergreens, beech, oak and ash; others swallowed the seeds in flame or sea; some yet tried to destroy the seeds, but empowered them to grow into magmangroves, trees so magically heat resistant and pyrophilic that they could not grow anywhere but in the lava deltas running from volcanoes into the sea. Plains of grasses, flowers and hardy cereals sprouted forth where the soil was too shallow or matte for trees; some of the animals Po had created began to snack on these plants. One in particular was a thick-woolen alpaca, its vaguely metallic wool heat resistant enough to withstand the sudden geyser splashes around their grazing grounds. Lastly a small flower aptly and quickly named heatpoppies started to sprout in colder areas, the tiny balloon like pedals popping with a hiss of heat whenever disturbed. The Ferryman, satisfied with what he had sown, landed his vessel by the first porry village and stepped onto land.

“Well, this sure is a lovely place now!” he lauded. “Could almost live here myself.”

Po held her hands to the sky. “It’s brilliant! Look at all this heat!” She looked to the Ferryman. “I wouldn’t have guessed this right away, but you have quite the spirit of fire in you.”

The Ferryman blushed ethereally and waved his hands with humility. “Oh my, thank you. Well, you know how it is. Birth, life and death are all equally valuable and equally important. Just as I want people to have a good last journey in death, so does it comfort me to know that they have lived good lives.” He looked over his shoulder at a small group of ghosts formed from a few more careless porries and one very angry pig. “You, too, by the way - I didn’t know you had it in you to create, uh… Non-burning things.”

“Oh!” A giggle. Po’s red eyes squinted with mischief. “They burn alright.”

The Ferryman blinked. “Alright. Luckily these islands are plenty scenic, so I don’t mind coming here often.”

“Are the other islands as beautiful as this one?” came a voice from the Ferryman’s feet. There, a little porling had grasped the hem of his cloak with one hand and pirouetted himself into a roll. The Ferryman looked puzzled for a moment.

“Oh, uh, yeah, they are! But pray tell, why do you ask? Can’t you just go see—” A brief glance at the ghost who had fallen into the ocean came to mind. The ghost stared at him knowingly. “Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “One last thing – uhm, everyone?! Can I have your attention, please?” A crowd slowly formed around the two gods. The Ferryman gave Po a look and said, “I was just thinking I’d give them some tips on how to get around these islands. If you’d like to stay around or move on, I won’t hold ya back.”

“Erm no, I think that’s a good idea.” Po gave a nod. “But I’ve already tried to evaporate all the water, there’s just too much of it. I don’t think these porries will have a better chance than I did.”

The Ferryman nodded. “Yeah, I figured as much. I had something else in mind.” He pointed his finger out to the side and guided everyone’s glances. “Everyone - this is a boat…”

---

The blue and purple wings of Ia’Akhul continued their dance in the void. She had parted from her orbit of the Proclamator-Goddess, now continuing her thoughtful journey around the world-orb. Below in the charming roiling seas and grand stone plains her fellow divines seemed to play and prance. Detailing the world out, a splash of color there, a bountiful range of stone here, craft and vision.

Some went direct, others vehicles were their choice. Ia’Akhul watched from above, her thoughts jumping with each change, a consideration added of what and when, of how and where. The glitter bound lights of the start sky still shown, brightness filling every corner of this creation.

And then, an interruption.

An intense heat washed over Ia’Akhul’s back and before long a fiery figure was peeking over their wings. The figure was without a visible face, with any detail lost in the bright white that burned under a hooded cloak of flame. Two wings of fire beat as the faceless goddess studied Ia’Akhul at an intimate closeness. Finally, two red eyes blinked from the white void and a scratchy voice shouted out a little too loud for the proximity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Her antenna twinged and she twisted- bringing her many eyes spots fully facing the loud one. “I am not thinking what I’m doing. I’m doing what I’m doing, and thinking what I’m thinking. I would not get my actions so confused.”

Her fore limbs brushed her antenna and eyes with a mischievous innocence. “Are you thinking what you’re doing? It seems quite backwards to me but each can follow their own path here it seems.”

With a gentle flap of her wings she adjusted herself fully, bringing herself level with those red eyes- lacking much eyes amid the white flaming void. They seemed to squint suspiciously at Ia’Akhul.

“Are you making fun of me?” The scratchy voice came again, accompanied by a prodding finger wreathed in red flame.

“‘Of you’? No. With you? I hope.” Ia’Akhul preened her antenna once again as she gently spread her wings in a big stretch. “I am Ia’Akhul, you can call me this.”

The fiery god let her finger slip from Ia’Akhul and straightened herself out. “I’m Po. Happy to meet you.”

“Delighted to meet you as well. What brings you here?”

“You,” Po answered. “I saw you fluttering here when you should be down there setting things on fire.” She emphasized the down there with a big point to the planet below. “Look how cold it looks! Even up here it is pretty cold. It’s time we heat things up, Ia’Akhul!”

“Perhaps you are correct. I do need to see the Proclamator about a matter first I think.” Ia’Akhul preened her antennae. “Although, it would seem for now the world orb is ill suited for the flame.”

"Ill suited!?" Po's voice shrieked with surprise. "It's practically begging for a little heat, are you crazy!? It's so dark and cold! Come on, Ia'Akhul, I thought you were hot like me! Let's go!"

Ia’Akhul preened her antennae, again. A singular flap of her wings and she set herself spinning while centered in front of the fiery goddess. “Of course I am crazy. Are you not too?”

With a push of divine might, she sent herself careening down to the world below. She did not stop herself, she went faster.

Pulling up to bolt across a surface. One she had found so empty. So devoid of what it truly needed. With a boom she broke the sound barrier as she sped faster and faster. She flew barely over the ocean, kicking up waves as she recalled her thoughts while strolling so gently.

That was the thing about watching, about thinking rather than doing. It left a lot planned for later.

"Hey!" Po's voice boomed from behind, the Goddess clearly following. "Watch where you're splashing that gross stuff!"

“Fire is interesting. In its own way. It’s not quite the living breath of life, but it does breathe. It doesn't eat but it does consume. It builds up without growth, multiplies without children. Fire is its own thing, quite clearly as we are deities apart.” As she spoke calmly, she lifted enough not to spray the waters so much. She continued to speed up- beyond multiples of barriers of sound.

And yet the sound of Po's voice still found her. "DON'T EAT!? ARE YOU KIDDING, I'M STARVING!"

Ia’Akhul ignored the outburst for now. It was as planned from small to large, and Po would enjoy what was to come she was sure. She lifted hair far up into the air, speeding up still. Beneath her wings shot a divine force of creation as she traveled from sea to land. Bringing forth all that she had thought. Creatures large and small, flora and fauna of all means and manners.

In the sea below, fishes, whales, sharks, algae and microbes. Creatures with long necks and ones with tiniest flagella. Parasites and symbiotes, beasts with great many teeth and ones with none. To every depth and possible environs, a new complexity. Deep waters filled with the sightless and the light guided, the vent lover and the bottom feeder. Lovingly, she spread her power to all as she flew over. The sea became filled with life.

Behind her, Po was already eating a fish — it’s charred tail poking out from under the hood. “Ish good!” She exclaimed, her fires growing hotter.

“This is only beginning, for hopefully no end…” Ia’Akhul continued, her antennae faintly sensing the land rising in the distance, the winds of creation flowing behind her wings. Leaving behind a happy Po with a face full of food and a fiery wave of her hand.

_{Kholdspeagle productions present:}

---

For Anath so loved the world that she woke what should ne'er be woken and summoned what ne'er should be summoned through the veil of the beginning and end: and lo! the world was without wonder, and Anath bid elsewise; then behold! there was wonder. And wonder spake thus: 'I was the hidden jewel of the worlds, and I have come forth a wonder yet hidden; and I have come for no other purpose than to be known. Behold me ye who are above and who are below, ye who are granted the beholding arts: your perfection is in knowing me! I am the wonder of the skies and trees, I am the wonder of the earth and rivers, I am the wonder of your hidden selves and your multitudinous forms! I am the wonder of the world - I am wonder! All that thou art is naught if wonder is not in it! Have it as you will; if you do not lift the veil of wonder then await my wonder's sword: I strike with the sword of wonder!'

And he raised the sword of wonder - that gleaming sword of flame and mystery - and he marched across the heavens declaring the coming of wonder. And where he went in heaven he struck the rocks of the endless spaces - that sword of wonder struck! - till they were as glittering dust. And that dust was his hair. And that dust followed him as he marched declaring his coming - at speed it followed! till with suddenness he stopped and it crashed upon him and around him and in every direction and way. The dust worshipped him all around. And that was his coffin, and it was the moon of every mortal night.

So was wonder the hidden jewel in the jewel of the world's sky.


"Wonder nuthin!" A scratchy voice came shouting from the folds of a cloak of flame. Po hovered by the moon, flapping her fiery wings and staring out from under her white-hot hood with red eyes. "What are you doin' in there! It's too cold!" She shook her hidden head and held out her hands. "I'll save you!"

A searing bolt of white formed at her fingertips, growing larger and larger until an orb of immense weight and heat was shaking just off the edge of her grasp. With a powerful sound snapping blast, Po let loose her creation. The immense recoil sent her flying backwards with an excited squeal, the sound to be drowned out by an even sharper explosion as the mass of fire crashed against the moon, punching an immense crater into it and dousing it in flames of every color.

The moon, barely settled from its dusty genesis, roiled under the heat and mixed with - and it grew and expanded and danced in the darkness and cold of the world beyond Galbar. Fire kissed wonder, and wonder basked in her flame. Those fires - green and blue and red and purple, and colours known and unknown, conceivable and elsewise - bled into the moon-dust and pervaded it till the god-jewel at the heart of the moon was bathed in a kaleidoscope of flame. He shook and rumbled, and with him the moon shook and rumbled too, and when he emerged it settled and burned gently and warmly - and oh! how it shone like a second sun; but it was a wondrous light that turned inward and only bled an iota of its truth unto the world below. Wonder beheld fire and brought his sword before him, its tip digging into firm ground where the eye conceived none. "I behold you and hail you!" He announced with an easy smile, "and I have loved the passion that roils in you. Lady, you have scorched me wondrously and brought marvels to the marvel of my moon; I would know the name of she who burns me thus!"

"PO!" Po shouted back.

Wonder frowned and leaned forward, his chin resting on his sword pommel. "Po? Not Poliana? Or Poinievere? Porgenlefae? Not even..." he paused and looked upwards, "Posolde? Just... Po? What does it mean, this Po?"

"It means me," Po answered. "Now who are you?"

"Who am I?" He repeated, then leaned back. "If you behold me you will know. But if you do not come to know me, my sword will know you!" He smiled and raised his blade. He did not speak or move threateningly but seemed in all ways amiable. "Or if you can't know me, then look here," and he turned to the moon and gazed upon it, "and surely then you will know me!"

A pregnant silence ensued, with only the crackle of flames filling the atmosphere. Po's eyes squinted to suspicious slants. "Are you making fun of me?" Her scratch voice was a growl.

Wonder's head snapped back to Po, eyes wide in frozen wonder and smile widening. His teeth were the colour of unshelled sunflower seeds. "How curious you should think that," he hefted his sword - it swept across the endless emptiness of creation, seemed to be a glinting endlessness for seconds - and pointed it at the moon of roiling dust and flame, the moon of light too great to be known, whose rays shone back upon it and made it the singular blaze of the cold and darkness of the spaces. "Look on that you have made, Po!" His arm shook, his eyes trembled, his chest quivered. "Do not look with your eyes! They who look with their eyes will never know me. Look with your heart."

"I'll admit," Po stayed squinting. "This is getting very weird. I think I might head out; there is plenty more to heat up in this place."

Wonder relaxed his arm and let his hand drop, but continued to gaze at the moon. "Good idea. I'll see you when there's something to see!" He took two powerful steps in the emptiness, leapt, and dove sword first into the churning moon. His voice echoed after him like a thunderclap. And the roar of its canon was: "I am the wonder of the world!"

• Summary [+]

  Wehi Tama arrives and speaks, then he marches across heaven and speaks his arrival and wondrousness, telling all things that their purpose is to know wonder and that HE IS wonder; thus must they know him! And as he marches across heaven declaring this ultimate truth, he slices up the various rocks he crosses into dust with THA SWORD OF WONDER oh boi and the dust eventually converges upon him and forms the moon. So he be chilling at the centre of the moon.
  Then Po comes along and sets everything aflame. They chat, but don't quite get to know each other.
• MP and AP [+]

  Wehi Tama starting: 5 MP/5 AP
  1 AP and 3 MP (discounted from 8 MP/AP): Create the wondermoon.
  1 AP + 2 MP (discounted from 4 MP): Create the Sword of Wonder into a divine 5 Might artifact (honorary 6 Might due to being linked to wonder). It always was, just cataloguing the expenditure in this post.
  Po might starting: 5 MP/0 AP
  4 MP (discounted to 2 MP): Set wondermoon alight.
  
  Ending Wehi: 2 MP / 4 AP
  Ending Po: 3 MP/0 AP

The attentive would see her arrival with no effort- even the mortal below could see her so long as they looked up at the wonders of the sky. First, it was only a large black spot that concealed the stars behind it, and quickly, that spot grew larger and larger as it approached the nascent planet. An object of enormous magnitude, a dual-tipped spear that only a titan could conceive and only a titan could possibly throw, ripped through space and reality, entering into this universe already flying at an astonishing speed.

A roaring sound pierced through the air as the night sky lit up from the flame of the atmosphere, the enormous blade forged from an impossibly constructed lattice of black spider silk, quickly turning red hot as it pierced the first layer of the planet. Smoke began to trail as the impurities of space dust and debris were scoured from its surface. And behind the roaring approach of the spear, the bizarre, alien sound of scuttling legs could be heard as if pulling the object along its trajectory.

The burning, smoking object tore across the sky, serving as a symbol of power, terror, and pride as it cleaved over the planet, at last reaching its destination.

With a force that rippled and shook the earth, the spear sheared the top of a mountain off as it passed, piercing into the valley between mountains, the long blade sinking into the earth, cracking the surface of the planet and incinerating the terrain for miles around its impact.

A massive column of smoke rose from the valley for all to see as the blade cooled from its entry, molten rock bubbling around the bident where it had wounded the planet. The top of the spears shaft could be seen over the peak of the mountain for the most eagle-eyed to see through the smog, though that would pass and leave the landmark for all to bear witness.

Cracks, miniscule in comparison to the overall size of the object but no less large due to it, erupted along the shaft of the bident. Like a tsunami, a silver liquid poured forth from the spear, the silver color spreading as if petrifying the massive weapon. The alien liquid- a bizarre mixture of spider silk, ichor, and pure ego- filled the valley in every direction, washing away flames and cracking trees in a rush of deafening proportions.

In unison, the massive waves of liquid struck the sides of the Stormbreaker Mountains in which the valley was set, the liquid splashing upwards and higher than the peaks, curving inward as they were broke by the mountains- and in that moment, it stopped, as the silver liquid petrified into solid form, only a small amount managing to escape through the canyons before they too petrified.

All was briefly silent before a dull snapping and stretching sound echoed through the valley, a form emerging from the silver substance. Her upper half humanoid while her lower in the shape of an albino spider, the Sovereign of Pride opened her eyes and smiled.

"That will do for an entrance."