The Time Gate was white marble veined in black, an hourglass suspended at the center of its arch, sands trickling but never emptying.
The Mortal Gate was wood and flowers, blooming eternally, its frame twined with ivy and roots that shone faintly with life.
The Spatial Gate was a crown of stars and night, its interior swirling with constellations that shifted as though alive.
The Life Gate shimmered with multicolored clouds, mist cascading in prismatic light.
And last, Heaven’s Gate radiated brighter than all the rest. Gold wrought into spires of divine flame, impossible to look at for long.
Further still, was a stream of starlight. The River of Souls pouring into the Mortal Realm. It was breathtaking, ordered andendless, a reminder that all life began and ended in the same current.
“Welcome,” a voice called behind her.
Alora turned, her gaze climbing to a dais set high above. Seven thrones crowned it, gleaming beneath the eternal starlight.
She knew the gods by sight alone, for her spirit calling their names.
Hiram, God of Time, sat tall and proud. His skin gleamed dark as polished bronze, his eyes liquid gold, and upon his hair rested a crown shaped like the sun itself. At his side stood a woman with eyes the same warm gold, her hair braided intricately, her mortal flesh remade into something divine.
Beside him sat Eitan, God of Mortals. His beauty was delicate, almost androgynous, with pale skin and green eyes that shone like spring. Purple flowers crowned his blond hair, the same hue as the iridescent wings folded at his back. Silver branches formed his circlet, butterflies flitting around him and the red-haired man at his side.
Zohar, God of Space and Dimension, met her gaze next. His features were sharp, his dark eyes fathomless, his midnight hair crowned with burning starlight. At his left stood a goddess with hair like a river of black, coiled into jeweled combs of jade. Her gown shimmered with stars, as though she wore the universe itself. Both watched her with calculating intensity.
Then her eyes found Sunnëva, radiant in silver and frost-kissed silk, standing beside a throne veiled in bone and bloom. And in it, Jökull, God of Death. His skin was chilling blue, his face half-shrouded by a mask of bone, his body sculpted like steel cast in ice. A jagged circlet of frost rested on his brow, as sharp as icicles. Behind him spread translucent feathered wings like snow.
“Alora has come to plea to the Heavens,” Sunnëva announced, her voice ringing across the dais. “She requests an audience with Elyon.”
Murmurs stirred the platform.
“What right does she have to speak to our father?” demanded Hiram, his golden eyes flashing. “Rumiel has fallen beyond disgrace. He has no throne here, not her. No place. No right.”
Alora lifted her chin, her shadows flaring like wings. “I am Alora, the Goddess of Shadows. The Netherworld bows to me. I sit upon no other throne but the one my mate bestowed upon me.”
A soft female voice stilled the murmurs. “He will hear her plea.”
Alora’s gaze fell on the center throne, the only one left empty.
Unlike the others, it was not grand. It bore no jewels, no starlight, no embellishment. It was a simple seat of white stone, unadorned, and yet its plainness made the others seem less by comparison.
Exalted in its simplicity.
Beside it stood Gavriel, Goddess of the Heavens. Her presence was soft, radiant. Her eyes, warm silver, shimmered with infinite patience. Her pale hair tumbled in waves, crowned only with a circlet of light. She smiled at Alora with a mother’s gentleness, and Alora’s chest tightened.
And thenHewas there.
A blinding, overwhelming presence with the force of a sun.
It filled the air, pressed against her skin, and descended into her bones. The Primordial who was the source of all life. His existence was too much, and yet it was all she longed for in that moment.
Alora dropped to her knees, bowing her head, her shadows trembling.
When Elyon spoke, it carried the weight of creation itself that had formed worlds.
“I know why you have come. Yet what you desire cannot be restored as it was.”
Her heart shook.
She fought the sting in her eyes, refusing to accept this verdict.
