The grounds are full of deities passing the time outdoors in the near-tropical climate. They lounge on lush green lawns and swim in the pools, all in various states of undress. The God of Revelry holds his own version of court under the willow, lovers and bottles of sweet wine both being passed around under the hanging branches.
Dark magic conceals me as I make my way into the palace. The fewer gods who know about mysummonsthe better.
Disgust roils through me at the word.
Nobus has made a show of demanding my presence, mostly to prove that he can order me around, but it’s really to brag about the rumored bargain he made with Creation.
The source of life and the all-parent of the gods, Creation does whatever the fuck they please. Whether it's creating a new deity or wiping a realm from existence, the supreme being is at the center of it all. What Nobus bargained for doesn’t intrigue me— but how he convinced Creation to make the bargain does. It’s the only reason I didn’t light his missive on fire and continue my century-long boycott of his realm.
The one and only encounter I’ve had with Creation ended in a grandiose show of weakness for which I will never forgive myself. One hundred years and the memory still haunts me. Rage and despair, torment and desolation—combinations of feelings that the Dark God of Death should never be subjected to.
A presence prickles the hair on the back of my neck. I peer around the stone corner of the grand palace to find my twin sister at the entrance addressing the sentries standing guard.
How curious.
Nobus’ foot soldiers typically patrol the Great Wildes, hunting beasts and keeping the Wolf God’s creatures in order, but I’ve never seen them this close to the palace before.
Tucking that tidbit away for later, I slip past them in the shadows and stalk the marble halls like a predator, searching for anything that might reveal the boon Nobus surely received from Creation.
A century has passed and the bastard hasn’t even redecorated. Though, if I’m being honest, a hundred years tends to pass as quickly as one or two these days. Immortality has a nasty habit ofmaking you lose all sense of time. It’s the only way we can stomach existing for all eternity.
The hint of a giggle floats across the hall and, instinctively, I move closer to find its source. The Goddess of Light is curled tightly in the bay window that overlooks the grounds. Nestled between pillows, knees hugged tightly to her chest, Selene clutches a worn book. The corner of the page she reads is creased, as if it’s been folded and refolded many times, the words meaningful enough to take a permanent place in her heart.
Light from the setting suns filters in through the panes, making the goddess’ voluminous blonde curls appear as a glowing cloud of pure sunlight. She reaches into a bowl beside her, plucking red-coated seeds from a fruit and popping them into her mouth as she flips the page, lost completely in her own world.
The aching sensation returns, tugging at the seams of a gaping hole in my chest. What is it like to know contentment like that? To not feel the sharp sting of the past?
Snippets of memories I’ve long repressed flash in my mind:cold gray stone, the clicking of a lock, the sting of a whip, the irony tang of blood.
I slip my hand into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the single raven feather contained within. On a deep inhale, I let the token ground me to the present. The shadows around me fall away, and for a moment, I consider joining the goddess in the window.
But Death is rarely a welcome companion.
Selene raises a crimson-stained finger to her pink lips, savoring the residual juice with a look of pure bliss. Her eyes flit close as a soft moan, imperceptible to any without immortal hearing, escapes from her. Every muscle in my body stiffens in restraint.
I have watched the goddess from afar for a millennia, always wanting her but never daring to take her. She is too pure to be tainted by my darkness. The scales of the Golden Pantheon onlyremain balanced when Light and Death sit on opposite sides. Our glances linger, our exchanges turn to banter, but I never act on the burning need that flares to life within me every time I look at the Goddess of Light.
I am a cruel and wicked god, but given the chance, I would gladly be her god.
What wouldn’t I give to be the one who elicits that sound from her perfect lips?
“I thought I smelled something rotten.” Drayca’s irritating voice slices through my fantasy. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Your king requested my company, watchdog.” I don’t hide the ire that coats my words at the sight of her.
War and Death should be the closest friends, eternally sharing offerings and praise. But War is an even crueler god than Death.
Since the dawn of time, mortals have waged war for the most inconsequential of reasons and the outcome is always death. Death of their enemies, death of their kin, or death of their ego— it matters not to me. Either way, death reigns supreme, and that has never sat right with my sister. She is our mother’s daughter after all, and the Goddess of Blood was evil incarnate. To make it worse, Drayca helped our mother make me into what I am, sealing both our fates in eternal hatred.
The Goddess of War’s white hair, plated intricately into braids of various sizes, falls effortlessly over her broad shoulders. She brushes it aside as she reaches for the axe strapped across her back. “I thought I banished you a century ago.”
“I am a king,” I reply with authority. “You don’t have the power to banish me.”
“The king of a realm that should have been mine,” she scoffs. “Have you come here to try and steal this one too?”
“Oh come off it, Drayca. You could have killed the cunt and taken it yourself, but you were having too much fun making me bleed.”
She rolls the axe handle casually between her pale hands. Her golden eyes burn brighter with each passing minute as she readies her verbal blow. “It’s been what? A hundred years since you last tried to pull thatpoor, pitiful godcard? Maybe I should cut your fucking head off this time and silence you for good.”
