Nyxthos smiled at the warrior god. “Accepted. I’m sure my Mages will enjoy your slaves’ screams.”
All the gods turned to watch as Echo led an army of Mages, demons, and human foot soldiers against Azric’s army of the Undying. Echo rode the black dragon Vyran, and Azric was atop Inni, the smallest of the dragons still on Nyth.
Their entertainment ended abruptly as they all turned to face one of three gods who never came to Skycrest—Saelira. She was small even compared to humans. Her ghostly white hair hung below her veil, which was closer to a shroud than anything worn to a wedding. A mist-like gossamer gown obscured her body while her veil hid her face. The only one who’d ever seen her face was the Prince of Bones when he was presented to the gods.
Everyone knows who and what she is, even humans. The Goddess of Destiny. “I have come to offer a warning. The ones we fear will be here soon. The true war comes before we expected, and with it will come something which has only happened once.”
She turned to Lysara, and all the gods remembered the day she killed her husband Eldrin, the first God of Death, and stole his godhood and world. “The day the ones who seek our power arrive on Nyth, one of us will die.”
There was a moment of shockedsilence. Caeldra and several others recognized the moment for what it was. A true silence occurs when the path of the world shifts, a changing of destinies. If Saelira had not come, had not told them her prophecy, things might have been different. These moments alter the path forward, and Caeldra, being the Goddess of Silences and Shatterings, sees them most clearly.
All but she and Saelira exploded in fear and anger. It was an expected result, but it came not from the gods. No, in this moment, their godhoods sought, as always, self-preservation.
“Who will die?” the Godhood of Bonds demanded.
“Is this prophecy changeable?” the Godhood of Balance begged.
“When exactly will this happen?” the Godhood of Beginnings questioned.
But it’s the Godhood of Change, Caeldra’s godhood, which answered rather than Saelira. “This does not differ from any other prophecy. You know what must happen to change things. But if we alter the path forward, it is likely that more than one of us will perish. We could all be ended if I change things incorrectly.”
The Godhood of Endings snarled. “Well, I will not stick around to be murdered. I’ll let the rest of you be the sacrificial lambs. My world is far more difficult to find than Nyth.”
One by one, most of the other godhoods left until Saelira, Caeldra, Nyxthos, and Draeven stood alone atop Skycrest. They were silent as they stared at each other, none of them knowing what to say.
Until Nyxthos fell to his knees, pain radiating through his body for the first time in tens of thousands of years. He let out a scream that made the ground tremble in Draenyth.
He knew exactly what had happened. His champion Echo had been killed, and with her death, all the power that he had infused in her had been lost. He looked up at his fellow gods, but he didn’t say a word. They knew, just as well as he did, what had happened.
Saelira, her words as difficult to hold on to as the wind in autumn, said softly, “It has begun. The falling. We will not be ready when they come. I do not know for certain, but I do not think we will win this. Not if we stay on the path that lies before us.”
Caeldra looked to Draeven and Nyxthos before disappearing. Knowing, more than anyone else, how difficult it would be to choose the correct time to alter the path forward, she had to remain present on Nyth.
Draeven nodded to Nyxthos and disappeared to begin preparations for the war. He, at least, would not run from the battle that was coming.
Nyxthos could not run either, for he was without a champion now, and so when he disappeared, he left to create a plan for how to move forward.
It was only when all the other gods were gone that the two children snuck out from the rock they’d hidden behind and approached Saelira. An emerald-green snake slithered beside the little boy, and a bluebird flitted around his twin.
“Ah, so you were there all along.” Saelira’s solemn tone was replaced by a bit of whimsy.
“Yeah, we heard what you told them,” the boy said, “but you didn’t tell them everything, did you? We know when grownups are hiding things.”
The little girl continued where her brother had stopped. “You want them to do something, don’t you?”
Saelira smiled. “I don’t want them to do anything, and they won’t.” She walked to the edge of Skycrest and looked over theedge to see the battle that still raged hundreds of miles from them. “They’re afraid. But you’re not, are you?”
“We ain’t afraid of nothin’,” the little boy said. “Not you or them or the bastards coming to murder us.”
“Taldor!” the girl said. “You can’t say bastards to her. She’s old and doesn’t want to hear words like that. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“It’s fine, Veris. They are bastards,” Saelira said. “There is a way that things can change, but neither I nor the rest of the gods can change them. You two, though, might.”
“What do we need to do?” Veris asked, moving toward Saelira. “We don’t want the bastards coming here.”
“They’ll come, but there’s a chance that we won’t lose. The paths diverge,” she said. “You both know of the prophecy I gave Azric Cyrus at his birthright ceremony, don’t you?”
Taldor sighed, looking annoyed. “Course we know. Everybody knows, but it’s not really a prophecy, is it? You don’t say what will happen. Just what might. Seems kind of shady to me.”
