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Champion of Small Gods [A Fantasy Epic]
Bonus Chapter: The Old Gods

Bonus Chapter: The Old Gods

There is a place between the realms that only the old gods remember, and only the small gods can fit. Here in the dark void is a great cosmic soup: bits of bouncing rock, electrons, particles, and energy. A young universe is in the making.

Lyran appeared and looked down at Avram.

"Don’t say it. I know I’m still short," he snapped.

"I would say that’s rather your own fault, isn’t it? Just because you can visit the mortal plane doesn’t mean you have to go there at every opportunity."

"The champion is on his way to my quest now, so I expect to be back to form soon—if he can manage it, that is. "Personaly, I’ve found him to be a very slow starter, lackluster even, and he just seems so nice about everything."

"I thought the same, but I have come around; he’s wilful, and he’s got spirit."

"Ahh, my shadow hound! I have a new gift for that dog when he completes the quest; I’ll make her a beast of legend."

"I’m not talking about the dog. I meant he’s determined, and he elicits loyalty like no one I’ve ever seen. He’s got a whole group of them helping him."

Casovan appeared, his face wearing its perpetual scowl. "Do you know he burned down a city?" He barked.

An image appeared of Konrad and Spirit hurtling from a burning building.

"I had nothing to do with it," Lyran said, folding her arms.

"Nobody was claiming you did," Casovan replied slowly, his eyes narrowing. He turned to the shortest of the trio. "Avram, no followers yet?"

"Soon, I hope. I can’t wait to have a look at the fates; I still can’t see a thing. What’s the news from the Big Three?"

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Casovan peered off into the cosmos. "Nothing; they don’t seem to have taken any notice."

"The Mother must have looked into Fela's demise, but I don’t think she liked her anyway, so no reaction," Lyran said.

"Well, the Mother will always be watching you, Lyran. When my power was restored, I got a few memories back; it was a very sly thing you did, you know, quite the feat of mental and moral gymnastics."

"What did she do?" Avram asked, looking from Lyran to Casovan.

"Nothing that matters now," Lyran snapped. "I’ve turned over a new leaf; I find our new champion is helping to inspire me."

"I’ll find out soon enough," Avram grumbled, kicking an asteroid out into the darkness.

"Casovan, what are you wearing?" Lyran asked.

The small god of the cold wore a tattered blue robe and a hat with a wide, floppy brim and a pointed tip. His normally smooth face also sported a rather bushy gray beard, and he held a knobbly staff in his hand.

"I’m trying out a new look. I was thinking this looked wise and trustworthy, like someone you would treat as a kindly mentor-type figure."

Lyran and Avram exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised.

"I don’t think that will ever be a popular concept," Lyran said.

"She’s right; that’ll never catch on," Avram added.

Casovan snapped back into his usual deep blue robes, his face once again cleanly shaven.

Another small figure popped into existence a short distance away. The Waif had not changed, or grown. He still wore the scrappy linen loincloth and padded around, looking up at the gently turning universe being created above him with an awestruck expression.

"How does he even get in here?" Casovan asked.

"He removed the curse from the champion's leg," Lyran said.

"Faelen, then, must be old if he can remember this," Casovan replied. "That’s a needless complication."

"We could get rid of him?" Avram suggested.

"Once you have some of your power back, you’ll realize just what a stupid suggestion that is," Casovan snapped.

"What do you want?" Lyran shouted, forming each word clearly as if talking to an elderly relative.

The waif ignored them, reaching out a finger to tap a galaxy and watching it collide into a nebula.

"I have things to do, someone keep an eye on that," Casovan said, and he vanished.

"He’s so bossy sometimes," Avram said.

"Someone should keep an eye on him," Lyran replied.

"Agreed."

The two small gods winked out of existence, confident that certain people should have an eye kept upon certain other people but leaving it quite unclear who exactly was responsible for keeping an eye on anything.