The heavens were not what most mortals thought. They were vastly different from how people imagined them. It wasn't so much that they were not breathtaking or fantastic, but that the gods themselves often grew bored and sought to interfere with the mortal realm.

Vasu-Jin slithered through the halls of his crumbling temple, the sound of his scales scraping against the worn marble floor echoing in the emptiness. His temple, far from the celestial city of the Imperial Pantheon, was a relic of an era long forgotten. The gods who dwelled in that shining city sat at the top of the divine hierarchy, basking in the adoration of countless worshipers. Most nations in the mortal realms revered the same handful of gods, leaving little room for the lesser-known deities to gain prominence.

Vasu-Jin paused before a cracked column, his gaze drifting to a faded mural depicting serpents entwined with mortals in an ancient dance of worship. Once, he had been part of a small pantheon, worshiped by the blue-eyed tribes of the eastern deserts. But that was thousands of years ago. Now, his name was all but forgotten, spoken only in fearful whispers or not at all.

A dry chuckle escaped him. "Serpents," he muttered to himself, "never were the most popular of symbols." It was no wonder that he was shunned by both common folk and nobility alike. His temple had been abandoned, left to crumble at the edges of the celestial plane. Yet, he did not resent his fate. Not entirely, at least. He had grown used to solitude.

But that solitude had been broken recently by the arrival of a young girl in the mortal realm. Mei. She had approached his small, run-down shrine, hidden deep within the Kuro Empire’s bustling city of Ei’en. The shrine itself was little more than a haphazard collection of stones and offerings left by an insane old man—Vasu-Jin’s only follower in centuries. When the old man’s usefulness had run dry, Vasu-Jin’s avatar devoured him in the dark alleys, marking his soul for a better life in the next world as a token of gratitude.

Vasu-Jin continued his slow circuit around the temple, the walls lined with broken statues of his former worshipers and kin. There was a time when he and his fellow serpent gods had been considered powerful, if not exactly beloved. The blue-eyed people had worshiped him with a fervor that now only lingered as a faint memory. Those blue eyes—they had meant something, a mark of their tribe’s connection to the divine. But what that meaning was... he could no longer recall.

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He stopped before a broken altar, dusting off its surface with a flick of his tail. This was where the offerings used to be placed, where prayers had once filled the air. Now, it was just another piece of his forgotten past. Yet, all was not lost. The girl, Mei, was a descendant of those long-extinct tribes, a rare flicker of blue in a sea of brown eyes. It was this connection that had drawn him to her.

Moving to the center of his temple, Vasu-Jin closed his eyes and extended his consciousness, seeking the flickering flame of her Ki island. It had become a habit of his to stay close, lurking just at the edges of her awareness. The heavens were full of gods who would seek to snuff out his influence before it had a chance to grow. But he was not about to let his first true follower in millennia slip through his grasp.

Her spirit was strong, resilient—a reflection of the hardships she had endured. Shunned by her own people, just as he had been cast aside by the other gods, Mei was a kindred spirit. Vasu-Jin could see the potential in her, the fire that could reignite his name among the pantheon. He would protect her, guide her, and through her, he would rise once more.

A low, hissing laugh echoed through the empty halls as Vasu-Jin thought of the coming council meeting. His name had recently reappeared on the list of deities with a familia, something that had sent ripples of shock through the heavens. The other gods, with their endless self-importance, would be scandalized to see him back among their ranks. It had been so long since he’d had a voice in their endless debates and schemes. They would squirm to see him there, a serpent among doves.

He could already imagine the looks of disdain and disbelief. "How did the serpent god return?" they would whisper. His smile widened, fangs glinting in the dim light. He would enjoy every moment of their discomfort.

The council meeting was scheduled for the same day as the Kuro Empire’s showcase for new talent. How fitting, he thought, that both in the heavens and the mortal realm, all eyes would be on the underdogs. Mei would show her worth, and so would he.

The age of being forgotten was over. Vasu-Jin would make sure of that.