This was not an intelligent, well-planned idea, which was why Razlok was going for it anyways.

Their absence from this world failed to make it clear how distinct the Dark Deity was from Auron, in that Auron was the one who made carefully crafted plans, Auron was the one who tempered Razlok’s willingness to be impulsive.

When death is not a threat, there is plenty of room for foolish, destructive intentions. Razlok was a god of chaos, indeed.

They strode towards the Seat of Earth slowly, languidly, taking their time as if their self-identification as having ‘difficulty seeing’ was expressed in a much more human manner.

Every single person in this room had magic seated somewhere in their body, so it was easy to avoid them. Picking out the furniture was harder, but thankfully those individuals who stayed after the announcement were either drinking or seated and reminiscing with others.

(Even still, Razlok narrowly avoided banging their shins on at least one well-hidden low table as they passed through.)

The magical fire lit up Kian helpfully, detailing thick hair twisted into a pattern of short knots across her head, her stocky frame and practical clothes overlying a clearly muscular body. She wore dangling vine-like earrings of some kind of crystal which Razlok imagined caught the firelight well.

All in all, her outfit seemed built for convenience but was carefully tailored to emphasize her jewelry and the clothing’s fit.

Kian cared about appearances. Razlok took that into account, addressing her with a formal title and a gentle nod of their head in place of a full bow.

“If ye have the time, Seat Darzi – I noticed yer leg is hurting or something isnae aligned.”

That was as much as Razlok dared to imply, not as a stranger in a room full of grief, someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.

Kian looked up at Razlok, who recognized that standing over her might not be the best position if they wanted to bend the Seat’s ear. The being tilted their head to pretend to look around, then took a cautious seat on the low table in between the armchair and an occupied sofa.

“Am here to meet with Auron but–” Razlok faltered, trailing off the explanation.

It wasn’t even an act, just true awkwardness cut off before the real emotions could be verbalized. They tried not to think of how Kian reacted on that stone dais, the genuine anger and frustration and grief she displayed.

Razlok cleared their throat and continued, “I’m an engineer and regularly maintain prosthetics such as that one. I believe I can help.”

“If ye want,” they added on.

They ended up balancing their elbows on their knees as they leaned forward, intent on the discussion.

Right, okay, so Razlok was facing Kian, ‘gaze’ in the appropriate position or so they had to assume. The dark glasses helped tremendously. And this pretense only had to last for a while. Maybe until Auron returned, yet that could be a full week.

The Seat of Earth didn’t speak or move immediately. The firelight showed that her hand was near her face, a little over her mouth.

Razlok couldn’t see faces or read their emotions; it was a little like their inability to read written text, something magically enforced. Faces simply… didn’t exist to Razlok, for the most part.

Was she looking the deity over? Did Razlok have anything incriminating on them?

Their clothes were magically created, summoned into existence, but Razlok was careful to keep them in what they understood to be neutral colors.

They remembered having a shirt in this color before the timeout, so they simply replicated that white-ish color onto a new shirt. The same for the waistcoat, which Razlok thought was either dark grey or dark blue, and the trousers, which were certainly what Auron called charcoal.

Their tattoos weren’t offensive, or Razlok didn’t think they should be offensive to anyone at the Guild. One arm had mostly flowers in different styles, the other had geometric patterns and bars of dark ink to separate the different sections. That was all Kian could see, right?

The Seat finally spoke up, in a tone that was pushing impatience. “You a member of the Guild? I don’t remember you.”

With a little uncomfortable laugh, Razlok shook their head. “No, am no. Happened to be here talking to Silver at the bar top when you lot returned.”

“And you’re here, why? To speak with Auron?” Kian was forceful but not entirely rude. It was part of her job description to defend the Guild, and she took it very seriously. At least she’d abandoned the formality from earlier for her own words and speech patterns.

“Aye. I mean, yes.” Razlok played up the nerves to appear like they were trying to behave ‘appropriately’ while being vaguely interrogated.

They queried their divine processes for knowledge and were denied. How long had these Seats been in power? It was a guess but judging by their stances and voices… Razlok might be able to get away with his earlier lie.

“Used ta work for the Guild, least twenty years prior. Thought I needed to start over, came back, hoped the Guild was hiring.”

People were starting to retire to their rooms now, passing by every so often. It made Razlok a little itchy, since they couldn’t focus on the movement around them and focus on Kian at the same time, not without expending a ton of energy they didn’t currently possess.

Kian was certainly too young to confirm or deny Razlok’s claims, especially since the deity’s human form looked to be in their forties.

The woman sighed heavily, clearly frustrated by everything. “I would love to get this fixed, but you gotta understand, it’s my leg and you’re a complete stranger.”

But you’re in pain, Razlok wanted to say.

“Aye, understood.” They answered instead.

After a pause, Razlok gestured with a finger, waving in a tapping motion as if they had an idea. “What if I dinnae take it apart? Simply let me look at it, see if I can pure minimum tell ye what might be failing.”

They heard a beleaguered exhale from Kian, but Razlok interrupted the incoming rejection. “Look, yer hurting. I swear to Auron watching us above – I’m competent enough to nae break anything.”

(Auron was not watching the Guild at this moment. The Light deity had a penchant for using his time In-Between to spy on various arrogant politicians or noblemen who were lying to Auron’s face about something or another.)

“Who–?” came a concerned voice from behind Razlok.

The deity startled and turned their ear towards the sound. There was the telltale form of Gwenllian, her palms, throat and jaw all visible in Razlok’s perception. Ah, fuck.

“Gwen, glad you’re back,” Kian exclaimed, sounding genuinely relieved for the healer’s presence. “You can help me. He says he can probably fix my leg, but he’s not a Guild member. Do you think you can, uh, check things for me?”

“They, not he.” Razlok replied blandly.

A quick apology came from Kian, but Razlok wasn’t really listening. They were far too concerned with how to handle the Gwenllian situation, how much the woman had heard, if she’d realized anything.

Check things for me? What did Kian mean? Regardless, either Razlok was going to have to get very clever, very fast, or this would all wreck itself instantly.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

They couldn’t see it, but they felt Gwenllian’s gaze on them.

It was in the way she held herself, the angle of her head. She was thinking. Fuck, could the deity get ahead of any revelations? Razlok wasn’t necessarily book-smart, but they were quick-witted.

“Ah, apologies,” they took to their feet and put on what was hopefully an expression of embarrassment. “Forgot to introduce myself properly. Name’s Razlok.”

They had their perception fully focused on Gwenllian now, which meant they could see almost all the short woman’s body language.

She shifted on her feet as Razlok spoke, perhaps uncomfortable with the recognition that a stranger showing up with the exact accent Gwenllian heard earlier was… very unlikely. Practically impossible, really.

Razlok barreled onward. “Aye, need to give proof to Seat Darzi here before she’ll let me look at her leg. I’m willing to comply, but if I have tae explain my life story, I’d rather be in private. Nae comfortable in front of crowds.”

That was as blatant and as blunt of a hint that Razlok could give without being unreasonably forceful. They did not wish to discuss any background information, fictional or real, in public.

They wanted to at least have the chance to explain their desire for secrecy before it was rejected.

Razlok knew very little about the person Gwenllian was, only understanding how she reacted in the face of Auron’s death, how she maintained her composure. They knew nothing about her personality, what she was like, if she would even tolerate the Dark’s desire to stay hidden for now. All they knew was that Auron specifically picked her to be the epitome of water magic.

And they had to have faith in Auron, after all this.

“Please stay, Kian,” Gwenllian relented after thinking over the proposal. She coaxed the injured woman into resting with an outstretched hand. “I can speak to… Razlok elsewhere, as they requested.”

The deity did not manage to repress a sigh of relief at this news. “Thank ye,” was their honest remark.

If Gwenllian reacted, it was a subtle expression that Razlok could not perceive. She seemed unaffected as she gave further instructions.

“The Shrine of Light is currently occupied by mourners. It seems unnecessary to walk elsewhere for a quick interview. Would the Dark Shrine suffice?”

Razlok nodded and was given instructions to follow the short woman’s quick steps across the front hall of the Guild. It felt odd to be led to their own shrine, but Razlok was looking forward to stepping inside.

The shrines were rooms that occupied a perceivable space, yes, but they existed outside of the Guild itself. Only the doorways were included in the Guild’s architecture, as the interior was part of another plane entirely, on the edge of space and time.

Unquestionably, the shrines were extensions of the deities themselves, places where they could feel echoes of their full power. The Dark Shrine always felt like home to Razlok, comforting in a way they could never wholly explain.

They were grateful to be led here instead of to the Light Shrine, though.

These shrines were composed of Light or Dark magic respectively, not merely representing them. If a deity spent any amount of time in the opposite shrine, adverse effects began to show.

Razlok became restless and short-tempered when the Light Shrine severed their connection to the universal dark; Auron reported tasting metal and hearing incessant ringing.

Without a word, Gwenllian led them inside.

The Dark Shrine itself was old and desperately needed to be modernized. It was Razlok’s duty to change and shift the shrine to fit the needs of the Guild members, but in their absence, it was simply maintained as-is for hundreds of years.

The room was relatively small, originally invoking a cave. A carved stone altar inlaid with metal rested opposite the doorway. On either side of the stone were contemporary tables that held smaller altars that suited individual cultures. Incense, what Razlok presumed was framed art, small figurines.

The open floor in front of the altar was only fifteen or so feet in width and depth, and the walls were lined with modern benches to provide resting places.

It was an intimate space, a piece of history for the Guild. Razlok would keep access to it, somehow, but they intended to create a new shrine as soon as possible. Perhaps even tonight when everyone slept. It sorely needed to be modernized.

Gwenllian didn’t speak at all. She stopped in the middle of the floor and stood quietly for some time, to the point where Razlok was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the silence. They couldn’t see her facial expressions, if she was angry or concerned or merely contemplating. It was all a guessing game.

Eventually, the woman raised her concerns in a slow, restrained voice, crossing her arms over the front of her saree. “I don’t know where to begin. You truly intend to repair Kian’s leg?”

How practical of her, to assess the immediate needs of her companion first.

The Dark Deity was less practical, their stress about being unmasked to the world too soon outweighed the mundane repair work. With a sigh, they ran their hand over their jaw, scratching their trim beard in a subconscious self-soothing gesture.

The door to the shrine was closed. This was private, as promised. The door would not open unless Razlok allowed it to, not locked as in keeping Gwenllian hostage but sealed to keep anyone new from intruding.

“I was overwhelmed… earlier,” Razlok admitted quietly, their tone devoid of the playful energy they usually projected.

“I’m sorry I put ye in that position. It was– I needed the space to breathe. I still do.”

They felt genuinely guilty that Gwenllian had been forced to perform a role of responsibility that the deity simply could not handle at that moment. It was unfair to push the duty onto someone else, but the past was done. All Razlok could do was be apologetic.

This shrine space really was awkward for this encounter. They were too close, too uncomfortable, not enough breathing room.

“Hrm, mind if I… change this?” Razlok asked as they gestured loosely to the room. “Promise tae fix it right afterwards.”

Gwenllian moved her head, but Razlok wasn’t quite sure if it was an affirmative.

“I cannae see. Was that permission?”

“Yes,” the woman answered quickly. She connected the dots and hazarded further questions. “It feels odd to give you permission, though. But I’m sorry, I didn’t know that… you’re blind. Is that correct?”

“Mhm,” came the affirmative. “Ye’ll have to let me know about the lighting.”

With a casual wave of their hand, Razlok altered the entire shrine. The dimly lit, stone-walled room shivered into a new shape; it was now a large, round room with a black tiled floor in a geometric pattern.

There was no time spent designing anything, as Razlok didn’t have to invest much energy in the shrine to make things change. It simply responded to their whims.

They replicated the armchairs in the entry hall outside, setting two near each other at a comfortable distance. They set a firepit nearby, lit with magic that was bright without emitting heat.

That was probably not enough light for the sighted Gwenllian, Razlok thought.

The ceiling above silently shifted into a dome painted with dark blues and purples, corded lights made of lightning magic hanging down. The night sky had been described in enough poetry for Razlok to reasonably mimic it.

With a self-congratulatory nod, Razlok plopped themselves down into one of the comfortable chairs, presuming that Gwenllian would understand that the second, empty chair was an obvious invitation.

The Seat of Water had uttered precious few sounds while Razlok changed the room, but the deity wasn’t quite paying attention. The noises weren’t upset. Maybe surprised.

Finally, there came an awed whisper: “You are truly the–”

“Indeed,” the Dark Deity interrupted, not wanting to bother with the formalities of their title.

Gwenllian found the courage to take a seat, her head turned upward as if she were gazing at the ceiling, at the makeshift stars. “Is Razlok what you want to be called?”

“Mhm,” they replied again, pulling a foot up into the armchair to sit crookedly as the human processed it all. “I’ll make Auron come up with a surname, though.”

“This– Everything will change.” Her voice was still hushed, awe-stricken.

It made sense, given that Razlok’s five-hundred and more year absence meant there were generations who had never spoken once to the Dark Deity.

Razlok didn’t let the power they wielded over the woman go to their head. Or, rather, there was nothing Gwenllian could say in reverence that would boost their ego any further.

“Maybe, maybe no. Auron will know what to do.”

Gwenllian seemed taken aback by this answer, as if she was expecting more… force from Razlok’s demands on the world. “Do you want things to change? What do you want to do?” After a pause, she hurriedly added a respectful “Sir.”

That made Razlok laugh.

“None ae that, thank ye. I willnae suffer any ae that deference. But, honest, had no time to make plans today. Would like to find a bed and sleep. Repair Kian’s leg in the meantime. Let the complications be sorted out tomorrow.”

She took her time thinking, that composed nature showing as she processed who and what Razlok was.

With some mild embarrassment, Gwenllian explained her confusion. “I was taught that when the Deity of Darkness returned that the Guild and everything else would be drastically altered.”

Razlok snorted and it echoed in the near-empty shrine. “What say we start by catching up on being human, then we can workshop end-of-world scenarios.”

Things would change, of course, but not in the way that most people who feared the Dark believed. Razlok wasn’t about to wrest control from Order Incarnate. Auron wouldn’t let the reins go, anyways.

Seemingly mollified, Gwenllian relaxed a bit into the armchair. A foot tapped in the air while she contemplated the next steps. There was work to be done.

“I can make an excuse to Kian, one that keeps you here for a few days. Have you eaten? I’ll arrange for a room, too.”

Her mind was filling with a to-do list, things to make Razlok’s introduction to the Guild more efficient. Even if they were simply pretending to be a guest for now.

Razlok smiled warmly as they heard the metaphorical gears turn in her head, striving to accomplish the correct things in as best an order as possible.

”… You remind me of Auron. It’s endearing.”

Gwenllian’s foot stopped tapping suddenly and she went very still. Razlok could only guess that she was either shocked by their audacity or bewildered by the high praise. They guessed the latter.

“Thank you.” Her words were quiet, but filled with pride.

She stood and straightened out her clothing, drawing a hand over the long braid of her hair. “Shall we go?”

Razlok followed suit, gesturing for Gwenllian to lead the way. The pair reached the door and the woman looked back to check that the deity was following. The shrine had shifted back to the small stone room it started as, entirely unchanged.

Gwenllian shook her head to clear it, while Razlok suppressed a little smirk of amusement.

“After you,” they said.

That was one Seat down, and six more to go. Razlok had yet to resolve the problem with the Seats of Fire. It could probably wait until tomorrow… or next week.