Responsibility was a strange thing.

On one hand, it made you a person of importance and someone who could be relied upon, if you were reliable. On the other, well. Sometimes consequences couldn't be avoided. Certain responsibilities were doomed from the start.

Maruble knew that burning the human's mountain would cause him trouble. He would have been an idiot not to think so. Yet, even though he felt justified in his action, a creeping unease had settled into his stomach that he couldn't get rid of. It had him pacing around in his fortress all night.

There had been rumors spreading around the godlands for a long time. Rumors that the Court of Balance had been stripping gods of their power and forcing them to live among the barren. It had been too horrible for him to think about-- a fate worse than death. If it ever came to that, he would find a way to burn himself alive before they could ever take away his flame.

He was justified in his actions. The barelands had deserved it. If anything, Maruble should be awaiting an award for challenging the complacency that had flooded their lands, and for daring gods to change their flawed system. People would follow him, he knew. The God of Death, for instance, understood his thoughts and ideals perfectly.

Despite the warmth of his domain, the air had taken on a teeth-chattering cold that made him feel uneasy. Maruble wrapped his cloak tighter around him and smelled smoke. The cloak had been a gift from his mother years ago for making her proud, a statement he couldn't think about without snorting. While their family emblem mostly consisted of blue and yellow, she had it made in the brightest of reds.

Red as wildfire. Burning. Red as the blood flowing on that scorched mountain.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Odd. It wasn't usual for people to visit his fortress. He could count on one hand the number of times someone had knocked on the door. He opened it and then looked down.

A small boy stood before him. He was small and thin, with black hair and a robe to match. On his shoulder was a white seeing owl, meaning that their conversation was being monitored by the gods of the high court. Most likely as protection, in case he decided to act out.

"Excuse me," said the boy, meekly. Maruble narrowed his eyes. Young as he was, a strange power seeped through the boy that he couldn't place. He barely looked old enough to have crossed Nira's Path. "Would you happen to be the God of Fire, Maruble?"

"This is my domain, yes." Maruble had a good mind to slam the door in the boy's face and run, but he dug his heel into the ground. After all, something about the boy disconcerted him. His eyes were a little too wide. His face too blank. He straightened up and said, "It seems you have found me."

The boy bowed deeply and said, "You have been summoned to the Court of Balance and are requested to come immediately. If you decline, your punishment shall be issued without trial."

Punishment.

There it was. The God of Fire exhaled slowly, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. Dammnit, he knew. He knew the court had a history of being unforgiving, passing punishment to gods they considered troublesome, yet he still acted in anger. He cursed under his breath. There would be no avoiding the trial; he would have to pray to the dead gods that they would hear what he had to say.

"I'll be there shortly."

The boy nodded, satisfied, and flickered away.

Rain pattered from the sky and Maruble thought again about responsibility. If there was hope of anyone listening to what he had to say... Well, he finally had his audience. Any punishment the court would dole out for not showing would be far worse than he could imagine.

For an odd moment, he had the childish urge to cry in frustration. It hit him so hard, so suddenly, that it nearly sent him tumbling back into his fortress. What in the clouds was that about? He took that strange feeling and stuffed it back down, down to a place it could never be touched, and did the only thing he could do.

Maruble flickered to the Court of Balance.

The court was so bright, that Maruble had to blink and let his eyes adjust. The sun filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows and caused a dizzying effect as it hit the marble walls. He had been there many times as a boy, accompanied by his mother. She would bring him along to her court comings and goings since he had been too young to be left alone in her temple. Especially with her seeing room.

Whenever someone was summoned, they were forced to walk up five flights of stairs to the main courtroom, as if to have more time to reflect on their actions. Maruble put one foot after another. The stairs must have been working because his heart pounded in his chest and his head ached so badly he thought he might vomit.

The boy, the same messenger as before, waited for him at the courtroom door, his robe still dripping from the rain. "They're waiting for you inside. One moment." He traced his finger in a strange circle around the door trailed by blue light. Letters appeared, written in Altani. Suddenly, the door creaked open. "Please step inside."

"Thank you," managed Maruble, fighting the urge to shove the boy out of the way.

The Court of Balance waited for him inside. They were seated at a high table that curved around the room so that every member could fit. The table loomed above him. Higher than that, witnesses of the court watched over the proceedings with great interest. Eyes gleaming like hungry hyenas. Belthore, The God of Balance, was seated at the center of it all. Justice sat on his left and Peace to his right. All of the other gods seated around him were only vaguely recognizable-- except for one.

Death.

He sat at the end of the table and twirled his quill in his hands. His head rested on his knuckles as he watched the already bickering gods with delight. If Maruble didn't know any better, he would say the god was enjoying himself.

The room silenced when they caught sight of Maruble. He walked forward, his footsteps loud in his ears, and took a seat in the chair at the center of the room. Immediately, the room darkened. Only the immediate members of the court were visible, everything else was shrouded in darkness.

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Belthore tidied his stack of papers and said, "Remain standing." When Maruble stood, Belthore continued, "Maruble, son of Sight and Volcanics, God of Fire, do you know why you've been summoned today?"

"I have an idea." Maruble tensed his jaw. "But I can explain."

"Let's see, you've set fire to a mountain in the barelands, killing a human and injuring many more." Belthore looked at him from over his glasses. "I must ask, Maruble. Are you aware of how short a human lifespan is?"

"A hundred or so years?"

Balance laughed, but it did not reach his eyes. "One hundred is generous. Most of them don't have the chance to reach that, with the ever-changing tides of their health. Because of that, killing a human is the worst crime a god can commit. And not to mention destroying their land, which takes many years to repair itself. Even then, it is never the same. A great, great evil." Belthore loosed a long breath and glanced at his papers once more. "What is your defense?"

Maruble eyed the gods of the court one by one. All of them but Hartley and Noctavius looked at him with, what was it? Disdain? Perhaps hatred? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. This was not how he expected it to go. He cleared his throat, gathering his wits about him, and said, "Guilty."

Gods whispered amongst themselves, but Balance ignored them. "And what possessed you to act in such a way?"

"I believe that humans themselves are inherently evil," he said, taking a step forward. "Is it not in their nature to worship, pray, and sacrifice their own in fear of the gods?" Death smiled openly at him now, and it gave Maruble the strength to go on. "For too long they have run the Earth like lost children. They are like tools we've left to rust in a garden. Once they are cleansed, we will reap the rewards of true godhood. The depths of our power would be endless."

Silence.

Belthore continued as if he had not heard anything at all. "By the laws of this land, any who disuse their title as a god will be stripped of their power and forced to live in the Isle of the Barren."

"Our laws are outdated," growled Maruble. "Perhaps it's time to reevaluate the meaning of disuse. Or are only you subject to that, Belthore?" Maruble's legs trembled beneath him, and he was tempted to fall into the lone chair in the court but thought better of it. He forced himself to stand straighter. "Humans have been left to their whims for too long. I am not the only one who feels this way. There are many of us, many who are scared to stand up to you and your court out of fear of punishment. Tell me, where is this balance that I keep hearing about?"

The court witnesses spoke loudly amongst themselves now, their voices echoing off the maruble like a choir. The darkness ebbed, just a bit. They were listening to him. Finally, after all this time, he had the audience he was looking for. Balance still had not moved in his seat, and had not so much as fidgeted. He stared down at Maruble and said, "Did you know that humans have court systems, much like us?"

Maruble shrugged. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"When one of them breaks the law, usually there are consequences. They do not simply go around killing each other, for the most part, or stealing from each other without the risk of being locked away. Or, if they are particularly horrible, murdered by their people." He shifted the glasses on his nose. Even from here, Maruble could see how pale he was in their reflection. "You see, if we let gods bypass our laws and let them do whatever they please, even our lands would be less competent than that of these lowly beings that you speak of."

Balance hit the gavel twice. "Maruble, God of Fire, you are guilty of abusing your power as a god, and for using it to harm humans in the barelands."

The room felt like it was spinning. This time, Maruble did fall into the chair at the center of the room.

"Now wait just a moment," said a familiar voice, cutting through his dread. Death stood behind his seat with a wide grin spread across his face. "The boy is still young and full of ideas, should we not encourage young gods to be full of passion? They are our future, after all."

"Beliefs?" Justice jumped from his chair so fast it tumbled down behind him. "The boy disobeyed laws older than himself."

"There is no need to shout, Justice," said Hartley, motioning him to sit down.

"I know it was you," said Justice, jabbing his finger at Death. "You're the one who put these ideas in his head at Theon's party. All of us saw it."

"For the love of dead gods, sit down Jutice," muttered Balance. The god obeyed. "All of you are members of the high court, and you will act like it."

"If I may."

A voice behind Maruble sent him whirling around. His mother. Athema stood at the door of the court. He had not heard her walk in, and by the look of the gods above him, neither had they. Her long hair moved in a breeze that was not there, and her face was uncovered.

"Athema," said Balance, his features softening. "Thank you for coming. The court could use your wisdom today."

She walked past Maruble as if she could not see him. "As you know, Balance, my son is lost. He has burned the Earth's mountain out of anger, and there are many trials and consequences ahead of him, but not on the Isle of the Barren."

The eyes of the court stared at Athema curiously. Maruble shifted in his seat. Had she foreseen something? Or, like his father, was she only hoping he would get the punishment he deserved? His gut twisted, but all he could do was watch.

Hartley cleared his throat. "What are you suggesting, Goddess of Sight?"

"A law was broken, yes." Athema's back was to him now, and she did not even risk glancing in his direction. "But Maruble is young with misguided ideals, and I believe his lack of empathy stems not from hatred, but a lack of understanding for humans. Though the future is not clear to me, I have foreseen his punishment."

"By all means," said Balance, motioning for her to go on.

"Maruble is to live amongst humans until a lesson is learned, and he is worthy of being a god once more."

The court began to shout. The walls felt like they were closing in, and Maruble gripped his chair to keep from falling out of it. He rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw slack. The subject of fairness was tossed around the room, back and forth. A punishment harsher than being banished to the Barren.

Justice shook his head. "A god cannot live among humans, it's against our laws."

"He would not live as a god among humans," Athema corrected. "But as one of them."

"Banished from Atla?" said Hartley, incredulously. "The court has never ruled such a thing."

"We accept your request." Balance nodded, and the entire court fell into hushed silence.

"Thank you."

Without another word, or even a look in his direction, his mother flickered away. Maruble scanned the gods and had a sudden realization. His father was not there. Perhaps his father did not care about what happened to him. Either way, there was a chance he would never see either one of them again. He would be a human. The thought was too much to bear. They might as well have turned him into a sewer rat and went on their way, but at least rats had some sort of purpose. This was just cruelty. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream at the gods above him until his throat burned, but Maruble found he didn't have the energy.

Alta, with all its flaws, was his home. He had never known anywhere else. Never wanted to. Now, he was being banished from the only place he knew. It was never supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to listen.

"God of Fire," said Balance, looking down upon him. Maruble visibly shrunk. "You are sentenced to live as a human in the barelands. You will live among them, experience both their mundanities of life, as well as their victories and tragedies, as one of their own. Only when you are deemed worth, if ever, will you be allowed to return."

His voice felt weak, even to his ears. "Yes, your honor."

"Court dismissed."

Maruble's eyes danced around frantically, searching for someone, anyone, that would help him. His eyes landed on Death. He wanted to call out to him and beg him to stop the ruling, but the god only smirked. His stomach dropped. Perhaps the God of Death had never wanted to help him, only wanted to stir up the court for his amusement. He was alone. Truly alone.

He had been so smug at his father's party, and now there was no one left to help him. Even his mother wanted nothing to do with him. Maruble looked around at the attendees and held his chin high, but only a vast emptiness greeted him. And when Balance pointed to Maruble, all he could do was close his eyes.

This was it. He would never see Alta again. Never step foot in his home or his mother's temple again. Maruble took in a deep breath and opened his eyes-- just in time to see a bolt of light crash into him. He braced, and then the world dipped to black.