The wind drifted through the Court of Balance's halls, rustling the curtains hanging over the open window. Maruble stood next to it, the light fluttering over his face as he gazed down at the valley. He was clad in all black, and much like everyone else in attendance, his cloak billowed behind him restlessly. When another breeze brushed across his face, he wrapped the warm fabric tighter around him.

The long summer days had ended, leaving the air frigid and stinging. It reminded him of the cold from Death's fortress in Frost Holm. That time when he turned to a wisp, traveling through the godlands with Noctavius's help, felt like so long ago. Sometimes it felt like it happened to someone else.

"Ah, here you are."

Hartley limped over. His stomach was almost fully healed, but from what he told him, some days were worse than others. That hadn't stopped the God of Peace from being on his feet at any given second.

"You're mother's looking for you. The procession is about to begin, and Belthore asked if you were ready."

He followed Maruble's eyes, staring over the lines of pyres. Each stack held a pile of bodies and families mourning alongside them. Between the tears and the corpses, just looking at the valley made him feel nauseous, and yet he couldn't look away.

Hartley cleared his throat. "I know I've already said this, but thank you for agreeing to light them."

"It's the least I can do."

They stood in silence, watching the scurry of gods move below. Maruble couldn't make out faces from this height, but he knew that his parents were in the crowd, as well as the Court of Balance's Counsel. Somehow, all of them made it out mostly unscathed— but many Wings weren't so lucky.

"There's something I wanted to ask." Hartley scratched his neck. "I know it's soon, but with Belthore retiring next week, I figured it's better to ask now."

Maruble blinked. "Ask what?"

"Here's the thing." He sighed, eyes hardening. "I want you to work for me— here, at the Court of Balance. I want you as a member of my Counsel."

Maruble blinked, the works sinking in slowly. When he realized what Hartley was asking, his eyes grew wide, heart pounding.

"Me?" he blurted.

"Yes."

"But no one trusts me."

Peace shrugged. "They'll learn to."

"They still think I helped lead Death's army." Trying to emphasize his point, he waved his hands in the air. "It'll make you look bad in your new position. They'll discount you as a leader."

"It'll take some adjusting."

Maruble blew out a breath and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Belthore built the Court of Balance on taking chances. He gambled on Noctavius, who people were afraid of, especially after his Death Aura scared a village, and he took on me." Hartley shrugged, leaning on the marble walls. "That's the thing about chance— you're not always right. Noctavius tried to kill us all. But Balance showed me I could be something better. I could be more than what people expected of me."

Maruble studied him carefully, but the god he knew before, the one who was clumsy and disheveled, was gone. The divine had been replaced by someone with a knowing look in their eye— someone not too different from the God of Balance himself.

"I'll do it," he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "If I can do some good on the Counsel, something that can help Alta, then I want to do it."

They shook hands, and then Hartley clapped him on the back. "I knew you'd say yes. Now, let's get down there before your mother foresees death in my future."

The two of them walked down the long hallway, chatting idly about Hartley's new position and what it would entail. Even though the Court was still in shambles, and it would be a long time before it was back to normal, gods were already working to return it to its former glory. Maruble had a feeling it wouldn't take as long as they expected.

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He trudged down the stairs, then through the front gates, opening up into the blood-soaked valley. At the edge of the procession, Athema and Theon talked quietly, but for once, they looked at each other in understanding. Athema kissed him on the cheek. His father returned to the God of Memory, who waited with two godlings. Maruble thought it looked like a goodbye.

Athema approached him, smiling sadly. She wore her orb on her hip, tied together with simple netting. The goddess had abandoned her seeing room and only used the orb to store visions when they became overwhelming. It had been a long time since she wore her face covering, and he was glad.

"How is he?" asked Maruble carefully.

"Your father decided to seal his mountain until he regains his strength, but I expect it will be a long time before that happens." She smiled, her face thoughtful. "Death's army had many godlings in it. He and Memory took them in and are keeping them safe in her domain. It seems Theon's Chain is going to have more rooms soon."

Athema's gaze slowly moved over the funeral pyres. She looked sad, but the sort of sadness that comes from new beginnings.

"It's the happiest I've seen him in ages," she admitted. "I hope Memory takes good care of him."

Balance joined them, casting an apologetic look at Athema and bowing his head.

"Maruble, it's time." He motioned to the pile of bodies around them. "Are you sure you can light them all?"

"It shouldn't be a problem."

Belthore nodded. "Then let's get started."

The God of Balance gathered the crowd. Just as the sun started to set, Maruble raised his hands. Around him were the bodies that fought in the divine war, covered in gashes and slathered in blood. He called his fire to him, and smoke danced in the sky, turning the soldiers and their wounds to ash.

Some gods wailed, falling to their knees in loud sobs, but most watched the fire quietly. They stood in silence, the flames dancing in their eyes like dying stars.

As the burning continued, members of the Counsel huddled together. Many gods on those pyres had been under their leadership— some they watched die. Lowering his hands, Maruble glanced at them, wondering if he could ever really be one of them. Even if it wouldn't be easy, he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else.

Last week, when he returned to Alta, he had been gone so long that his domain had mostly disappeared. It couldn't survive without his power to fuel it, and so his home was lost. Since then, he had been living in the Court of Balance, and sometime during his stay, those marble halls had rubbed off on him: the hustle of gods rushing around on business, the distant laughter, and their combined goal of keeping Alta safe.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to be part of it. He wanted to help them make Alta safer, help them learn from Death's sacrifice, ensuring nothing like that would ever happen again. No god would be banished to a place like Frost Holm and forgotten— not if he could help it.

As the fires dimmed, he swished an arm through the air, and the candles surrounding them flickered to life. With his job done, he walked towards the members of the Counsel. A few, including the God of Justice, eyed him warily. He nodded, fighting to look as friendly as possible.

It was small, but it was a start.

When the pyres burned to embers, everyone filed back into the Court of Balance, where the real party started. The banquet hall had been filled with long tables, topped with every food and drink he could imagine. There were roasted pigs, spiced wines, and meads with a strange glow. Everyone grabbed a drink, and the Altans celebrated their dead like true gods.

Maruble sipped his wine, watching from a table in the corner. He wondered if the souls on the pyres would be trapped in the Underworld or if Death and Rot had already freed them. As the moon rose higher and the drink warmed his bones, he found himself on a balcony, looking down over the ashen heaps.

For a moment, he wondered what Sarah and Jacob were doing. He never would have made it back to Alta without their help. Soon, he would be ready to see them again— but not yet. There were things in the godlands that needed his attention first. More importantly, he was afraid that if he returned now, he wouldn't be able to leave.

Maruble shuffled back to the banquet, but many guests were gone. Even his father, who once cherished parties above all else, went home hours ago.

The Court of Peace's Counsel sat in a group, talking quietly amongst themselves. Athema sat with a table of Derutons. From what she told him, she was discussing a better way for their people to coexist without being dependent on her resources. A step in the right direction.

"Maruble, over here," said Hartley, waving him over. "We wanted to ask you something about the humans."

He forced his legs to move, taking a seat at the table. Hartley wanted to know more about human lifestyles, planning to help their world during disasters while being secretive. Justice demanded more information about college, having Maruble tell him every last detail, down to assignments he had been given. Meditations wanted to hear about the party, and even Grief laughed when he told the story of his stolen bike. And the more he talked, the more it felt natural sitting among them, and somewhere along the way, he started to enjoy himself.

The party cleared out, but the Counsel remained at the table, drinking and snacking on leftover food. They talked about Alta and their dreams for the future. It struck Maruble that this had been more than a cremation ceremony, and while many gods grieved for their loved ones, they were also mourning the end of a chapter.

A new era was rising in the godlands. The time of Balance passed, and the age of Peace had swept through the lands. For once, Maruble liked the sound of that. Instead of moving against the current, he was glad to move with it.

The God of Fire had not stepped foot in his castle of flames since returning to the godlands, but for the first time in a long, long time, his body felt warm.