The gods are dead. The cries of their worshipers weren’t enough to save them from themselves.

Then, the world was rich, and lush; tended like a beloved garden. No weed was allowed to take root, no pest allowed to spoil the harvest. But even for all the splendor of a paradise devised from the greatest machinations of their desires, sins began to in their hearts.

Even with the power they had, they were not satisfied. They sought more. To the praises of the humans they turned. Some showered miracles and kindness, others extorted pledges of adoration with the threat of pain.

Yet, never came the satisfaction they craved. Want turned to longing. Longing to obsession. And when the object of that obsession was found to be denied…obsession turned to rage.

Maybe the wisest could explain with great words of grandeur and fanciful meaning the fury and entitlement in their souls, but to those of even the common mind the gods were simple fools who forgot the order they orchestrated.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

In what would be remembered as the Great Fall, the Calamity, time of Dying, god raised arms against god. The battles shook the stones of the ground and the high ceilings of the heavens. Kingdoms of man fell as targets of rival mirth; playthings destroyed to inflict harm to the owner. Soon, the whole of the world was burning.   

Immortal blood rained from above in great showers of gore that soaked the ground with violence made manifest. Rivers ran red as the seas turned sanguine. And when men were called to raise weapons for their heavenly patrons, the battlefields were slick with the red of god and mortal.

Those horror filled days mixed the essence of the immortal with the flesh of man in the oceans churned by violent storms. From that womb of unnatural conjoining was birthed monstrous creatures and abominations which sought only to feast on mortal prey.

After that; after all the wrongs the gods had wrought, the heavens grew silent, the bloody rains ceased, and the prophets fell silent, man looked to the skies for an answer. They threw down their swords in revulsion, crying out to their gods. Free were they of the compulsion for war, yet too were they free from the presence of the divine.  

On the last day of the beginning, mortal eyes grew wide as they watched the corpses of the gods plummet from the sky.