“Sooo,” Stories started. “I didn’t quite catch what Survival’s ability was about. We’ve got time, so spill.”

Order and Stories were standing off to the side, watching over Barkly’s turn with Survival’s magic hands. The older elf didn’t seem as shocked as Leffy was, but he did stroke the floating hands with his own to confirm that yes, this was actually happening – against all explainable logic, there were indeed two tangible appendages attached to the very obvious absence of a body making contact with his body and doing something to him. Something that made him feel all tingly and hot all over. Probably meant that it was working, he thought. Cool.

“You were with him for a whole week, fool. Did you not ask him even once?”

“Couldn’t say that his ability was at the front of my mind, no. Too busy teasing him.”

Order sighed. “Well, I suppose I can let you in on this factoid – it’s not like you can do anything with it now.” She cleared her throat once to ensure that she was in peak explanation form, then continued.

“The God of Survival – his godly talent is to enforce hierarchy amongst mortal lifeforms. As far as I can gather from what he told me, anyways. There was a lot of wincing and cowering while he was describing it.”

“Enforce? What, like, make mortals treat each other like slaves or something?”

“No, he creates a framework in the minds of mortals he projects his aura onto – a mental obligation to follow a set of rules, the purpose of which is to cause the formation of a caste-like system, one that prioritises physical strength of the individual rather than other qualities like intelligence or creativity. A brutish talent fit for the brute that he is.” She pointed at the transparent titan that was currently holding an uncomfortable squat, trying his best to remain still for the entire duration of five minutes. “I’m expecting that the next logical evolution of this ability, when channelled directly into a mortal at point blank range, that is, would be to confer onto them characteristics that the strongest of his caste system possesses.”

“So you don’t know.”

“If I knew, you utter imbecile, I wouldn’t have to carry out this experiment, now would I? Please use that underdeveloped hunk of cranial tissue in between your ears that you call a brain before speaking up next time. That would be greatly appreciated.”

“Geez, you don’t have to get mad. I was only asking.” Stories sulked, turning his attention back to the ritual in front of him. He pointed at the plastic sheet that covered the ground. “Why the tarp, then? We didn’t do that before. Does that help with the experiment?”

Order smiled.

“It’s so the blood doesn’t go everywhere.”

=========================================

“Leffy! Are you ok? Did they hurt you?” The second Treen was brought to Leffy by that white lady, she’d hurried over, running her hands down her brother’s body, worriedly searching for cuts or bruises from the so-called blessing that had been performed on him.

“Treen, I’m fine. I was a little rattled when the blessing started, but it’s all good in the end – see? I can still run around and everything.” Leffy did a small jog in a circle to demonstrate his fitness. “Though the blessing hasn’t actually done anything yet… which is kinda disappointing. Although, that God did say that it’ll be another seven hours before anything big happens. Oh, and I have to stay here on this funny mat until that happens.” He patted the plastic sheet covering the ground.

“What was the blessing about? Did they make you drink something weird?” Treen pried open Leffy’s mouth and peered inside, looking for traces of discoloured liquids.

“Nou, an iz wiurd ew wood tink soh,” The elf boy pulled away the slender fingers accosting his mouth. “No, but it’s super crazy! So like, these two huge – I mean, gigantic – hands just started grabbing me and then that lady was like, “Ok, mr God of Survival, do your thing!” and then I felt a sort of warmth and I was kinda freaked out but I held it together and-“

“Hold on,” Treen interrupted. There was something… profoundly strange mixed in with what her brother had said. “What do you mean by God of Survival? The white lady didn’t perform the blessing herself?”

“Well, no- but does that matter? The ritual still worked, it’s not like she lied or something, she just had her friend do it for her. Loosen up, Treen, not everything has to be a life-threatening danger all the time.”

Treen didn’t think the same, though. Her mind began to cycle through possibilities for that God to conceal this information. Why would she omit the fact that it would be another God carrying out the blessing? Why would she lead us to believe that she’d come alone to our tribe? And why separate the ones that had already been blessed from the ones that hadn’t been?

By meaning alone, a blessing was something that was benign, something that would be beneficial to people; why would you need to keep them away from those that had been unblessed? It was as if the separation was so that they could keep track of who they’d already finished up with. Who didn’t need to be kept an eye on any further.

An unsettling idea crawled in from the dark, latching itself to her thoughts and cackling with wicked glee. As she slowly put the fragments together, she felt the hairs on her skin prickle outwards. There was only one conclusion she could come to if you looked at the entire scenario as one intended to ensnare rather than to benefit.

This was just like a hunt – the tracking down of prey, the capturing of unknowing, clueless animals.

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And now, the preparation of the meat.

This wasn’t a ceremony to make the elves stronger or better – this was a slaughterhouse, and they were the deer being held for execution.

Then Treen realised something more horrifying than the trap they were already in the jaws of.

That God of Order, she’d wanted all the elves – not just them three.

“Ok, Leffy, listen to me,” Treen gripped her brother by his shoulders, glancing over periodically at the white lady currently focusing her attention on Barkly - ensuring that the next words she was about to say would not be overheard. “I’m going to slip out as soon as night hits and go back to the elders – I need to warn them. Get our people ready to fight. These Gods; I don't think they want to help us, they're probably trying to prepare us for some... nefarious purpose. Maybe to eat us or something, I don’t know. But there's no way it's something good.”

“Treen, you’re being crazy-“

“Maybe I am. There’s a definite chance that it’s nothing and I'm just being paranoid. But it’s like I always tell you: better to be safe than sorry. Trust me.”

Leffy looked into his sister’s manic eyes, still unworried and carefree, about to throw out a scoff and dismiss her concerns with a joke about her being high-strung as usual. But even he could tell that she was deadly serious at this very moment in time. She really felt that there was an urgent need to inform the chieftains of her conclusions. And no matter what he believed, that everything was fine and the blessing was going to give him the ability to jump over trees or phase through walls or whatever, she was still his older sister.

Leffy sighed. “Blaarg- fine. You win. I’ll help out. We’ll wait till about 6 hours from now; near when the effects of the blessing is supposed to take place. I’ll distract them by yelling or something, then you’ll slip out through the back while they’re occupied with me and hurry back to the treehouses. If you hustle, you’ll probably be able to make it there and back in about fifteen minutes.”

Treen hugged him tight, ignoring his squirming as he tried to break free. “Thank you for this, Leffy. You won’t regret it. All this is for the sake of our tribe. You'll understand when you get older.”

“Gah, ok, ok, I get it, you love me very much – get off of me!” He pushed her away and brushed himself off. She’s overreacting, Leffy thought. Has to be. I mean, just take a look at Barkly – he’s not panicking! Doesn’t she understand that they’re Gods and we’re mortals; why would they want to hurt the people who’re basically their children? Ridiculous.

Leffy smirked to himself. That’s Treen for you, though. Always jumping at shadows around corners. That one elf death had really changed her. Apparently she was a lot more fun before – he would have loved to see that. A Treen that actually took risks and had some fun for once. Leffy shook his head as he lamented the disappearance of the reckless version of his sister. What a shame.

Now, Treen hadn’t come to exactly the right conclusion about the reasoning for Order’s deception. Order’s intentions were indeed as the God had said; to help the elven tribe become better than they already were - she’d just left out that this "betterment" was by experimenting on them with volatile godly abilities that might lead to catastrophic societal collapse. A risk that Order was willing to take.

But by some cosmic fluke, Treen had accidentally stumbled onto the general idea behind what the blessings were for – to further Order’s own goals, and not to benefit the elves in any way whatsoever. Any positive effects were unintended but welcomed, since Order didn’t even know what the results of the experiment might yield. Data was king here, and all the God of Order and Knowledge cared about was learning about how Survival’s ability interacted with the mortals he touched.

However, that was where Treen’s luck ran out. Unfortunately for her, she’d picked the worst option out of the two that she could have chosen.

The other option, for posterity’s sake, would be that after waiting to witness what the blessings had done, Treen should have killed Barkly and her brother, then bit off her own tongue, thereby exterminating every source of potential corruption from their world. That would have ended all chance that harm would befall the elven tribe. The Gods would have left, satisfied with the data they’d collected. The elves might mourn the death of three of their brethren for a couple of weeks. They’d wonder why Treen would have committed such acts of irredeemable fratricide. But they’d move on, as they’d done before.

Instead, she’d picked the other one.

The bad one.

The option which involved getting all the elves to band together and fight the Gods. To drive off the invaders from their ancestral land. A little futile if the elves understood the capabilities of the deities that had descended onto their planet, but there was always the chance that the Gods would comply simply out of annoyance at getting pelted with arrows every few seconds or so, rather than being frightened for their lives.

This plan was all very well and good - if only it hadn’t involved her going back to the elven tribe’s home while still carrying the mark of the God of Survival. A mark that she would pass unintentionally to a guard as she brushed across him. Who would then touch another guard. Who would then go home and hug his wife. Perhaps ruffle the hair of his child.

Eventually leading to the doom of the elven race in its entirety.

But Treen wouldn’t know this.

Not until it was too late.