“It’s against the concord.” said a plain, masculine voice, devoid of all emotion.

“I don’t see how! You have your own little champion, three even! Heraline and Yenhr also have a champion each. Why can’t I?” The boisterous feminine voice was filled with frustration, and the challenge in her words was unmistakable.

“Praxus, Akhenna, please do not bring me into this. I am only here to make sure the concord doesn’t fall apart.” Heraline’s voice was strained, clearly exhausted by the incessant debates. She had little interest in these endless discussions, but she had learned long ago that she was often the one to mediate when tempers flared.

“No, no, you should definitely bring my sister into this, it makes it far more fun,” Yenhr interjected with her usual playful grin, her voice light as she injected a bit of levity into the tense room. Despite the tension, she always managed to maintain an air of amusement, even if it was in the midst of a serious debate.

“At least someone around here doesn’t have a stick up their ass, Praxus,” Akhenna said, accentuating his name with all the mischievous delight she could muster. Her tone carried the familiar chaos she revelled in, a sharp contrast to Praxus’s stoic demeanour.

“Sires, I’ve heard enough. This constant bickering only erodes what little order remains in this place,” Sirasyr’s voice cut through the tension, a cold, detached calmness in his words. “The concord was created for a reason. It’s a sacred framework that ensures our balance is maintained.” His star-filled eyes shimmered with the foresight of futures yet to unfold, his ethereal presence betraying an almost timeless patience. "Any breach is a dangerous path."

“I would hardly call Akhenna’s champion a breach!” Yenhr retorted, her usual playful tone now tinged with exasperation. She leaned back, her warm aura flickering like sunlight through trees. “What’s so wrong with a little extra fire? You and Praxus have your champions. It’s not like she’s the only one.”

“Control is what holds the world together, Yenhr,” Sirasyr countered, his gaze cold and unwavering. “Without it, we spiral into chaos. You know better than most that the future demands stability. If Akhenna’s champion grows too powerful, the balance will shatter.”

Akhenna’s voice rang out in defiance, smooth and dripping with her trademark mischief. “So, now we’re talking about balance? Last I checked, balance wasn’t Praxus’s style. You’ve always been a little too focused on your future, Sirasyr. Perhaps you need to live in the present for once!” Her voice was a playful jab, but there was an edge to it, like a storm just beginning to form. “Besides, what harm is a champion in the mix? I’m just spicing things up a bit!”

“And how much 'spice' is too much?” Praxus spoke up, his voice cool, controlled, and firm. His gaze was unyielding, though his lips curled with a trace of annoyance. “The champions must be held to their bounds. Their growth must be managed, or we risk an imbalance too great to undo.”

“I’ll not waste another moment on this.” A deep, booming voice interrupted the growing tension. The towering figure of Serranos, God of the Tempest, materialised at the back of the chamber, his wolf-like features snarling in impatience. His wild, stormy eyes gleamed with the hunger of a predator, but he had no interest in the theological debates unfolding before him. He was more concerned with finding worthy opponents to test his might.

“I came for a fight, not to listen to this endless prattling. Let Praxus do as he wishes; it makes little difference to me. I’ll fight anyone who stands in my way, and if Akhenna’s champion is a worthy challenge, then I’ll be first in line to test them,” Serranos grinned wildly, his massive frame causing the room to rumble slightly as he shifted his weight. “As long as the fights are good, I’ll be there. The rest? It’s just talk.”

“And I’ll be done with it soon enough,” Akhenna laughed, clearly pleased by Serranos’s disinterest in the matter. “At least someone around here doesn’t waste time.”

“This seems pointless.” An imposing presence materialised from the shadows, her voice deep, resonant, and full of authority. The immense figure that spoke was Nirathys, the Goddess of the Tide, whose form flickered like a moving sea, casting a great shadow in the divine court.

Virdan, who had been silent throughout the heated exchange, finally broke his silence with a heavy sigh. “Enough. I agree with Nirathys. We’ve spoken in circles long enough.” The God of Loam’s voice was slow and deliberate, like the deep, steady rumbling of earth beneath the surface. “Praxus and Sirasyr may have their principles, but in the end, it is the actions that will shape the future, not our endless discourse.”

“I am disappointed, Virdan.” Praxus’s voice remained cold, unwavering. “She gave her champion too much potential for growth. She is toeing the line on what is acceptable.”

Virdan paused before replying, as was his custom. He did not rush his words, carefully considering each one before it left his mouth. “You have three champions, Praxus. Each together are roughly as powerful as Akhenna’s chosen. Is that not also ‘toeing the line,’ as you say?”

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Praxus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He had no retort, no counter to the logic in Virdan’s statement. Instead, he sat back in his chair, staring at the table in frustration. The argument was lost, at least for the moment.

“I suppose so.” Praxus muttered, reluctantly conceding the point.

At that moment, Akhenna appeared behind Virdan. Her presence was sudden, like a storm, and she slapped him on the back with enough force to make him lurch forward. He barely caught himself before he tumbled from his seat.

“I like you, Virdan. You use brain to think good, like what I do,” Akhenna laughed loudly, as if the entire situation were a grand joke. Praxus’s normally composed expression cracked for just a moment, his eyebrows knitted together in irritation.

“So, are we done here? It’s not like Gorvahra is going to toss her opinion into the ring. Big old sleepyhead that she is and all.” Said the Goddess of Chaos mockingly.

Praxus clicked his tongue and vanished, his departure swift and as silent as the air after a storm. There was no further discussion from him; his words had been his answer. Sirasyr followed soon after, dissolving into the aether and leaving no indication that he was once there.

“Done? Good. This was a waste of time,” Heraline sighed, her voice heavy with fatigue. She too disappeared without another word, her form dissolving into the Aether.

“Finally!” Serranos sighed aggressively, disappearing in a crack of thunder and lightning.

Iriyx, the God of Resonance, had said nothing for the duration of the meeting and said nothing as they folded into themselves, disappearing with a quiet pop.

Akhenna, however, did not immediately follow. Her grin faded, replaced by an unusually serious expression as she looked at Virdan and Yenhr, who remained seated. There was something heavy in the air, an unspoken understanding between them that this was not a trivial matter. Akhenna’s demeanour had shifted, and the playful chaos that usually defined her was absent.

“Virdan, Yenhr, stay a moment please.” Akhenna’s voice was quiet, but sharp, compelling them to remain. There was something in her tone that told them this conversation was not over, and it had weight beyond their usual bickering.

Yenhr and Virdan exchanged a sharp glance. Neither of them needed to ask what this was about—Akhenna rarely looked this serious. And when she did, it was usually the precursor to something far more dangerous than they could anticipate.

Virdan sat down on a chair made of twisting vines, the surface adorned with alien flowers of every shape and hue, each bloom exuding a faint glow. Yenhr took her seat in the manifestation of warmth, a radiant but soft glow that bathed the space around her in a subtle, calming light. Akhenna lowered herself into a bean bag, her form obscured from the shoulders down by the table made of shifting space and time.

Akhenna leaned forward, her fingers playing with the fabric of reality itself. Her eyes, however, were fixed on her two companions. “You know what he is doing, yes?”

“Of course we do,” Yenhr scoffed, her voice filled with a quiet exasperation. She stretched lazily, her glow flickering like the first light of dawn. “What are we to do with the concord in place? Praxus will never bend on this. You know that as well as I do.”

Virdan spoke slowly, his voice full of contemplation. “Every year, more of my followers convert to his faith. This may not be as much of an issue for you or Yenhr, primordials that you are, but for the major deities like myself or Serenos, it weakens us greatly.” His gaze hardened, his deep, thoughtful rumble filling the air. “I feel a war coming. A war not just of champions, but one of belief itself.”

Akhenna nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” she said quietly. Her fingers drummed against the table, the sound like the ticking of a clock counting down toward something inevitable. “The concord holds us in check, but it’s becoming fragile. The more Praxus and his followers gain, the more the balance tips in his favour. If the other gods begin to see the true potential of his cause, we could lose everything.”

Yenhr’s glow flickered, her smile slowly fading into something more solemn. “And what are we to do about it, then? We can’t just break the concord. That would send the world into chaos. Worse than usual, even for you.”

“No, not yet,” Akhenna replied, her voice thoughtful. “But the time will come when we must make a choice. The longer we let this fester, the more dangerous it becomes. And when it comes to a head, we may have to take sides. I need to know if you two are with me when that time comes.”

Virdan’s face was grim, the weight of his years pressing on him. “You know I will stand with you when the time comes. But we must be prepared. The consequences of breaking the concord are not to be taken lightly.”

Yenhr placed a hand on Virdan’s shoulder, her smile returning, though more weary now. “And you know I’ll be there too. It won’t be easy, Akhenna, but we’ve survived worse.”

Akhenna’s grin returned, though it was tinged with something darker, more calculated. “Good. For now. we’ll wait. But we won’t be idle. Virdan, I suggest you elect a champion. I know you have been against the idea of them for a long time but you will need one for the challenges ahead.” The Goddess of Chaos turned to look at the Goddess of Dawn, her gaze holding the weight of a million years. “Yenhr, either choose a new one or kick their ass into gear.”

She let out a weary sigh. “I won’t let Praxus and his order rule everything. Not while I’m still here.”

The three gods shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them. They all knew what was at stake. And though the path ahead was uncertain, they knew one thing for sure: they were ready for whatever came next.

And with that, the divine conclave fell into silence once more.