--- ELIAX ---

I frowned at Kinthek as he handed the Priest another bundle of those stems we were always searching for. He’d said it was to pay off a debt when I asked, but no one had really told me what the stems were even for.

My eyes tracked to Preist Vilvav Vespin, an old man who was at least in his eighties. That was older than I was if you thought about it as mental age, even if I hardly could think of myself as older than twelve at the moment. Sparking Fora never staying alive long enough for it to matter…

Either way, Vilvav Vespin was suspicious to me. He acted all nice but he was the one that Kinthek—presumably—owed. In that light, perhaps I should make sure that he was going to honor his side of it? On the surface Vilvav seemed like a fairly good man, even if he never did any actual work and prayed at that shrine all day instead. He was old, no one really expected him to do any work. But it was to the point where he was tan only on the back of his bald head from how much bowing he did.

Kinthek grinned at Vespin, “Just two more bundles, right?”

Vespin nodded with a smile, “I’ll count over them again tonight and account for the ones we used, but you’re almost done.”

Kinthek brightened visibly, practically vibrating as he nodded so fast I thought his head might come off. He rushed off, back toward the river even though the sun was starting to set so he’d only get a few. He didn’t ask if I wanted to come, I’d said no earlier, too busy annoying Denthen.

I turned toward Vespin as Kinthek rushed off, frowning at him, “Do you want help counting those?” If he refused then I’d have to find some other way to figure out how many Kinthek had gathered.

Vespin turned his grandfatherly smile on me, “Of course, I’d never say no to another set of hands. But I thought you said I made you uncomfortable?”

I shrugged, not refuting the statement, “You’re odd, people aren’t meant to spend all day at a shrine, talking to a god who might not even be listening.”

Vespin’s eyes sparkled slightly and he waved me toward the storage tent as he started down the path, “You have a god of your own, don’t you?”

I shrugged again, not meeting his eyes. Part of me was still uncomfortable with anything related to deity. I hadn’t realized how odd that might be here, where practically everyone knew at least five different gods off the top of their heads. Gium had taken more from us than just our histories. “I do.”

He nodded as I pulled open the tent and ducked in in front of me. “Then you know that barely any of them say much unless it’s important. They always listen though.”

I remembered Fora’s sight, laying on the ground as three gods argued above her. Two of them had been at least mostly on her side. I hadn’t realized just how much the two of us had needed to see that, to know that, to hear the words of the argument itself. Fora focused mostly on the emotion of it, the sensation and direct cause and effect.

But I was Eliax, I was the quiet thinker that she occasionally became. I saw the longterm, the logic. Three gods arguing was different for me, I could almost see their power radiating outward when I remembered it.

I shuddered slightly, “I know they can hear.” with such power and strength, there was no way that they couldn’t hear. “I just don’t know that they actually listen.”

“I suppose I can see that perspective.”

I frowned, “but…” I sighed as he gestured for me to pause for a moment. The Larborak had a lot of gestures with their language, which is part of what made it hard for me to figure out how to speak back, even with the inexplicable translation ability.

Vilvav led me to a large pile of dried reeds, gesturing toward them. The two of us sat down and he started picking up bundles and inspecting them. “We count based on amount, not damage. Kinthek’s agreement was to gather seventeen thousand bundles, if they were damaged during our care then it’s not on him.”

he set down the bundle, “so far two thousand seven hundred and thirty three of those have cracked beyond use, I managed to get some out of a few of those but the rest were thrown out.” He picked up a new bundle. “Four thousand sixty-three of them have been used properly, and none of those ones remain.” The Priest then gestured at the piles and piles of stems. “This was roughly ten thousand at last count, which was just a few months ago.”

I picked up a bundle, glancing at the ones he’d gone through and comparing them. That one had a crack down the center, but he didn’t seem concerned about it, and this one here had a little patch of mold since it hadn’t dried out all the way.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I tilted my head and sat down on a box across from Vespin, going through the stacks. “Alright.”

“No questions?” Vespin asked, picking up another bundle.

I shook my head, “It seems straightforward.”

He smiled, “What were you saying then?”

“How am I supposed to know that a god actually cares about what he hears? How do I know that he has my best interests at heart?”

Vespin examined a specific stem for a moment, humming in thought, “Well, you wouldn’t know, now would you?”

“I feel like that matters?”

Vespin nodded, his gaze a bit wistful. “Sometimes I wonder that too, but in the end all you can do is trust that he does. Who is your patron, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I sighed, “Astral, the god of Balance.”

Vespin adopted a strange look, “Really? I would have thought Alner, the god of Protectors.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, remembering that name as one Turste had said a lot, Netun had later mentioned him as well, “Why, exactly?”

“You look like his people do.”

I furrowed my brow slightly, the Alanerea, the people who’d been turned into mushrooms. “You’ve met them?” That was the only explanation I could think of on the spot.

He shook his head, “No, I’ve just heard about them. There was a depiction in one of my teacher’s books.”

How in the world had that gotten here? I shook my head slightly, “No, I don’t know anything about Alner.”

“So you didn’t simply switch paths?”

“What?”

“You didn’t choose a different god from your parents?”

I sighed, “Why would that matter?”

Vespin gave me a curious look, “So you don’t know anything about paths? I suppose where you’re from there aren’t many?”

“Ah… no, not many.” As in none, Gium hadn’t exactly encouraged people to worship him, and no one had really known anything about other gods.

Vespin nodded, thoughtful, “And you don’t know about Everything? Or Anything? Or the legend of Null?”

I shook my head slowly, baffled. “Could you tell me? Or are you just going to nod to yourself about this piece of information you have over me, decide that I didn’t deserve to know either way.”

Vespin laughed, “No, no, I’ll tell you, I’m just trying to gauge how much there is to tell first, that way you won’t be constantly asking for explanations. I know that Alner looks like you do, and so his people do too. Atharian looks as I do, and so do we as the Larborak. Rendai looks as the Niortak do. Every person resembles their god.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. “What?!” I looked down at my hands, half expecting them to have changed since I last looked at them, “Does that mean I’ll start to look like Astral?!”

“That’s something you should ask your patron.”

I cringed, not knowing how to even begin to imagine the horror of changing myself that drastically. Though… with rebirth we should be able to change anything that happened to us back… right? I glanced at Vespin’s tail, remembering that Astral had one too. Nope nope, I didn’t want a sparking tail. “Okay okay, please start from the beginning.” I needed something else to distract my mind from… that.

He nodded, and at long last began a tale, “It’s not complete, I don’t think there is any complete version out there. I tell you this so you won’t call me a liar when you find a different piece of the story somewhere. Once, there were two worlds, Arendi and Arithren, but long before they existed, there was something more.”

--- RUNESIGHT ---

The creation story of the twin planets is by no means unique, but I find it strange that it’s one of the only ones I’ve ever found to mention what things were like before their existence. But such is the nature of Prosperity and Sacrifice, both view themselves as temporary. When life is temporary, when the world itself is temporary, well, you tend to ask questions like this more often.

Anything can happen. Anything will happen. Anything might happen. Anything is possible. As such, in the beginning there was ANYTHING, and then there was EVERYTHING. Everything is what is and Anything is what will be.

The two Gods created two worlds, and in so doing set about a balance for them, an orbit so precarious and yet so perfect. As such, BALANCE was drawn from his world, the even weight that is impossible to disturb. BALANCE, named Astral, shaped the worlds with his might, and yet his very nature leaves him unable to make anything but the slightest changes.

The first world bloomed with growth and nature, and he named it Arendi. The second world drew dust and pain, and he named it Arithren. The two worlds grew, separate but connected. They became populated by plants and animals, mountains and hills, oceans and air.

And so two gods were born together, both at once, PROSPERITY and SACRIFICE. Rendai and Atharian, both after their respective worlds.

There was an order to this, a peace and connection that defies reasoning. It drew a fourth god, one who was wordless. ORDER was similar to BALANCE in a sense, however, the two of them were not. They fought time and time again, arguing over the sake of the two new worlds. Until finally, ORDER took his people and left the budding worlds behind.

In his absence, CHAOS and WAR crept in, seeking to destabilize the twin worlds and cause anarchy. And so it was that Rendai and Atharian began to argue. Their arguments shaped monsters and a storm, a whirlwind of death that circled between the two of them. Only by Astral, their father, was any peace to be found.

And so it continues to this day.