Luna was late, but it wasn’t her fault.

“What sort of inconsiderate buffoon calls an emergency meeting during the full moon?” she grumbled. She paused before the grand double doors of her own meeting chamber, rubbing the bleariness out of her eyes. With a flash of divinity, she cleared her system of hallucinogenics. “And those mushrooms were soooo good too…”

She burst into the room shouting, “Treskur, if you called this meeting, I propose we adopt [[[Triple Bra—?]]]”

She cut herself off, stunned by what she saw. She sent another jolt of divinity through her system, thinking perhaps she was still hallucinating, but the scene she witnessed didn’t change.

“What the fuck?”

She was standing in the grand council chamber of the Lunar Pantheon, a building purpose-built to entertain the hundred-or-so gods of the [Century Council], Terra’s divine regulatory body. The large, circular chamber had an inner ring of one hundred customizable chairs — one for each deity — and a standing-room-only outer ring for attendants.

The room was built and furnished with entirely with imported terran marble. The material fit with Luna’s moon aesthetic, but more importantly, it was expensive, allowing the goddess to flex her spending power. For the pièce de résistance, the room’s meeting table wasn’t just absurdly gigantic, but its base was also fully carved and customized to depict all the mortal races struggling to hold up the table’s surface.

Atop the table were two features of note. The first feature was the collection of food and drink — all exquisitely prepared and aromatic — sitting around the rim of the table. Included within the collection were an untouched braised pig, charcuterie board, slice of coconut bread, and bottle of wine before her brother’s throne.

The second feature of note were the naked forms of her brother and murdered ex-boyfriend wrestling each other.

“What the fuck?” she repeated, but no one acknowledged her.

All the other deities were out of their seats, cheering, jeering , or making bets. Worst among them was of course Treskur, who was acting as a bookie despite the presence of other deities who were actual gods of gambling. She grabbed the knockoff-viking by her beard and shook her for answers.

“What the fuck is going on?” she asked the brutish god of knowledge.

“Well met, Luna! Aolyn the Deathless has returned to our realm of endless war!”

“I see that, but why are people cheering? Didn’t we all murder him? Shouldn’t you be a bit more freaked out now that he’s back and probably out for revenge?”

“Worry not! He gave his troth ne’er to sate the thirst of his blade on the—“

“Damnit, Treskur! Just talk like a normal person! This is why no one likes you!”

The other deity visibly deflated. “Aolyn said he’d forgive us so long as we let him beat the shit out of Sol,” she said.

“That’s all you needed to say, asshole.”

“I really don’t appreciate the way you—“

“Lick my ass, Treskur!”

“That’s not very— Wait, what are you doing?”

Ignoring the poser-of-a-deity, Luna hopped onto the table and physically separated the naked wrestlers, kicking Aolyn off of Sol’s back. The newly reborn deity was sent flying at a speed that would have created a sonic boom if the moon had any atmosphere, but he managed to arrest his momentum before he impacted Luna’s wall. It seems he hadn’t lost all his manners, at least.

“Both of you stop fighting, sit down, and explain what’s going on right now! Start with why you’re both rolling around naked on my one-of-a-kind council table.”

“It’s the way the Ancient Greeks wrestled,” Aolyn said, floating down to sit on his knees before her.

“The who?”

“Also, I’m naked because my clothes were mundane and got vaporized while we were grappling,” he went on, ignoring her question.

“He started it,” Sol mumbled, not meeting his sister’s gaze. “And technically, I’m always naked.” As he spoke, his flesh of pure plasma morphed into the shape of a suit of knightly armor.

“Then why did…?” Luna felt a headache coming and decided this wasn’t a productive line of questioning. “Never mind.”

The room began whispering and chuckling, but Luna shot them all a glare that cowed them into silence. She might only be the world’s second most powerful deity — third now that Aolyn was back — but this was her domain, and none could match her here.

She turned back to the two idiots in front of her. “Aolyn, you speak first. Start again from the beginning.”

The deathless god cleared his throat to begin speaking, but Luna cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Please put some clothes on first.”

----------------------------------------

Aolyn stared up at the literal goddess before him.

He had loved her once.

Her beauty was like her wit, and both reflected her nature. Moment by moment, Aolyn could see her. He could pick out every feature, every line and curve of her moonstone self, but as soon as he looked away, the memory disappeared. Where her brother was truth and light, she was secrets and reflection.

She was unknowable. She was mystery. She was the splendor that forever lay just beyond reach.

And she had once loved him because he was other. He once held a seat on her [Century Council], but she was of the [Heavenly Hosts] while he was of the [League of Evil™]. He was a Daemonic god of her enemy, but she loved him because he was handsome, capable, and dangerous… More importantly, she loved him because he was forbidden.

It wasn’t until he got his liberal arts degree that he realized why they didn’t work. Mystique and taboo were terrible foundations for a relationship.

“After you all killed me,” Aolyn began, smoothing out his borrowed robe with his hands, “I drifted through nothingness, got reborn into another world, died, and got resurrected again here. Five out of ten experience. Would not recommend.”

“And I found you grappling atop my table during an emergency council meeting because…?”

“I called this meeting specifically to do that.”

“You called the meeting? How? I had your seat revoked once we shattered you.”

“I took an ‘Intro to Cybersecurity’ class. Please consider this a harmless white-hat operation and take this opportunity to review your security protocols.”

Luna put on a strange expression. “Do you care to elaborate on—“

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“No. Anyway, as I said before, I forgive everyone here for the crime of attempted deicide. After all, is it really murder if the victim can’t die? An affront I won’t so easily forgive, however, is the [Curse of Heart’s Desire] placed upon my followers!”

He pointed a finger dramatically at the sun god beside him, but the effect was lost because they were both kneeling. “Admit to your crimes, Sol! I have gazed upon the [Statblock] and the very soul of my [Daemon Autarch], and there was the proof of your transgressions! Confess!”

He’d expected the crowd to gasp at his accusation, but he had to settle for an awkward silence. The reaction was disappointing, but he could live with it.

Luna turned to her brother. “Is this true?”

Sol opened his mouth to protest, then hung his head in shame. “Yeah, it’s true.”

The crowd gasped.

Aolyn blinked. They gasped for that? He supposed there was no accounting for taste.

“After we shattered Aolyn,” Sol continued, “I imbued the [Daemon Autarch] title with the [Curse of Heart’s Desire] so that their greatest desires would always be thwarted at the last minute. Since every mortal desire can be fulfilled with power, and because mortals think there’s no greater power than that of a god, I figured the curse would make it so that they could never revive you.”

Aolyn couldn’t help but marvel at the simplistic god’s uncharacteristic shrewdness. “It also allowed you to keep a neutered but ostensibly cataclysmic threat near your locus of worshipers, increasing their fear and thus their worship, while at the same time never subjecting them to any real danger. And since the curse continued to work without your direct intervention, it also worked as a source of passive income. Genius, Sol. Truly genius.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I definitely planned it like that.”

“If what the two of you say is true,” Luna began, “how did you get revived, Aolyn? If you saw the curse, then it must still be there. How did your followers subvert it? A legendary artifact or something?”

Aolyn shook his head sagely. “Only by accepting our fate may we change it.”

A wave of silence passed over the assembled deities as they chewed on his words. Finally, one of them spoke.

“That makes no sense!” Treskur yelled. “Wouldn’t accepting your fate stop you from changing it?” Damn, nearly six millennia had gone by, and she was just as annoying as the day he died. It didn’t help that she was right.

Stuffing down his annoyance, Aolyn nodded his head. “True, but the words sounded wise, and isn’t that the most important part?”

“Whatever,” Luna said. “What do you want, Aolyn? My brother’s admitted he broke the [Inter-Council Accord] by using a divine curse. What do you want for compensation?”

“Three things!” Aolyn shouted, rising to his feet. He counted off his demands with his fingers as he spoke. “One! Release the curse on Melpomene and all [Demon Autarchs] to come.”

Sol snapped his fingers. “Done.”

“Two! Release Morgan Dragonsbane from her mercenary contract with the [Solarian Courts].”

Sol closed his eyes for a moment, probably communing with one of his followers. “Done.”

“Thirdly and lastly, I want us all to have an inter-council meeting with…” He paused dramatically, “TK.”

This time, the crowd gasped. Sol stiffened, and Luna’s eyes momentarily widened with fear.

Aolyn rolled his eyes. “Finally, some appreciation for dramatic flair.”

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“Mop-up is going exceptionally well, captain. All of the high-tier units have been killed or captured except for a few units of the [Solar Knights]. Allow me to project their location into your mind.” Eurymedon raised an arm to the [Wyvern Rider]’s helmet, and with a flash of violet light, the information was communicated more precisely than words ever could. “Take some [Hex Rangers] and run them down. I’ll modify the memories of some prisoners for tomorrow’s ‘escape.’”

The surviving [Wyvern Rider] pod leader — the one who also happened to be a captain — nodded. “At once, lieutenant general,” the Daemon replied. He leapt off the palace wall and landed midair onto his flying mount. The wyvern let out a cry as it flew toward a mountain pass, and two scores of bow-and-blade-wielding riders atop six-legged wolves answered the cry by following beneath their aerial superior.

Eurymedon had no need to physically survey the battlefield from their vantage atop a palace wall, but they did so anyway. Indeed, they’d won the battle of troops handedly, suffering only minimal losses while the Solarian forces were almost entirely exterminated or captured... but Eurymedon's stomachs still churned with hope and worry.

Melpomene was still alive.

Eurymedon and all the troops could know that because they still felt the tether of soul connecting them to their [Liege]. While that lone fact did much to ease Eurymedon’s mind, there were still too many questions they couldn’t answer from outside the scry-resistant ritual chamber. As a [Daemon of Eyes] whose entire existence revolved around answering questions for their [Liege], there was nothing more anxiety-inducing than questions whose answers were nearby yet entirely out of reach.

The emanations of divinity had stopped, so was the ritual interrupted? Morgan had made it into the ritual chamber nearly an hour ago, so were she and Melpomene still fighting? If they’d been fighting for so long, why hadn’t Eurymedon sensed the activation of phase three of the final battle? If Melpomene had already won, why hadn’t she come out to share the news of victory?

Had Melpomene won?

Could she win?

After fifty-three generations of failure, could any [Daemon Autarch] win?

Eurymedon shook the head-area of their fleshy torso. Asking such questions without the means to change their answers would serve only to highten the lieutenant general’s anxiety. To clear their mind, they acknowledged each question with hope, and then moved on.

Eurymedon hoped Melpomene would win. They hoped that Melpomene’s decades of planning and preparation would bear fruit. They hoped she would succeed where her fifty-three predecessors had all fallen short.

They were all hopes beyond hope, but Eurymedon dared to hope nonetheless.

Their mind thus cleared, they took one final scan of the palace and the surroundings. Everything seemed to be in order. The [Solar Knights] were getting hunted down, the wounded were being treated, the prisoners were beng pacified, and all otherwise unoccupied troops were in place for the beginning of Melpomene’s phase five.

When Eurymedon had helped Melpomene plan phase five, they’d both assumed the battle of troops would be a lot closer. The fact that they’d won so handedly and had most of their forces available to focus down a single target meant that they could win, right?

Before Eurymedon could notice the fact they was falling back down into a spiral of questions, something else caught their attention. There was a lone figure waiting outside the ritual chamber. How the figure got there, Eurymedon had no clue, but the figure released nary a trace of life, magic, nor even soul. If they didn’t know the palace like the back of their hands, Eurymedon might have mistaken it for a statue.

Their blood went cold with rage.

Some sort of powerful stealth infiltrator was just outside the ritual chamber, and Eurymedon had to stop them.

----------------------------------------

Aolyn the Deathless, still wearing robes borrowed from the Lunar Pantheon, waited outside the ritual chamber as the leader of his mortal forces and the woman he hoped to date were doing… something he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Slow—MMMPH! Slow… Slow down, please,” came Morgan’s breathy voice.

“Oh? How’s thi—”

“Ah!”

“—s feel? Better?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just—hmm!—just like that.”

Of course Aolyn wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he was a god standing within a domain thick with his worship. He sensed everything around him whether he wanted to or not, including the [Tier V] [Daemon of Eyes] flying down the halls toward him.

He waved his hand and set up a quick silence ward so as to not disturb the two within the chamber, and then turned to wave at the approaching column of eyes, limbs, mouths, and wings that appeared around the corner.

“Hello Eurymedon,” he said. “Nice to meet you. I’m—“

“DIE, LUNAR SCUM!”

Aolyn glanced down at the stylized moons on his borrowed robes and realized that perhaps it would have been a good idea to change clothes before coming here.

Before he could explain, his follower tackled him with all their might. He allowed himself to be carried by the blow, worried that he might otherwise kill the Daemon.

“Eurymedon, please. I’m not—“

“Liar!” A [Soul Rend] infused bone knife stabbed out from one of Eurymedon’s mouths, aiming for his neck. If the blow landed, Eurymedon’s soul would shatter from the recoil.

He tried to send Eurymedon mental nudges to stop attacking, but he was no god of the mind, and Eurymedon was almost entirely immune to mental influence.

With limbs wrapped up in Eurymedon’s tackle, he had no choice but to catch the bony tongue-blade with his own mouth. Eurymedon tried to force the soul-destroying blade deeper into his mouth and through his skull, but he clamped down with his lips, holding the Daemon back from building momentum that could prove deadly to them.

While he was thinking about how to deescalate the situation, the two of them crashed through the doors of the ritual chamber in a tangle of limbs, shattering the silence ward. They each struggled and wriggled against the other until—

“What are you two doing?”

The two of them froze at the sound of Melpomene’s voice.

Aolyn already knew what was happening within the room, but he turned to look out of habit. Melpomene was standing behind Morgan, one hand resting on the other woman’s back. Her hand still thrummed with the energies of soul and life as she stimulated the [Dragonslayer]’s soul in hopes of awakening the ability to become a [Liege].

For some reason, Morgan’s face was red, and when she noticed he was looking at her, she turned away bashfully. He tried to open his mouth to ask what she was embarrassed about, but then remembered that he was holding Eurymedon’s tongue with his lips.

Then it hit him.

Melpomene flicked her eyes between their two tangled forms and sighed. “Eurymedon, I understand that sleeping with a god sounds fun… and Aolyn, I understand that my second-in-command is unreasonably attractive... but couldn’t you two fuck anywhere else?”