Up above the glittering city lights and beyond the reach of moonlight, lay an exquisite landscape. Towering spires rose from misty golden mountains, their crystal tips grazing the violet heavens. At the foot of the mountains were palaces built of azure and gold and an open central area, with white pillars circling it. An ornate tile pattern depicting a star was laid out in the circle and stone seats lined the edges. It was within that circle that the gods gathered to discuss matters concerning the five worlds created by the siblings.

Standing in the middle was a figure with ruby eyes and silver-blonde hair, dressed in a pale robe and colourful silks. He was a god whose name preceded him—Pelos, god of the soul. He wore a human face, with rounded ears, but his appearance had an ageless quality to it.

He addressed the gods sitting in the seats, saying, “Thank you all for coming. I’ve called you all here to discuss a problem with Dargon.”

The chatter died down as he spoke, and there were a few nods in the audience.

Pelos continued, “My patron bond with the elven queen Euiridas was severed. She has been killed, and demons invaded the elven kingdom of Silvardor. As you all know, the patron bond carries too much power and it leaves the contractor weakened and shortens their lifespan. However, the barrier generated should be sufficient to protect the contractor—and for the most part it does—but this is the second time the barrier has fallen in less than a century.”

He took a deep breath and levelled his gaze, saying, “The first time was during the catastrophe known as the ‘Demon War’, which was an event caused by one human. We apprehended that human and imprisoned him—we took all safety measures, including having Endon guard him—but… he has escaped,” He sighed, “Once again he wrecks havoc upon our world.”

A commotion broke out amongst the listening gods and the conversation that had died out as Pelos began to talk resurfaced like a returning tide.

Quickly, a goddess stood up and loudly cried, “Silence!”

As rapidly as the conversation had started, it again died out as the raven-haired goddess spoke.

Pelos strode over to her and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“Mother. Please take the centre and advise us on what must be done next.”

He took a seat as Nutaku, goddess of nature, and the eldest and strongest among the gods, strolled to the centre. She was dressed radiantly in a dress made of birch bark and leaves gathered at the shoulders. She took the appearance of a young elven woman, with tan skin dotted with freckles and luminous violet eyes and a crown of wood gracing her brow. Her presence commanded respect as the only daughter of Heart, the father of All, and the mother to the three sibling gods.

“Firstly: Garyth escaped. Someone explain to me how this happened, as you claim you’d put him under full guard. Secondly, Pelos, my son, you’d better get your facts straight. Dargon and the five worlds are yours and your siblings’ playthings. They have nothing to do with the rest of us. You should have begun by mentioning Garyth’s escape,” She thundered, making even Pelos flinch ever so slightly, then continued, “But… the godslayer will be captured again. He must be. Sylune may not rest easy until we do-”

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Pelos cut her off with a forlorn expression, “Please don’t mention her right now… Her name does not deserve to be sullied by being mentioned in connection with Garyth. And he is not a ‘godslayer’—Sylune was but a child!”

Nutaku’s gaze softened for a moment, then she turned to the other gods demanding answers.

A tall and wispy god stood up and gave Nutaku a deep bow, his emerald robes rustling and his long green-black hair sliding over his hideous face—half human and half skull—before saying, “Ziocrat, god of death. Please grant me the way of speech.”

She nodded, and he continued, “We are actually still uncertain as to how he managed to escape, but he is likely much weaker now. Due to the imprisonment methods we used, his body cannot withstand much magic. He should be virtually powerless right now…”

He trailed off and a woman—with striking inky black hair with glowing white stars, dressed in a deep blue dress tied on one shoulder with a fur half-cape pinned on her other side and glittering gold jewellery adorning her body—chimed in, “...He’s not. Garyth is possessing a human body to circumvent our punishment.”

Ziocrat nodded, “Truth, aunt Aeliyas.”

A god raised his hand shakily, peering at Nutaku, “T-Taeres, god of wind. Please grant me t-the way of s-speech.”

She nodded, but frowned and asked, “Whom do you hail from?”

The audience laughed and he blushed, but answered, “I am descended from lord Gialan through Portelus and Esyira, lady Nutaku.”

Nutaku acknowledged that with a dismissive wave of her hand and said, “Continue.”

Taeres took a deep breath, then suggested, “M-Must we truly aid Dargon and the four worlds? They are merely playthings—toys to pass the time with—and w-we could simply destroy them. That would most certainly ensure Garyth also meets his end.”

Pelos jumped out of his seat, his face twisted with rage.

“You DARE suggest that?! Those worlds are our creations! We have a responsibility toward the creatures we created!”

Aeliyas immediately stepped forward and held Pelos back, separating the two. Taeres looked visibly shaken. All had heard of Pelos’ irrational obsession with his creations, but few had experienced it.

“Brother, calm down!” She said, tugging at his robes.

Nutaku stepped in, snapped her fingers and twisting tree trunks erupted from the ground, forming an oval portal.

She strode over to Pelos and said, “You need time to think, my son.”

Nutaku shoved him into the portal, but not before saying softly, “But you were right about our responsibility. Abandoning our creations in their time of need is not right.”

The portal closed up and the tree trunks retreated back into the ground like they’d never existed. The cracks in the ground were repaired with a ripple, returning it to a smooth surface like a motionless lake.

She turned back and announced sharply, “We will not abandon our creations! How could we call ourselves ‘creators’ if we are so willing to destroy everything we have made?! Garyth shall be stopped and punished for his crimes!”