Elysium was a realm of radiant beauty, a place where gods of light and joy held sway, their presence woven into the very fabric of the land. This enchanted dominion, favored by worshipers across Teren, was often considered heaven—a harmonious sanctuary where only those chosen by divine favor could dwell.
Expansive fields of golden wheat swayed gently under a sun that never set, casting a perpetual, inviting glow across the land. Clear, sparkling rivers and streams flowed gracefully, their waters imbued with healing properties. These rivers wound through the golden fields and lush gardens, creating a serene and tranquil atmosphere. Towering trees with silver bark and leaves that glimmered like stars rose majestically, offering cool shade and a sense of timeless tranquility. The forests teemed with ethereal creatures and beings of light, their presence a testament to the realm’s magic.
Grand temples built from gleaming white marble and adorned with gold and precious stones stood as centers of worship and gathering. These sanctuaries resonated with a gentle, melodious hum that soothed the soul. Elegant bridges made of shimmering light spanned rivers and valleys, connecting different parts of the realm. They floated gracefully, adding to the ethereal beauty of the landscape.
Elysium also served as the meeting place for the council of gods, a realm considered the origin from which all other realms diverged. Its unmatched beauty and serenity embodied the essence of light and harmony in every aspect, standing as a testament to divine ideals of peace, joy, and eternal well-being. Unlike Necropolis, Elysium held few souls; those present were there by divine agreement, residing in what they believed to be ‘heaven.’
In this land, the air thrummed with ancient magic, and the scent of wildflowers mingled with the distant, melodic hum of hidden brooks. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting silver patterns on the forest floor. Even the shadows glimmered, a testament to the ceaseless pulse of enchantment that pervaded Elysium, where reality and fantasy intertwined seamlessly.
Nestled in the heart of Elysium, amidst rolling golden fields and lush, enchanted gardens, lies the Temple of Eternal Revelry. This vibrant sanctuary, where the joyous god Callistus presides, welcomes all who seek delight and celebration. The temple, a magnificent structure of gleaming white marble adorned with gold and precious stones, stands tall and proud. Large columns wrapped in flowering vines and festooned with colorful banners flutter in the gentle breeze, creating an inviting sight.
As souls and beings passed by or approached, the air thrummed with the melodies of distant music and the echoes of laughter. The sound of chatter and joy spilled from the slightly ajar doors, beckoning weary travelers into its warm embrace.
Within, Callistus, the Joyous Reveler, lounged in his grand chair. The music played on, and the wine flowed freely. His dark skin, adorned with patterns of gold and white, glistened in the ethereal light, embodying the spirit of the endless celebration.
“Lord Callistus,” a woman’s voice floated through the air like a gentle melody, “The Grand Council has been summoned. You should make—” Before she could continue, Callistus raised his hand, cutting her off.
Callistus slowly rose from his lounge chair, his bright, star-like eyes focusing on the woman before him. Her warm, deep bronze skin glowed softly, adorned with delicate patterns of silver and white, reminiscent of moonlight on water. She wore light, flowing garments in hues of green and gold, resembling the colors of a flourishing vineyard, with floral motifs and delicate silver threads woven into the fabric. Callistus’s smile beamed.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Thalia!” Callistus’s voice boomed with laughter, a rich and hearty sound that filled the temple. “What do the old geezers want?”
“Necropolis is undergoing a change, according to Lord Azrael, and there—”
“What?” He cut her off again, his face etched with disbelief. “What kind of change?”
“I am not sure. I have asked Erebus of Necropolis, but he was not able to tell me more,” she replied with a strict tone. The two stood in silence for a moment, creating their own bubble amidst the music, laughter, and cheers that filled the temple behind Thalia.
“He did assure me, however, that the souls will not be affected.”
“I don’t care about that,” he shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “What are they changing down there?”
“Technically up—” she caught herself before continuing, “Most likely Lord Azrael is going to make his realm look different.”
“He can do that?”
“He is the sole ruler of his realm.”
“Must be nice,” Callistus replied sarcastically, flopping back onto the sofa. “Ruler of your own realm, do whatever. Why are they calling a meeting then, to decide on the new tapestry?”
Thalia let out a soft chuckle before she continued, “I believe it’s because Lord Azrael is not going to be… available for the next year.”
“What?”
“I am unsure.”
“Then…”
“Lord Azrael’s servants will be making sure that Necropolis functions in those 365 days without him.”
Callistus was silent for a moment before he burst into hearty laughter, a sound so infectious that Thalia chuckled in response, even though she had no idea what was so funny. Callistus’s smile was simply irresistible.
“Tell the council he has my unwavering support,” he responded, still chuckling.
“You won’t be attending then?”
“No,” Callistus replied through a chuckle, “I will just wait for him to return.”
“Very well, sir.” Thalia responded with a simple nod.
“Oh!” Callistus beamed up, “If you do see Lord Azrael, please tell him to come meet me.”
“Of course, sir.” Thalia turned around, his laugh echoing through the temple and into the fields as she slowly made her way toward the Divine Council. The sun showered the landscape with warm rays as she navigated through fields of golden wheat, passing by numerous temples and crossing bridges. Elysium, though vast and splendid, felt sparsely populated, often giving the impression of solitude amidst its grandeur.
Thalia finally reached the Gardens of Divinity, situated before the towering edifice of the Divine Council. The tower cast long shadows in front of her as she looked up, the windows adorned in gold and marble, shimmering beneath the eternal sun. Clouds drifted lazily, intermittently shading the top of the tower. Upon entering, she was greeted by guards—sentient machines clad in gleaming golden armor, their spears tipped with red, a stark warning of their readiness to defend, even in a realm as serene as this.
The guards acknowledged her with a bow of their heads as she moved through the tower, slowly ascending to the Divine Council. The interior was a mosaic of light and shadow, where every step echoed with the weight of ancient magic and timeless purpose.
The doors to the main chamber felt cold to the touch. As Thalia slowly pushed them open, they revealed a grand hall with a high, vaulted ceiling. The ceiling was adorned with a moving mural of the cosmos, stars, planets, and celestial bodies in constant motion. At the center of the chamber stood a massive circular table made of polished crystal, reflecting the light from floating orbs that illuminated the room. Surrounding the table were thrones, each uniquely designed to represent the realm of its occupant, all occupied except for one.
The Gods turned their gazes upon Thalia as she entered, closing the doors behind her with a resounding thud. She felt their eyes on her as she scurried to Callistus’s chair.
“Is he not going to join us?” came a melodic whisper from Selene, her throne made of silver and moonstone, glowing softly with an ethereal light.
“Unfortunately not, Lady Selene. However, he sends you all his regards,” Thalia replied, taking a seat at Callistus’s throne. She was his eyes and ears in this setting and was adept at quelling bickering among the Gods, even though she was not one herself.
“Now, thank you—”
“What in the hells do you think you’re doing, Azrael?!” yelled Hephaestus, his deep, resonant voice filling the chamber, carrying the weight of his authority and the warmth of a forge. He almost toppled over from his throne, forged from molten lava and iron, exuding heat and a fiery glow.
“It is my duty to understand the mortals more than I do now, and I cannot understand them from their husks,” Azrael responded with a calm, relaxed tone. Hephaestus and Azrael exchanged glances, the young god exuding power as he leaned back into his throne of dark stone adorned with glowing runes.
“We believe that it could be a fun experiment,” Gaia interjected from her throne of intertwined vines and flowers, constantly blooming and changing with the seasons. “Unlike us, Azrael does not have direct contact with mortals.”
“That’s absurd,” replied Helios, the God of the Sun, Stars, and Cosmos, his radiant throne made of gold and encrusted with sparkling gems, emitting a warm, golden light. “If he only found some champion—” his words resonated with a harmonious echo before he was cut off.
“Do you think that is moral of me to do, Helios?” replied Azrael.
“Moral? They’re mortals!” Helios scoffed, his voice tinged with disdain.
Thalia observed the exchange, sensing the palpable tension in the room. Each word carried weight, each silence spoke volumes of deep secrets and ancient power. The intricate web of fate and authority that bound the gods together was as fragile as it was powerful, a delicate dance of light and shadow, of life and death.
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“We created them. We have the power to decide what is moral and not!” Helios continued, crossing his arms as he glared at Azrael. “To suggest that we’re on the same level as ‘them’”—he spat the word—“is simply insulting.”
“Now, now,” Selene interjected, her voice a soothing balm. “We’re not here to bicker.”
“Lady Selene is right,” Thalia added, “Regarding Necropolis, Lord Azrael,” she began, standing slowly. “Like with all realms, we cannot have them unguarded, unruled.”
“That won’t be a problem, Thalia,” Azrael replied, his voice stoic as he rose from his seat, towering above her. “After careful planning, in my absence, no soul will be left without its purpose.” He continued, unperturbed by Helios’s scoffing.
“Please do explain to the council,” Thalia said, seating herself again.
“My servants managed the realm before,” Azrael began, ignoring Helios. “Necropolis was designed from the ground up after…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “After what my predecessor did,” he added cautiously. “I ensured that such an event would not occur again.”
“Of course,” Thalia responded, nodding.
“With the help of my servants, the entire Necropolis can be run on what I like to call automation. It will still be manned but without me at its helm.”
“You can’t just leave the Realms and think Necropolis will be fine,” Selene countered, her voice stoic yet melodic.
“I can, very much so,” Azrael rebutted, his tone edging on cockiness, unsettling some of the other gods. “My servants can sustain the realm for exactly 365 days. Not a day longer. After that period, my essence and connection will falter, leaving Necropolis vulnerable.” His confidence grew as he continued. “I will not be completely cut off, however. I can be reached if anything urgent arises.”
Thalia stood again, cutting off Azrael’s speech. “I think we have heard enough, Lord Azrael. Does anyone have any questions?”
The room fell silent. No hands were raised, not a single word spoken.
“Very well then, shall we cast a vote?”
The room fell silent once again.
“Very well, Lord Azrael, for this, you will not be voting,” Thalia declared, glancing at Azrael, who nodded and took his seat, awaiting the results.
“Lady Selene, may I have your vote?” Thalia asked.
Lady Selene looked towards Azrael. “I think this is a bad idea,” she hesitated, “but I think you know what you’re doing. I approve.” She raised her hand.
“Lady Gaia, may I have your vote?” Thalia inquired.
Gaia, uninterested in the bickering between Azrael and Helios, simply smiled softly at Thalia. “I approve,” she said, raising her hand.
“Lord Poseidon, may I have your vote?” Thalia asked the silent figure whose sun-kissed skin glowed with an iridescent sheen, and whose long, wavy hair of oceanic blue and silver flowed as if moved by an unseen current. His sea-green eyes, filled with the mystery of the ocean, surveyed the chamber with calm intensity.
Clad in garments that shimmered like the sea and adorned with seashells and coral, Poseidon exuded the power and serenity of the ocean. He faced Azrael, and the room held its breath.
“Lord Azrael, you are young. Amongst us, you’re the youngest to ascend,” Poseidon’s deep, resonant voice carried the authority of the sea, rolling and echoing like waves crashing against the shore. “You are not bound by ancient rules. You have not seen mortals for what they are.” He continued, his voice echoing. “I approve.” He raised his hand.
After a moment of silence, Thalia continued, “Lady Terra, may I have your vote?”
“I don’t care what he does, to be frank,” Terra replied, her voice warm and nurturing like the comforting rustle of leaves in a forest. “I don’t know why we’re even here for this.” Her rich, earthy skin glowed with a natural warmth, and her long, thick hair, a blend of brown and green, flowed like a cascade of leaves. Her vibrant green eyes sparkled with life and vitality.
Clad in garments woven from leaves and flowers, adorned with gemstones and minerals, Terra exuded the strength and nurturing presence of the earth. As she faced Azrael, she smiled warmly. “But I want to see how he manages. I approve.” She raised her hand.
“Lord Hephaestus, may I have your vote?” Thalia asked reluctantly.
“I disapprove,” his voice barked, glancing at Azrael with a fiery gaze. “Mortal issues are mortals’ to solve.”
“Lord He—”
“I disapprove,” Helios interrupted, cutting Thalia off. “I don’t have anything to say that has not been said.”
“Very well,” Thalia nodded as she moved to Lady Nyx. Nyx, one of the gods disinterested in Azrael aside from the closeness of their work, held an aura like a whisper in the dark. Her midnight-black skin shimmered faintly, resembling the night sky filled with distant stars. Her long, flowing hair, as black as the void, shimmered with strands of silvery light, like moonlight on water. Her striking silver eyes glowed softly, holding the secrets of the night.
Clad in robes of deep indigo and black, adorned with patterns of stars and moons, Nyx exuded mystery and elegance. She sat in her throne made of obsidian and shadow, blending into the surrounding darkness.
“I disapprove,” she said, her voice soft and whispery, like the gentle rustle of leaves in the dark, before Thalia even announced her. “Your leaving will put a cog in my work, and I don’t want to deal with your servants.”
Azrael nodded in acknowledgment.
“Lastly, Lord Callistus,” Thalia announced, “Lord Callistus has been informed of the proceedings and has already cast his vote.” The entire room looked at her. “Lord Callistus has approved.”
A few of the gods nodded, while one groaned in displeasure. Thalia promptly nodded her head. “That concludes the voting. Lord Azrael will be able to leave Necropolis for a maximum of 365 days and must be able to be reached in cases where his servants cannot manage on their own.” She sighed softly. “That concludes the meeting. Thank you, everyone, for joining me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Helios replied, standing up. “I’m tired of this,” he scoffed at Azrael before dissipating into light and removing himself from the realm. The other gods left in a similar fashion, leaving Thalia and Azrael alone in the grand chamber.
Azrael stood quietly, his thoughts a swirling mix of determination and the weight of the responsibilities he would soon leave behind. Thalia watched him for a moment before breaking the silence.
“Are you certain about this, Lord Azrael?” she asked gently, her voice echoing with the remnants of the mystical energy that lingered in the room.
Azrael hesitated for a moment, his cold and detached demeanor faltering as he let out a sigh. “No, I am not certain,” he admitted. “But I want to see it. I want to feel the sea breeze on my face. I’ve never had that chance.”
“How long have you been a god, Azrael?” Thalia asked gently.
“Two millennia.”
“And how old are you?”
“I will be twenty millennia soon, I believe.”
“Wow, I am older than you!” Thalia chuckled, teasing him. “Look, consider yourself lucky. Nobody gets a chance to descend so young. And you managed to ‘automate’ your realm!” She made air quotations as she said the word.
“You know how to cheer a god up, don’t you?”
“That is my job,” she replied sheepishly. “Oh, and Lord Callistus wants to see you before you go!”
“What does he want?”
“He didn’t tell me. You know how he is—”
“Unfortunately, I do. I might as well prepare myself to stagger back to Necropolis.” Azrael chuckled softly. “I’ll go see him in a moment.”
“Thank you, Lord Azrael.” Thalia replied as Azrael nodded softly. “Please excuse me.” She excused herself, leaving Azrael alone in the Divine Council.
Azrael stood quietly for a moment, the ethereal glow of the chamber casting long shadows around him. The ancient magic that thrummed through the air seemed to whisper secrets of the cosmos. With a deep breath, he turned to make his way to Callistus.
----------------------------------------
The Temple of Eternal Revelry stood tall before Azrael, its shadows embracing his frame. He watched and listened, the sounds of joy and celebration spilling from within. The music of laughter and the clinking of glasses mingled with the fragrant aroma of wine and mead, flowing through the slightly ajar doors. Men and women reveled, their voices rising in merriment, echoing through the temple.
As Azrael moved towards the entrance, his steps on the marble stairs adorned with gold echoed the rising din from inside. The sounds grew louder with each step, culminating in a crescendo as he reached the doors. With a resounding creak, he opened them.
Instantly, the room fell silent, every soul within the temple turning to stare at the god. His presence starkly contrasted the revelry and joy that had filled the air moments before. Some souls shivered in apprehension, others stared in awe, fearing it might be their time to journey to Necropolis. Despite being in the afterlife, prejudices against death lingered.
Azrael scanned the room, his gaze locking briefly with one soul before he continued towards Callistus’s throne. The ethereal glow of the temple’s lanterns cast shimmering patterns on the floor, illuminating his path. The weight of ancient magic thrummed through the air, blending with the palpable tension of the gathered souls.
Callistus lounged in his grand chair, his dark skin adorned with patterns of gold and white that glistened in the light. As Azrael approached, the Joyous Reveler’s smile widened, the atmosphere of the temple shifting once more to one of warmth and welcome, yet tinged with the ever-present hum of ancient enchantment.
“Azrael!” Callistus exclaimed, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. He let out a hearty laugh as Azrael mustered a faint smile, uneasy with the affection from the joyous god.
“You wished to see me, Lord Callistus?” Azrael asked as Callistus released him. Azrael took a seat on a small chair, one typically designated for servants or unwanted guests, while Callistus settled back into his grand throne.
“I did,” Callistus chuckled, flicking his wrist. A chalice of wine and two glasses materialized on a small table between them. “How have you been? It’s been a while since we last met.” He poured wine into both glasses, the rich aroma mingling with the temple’s festive air.
Azrael observed the swirling liquid, his thoughts a mix of curiosity and duty. “I have been occupied with preparations. The council has approved my leave.”
Callistus nodded, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I heard. Quite the undertaking, isn’t it? A god descending to walk among mortals.”
Azrael took the glass, the cool touch of the crystal grounding him. “It is necessary. I must understand them beyond their final moments.”
“Is it now?” Callistus replied, taking a sip from his wine.
“You don’t think it is?”
“No, not at all,” Callistus answered with a mischievous grin. “I have a few mortals that I find quite intriguing.”
“I figured,” Azrael responded, a hint of bitterness in his tone as he took a sip from his glass. The wine was spectacular—sweet, cold, and aged to perfection. It would be uncharacteristic for Callistus to serve anything less.
“Do I sense jealousy, Azrael?”
“What? No!” Azrael protested.
Callistus let out a hearty laugh. “I’m just teasing you. You youngsters are my favorite.” His laughter echoed through the temple, mingling with the resuming sounds of revelry. The festive atmosphere enveloped them once more, a testament to the joy and magic that filled Callistus’s realm.
“How come you decided to descend so suddenly?”
“Suddenly?”
“I don’t remember you ever mentioning a desire to go to the mortal realm.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly like I had the chance before. I was pretty much…”
“Plucked up from Necropolis and put on a throne,” Callistus finished, his eyes glazing over as he swirled the wine in his hands. “I get it. Not that it’s a good reason.”
“It’s been two millennia.”
“A short time, you’ll see,” Callistus replied with a knowing smile. “I did approve it in the council, so you don’t have to sell it to me.”
“I wasn—”
“Have you planned how to survive in the mortal realm for the next 365 days?”
“I found a beautiful piece of land with a strong connection,” Azrael replied, taking another sip. “I think it would be a good starting point. I don’t intend to do much—I want to see the sea.”
“You could ask Poseidon to visit his realm once in a while,” Callistus chuckled.
Azrael allowed himself a faint smile, the idea of visiting Poseidon’s realm appealing to him in ways he hadn’t considered before. But he quickly took a sip from his glass, drinking the last sip of wine from his cup.
“Thank you for the wine, Lord Callistus.”
“You’re leaving already?”
“I have to prepare—”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard you’re ‘redecorating,’” Callistus replied with a playful grin. “How is that going?”
Azrael hesitated for a moment. “It’s going well,” he said, placing the cup on the table. “I have work to do.”
As Azrael put the cup down and slowly stood up from the small chair, he was stopped by Callistus’s voice from behind him. “Don’t think that you will be loved in the mortal realm.”
The words hung in the air for a moment as Azrael glanced back. “I don’t intend to find love,” he replied, then turned and left the temple. Callistus’s laughter echoed behind him, mingling with the sounds of music and the clinking of glasses, a reminder of the revelry and joy that would continue in his absence.
“Can’t wait for him to return in several weeks with his tail between his legs, like a wounded dog,” Callistus remarked, taking a sip from his wine and chuckling softly as he glanced around the room.
“You think you’re going to get your way?” a man’s voice came from the shadows. Callistus turned to face him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re just making him more eager to see for himself.”
“I always get my way,” Callistus replied confidently.
“Of course you do, my Lord,” the man responded, a hint of irony in his voice, as the sounds of laughter and revelry continued to fill the temple, weaving through the ever-present hum of ancient magic.