Gods shouldn’t run, Akeinos thought. He didn’t stop, flying down the ornated corridor as fast as his powers allowed him to, shame beating in his chest like a second heart.

From behind, roars and the clanging of weapons echoed across the intricately carved walls. He could picture his brother battling to defend their sanctum, his divine body enveloped in crackling power as he let fly chain lightning that could easily level a city each. Zekeinos wouldn’t concede one step without a fight.

Akeinos spared one apologetic thought for his hard-headed, proud brother, and another for his own unworthiness. The king of the Gods was the one for brave last stands. As for himself, Akeinos could do only so much, and standing at his side during the last moments wasn’t anything that could tip the scales, even if it tore his heart apart not to do so. His greatest regret was that he never managed to make his brother smile.

A blast of searing air swept the corridor, almost pitching him to the ground. He caught himself against a a wall studded with starry diamonds, before resuming his run, ignoring the pain pulsing in his back. He knew the fight could only give him so much time. He had to make it in time.

The bronze doors to his workshop were immense for giants, tall enough to loom over castles. They almost flew off their hinges as he crashed through, the marvelous etchings on the forging of civilization flying in glittering pieces as they slammed against the walls.

Inventions for which kings and emperors would have given everything, weapons that could have felled nations and marvels to baffle mortal sages filled the laboratory in a confused mess. Akeinos ignored them all, flying toward the small plinth before the window. His eyes were all on the small casket resting on the red pillow on top of it.

Despite the urgency, he glanced outside. How could he not? That was his home.

Green, verdant hills went as far as the eye could reach. Figs, olive trees and grapevines, all of them carrying the ambrosian fruits that only Gods could produce, covered the slopes in that wild yet perfect way that no mortal could reproduce. A bright silver lace, the Elekia, the Great River, winded its way through the verdant landscape. In the sky, Jura and Era, the twin suns, danced their gentle dance of eternal summer.

The Hideios, the Cradle of the Gods, was as glorious as the first time he had laid his eyes over it. Akeinos smiled sadly. You could be upset a little. If only his brother would have listened to him…

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned back to the plinth. And froze.

Silence. The sounds of fighting had ceased.

“What are you doing, my lord?”

Akeinos’ stomach plummeted at hearing that syrupy-sweet voice. He raised his hands as he whirled around, his fingers alight with a yellow glow swirling with motes of light. Useless. If Zekeinos fell…

The walls were crying. Fat, golden droplets beaded masonry shot through with streaks of ruby. Zekeinos, pictured in thundering rage on his chariot, was covered in sappy sweat, making his raining fury on the Titans far less impressive than what the stories said.

Akeinos let his hands fall, defeat drawn on his face. “You were quick with him.” Zekeinos had fallen. He knew it would happen. He knew it. It still felt impossible. It still broke his heart. Images of inventions, painstakingly forged and crafted, and a chiseled face that wouldn’t budge before them flit across his mind. I… I couldn’t ever make him smile…

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His eyes roved the laboratory. His inventions, the walls, the spiderwebs he always forgot to clean. Everything was crying, melting away.

“And you were quick to run.” No offense. Just acknowledgment. And a mild amusement. “You were always quick on your feet, my lord.”

Akeinos had always been a god of peaceful crafts, and he had long resigned himself to this outcome. That’s why the rage suddenly surging in his chest was almost a surprise. “Stop mocking me!” A stream of light thundered out of his outstretched hands, motes whirling like furious bees. It slammed against the mosaic, digging furiously into the wall, sending plaster, precious stone and fingernail-wide pieces flying in a storm of debris.

When the God retracted his hands, a whole section of the wall and two massive bookshelves were gone, replaced by a hole looking outside. Red-hot stone dripped off the ragged edges as wax, while ash rained. For a foolish instant, Akeinos dared to hope that the fight with Zekeinos had weakened the monster enough.

That sickening voice put an end to it quickly.

“None of that now.”

Wide-eyed, Akeinos looked down. Golden sap had formed a puddle on the floor, lapping at his feet. Tendrils shot out of it, twisting around his limbs, holding them fast. His yellow aura fizzled and disappeared. A horrible emptiness gnawed through him as, for what had be the first time since his divine existence began, all his power left him.

Zekeinos would have kept fighting, gnashing his teeth and snarling in defiance even as lightning fizzled out of his veins. Akeinos never had the warrior soul of his brother. He recognized it quickly for what it was. And just like that, the last of the Twin Gods is defeated. The rage went, replaced by bitter mirth as he gaped under the emptiness he felt.

“What were you doing, my lord?”

Again, no offense. Just a mild curiosity. Akeinos was unsure if being offended for being underestimated so much or just laugh at how true it was.

“Stop it, will you?” He gasped, unable to muster even the defiance to pull at his restraints. “You’ve been calling us lords more times than I can stomach. And you were always lying, playing the servant when it was the other way around.” Akeinos couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice. Foreseen betrayal wasn’t like the real thing. Not at all.

“I never lie.” The voice rippled in the pool at his feet, through the tendrils, into his bones and soul. “I warned you not to disappoint me. You listened, but not your brother. He had the power. You were weak. So now I act.”

Akeinos, God of Invention, Crafts and Ingenuity bitterly wondered about other paths of destiny. He had warned his brother, his charismatic, bullheaded, incredible brother that this would happen. That the advisor that he always kept at his side was more than it appeared, far far more. Zekeinos didn’t listen, and he wasn’t brave enough to press the issue. They both failed, one because of blind pride and the other because of pathetic weakness. At least his brother was deceived.

He had long prepared himself for this outcome. Yet, maybe he wouldn’t have been able to muster that last bit of defiance if not for those words.

“He fought bravely, right to the very end.” An acknowledgment, without any particular inflection.

Akeinos was not his brother. Zekeinos was the one with a gift for words. He was the one for brave last speeches, for impressive quotes and unforgettable scenes. As for him, the small, pathetic mote of light shooting out of his finger was the equivalent of his brother’s greatest conquests.

The casket hit the stone floor with a clatter. It didn’t break, the craftmanship too good for it, but it opened, the lid yawning like an open mouth. Darkness, thick and oily like tar, roiled inside. It swelled, eddied, before erupting out of the casket. It twisted in the air once, a snake of darkest night, then collapsed on itself, disappearing into nothing.

“What was that?”

Surprise, honest and real. Zekeinos couldn’t have been more viciously satisfied.

“Our last gift!” He exclaimed, breathlessly. “You’ll remember the Twin Gods! You hear? You’ll remember us!” He smiled widely, hoping against hope that Zekeinos would be proud of him. Maybe… maybe I’ll see him smile this time.

Gold devoured everything. The drops erupted, swelling in tidal waves of shimmering sap. They covered the inventions, the marvels, their inventor, until a raging sea was self-contained among the walls. A moment later, they collapsed inwardly, disappearing to the last drop. An empty space was left where the God and his work had once been, as they had never existed at all.

The Supreme God never left the throne room. The hand that erased the Twin Gods from existence still glowed softly as they lowered it.

“Oh, this is new…”

The throne of the Gods, empty now, was cut out of a single block of shimmering crystal shot through with veins of gold. Ignoring it, they sat on the stone floor, pondering, seeking.

“Ah, I see…” A delighted acknowledgment, one the Twin Gods had never heard, flit from their lips. “To think that he would be able to go beyond his bounds to such an extent.”

Chuckling, they shook their head, idly wondering about why souls, even divine ones, had to forge shackles for themselves, inside their own minds. Why they had to measure their own worth by using the meter forged by others, rather than the one molded by their own steps? But it didn’t matter anymore. The Supreme God put the Twins away in their long memory, turning toward the coming future. It all started again, that great, revolving turn of destiny’s wheel. But this time, with a marvelous surprise hidden in the folds of time.

They laughed, the sound echoing again and again through the empty palace.