A God’s POV:

A large hall of whites and golds stretched across the space. The ceiling, held by towering white marble pillars, was adorned with pale frescoes and gilding. Large standing platforms followed the flow of the hall, lining both edges. At its centre, a large, painted and gilded wall sat behind an ancient podium. It was made of a dark wood, moss growing on one edge. A green and gold cloth draped over it.

The hall itself was open, allowing a soft breeze and warm light to sift through. Banners and white cloth swayed slightly, and the white marble floors took in the sunlight.

Near the podium, flowers that had never wilted or sagged remained pristine in their gold and brown vases. Lilies, lotus flowers, irises and acanthus. They bloomed, frozen in time as a burst of colour in the white and gold hall.

The serenity of the place, however, was broken by the jumble of many voices and a river of many colours. Gods and goddesses of all different domains were turning to one another and exchanging various stories and recent news. They stood on either side of the hall, in lines brimming enough to almost meet in the middle. They all wore various clothing, some matching the gold and white garments of the hall, but a many other wearing various colours and symbols regarding their domain. Colours clashed and danced as the gods moved amongst themselves, conversing.

"I just managed to visit Redwater, the town's been progressing nicely, wouldn't you agree?" A red-haired god asked his companion.

She nodded in the way one does when they only have a vague understanding of what was being said but aren't looking for an explanation. "Yes, you must hand it to those mortals, always progressing, always building. Why, I just helped two more cities learn a technique that will help them progress even more in the next couple of years.”

The chatter was anticipatory, the types of conversations held when expecting someone to come in and interrupt it all. Gods were trying to catch up in a single breath, never quite knowing when they were going to be cut short.

Excited chatter shifted in an instant to roars and shouting as green light began to glow at the front of the hall. Somehow, the hall seemed to get even louder, everyone talking at once without really hearing anyone. A couple gods ducked down, murmuring the last of their conversations while they still could. Their speaker had arrived.

The green glow turned into a bright aura in the shape of a woman. She walked slowly to the podium, placing both of her hands on it. As she did, moss grew where her fingertips touched. A couple of flowers even bloomed from the wood. When she shifted her hands just slightly, you could see the green handprints underneath.

"Silence," the goddess of life called out slowly. The noise remained, gods too caught up in their speculation to turn to the new arrival. She blinked for a moment, both slightly surprised and unamused at the disorder of the gods before her. A wooden staff formed in her hand, covered in vines and blossoms. She brought it down on the floor. "Silence!" she called out over the sound of wood on marble. A wave of light from the staff swept over the hall. Banners flapped from the force.

The hall went quiet. Even the mumbled conversations died out.

"Now," the goddess said. "Will someone tell me why so many of you have called a gathering? We only call these in times of mass war or crisis. Why does this hall carry such anxiety?"

A grey-haired goddess stood above the crowd, who all made room for her. She wore robes pinned with the pendant of a snake and an owl fighting one another. Her hair was tied up in braids, and her fingers were stained with ink. “My goddess,” she said, voice somehow small and yet projected. “I have seen something that concerns me so deeply I am shaken to my core. Nothing good may come of it.”

“Speak, Wisdom,” the goddess commanded. The gold frescoes behind her seemed to frame her perfectly, as if the whole hall had been made to fit her form.

The Goddess of Wisdom spoke in almost a hush. "I saw him fall. He has not done that in at least a few hundred years."

The Goddess of Life frowned. "Who do you speak of?" She searched the grey-haired goddess’ eyes before pulling back from her podium slightly. The green glow emanating from her pulsed brighter before dying down to a nervous flickering. "It cannot be him," she spoke in an anxious tone.

Wisdom nodded. "Yes, it is the one you think of. Graves has moved once more. He must be going to find a Prime."

The hall exploded once more in uproar. Gods murmured to one another. It had been centuries since Graves had considered taking a champion. They were so rare, especially for larger gods like Graves and the goddess of Life, their powers so strong that it rarely could be trusted in the hands of a mortal. For such a being to be on the surface was already a rarity, but Graves making the first move was even more concerning.

There was a reason Graves wasn’t called to these meetings. There was a reason that his name was not spoken lightly. Everyone knew of the Goddess of Life’s history with Graves, it was even painted on the walls of the hall they stood in. And a champion in Graves’ hands didn’t bode well for anyone in this hall.

The anxiety in the hall deepened. It was thick now, dragging their soft conversations into lower tones. Fear shone in the whites in their eyes.

The Goddess of Life shared the room’s uncertainty, but she tapped her staff against the marble floor once more. "Wisdom, continue," she ordered.

"I must tell you that I worry for what is to come," the goddess addressed the entire hall this time. "The Lord of Dungeons has left with him. I do not worry when he travels, but the fact that he has left with him causes great concern."

“Graves and the Lord of Dungeons seeking out a Prime,” the goddess of life murmured. “What could they be planning…?”

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“Nothing good, I imagine,” a god muttered in the wave of people. He was met with ripples of agreement.

Another god stood as tall as they could, cupping their hands to their mouth. “What about the Prime?”

The goddess of wisdom frowned. “I have little information on the Prime or its whereabouts. But it must be powerful, powerful enough to cause him to fall, and to involve the Lord of Dungeons.”

The hall turned once again into subdued chaos, heads turning to speak with their counterparts, while others leaned silently against pillars, lost in thought. There was an undercut of excitement to the nervous chatter. The idea that a Prime, especially such a significant one, was wandering the world below brought both curiosity and the hunger to make a deal.

It would be a service to the others, one god thought, if I were to make this Prime my champion. It would keep them away from Graves and whatever chaos he is planning to cause.

Another god thought, I need a champion’s backing more than the rest of these fools.

A couple of gods, already hearing enough, had slipped out during the ruckus. The Goddess of Life watched the crowds sway and move, out of control. And yet, she didn’t have much control to offer them. She knew Graves better than the rest of them, they had come into the world at around the same time, but even then, she could not predict his movements. All of his decisions seemed random, an act of senility or insanity rather than an intelligent play. And yet, he always managed to land on checkmate, even if he got there in the most bizarre of ways.

She would have to see this Prime in order to understand what drove Graves’ curiosity. Power was one thing, but there had to be something else as well. Something that would attract the god enough for him to have spent so much time watching and waiting.

The Goddess of Life tapped her staff on the marble floor once more. “Enough. Wisdom, find out more about this Prime. We need to know if Graves has approached them yet or not. The rest of you, this meeting is adjourned. More information will be relayed when it is known.”

The Goddess of Life watched the gods, all in their many different shapes and colours, leave the expansive hall. The gilding glittered in the soft light that lit up the entire hall. It glowed, warm and pristine. The frescoes seemed to dance in it. Each one depicted an event that she had witnessed herself. She remembered it all. The first creatures, the first humans, when fire came to the surface. Wars and the creation of gods.

She looked upon the great hall, and found she could not chase away the feeling that soon, she’d witness another great event that would be painted on walls.

Dimhús, Lord of Dungeon’s POV:

Dimhús' ears filled with the rushing of air as he fell from the sky. Along with it, a voice.

"It's a good day to be falling in, wouldn't you say, young one? A bit of a breeze," Graves' voice echoed in his head. "Now, be sure to not damage yourself on the landing, I know you haven't the time to perfect your technique."

Dimhús rolled his eyes. "Watch your tone, old man," he hissed. "I can hear your bones creaking from there."

Graves' roared at the insult. Slowly, he appeared in the corner of Dimhús vision, form made of shadow and rot. "I can make you disappear with a click of my fingers. The hand of death is much stronger than you could ever imagine. Your words best remain unspoken, for you are just a speck in the face of death himself."

They were both silent for a moment, locking eyes with one another. Then, something shifted and they broke into peals of laughter. Graves' cackles echoed across the sky, while Dimhús couldn't wipe away his grin. His heart grew slightly from the elation of being in good company.

For almost as long as Dimhús could remember—which, as Graves liked to remind him, wasn't very long—he had been an outcast in the Hall of Gods. Sure, his actions had something to do with why he wasn't welcome, and gods loathed to forget, but Dimhús had realized rather early on that the game was rigged, and the rules were set up to fail.

So he learned to play a different game.

And when he had been cast out, when he had lost all connections, Graves had found him, and their friendship began. Since then, the two had exchanged favours and conversation, and Dimhús moved through the world knowing he had an ally he could fall back onto.

"There are rumours that I already have what you want, but they are unfortunately not true," Dimhús said. "However," he smiled, "I do have knowledge on his location."

Graves returned the grin. "That is all I need." The air rushed around them, fast and deafening. "The ground is coming fast," the god said. "Let us land."

Dimhús prepared for impact, shifting his wait and taking a deep breath as the ground came up below him. In just a couple blinks, his feet hit earth.

Both he and Graves landed with enough force to create a crater. Around them, dust and rock flung into the air and Dimhús supressed the urge to cough. Grass was uprooted and torn about, some stalks laying permanently flat, their spines broken from the force of the air hitting them.

Despite the force of their arrival, they had landed exactly where Dimhús had wanted them to. Before them was a forest's edge, too thick for their impact to knock anything over. Creating the boundary between field and forest was a well-used path. The permanent marks of wagon wheels and horse hooves kept the path from becoming overgrown. Dimhús knew it was a road used often for travel between the towns that surrounded them.

Luckily for the two gods, the road was silent and no one would truly know what caused the nearby crater.

"This is it," Dimhús said.

Graves investigated their surroundings with both caution and curiosity. Dimhús knew that it had been centuries since Graves had stepped foot on the surface, and he figured the whole thing had to be overwhelming. It was a part of the world that the God of Death rarely got to see. It breathed in a completely different rhythm than his domain.

"It has not changed much," Graves finally said to himself. "And yet it all feels different."

Dimhús nodded, feeling a little bit of pity strike his heart. He turned away to begin to guide his friend when a sudden pit formed in his stomach. He felt eyes on him, and whirled around.

"What is it?" Graves asked, but Dimhús raised a hand to silence him. At any other time, he wouldn't dare to order the god, even with their friendship, but Dimhús' instincts rarely lied to him.

He searched the treetops before them, looking for a shadow that didn't look right, or a creature moving from branch to branch. He knew they were there.

Almost about to give up, Dimhús finally caught sight of a glint of yellow. Looking closer, there was an owl, feathers melding with the bark of the tree behind it. It stared at him, silent, judging.

"Wisdom," Dimhús growled.

The Goddess of Life frequently used Wisdom for her errands, sending her as a spy to report back on matters she was interested in. Sometimes, she would even have the Goddess of Wisdom do more hands-on-work. If Wisdom was here, Life was aware of them, and now, she knew where they were.

Graves stood at Dimhús side. The god's eyes widened when he saw the owl. "Life knows of our whereabouts," Graves muttered.

Dimhús nodded. "What should we do?"

Graves raised a bony hand, pointing at the owl, and a dark, feathered form appeared on his forearm. It cawed, and Dimhús was able to recognize the features of a raven covered in black feathers with a bare skull for a head. Graves gave it a silent command and the raven charged at the owl.

Dimhús watched the two birds fight in the air, the owl with its talons, and the raven with its bony beak. They tumbled, but eventually the raven appeared to seize the owl. The two birds dropped to the earth, behind the tall grass.

"They know where we are, but they do not yet know what we are doing." Graves beckoned Dimhús to the woods. "Come, we must move fast."