Yawning, Luka stepped into his room. He shifted little Leo the dire-wolf from his hood to his arms, waking the beast from a catnap.

“Sorry bud,” he whispered, “we’re home.”

Despite his canine brain, Leo nodded to his rider’s words before activating the enchantment inscribed below his fur. He tapped into Luka’s magical power, shifting his size from a puppy to that of a normal wolf. Leo’s actual size was larger than a car, but there was little reason to ever stay that big—case and point, bedtime.

Leo curled up on the bed and stared at his rider almost impishly.

Luka turned around from unbuttoning his shirt, finding the dire-wolf lying perfectly in the center of the bed. “We talked about this,” he said. “You can’t sleep in the middle of the bed. I don’t have enough room.”

Leo shrunk himself, yet didn’t move.

“You’re still in the way.”

Leo eyed the rest of the bed. It wasn’t a massive bed by any means, but it should be able to hold a dire-wolf and a human. He laid his head down on the sheets, slowly—mockingly slowly.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Is this because I didn’t let you play with that dire-rabbit?” Leo looked away; his nose held high. “You remember what happened last time you tried to play with—”

A loose growl rumbled from the wolf’s chest, and the puppy scooted over to the foot of the bed. Chuckling, Luka removed his shoes, brushed his teeth, and then got in bed.

“Look, when the mount-daycare is finished, you’ll make tons of new friends.”

The wolf tilted his head and looked away. They’d had this argument before. Leo wanted the daycare to be finished now, while Luka had other, more critical things to create. An amusement park was a living, breathing thing, and sadly, a new place where guests could leave their mounts wasn’t at the top of the list of stuff to build. The barns by Todd’s Bar would have to suffice for now.

“I get it—Sebby’s older and Olive is… well, Olive, but that doesn’t mean they won’t play with you anymore.”

Leo’s eyes reflected what little light there was in the room into a glare. He grunted, his silent words translated through the humanoid and animal speech barrier. Yeah? Well, then why is Sebby ignoring me?

Dire-beasts were bright, and the longer and closer they got with their bonded rider, the more one understood each other. Beasts couldn’t speak, but they could be understood.

“Sebby is…” Luka paused, thinking about the older dire-wolf. He was Franky’s mount and lately had been more distant. Was something going on with the big guy, or was this normal wolf behavior? He shook his head. “I’ll talk to Franky, okay? Maybe Sebby’s not feeling well or something.”

Leo snorted, and buried his snout under the blanket, content with going to sleep—but a presence pulled his attention. He sat up, shaking the bed, and growled.

“Go to sleep, Leo, we’ve got a long day—”

“A great watchdog you have there.”

Luka sprang up and threw his elbow at the glyph scheme controlling the lights in the room. They weren’t powered by electricity, but rather magic—although the functionality was the same. The light flicked on, and he found the source of the voice.

A god—or what Luka assumed to be a god—stood in the corner of his room, idly watching him and Leo. The wolf growled, but a slanted glance from the god silenced the mutt. “Sometimes they dumb just don’t know when to be quiet.”

Luka recoiled at the god’s words. “I don’t know who you think you are but treating my mount like that will not get me to help you.”

“You help me?” The god laughed. “It’s the other way around, my dear mortal.”

The World Walker studied the man standing in the corner—well, if “man” was the correct word. He was tall, too tall. He was forced to hunch, the tall ceiling too short for him. He wore shadows for clothing, thick, waving shadows that tickled the room's light and sang to darkness. He was incredibly lithe, hardly fatter than one of the newly erected streetlights in the park. And yet, despite all of this, his face whispered divinity.

Luka had met several gods during his time in this world, and while most of them appeared to him in mortal skin, they didn’t always. Goddess Tippy was such an example: she, the first time they met, was a creature of light. Her body ebbed and flowed with radiant energy, her skin like a million flashlights pointed directly at her. She was a spotlight, one that deserved the title of Goddess.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But conversely, she also sometimes appeared as a mortal woman who wore a simple sundress and fussed over her curly hair.

And while the god standing in the corner of Luka’s room didn’t fuss over his hair, the fact that his hair wasn’t real hinted at the man’s divinity. See, in this world magic existed. While not everyone cared or wanted to study the mystical arts, those who did could recognize certain… structures within spells or glyphs. And, well, when Luka looked at the man, the man’s hair broke all those structures and replaced them with a reality-bending effect.

The man’s hair existed everywhere, all at once. Any style, any color, any length. Every haircut the man might have across all realities, futures, pasts, and the present culminated on top of his head.

And despite this, Luka thought the man’s style was tacky.

“Now that’s just rude,” the god muttered.

“So is breaking into someone’s room right as they’re going to bed, insulting their dire-wolf, and insinuating that I need your help.”

The man pursed his lips. “Touché.”

“So, what do you want?” Luka asked, his patience waning.

“Ah, like I said before, it is not what I can do, but what you need from me.”

“I don’t need anything, please leave.”

The god lurched. “I am all-powerful. Anything—”

“We’re fine.”

“But—”

“Look man, I don’t want whatever you’re trying to sell. We’ve got an early morning; can you just go?” Luka then remembered who he was talking to, sighed, and amended his harshness with, “Just tell me what you want, and we can either make a deal or not.”

The god deflated. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

He deflated more. “I am God Hyrin.”

“Okay?”

“The God of Haircuts and Styling?”

Luka squinted. “Is that a question?”

“No—that’s my title.”

“Look man, I’m just going to call Tipp—”

“No don’t!” Strands of hair wrapped around Luka’s mouth, silencing his words. “Sorry,” the god muttered, “we don’t need to involve my divine sister, right? We can handle this between us, right?”

Luka raised an eyebrow and slowly pulled the hair off his face. “Fine. What is it you want?”

“It is simple, World Walker. As you no doubt are aware, my church is not the… most popular. ‘Who needs a God of Haircuts?’ people rightly ask. But no! They are wrong! A haircut and proper styling can make a man—or woman! But sadly, most do not think as such. And I’m afraid it’s taking a toll on my people.”

Luka took a deep breath, shared a glance with Leo, and then said, “You want to open a store inside the park where one of your followers can operate to show just what a servant to the God of Haircuts can do?”

Hyrin carefully thought about his words before nodding. “Yes. Yeeesss. That is what I want.”

“Is a barbershop good enough?”

“That will work. What do you want in return?”

“What does ‘styling’ in your title mean?”

“Clothing—my followers are great with a needle and thread.”

“Okay fine. You can open a barbershop in the park if you or your people make the park’s employee uniforms. We need a lot of them, especially the ones specially themed to certain areas of the park—pirate costumes, alien world explorer uniforms, and safari clothes to name a few. Then we need generic uniforms for the employees not working in a themed area.”

“That is a lot…” the god muttered.

“Yeah, but the park’s expanding, and what better way to show people what your people are made of than outfitting our employees? Everyone will talk about how stylish we are, and how fitting your work is in context to the fun they’re having.”

Hyrin leaned back, his head bumping the ceiling. “I see. Do you have any concept designs for what you want? Because simply saying ‘pirate’ could mean a dozen different things to a dozen different people.”

Luka nodded, slid off the bed, and opened a drawer. He shuffled hundreds of papers around, finding a bound set. He handed them over to the god, who studied each one carefully.

“We can do this,” Hyrin said.

“Good. Send your high priest or whoever over to the park and we’ll get them set up.”

The god paused. “You seem experienced with dealing with the divine.”

“Yeah,” Luka scratched the back of his neck. “You aren’t the first god to make under-the-table deals with me after Neb barred the gods from making deals with me.”

Weeks ago, after showing way too much favoritism to Luka, Goddess Tippy, and God Neb decided it best to let him grow on his own for a while. But the deal wasn’t so bad. World Walker Park was now a holy site for a new divine holiday—a site people would travel across the world to visit in person.

“Is that right?” Hyrin asked. “That is fascinating information.”

Luka ignored the implications of that. Whatever the gods were doing behind each other’s backs was not his problem. “Yeah so, I think we’re done here, right?”

“Indeed. Goodnight, World Walker.”

“Uh huh, bye.”

The god faded from reality, off to do… whatever it was gods do. Luka returned to the bed, finding Leo in the dead center again. He sighed, then clambered on the edge of the bed.