“I’m sorry, child, for everything you must endure.”
The voice came soft, a velvety murmur, as the blinding light began to fade. The world started to take shape, shifting from formless radiance into the flora of a forest floor.
The Goddess stood before the mouth of Kurraghal’s lair, the very spot where the Velmoryns had brought the giant creature down. In her hand, she cradled a small fragment of tree bark, though it was barely visible beneath the shroud of pulsing green light that enveloped it.
“I made sure that you will be reborn,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the tiny creature. “And if my successor possesses even a trace of wisdom, they will take you with them. They will raise you as their own.”
She reached out, her fingers gently caressing the creature’s head. It was a strange, delicate thing, covered in a network of thin, emerald vines.
“I have sealed your strength. It was a necessity, however cruel; had I left you whole, you might have slaughtered those poor children when they eventually come to hunt you. But the seal is temporary. It will wither as you are reborn, and then will you attain your true form.”
Her words held no meaning for the creature in her hands; it was still too small, too undeveloped to grasp the weight of her decision. Still, she continued to speak as though her words were meant for someone else - someone who had yet to arrive.
She walked into the depths of the cavern then, though her bare feet never truly made contact with the stone. She hovered an inch above the ground, held by an invisible barrier. Upon reaching the heart of the den, she leaned forward with ease and gently placed the creature on the ground.
A small, genuine chuckle escaped her as the tiny thing yawned. Almost instinctively, it began to draw the surrounding bark and vines toward itself, weaving a makeshift bedding.
“I see you have already mastered the command of nature,” the Goddess murmured.
Her gaze lingered on the miniature Kurraghal for a moment longer, a trace of melancholy in her eyes, before she turned to leave. As she stepped back into the open air, her voice turned more practical.
“If you are seeing this, it means I have passed from this world and you have inherited what remains of my memories. The child I left for you is meant to be one of your anchors. But, if you choose not to embrace that bond, I ask only that you let it live. Strip it of its power if you must, and allow it a quiet life within your kingdom.”
She broke off suddenly, glancing toward the sky as if realizing she was already late for an appointment she couldn't miss. Two brilliant wings, silver feathers like pure light, erupted from her back. With a single, thunderous flap that stirred the forest canopy, she vanished, a silver streak rushing upward toward the sky.
The vision warped. The sky, the clouds, and even the sun began to twist, the colors bleeding together like ink spilled into water. Streaks of blue and gold fractured the horizon, each hue dissolving into the next until the brilliance became blinding - a light too intense for mortal sight.
Then, as the glare receded, a new scene opened.
The space was open and vast, blanketed in a thick, gray mist that carved out a circle. In the center stood a table of dark gray stone, its surface looking cold, unwelcoming, and utterly devoid of life. It rested on a floor that possessed neither form nor matter - only an absolute darkness that somehow promised a steady footing.
Three massive chairs were arranged around the table, carved from the same somber stone. They were all occupied. But unlike the dull, monochromatic uniformity of the furniture, the beings seated there were drastically different. They shared neither appearance nor temperament, though they were united by one undeniable trait - an overwhelming, soul-crushing aura.
“Is everything ready?” the Goddess asked as she looked at the blond woman seated to her left.
“On my end,” the woman replied. She shifted, crossing one leg over the other with a slow grace. The movement revealed skin as white as fresh snow beneath the slit of her charcoal-black dress. Her red, vertical-slitted pupils darted toward the man on her left. “Though I still question your judgment for trusting him.”
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“Now, now, l,” the man chuckled. He turned his head toward her, and the light caught the crimson threads that stitched his eyes tightly shut. Though they didn’t seem to affect his sight. “We needn’t pretend that trust exists between us. That is precisely why I suggested the divine contract. My willingness to bind myself with my own Authority should be proof enough that I plan no schemes. You, on the other hand, Goddess of Vampires…”
“Sanguines,” Lilith hissed. Her ruby lips pulled back, revealing sharp fangs that had been hidden only a moment before. “I care nothing for your petty opinions, but do not dare insult my domain.”
The Goddess sighed, audibly, and said, “Lilith, I do not trust him either. That is precisely why I accepted his proposal. It guarantees he cannot sell our secrets to the highest bidder.”
“Only because I owe you,” Lilith snorted, her voice no longer hostile.
“Let’s form the contract then. I have no desire to spend more time in her Sanguine Majesty’s presence than is strictly necessary,” the man said, extending his hand. Between his fingers, he held a piece of parchment - yellowed and brittle.
“I will voice the conditions. As I speak, the contract will be drafted,” he declared. Almost immediately, the first black letters began to appear across the page. “We - Lilith, Goddess of Sanguines and the Moons, and I, Noah, God of Justice and the Night - do solemnly swear to provide aid to Sophia, Goddess of Elves. This assistance shall not include any measure that places our very existence at clear risk. We must…”
His voice suddenly distorted, the words accelerating and warping until they were nothing more than a blurred, unintelligible hum. The sensory glitch lasted for several long minutes, until the vision finally got back into focus.
“...And if any among us should violate this oath,” Noah’s voice returned, “we shall forfeit our Authority to the one harmed by our treason.”
“I shall not risk my children for yours, Sophia!” Lilith surged to her feet. A scarlet energy exploded from her body and flooded outward.
“No one wants your children.” Noah frowned. “Who has time to shepherd bloodsucking creatures who remain slaves to their base urges, creatures who do not even possess the grace to worship their own creator… They are more of a burden than a benefit to any god. You can offer your other Authority instead. I, too, have chosen to stake my domain over the Night.”
“As if that domain is worth anything,” Lilith remarked. She smirked, the violent energy receding as quickly as it had appeared. The realization that her Sanguines were not the intended collateral seemed to calm her.
Noah shivered. For a brief instant, the crimson threads binding his eyes darkened, absorbing the light around them until they looked like twin voids.
“Lilith, you of all know that insulting another’s domain is a taboo,” Sophia stepped in. She was clearly attempting to calm the situation before the parley spiraled into something irreversible.
“Fine.” Lilith waved a hand dismissively, settling back into her chair. “And what of you, Sophia? Are you offering your Authority over the Elves? You have no other domain - if you lose it, you will die.”
“That would only mean I must ensure I do not break my promise,” Sophia said slowly. She brought her hand over the parchment and channeled her silver energy into it. A symbol formed beneath the paper - a delicate engraving of a crescent moon cradling the silhouette of a tree.
“Does he know about this agreement?” Lilith’s voice drifted through the Goddess’s mind.
“No,” Sophia replied in kind. “And I have no intention of telling him. If he learns that I am risking everything, he will do whatever is necessary to stop me.”
“Great!” Noah announced, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange between the two Goddesses. “I shall depart first. There is much to prepare for the spell you have requested of me.”
The vision warped once more. The shapes began to glitch, the edges of the stone table fracturing into digital-like shards until an overwhelming light smothered the scene entirely.
When the brilliance finally receded, the Goddess was alone. She was perched upon the massive branch of a giant tree, silhouetted against a sky that felt too vibrant to be real. Unlike the previous visions, she wore only a faintly transparent white dress that betrayed her frame, leaving little to the imagination. She was eating a fruit of shimmering gold, the juices dripping from her fingers.
“So sweet,” she murmured and grinned, revealing teeth like marble.
Despite the ethereal beauty of the scene, I couldn't shake a growing sense of dread. There was a hollow quality to her smile, a suggestion that she was internally sad. It felt as though the cheerfulness she displayed was a final effort - the last performance of a woman who knew the curtain was about to fall.
The Goddess finished the fruit and let the core slip from her hand, watching as the remains fell into the dizzying heights beneath the tree. She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging.
“Alright,” she said, as she straightened. “It can no longer be delayed. It is time I explain everything to you.”