As I gawked at Caelus hanging in the air, something moved at the edge of my vision.
Darkness peeled itself away from the mouth of a cave carved into the mountainside. It didn't pour out or rush forward, it unfolded. From within it stepped a man with dirty grey hair that hung in uneven strands, his clothes little more than layered shadows clinging to a lean frame. His eyes were sharp, and painfully aware.
He was staring at Caelus.
I moved without thinking, slipping behind a jagged rock formation near the summit. I pressed myself against the cold stone, steadying my breath, forcing my presence down, down, down, the way I used to when I didn't want believers to feel me watching.
Then more of them appeared.
Not all at once. One by one. As if the world itself was exhaling them into existence.
A figure stepped out of a cluster of leaves, bark forming skin, veins of green light pulsing beneath it. Another rose from bare earth, soil compacting into limbs, pebbles grinding into joints. A scorch mark left by thunder split open, and something crawled out of it, crackling faintly with residual lightning. Wind gathered into a vaguely human outline, edges constantly blurring, never fully still. Fire bloomed, and from it stepped several figures made of living flame.
I froze.
The ones born of fire felt my presence. It was the same feeling as remembering a face you've never seen, familiar and intimate, undeniable. Like a limb I'd forgotten was mine. Their heads turned, flames dimming slightly as their eyes locked onto my hiding place.
My heart stuttered.
For a moment, I was sure they'd call out to me. I feared they'd give out my presence since they would assume i was made from fire like they were.
Then abruptly they looked away. All of the figures did. Their attention shifted upward as Caelus descended slowly toward the ground, his presence pressing down like a weight on my chest. The air thickened. The sky dimmed. Even the elements around me seemed to quiet, as if holding their breath.
The figures approached him and bowed, not deeply, but respectfully enough. Equals acknowledging equals.
They began to speak.
The language wasn't one I had ever learned. No words, no grammar I could name. And yet… I understood it. Not in my ears, but somewhere deeper. In the same place the elemental knowledge had settled.
"The world has been formed," said the being who came from light.
It looked disturbingly familiar. Too familiar. The shape of its face, the way its glow sharpened around the eyes, it reminded me of Ludfrick. Not an imitation but a clear reflection of him.
"But order has not been established."
The earth-born god shifted, stone grinding softly beneath it.
"Order is a cage," it rumbled. "The world belongs to all. None should claim dominion over it."
The wind-shaped figure laughed, its voice like pressure changing.
"Dominion will come regardless. If not by decree, then by force."
Caelus landed lightly on the ground, rain hissing where his feet touched stone. He straightened, eyes calm, posture composed but I could feel the tension beneath it. He wasn't relaxed.
He was measuring them.
"You speak as if choice still exists," Caelus said evenly. "But the world will not remain empty forever. More beings shall emerge from the earth and when that happens, authority shall be born."
The fire-born figures stirred at that. Flames licked higher. I felt a tug in my chest sharp, instinctive like they were reacting not just to his words, but to me.
I clenched my fists and stayed silent.
The man of shadow, the one from the cave, stepped forward at last. His voice was quiet, but it carried.
"Authority without balance leads to rot," he said. "We must not wait to see what will happen."
Caelus's gaze flicked to him, sharp.
"And we must make sure of it"
My heart skipped.
I stayed behind the rock, unmoving, watching the newly formed gods debate the fate of a world I was standing on while none of them realized that a fragment of something far older was crouched ten steps away, holding his breath.
For now, I will watch.
-----‐-------------------‐------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ages passed.Or cycles. Or something that felt like both.
Time was strange here, the world spun beneath grey clouds, still unborn of a sun, yet never truly dark. I stopped trying to count how long it had been. I just was.
The figures born of fire were the first to approach me. They didn't bow to me, fire doesn't kneel, it leans slightly. They lowered their flames just enough to show respect, and when they spoke, their voices crackled with reverence.
"Firstborn of fire" they said in unison
I almost laughed at that, but I didn't correct them I played along.
I gathered them at the edge of a burning plain where magma flowed like rivers, and there I established the first pantheon. Not with proclamations, vut with instructions and structure. Afterall fire needed direction.
I gave them titles by what they were, not what they wanted to be.
"The God of War, Argan whose flames burned hottest in conflict.
The God of Passion, Savatar, whose fire warmed rather than destroyed.
The God of Wrath, karska, wild and consuming.
The God of Ambition, Elion, sharp, focused, always climbing.
And Alto, the God of Flames."
Alto alone among us stood at the mid rank. His fire was pure, It neither raged nor dimmed without reason. The others deferred to him instinctively, and he deferred to me.
They called me "The God of Fire." They did'nt call me that because I ruled them by force, but because when I willed fire to obey… it did.
In that time the world was peaceful, and because of that, I relaxed, and that was my mistake.
I let my vigilance slip, and the gods notice things like that. It began subtly, pressure in the air, shifts in elemental flow. The wind grew curious. Earth listened. Light lingered longer than it should have.
Then the summons came.
All the gods gathered again at the center of the world, where the land rose into a vast stone basin. I arrived wearing the same red toga and sandals I'd worn ever since the beginning.
When I stepped into the basin, I noticed something immediately.
They were all dressed like me.
Different shades of red, black, yellow, white, green, brown and blue. They wore different cuts, different fabrics formed from their own essences but they were the same idea.
I almost smiled. They were copying best dressed person in the room.
The god formed by light stood forward first, radiance muted but sharp.
"We cannot continue like this," he said. "Independent domains. Separate laws. The world requires rule."
The god of earth crossed his arms.
"Rule though becomes tyranny. All beings in the world should be free."
The god of wind laughed softly.
"And chaos becomes extinction."
Their voices overlapped, arguments stacking, circling.
Then the basin went silent, not because someone shouted but because wills collided.
The contest began without announcement. The god of light turned his gaze to the gods assembled.
"I am illumination," he declared. "I reveal truth. Without me, all paths are blind."
I ealked to meet him, meeting his eyes calmly.
"And I am fire," I replied. "I test truth. What survives me was worth revealing."
A ripple passed through the basin.
Then the god of earth stepped forward.
"I am foundation," he rumbled. "All things rest upon me."
"And I am flame," I said evenly. "I harden clay into brick or reduce it to ash. You endure because I allow it."
The god of wind smiled, eyes sharp.
"I am freedom. I cannot be held."
I tilted my head slightly.
"And I am hunger. You dance where pressure allows you. Even storms obey heat."
A murmur spread and the god of water flowed forward, voice calm and deep. "I am inevitability. Given time, I wear down all things."
I nodded once.
"And I am change. I give you steam, force, and fury. Without me, you are stagnant"
Each challenge came like that.
Each answer ended the same way, not louder, not crueler, final.
Not domination, understanding, they weren't losing because I was stronger. They were losing because I knew what they were.
At last, silence fell, Alto glanced at me, awe clear even through his fiery eyes.
The god of light spoke again, slower this time.
"Then what are you, truly?"
I looked around the basin. At gods wearing "my" style, standing in "my" posture.
"I am the one who refines," I said quietly.
"I do not rule by decree. I rule by trial. What survives me may stand. What does not… was never meant to."
No one argued.
The decision didn't need to be spoken.
The gods lowered their wills, not bowing in submission, but they were aligning.
In that moment, standing in a red toga with sandals on ancient stone, I understood something unsettling. I hadn't come here to rule gods, I had come here to teach them what rule costs.
Somewhere, deep in my chest, the faith in my heart flickered, weak, but still alive.