High above the mortal world, where thunder was born and stars bent their light, the Council gathered.
The Preserver stood in the center of the marble dais, her hands folded before her, her gaze steady but troubled. To her left sat the Creator, his light warm yet sharp, his face carrying both pride and unease. And across from them, upon a throne darker than midnight, the Destroyer lounged with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
The air trembled with their presence. Even silence was a weight here.
"She saw him," the Preserver said at last, her voice even, though tension laced each word. "The vessel walks among men, and Elira found him."
The Creator exhaled slowly. "Yet she did not act." His voice was firm, carrying both disappointment and concern. "Why does she hesitate?"
The Destroyer chuckled, the sound echoing like cracking stone. "Because she sees the human in him. And perhaps she is not wrong to pause. Tell me, Preserver—what if she strikes down an innocent? What if the page merely clings to him, waiting to pass again?"
The Preserver's eyes narrowed. "That risk is far less than letting it grow unchecked."
"Unchecked?" The Destroyer's grin widened. "Or perhaps... unshackled? You sealed the page, yet it breathes still. Maybe your seal was never enough."
The Creator's light flared. "Enough riddles. We bound that book with our combined strength. If a fragment remains, it is no accident. The soul of the devil lingers, and the boy is its cage."
The Preserver's jaw tightened. "Still, her hesitation worries me. The longer she waits, the more the page will feed. Already, the cracks spread through the city. Mortals suffer games they cannot even name."
The Destroyer leaned back, his smile unfading. "Perhaps that is what amuses me most. The gods fear a single torn page, while mortals play roles they will never understand. You call Elira your hunter, yet she cannot bring herself to kill. Perhaps she is weaker than you thought."
The Creator's voice hardened. "And what would you suggest? That we send one of your disciples instead?"
The Destroyer's laughter rumbled through the chamber. "Why not? They wouldn't hesitate. Unlike your precious Elira."
The Preserver's voice cut through the storm of words, sharp as a blade. "She was chosen because she has the strength to resist both pity and zealotry. But if she falters again..." Her gaze darkened, and the heavens themselves seemed to bend. "...we may have to intervene directly."
For a moment, the council fell silent. Lightning split the skies beyond the hall.
The Creator lowered his gaze, his voice softer but edged with inevitability. "Elira's path is not hers alone anymore. If she does not end this... others will. And the boy will not survive."
High above the mortal realm, the gods watched.
And below, the game continued.