"The gods do not arrive with warning.
They arrive with judgment."
Long before its skies shattered, Terrosia bloomed.
It was a world of verdant valleys and blue oceans, a planet carved by seasons and stitched with civilization—so similar to Earth it could've been its twin across the stars. Cities rose like monuments to ingenuity. Culture, trade, conflict, love—humanity in all its flawed brilliance.
But unlike Earth, Terrosia had no gods.
Not by choice.
By ignorance.
Its solar system drifted on the far edge of divine territory, tucked away like a forgotten marble in the multiverse's pocket. Too distant. Too quiet. No celestial interference. No divine visitations. No heavenly texts carved in stone.
Terrosians didn't deny the gods.
They simply had no reason to believe they existed.
Until they looked outward.
Until their ships breached orbit.
Until their satellites pinged something old and watching in the void.
Until they reached too far.
And the gods, for the first time, noticed a light they hadn't lit.
⸻
Above all realms, in the sanctified space beyond reason, the Divine Convergence stirred.
Seven thrones. Seven silent figures. No faces. Only Law.
They reviewed Terrosia's data. Watched its dreams stretch toward the stars. Watched its people build without worship, love without rituals, laugh without fear of holy consequence.
"They believe themselves sovereign," murmured the Voice of Order.
"They seek truth not given by us," echoed the Voice of Fate.
And without vote. Without trial. Without hesitation.
They decreed Divine Judgment.
The reasons were trivial.
The punishment was not.
The gods had razed civilizations for less:
• For planting crops on land deemed "sacred" by a comet.
• For drawing constellations that resembled divine anatomy.
• For humming lullabies that interfered with holy resonance.
To the gods, the mortal offense was not rebellion.
It was audacity.
⸻
And so the Executioners were forged.
Mindless. Radiant. Absolute.
They descended upon Terrosia like a forgotten debt come due.
Skies ignited. Continents cracked.
Children screamed beneath falling stars.
And Terrosia—a world that had never known worship—was taught fear.
⸻
But the gods made one mistake.
They believed themselves all-seeing.
They were not.
They never looked closely enough.
They never saw the three broken children beneath the ash.
They never imagined that in the ruin of a silent world…
a fire had started.
⸻
"Curiosity is a match.
Ignorance is the hand that holds it.
And the gods, blind in their distance,
never saw the forest burn—until it reached their throne."