Hearing this, Damien sat in the chair opposite the Demi-God.
It was a plush, velvet armchair, but he felt like he was sitting on a spike.
"The Central Continent," Astra began, staring out the window at the peaceful capital sprawling below.
"It has been at peace for many years. Since the last Great War."
"The Era of Prosperity," Damien said, quoting the standard history textbooks.
"Protected by the Four Demi-Gods and the Imperial Army."
"Protected," Astra scoffed. She looked tired. The grandmotherly facade slipped, revealing the ancient, battle-worn warrior beneath.
"Do you know what it means to be a Demi-God, Mozart?"
"I cannot say I do, Headmistress."
"It means you are a pillar," Astra whispered, her voice sounding like grinding stones.
"And pillars... carry weight. We hold up the sky so the children can play in the dirt."
She tapped her finger on the World Tree desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"But the sky is getting heavier."
