Flaws of the Divine 1: Greed

Prologue

A storm was brewing on the horizon and not one of the normal sort. It was only a storm that happened once a millennia—once in a universe.

One side of the sky was bright and lovely—a pure blue complemented in the warm sun, not a cloud to be seen. On the other side, it was a deep, disturbing navy, the kind of blue found at the bottom of an endless sea where no light could reach. Black, pregnant clouds gathered under that depthless blue, creeping slowly across the sky as if to pounce on the ever-shinning sun.

The look of it did very little to unsettle him. In fact it was rather an intriguing sight—so much so that he didn't hear his Mistress call him the first two times.

"Galsin!" He jerked and headed back through the gap in the tree. There he saw his Lady standing over a faea corpse, covered in her blood, heart in hand and looking rather perturbed.

He quickly kneeled as she cocked her head towards him with a snide snarl of disapproval.

"Galsin," she repeated. "Bring it to me."

Without hesitation, he stood and went to a glass cupboard, grabbing a vile that said 'Salvish' in the ancient tongue.

Vial in hand, he held out the other expectantly. His lady however, sneered.

"The final piece shall not be tarnished by mortal hands," she declared as she seized his hand and the vial and crushed the heart over it.

It squelched as it oozed into the vial, the blue blood dark from her corpse being cold for so long. Some of it dripped onto his dark skin—flowing between the grooves and adhering to its bark-like texture.

When she was done, she unceremoniously chucked the heart back to its corpse. Without a word she strode off, but Galsin knew to follow. Careful not to slosh the blood, he stepped over the roots of the tree and emerged outside once more.

His mistress already stood at the water's edge, thunder cracking overhead.

He began to recite the words he'd said six times previously. As he approached, his voice grew louder, as did the crackle of the clouds and soon the sounds melded together into a strange song that set his blood thrumming.

This was it, the moment he'd assisted her all this time to reach.

Silently, his mistress raised her hands to the grey sky that had finally devoured the unsuspecting sun. Lightning sparked and as he poured the vial of blood over her head, it struck.

The lighting zapped her outstretched palms, radiated through her skin and set her hair alight.

Blazing, now she took up the chant—her voice ancient and cold as she recited words that made the earth shudder at their meaning.

Backing away, awe overtook him. Power swirled around his mistress, colors of every hue creating a tornado of magic. Her upraised hands slammed together in a resounding crack that tore the colors asunder into seven pieces.

Here was the end of their world. Here was the end of their universe. And he stood at the foot of her glory.