Pawn, volume 1 of Different Worlds

1. The Beginning

There was once a prophecy : two beings would be confronted in a war between good and evil, salvation and doom. With them, the world's fate would be decided.
With time, this prophecy was forgotten, scattered like algue on the beach and with every wave that pushed the prophecy farther away, hope and faith disappeared, hope that one day the population would be freed from tyranny and blind faith in the gods...

Then finally, their story was forgotten almost completely.

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POV: External

Whilst mortals were mourning the dead, the Light sect gods where gathering in Amaye's main temple, their equivalent of a conference room, so used because of its location, behind the palace where, again, lived Amaye, their king. But mostly, because the Shadow sect couldn't access the place, protected by its 'purity', contrary to the temples on the Continent.

The white sulfrin columns, a rock of incomparable beauty, dressed tens of meters up, giving the sanctuary both presence and authority. The obsidian colored table around which sat the gods was elegant and surely made out of thraunt, the dwarfs most prized discovery without any doubt: almost weightless, magnificent, but most of all, one of the rarest and most compact sources of magic on earth. 

As the king of the gods entered the sanctuary, Gutamar sat near the main chair, position accorded to her because of her status as shadow messenger, eying the beautiful ornaments around the room, feeling suffocated because of all the luxury. She eventually rested her eyes on her cup, surprised at such refinement and, whilst gritting her teeth, reminded her of the main reason for which her brother was chosen instead of her. He loved the mortals, admired their skills and their actions whilst she only saw the destruction they caused. Some of them were presumptious enough as to believe that they were made according to the gods' images: they were wrong. If anything, looking around right now, Gutamar was convinced that it was the other way around.

-It's the newest sample I've obtained from today's souls, it is made by the Elvlins, hope you enjoy it. You can take it with you when you leave if that is what you wish, said her brother, referring to the elegant craftsmanship.

And with that, Amaye took his place on the throne. Gutamar quickly looked away, regretting any interest in the object—although it was mostly the view that upset her—as she detested the unwanted attention and replied bitterly:

-I don't want it and I don't want your sympathy either, brother. Just get this over with, will you? I have souls to attend to.

If for Amaye her statement was a painful reminder of her fall from grace, for the rest of the attendees it was a clear insult.

The lively chatter immediately ceased and a silence as hard and dense as stone settled in the pristine room. The insolence in the goddess' voice was apparent as well as the disrespect, but the audience already knew their monarch wouldn't react, maybe because they were siblings, not that he would ever feel guilt for taking her rightful place as monarch of the Light sect. Yes, she had been the one meant to have it but that small incident wasn't what Amaye regreted.

-Now now, dear sister of mine, would you like to add anything else? he said as he took a sip of elexyr, the gods' drink.

-Well yes, actually, could you tell your gnomes to stay away from my sacred forests? They keep on cutting down trees to make futile carvings and I don't think they would like it if someone cut their legs off...

Some wanted to remark on how Gutamar was no longer the goddess of vegetation but their leader stopped them before they could start off.

-Very well then, now let's start our conference, continued Amaye, ignoring the evident threat in Gutamar's voice.