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❝You're not taking me to bed. Ever.❞
❝...Who said it had to be on a bed?❞
A disgraced immortal and a legendary folk hero are desperate to locate a blacksmith who can break the enchanted handcuffs that...
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BOOK XX:
✩ THE DIVINE ✩
written in the year xxxx
(i loved my brother once. but he didn't love me. for he couldn't accept his true nature any better than i could deny my own. so he punished us for his transgressions. and we would never be the same again.)
☾
The unseen creative force that winked Poallu, Laqueheia, and myself into existence graciously waited for us to take a single turn around the sun before making its desires known.
By that point, the three of us, among a pantheon of lesser gods, had assumed some sort of celestial hierarchy, ordered off by power and maturity alone. Poallu was convinced the universe spat him out first, fully formed and ready to rule, and Laqueheia didn't care enough about celestial politics to challenge his claim.
When it was just the two of us, I confided in Poallu of how I floated through the endless ether cold and alone, and how happy I was to finally have a family, to be heard and witnessed and warm.
Poallu ordered me to never speak such blasphemy again, threatening to tear me asunder for my lies.
But I knew, deep down, that my brother was scared.
Scared that he couldn't imagine an existence without me there.
"Ever-present and underfoot," he called me.
So I tucked my memory into my body and held it there until he was ready to hear it again, whenever that would be.
For centuries, we contented ourselves watching the humans below us. They were, for the time, undying and unaging. They didn't really do much of anything beyond what was required to survive. They didn't reproduce or form friendships or swap stories around their fires.
They were... missing something.
But we Divines could not describe what they lacked, for we lacked it ourselves.
It didn't take long for us to find out. One evening, a slick impulse dripped into my and my sibling's minds, whispering edicts from the stars.
