The Doom of the Lost Kings

Chapter 1

The Banquet of Dia

On the day tar had rained from the heavens, a mortal came forward about a dream. A recollection of a grand tholos, a circular structure with high beams engraved with floral prayers from her people. Inside lay a high table, a quartz slab cut to cater to eighteen chairs. Three of which were left with a sheer covering. Yet the platters remained stacked high with lavish and rich substances. She recalled the champagne tasting like honey, spilling like syrup down her throat, her mind being lulled by a distant chant when her teeth bit into the core of a golden apple. She was pulled back to the present by the strained note of a harp.

She was rumoured to have died that same night.

For Dia didn't enjoy a stranger at their table, taking a seat covered in an honorary sheet. For it has been centuries since they've dined with mortal blood as two decades later, the Ocelli had prophesised a mortal at their table. Taking the rightful ends where sunlight and starlight ruled together, a prophecy that saw the end of the table of Gods.

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"I must say, your little pet has made this realm most unbearable." A tall, narrow figure of a woman batted a dark fan towards her face, her cheeks glowed white as behind her, forms made of golden light weaved her hair. Snipping off the small braids to form the strands of Destiny. Her ears twitched impatiently, sky blue robe falling from her shoulder in annoyance.

The table that morning represented a proper feast for the divine beings, platters of polished fruits and glimmering sweets lined their table. As beside her, a large hill of steak piled on her companions plate in which she scrunched her face at. The realm around them echoed with the chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of the towering trees above their temple. Faceless forms danced and dived into the shallow water protecting the piece of land, with every drop they made the water glow yellow.

"Faust. Considering our host can burn your skin, it'd be wise to watch your tongue. With all that is going on, your realm mustn't be too far from this." A man plucked a golden apple from the platter, tossing it between bruised hands with a smirk. "Anyway, We are here to talk on the matters of the Ocelli, not listen to your complaints of the heat." She rolled her eyes at the man, who raised his leg over the end of his seat and let his own white strands flow behind him. Scratching at the base of his horns with a minor groan.

"The Ocelli haven't come forward for twenty years, not since the mortal sunlight was born and not since they gave up some of their essence." Faust groaned, accepting the large challis of golden syrup. Crossing her fingers as it poured down her throat. "And that child has yet to reveal his true nature to us, you all sit blinded by the innocence of a baby. Why not let me handle it? Why constantly try pester the Ocelli when I could-"

"Since you, are not in control of this mortal's story; he is under the watch of the Ocelli. Besides, you do not always give us the most....accurate answers. The mortal's end is never the same as your word." The woman threw a stray apple across the table, landing on the tip of the other's dark horns.

"Must you two act like mortal blood at my table?" A voice boomed, shaking distant trees of their leaves as the pair raised their hands to shield themselves from the burst of light, where stepping out into the world a man greeted them with a strained smile, clamping his hands tightly together in restraint.

His gaze made of gold, scalp shaved down to the core, revealing the lack of pointed tips and allowing the silver markings across his collarbones to drift up his neck, one for every prayer a mortal made to him, they ran in straight columns down his dark skin. He covered himself in a sheer white robe joined across his shoulders with the figure of a sun.