Shouldn't this be the other way around?

"Shouldn't This Be the Other Way Around?"

Ellios was born from starlight and silence, a young godling shaped by divine hands to one day inherit the mantle of creation itself. But before she could rise, she was sent down.

Not as punishment. Not as exile. As a lesson.

The ancient gods, wise and distant, believed no deity should wield power without first understanding the world below. So they cast Ellios gently to Earth, veiled her light, and let her walk unnoticed among mortals. She was to learn of fear, of time, of change-things immortals only pretend to grasp.

She expected to study humans like stars from afar.

Instead, she met Saturn.

Nineteen, sharp-tongued, fiercely real. Saturn didn't shimmer. She didn't bow. She laughed too loud and loved too hard, and the world always seemed one second from breaking around her-but she stood. In her, Ellios found something the gods never taught her to expect: devotion not demanded, but earned.

It was supposed to be the other way around. Ellios, the divine. Saturn, the mortal. But somewhere between long walks at dusk and whispered secrets over coffee, Ellios realized she'd begun to orbit Saturn like a second moon. Her worship shifted-not upward, but across.

She still has powers. She still dreams in cosmic threads. But now she kneels, not in submission, but in awe. And in Saturn's messy, mortal world, Ellios learns what the gods never could: that love is a more sacred force than eternity.

This is not a story of gods descending to save humanity.

It's about a godling who came to learn-and found someone worth worshiping.