NOVEL NEXT Chapter 41: The unscheduled meeting.
Somewhere in the vast expanse of the Seventh Heaven, where the heavenly laws reign supreme and only those who have ascended to godhood dare to roam, exists a realm of ethereal majesty.
The boundless space radiates with soft, glowing white light, illuminating a huge piece of land that hangs suspended in the void-a land spanning an unimaginable six million square kilometers. Its surface shines like polished marble under a divine sun; right in the middle, a castle rises, incomparable in its greatness, claiming one-quarter of this heavenly land.
The castle, an epitome of divine artistry, has been painted a flawless white, its towering walls bellowing streams of liquid gold cascading with fluid elegance down every angle, glinting like rivers of sunlight. Hundreds of spotless stairs release themselves from the very front entrance of the building down to the earthly crust supported by one colossal plinth that managed to carry the weight of the castle. The steps seem to radiate a faint, otherworldly glow, as if infused with the very essence of the heavens.
On the very rim of the land, across from the castle, there stand two great pillars, wide apart. Between them a cloudy, spiral-shaped void corridor swirls as if it were a gateway to some place beyond the understanding of human souls. The humming of this corridor with star energy, as a heartbeat, shakes space and time. At this threshold stand two mighty angels, figures shimmering in the brightness of God. Each bears a golden spear, their six wings of white unfolded about them in perfect symmetry, as if vigilant staunch sentinels of might.
Out of this whirling void, the corridor bursts with beings of godhood in its radiance, commanding. First, one, then the others, stride towards the castle: every step up the luminous stairs a silent battle against the overwhelming pull of gravity, and against the mental strain of pressing upward into such divine heights. But even under the invisible weight which presses upon them, the gods rise with poise and determination, some much more easily than others; the strength of their stride never buckling.
Another pair, also with six wings each, now stands at the entrance of the castle to guard with their crossed gold spears, denying admission to anyone who is unfit. Every breath is permeated with reverence, every inspiration loaded with the weight of this moment.
Breaking the stillness, a voice booms across the divine stairway-a commanding, urgent sound. "Aerolyn!" The call cuts the tranquil air like a gust of wind. A man strides purposefully up the steps, in a billowing brown garment. His look is that of a man in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair glinting faintly under the light. His presence carries the weight of familiarity and authority.
The god addressed, Aerolyn, turned with the mention of his name. His off-white hair shone like silver clouds, and his ash-grey garment ruffled softly, as if kissed by an invisible breeze. A faint screen of wind encircled his head, a crown of his dominion. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, his expression softening into recognition.
"Terranox?" The voice of Aerolyn is tinged with surprise, the words floating away in the air as a breeze would in a field. He stops on the steps and waits for his old friend to reach him.
"It's really been some time," he says, continuing, his hand extended.
"Yes, truly a long time," he responds as their hands come together in a firm shake, the gesture turgid with what's been left unsaid between these two. "It must be nearing a thousand years since our last meeting."
And so, both gods start up the stairs at the same measured pace as one another, their steps unhurried but sure in their continuity-a silent witness to the epochs of shared memory.
"Oh, that reminds me," says Aerolyn, his voice laced with a curious undertone. "Terranox, have you any idea why we have been summoned so urgently? Quite unusual, especially before the regular meeting."
He shakes his head, and for a moment, a faint expression of disappointment crosses his face. "No, I have been thinking about the very same thing. I find no answers myself."
The conversation dies away as the two approach the entrance of the castle. The walkway stretches ahead, its gleaming face reflecting faint gold from streaks of liquid gold flowing down the walls of the castle. They came to a stop before a huge set of doors at the end of the hall; each towering panel was inlaid with intricate designs that seemed subtly to shift, as if alive with divine energy.
Standing guard are two more angels, with their six white wings opened in perfect symmetry, golden spears crossed before the door. Their eyes were unyielding, unwavering; their presence imposing, yet serene. As Terranox and Aerolyn approach, the angels, as if recognizing the worthiness of these divine beings, lower their spears in unison. With a deep, resonating groan, the great doors swing open, revealing the vast interior of the castle.
And so, both gods went in, wordless; their outlines silhouetted for a while in light pouring from inside the apartment. The echoes of footsteps perish as the doors slam behind his back, enclosing them in the great halls of celestial council.
Inside the great hall, the atmosphere thrummed with an overwhelming potency, as though the very air was woven with strands of divine energy. The space was vast, a boundless expanse brimming with ethereal light, its golden hues refracting like a prism through the crystalline walls. Tiered seating stretched in an elegant arc, each throne forged from the essence of the heavens themselves, glimmering faintly with unique hues reflecting the power of its occupant.
One by one, the gods arrived, their presences commanding and luminous. As they settled into their respective seats, greetings and nods of acknowledgment passed between old comrades, though a palpable tension lingered beneath the surface. Anxiety and curiosity hung heavily in the room like a storm waiting to break, each god pondering the reason for this abrupt, unscheduled meeting.
Opposite the assembly, a massive golden throne dominated the hall's focal point, an artifact of such unparalleled splendor that it seemed less a creation and more a piece of heaven itself. It radiated an energy so pure and immense that even these divine beings dared not approach it casually. Its brilliance, though majestic, exuded a weight that was nearly suffocating, a silent reminder of its unassailable power.
The anticipatory murmurs of the gathered gods were suddenly cut short as a hidden door at the right corner of the hall swung open with a smooth, almost spectral motion. From the doorway emerged a figure that seemed to embody the very essence of authority. The youthful god strode forward with an unshakable air of command, his steps deliberate yet fluid, the ground beneath his feet humming faintly with each movement.
Towering at 7.1 feet, his presence was otherworldly. He wore a flowing white garment adorned with intricate golden patterns that sparkled like stars embedded in the fabric. The edges of his long sleeves and hem gleamed with embedded golden stones, catching the light with every step. His hair, as white as freshly fallen snow, streamed down his back like a cascading waterfall, accentuated by two vivid blue streaks running symmetrically along the length of his locks. His golden eyes, shimmering like molten crystal, held an enigmatic depth, their radiance both mesmerizing and intimidating.
Accompanying him were two angels, their forms majestic and celestial. They bore five pairs of wings—two pairs of gleaming gold that radiated divine authority, while the remaining three pairs were a pristine white, symbolizing balance and purity. Their silent presence added an even greater weight to the already overwhelming aura of the hall.
As the youthful god ascended the podium leading to his magnificent throne, the once-confident gods rose in unison, their collective presence dwarfed by his commanding aura. The air grew heavy, a suffocating pressure of reverence and fear intertwining. The faintest smiles that had previously graced their faces melted away, replaced by expressions of solemnity and trepidation. Even beads of sweat, unheard of among such beings, began to trickle down their foreheads, betraying their unease.
Finally, the youthful god reached his throne. His movements slowed as he turned to face the assembly, his gaze sweeping across them with an intensity that seemed to strip them of all pretense. The two angels moved behind the golden throne, their posture unwavering as they took their places, silent and watchful.
"To question your authority is folly, for there is none above you," the gods intoned in unison, their voices resonating through the chamber like the toll of a celestial bell. Their words were not just a declaration but a submission, spoken with a reverence rooted in both awe and fear.
The youthful god lowered himself into the golden throne with a slow, deliberate grace, his right elbow coming to rest on the armrest as he leaned his head into his hand. His golden pupils gleamed, scanning the faces of the gathered deities. The room held its breath under his scrutiny, as though time itself had paused to honor his presence.
After a moment that stretched into an eternity, he raised his left hand, gesturing downward with an elegance that exuded effortless authority. "Thanks to your everlasting grace," the gods responded once more, their voices unified as they sank back into their seats like leaves drifting to the ground.
Silence fell upon the room, a silence so profound it seemed to have its own weight. It was not the silence of peace, but of anticipation, a tension that coiled tighter with each passing second. The hall, bathed in divine light, now carried the oppressive stillness of a brewing storm, waiting for the god on the throne to speak and shatter the silence with his decree.