RE: Deity - The Breath of Creation

Universe: Ocean of Stars (Nyxteria's Nest)

Location: 1.2.3332.56 Quadrant 3, Spacefold 7. Near Time Anomaly XXI.

Time: Stardate 45433 – 45432 – 45434

Vessel: The Interstellar

The Commander of the Interstellar, perhaps one of the finest space vessels ever created by the interstellar Empire, watched as his crew celebrated their successful analysis of the local time anomaly. It wasn't anything strong, nothing like the swirling currents of the Vortex, but any new data that might help them traverse the treacherous depths of space without being torn apart by spacial fractures or time vortexes was worth its bytes in Timeless Crystal. And that was where the most unusual member of the crew, a Yeeshu, came into the equation.

Their fangs were long and sharp, their instincts predatory, but most importantly they had the unique ability to detect time anomalies through the whiskers on their furred faces. Perhaps they had evolved this sense due to their home planet being in the middle of a massive time anomaly, or that their preferred prey enjoyed hiding in reverse-flowing time streams. Either way, this ability made them indispensable to more advanced species, like those in the Empire, and research vessels, like the Interstellar.

Their instincts were more accurate than even their most advanced scientific instruments, after all.

The commander sat in his captain's chair, watching as the cat-like Yeeshu sat in its chair, whiskers twitching as it sniffed the air, waiting for its own food. This was his first mission with one of the Yeeshu, and even after a few months aboard this ship he had yet to fully come to terms with the species' peculiar habits. Particularly, their eating habits.

Unlike the rest of the crew, who were mostly species of herbivores, the Yeeshu needed meat, lightly cooked, with only a slight char to it.

That was not what came out of the kitchen.

The cook trundled forward on its cloven hooves, a veritable chunk of charcoal resting on a silver platter, with a side of what looked like rocks. The commander leaned forward, gripping the armrests with his talons as the cook presented his finest meal to the Yeeshu. The cat twitched its whiskers and made a face, orange fur twisting and green eyes narrowing as it glared at its food. The commander stood from his chair, stalking forward to their most valuable asset – the Yeeshu had been indispensable, after all – with a frown plastered on his face.

"It's a little…overdone," the Yeeshu muttered to the chef, stroking his whiskers and auto translator transforming its scratchy, growling language into the commander's ears. A small smile then came over the cat's face as it stood, taking the plate from the chef. "But I have just the thing to fix it. Come, come!" With that, the cat stood scurried to the other end of the meal hall, sniffing the air.

The commander paused, sharing a look with the chef and the other crewmates who had noticed the commotion, as the Yeeshu held the plate of meat up toward the ceiling, in the very corner of the room.

"The flow of time here is not strong enough to effect the ship – too sturdy. Too much energy! But to fix a meal, something long dead and untouched, is easy!" The commander's eyebrows furrowed as, before his very eyes, the steak began to uncook. The edges filled out and, after a few minutes, what was left on the plate was a bloody, barely cooked hunk of meat with fresh spuds as a side. The Yeeshu grinned and turned back to the chef, licking its lips with a forked tongue. "We used to do this all the time at home, when catching fish. When we hooked an incredibly strong one, we'd give it its energy back by dragging it through a reversing stream! Makes the good hunts last longer – as the Great Bird states, that which you should treasure, should last eternally."

The commander said nothing as the Yeeshu happily plodded over to its seat, tearing into the meal with gusto, even licking up the blood on the plate. And, very slowly, he turned to head back to his own chair.

…it would be best to stay on the Yeeshu's good side, fanatics as they were.

***

Universe: Heaven Above, Earth Below (The Empreror's Realm)

Location: Heaven.

The wine maker stared at the dice in his hands, jade in color and make, with golden dots indicating which side was which. They were a sharp contrast to his ruby colored skin, complimenting him greatly, and had become something of a lucky charm in the past few dozen years. Whenever he had them in his pocket it seemed lucky things happened. More people noticed his shop, his vineyard was free of pests, and his grapes grew larger and fuller. The wine finished faster, and the taste was better, too.

He'd really thought nothing of it besides thanking his good fortune, the dice themselves a mere consolation prize at best for losing one of his best barrels of wine and his favorite crystal glass.

At least until the Emperor himself had appeared at his doorstep, exasperated and tired looking, and had all but demanded to see the objects.

"That fool. I should smash those damnable things." The Emperor swore, staring at the dice. The wine maker shuddered at the sheer vitriol in his King and God's voice, the power radiating from him far greater than anything the simple wine maker could hope to muster.

"I will give them to you gladly," he promised, pushing the dice forward.

The Emperor sighed heavily, pushing the palm of one hand against his crown-laded forehead. "No," he decided finally. "It would not do to besmirch Reilly's gift like that. I apologize for my outburst, but they should stay with you. They have bonded to your truesoul now." The wine maker shuddered, wondering what foul treasure had fallen into his hands. "Worry not, they are fortunate items. But if you feel like they are affecting you or you simply wish to rid yourself of them, please, by all means, bring them to my palace."

With that, the Emperor stood, dusting himself off and cape flaring behind him.

"But…what are they?" the wine maker asked. He rarely ever even saw the Emperor, much less had the legendary being come into his own home.

"Do not worry about it too much. They are fortunate; one might even call them lucky. I apologize for disturbing you, but I had to ensure you were properly paid for the services you provided. Truly, do not let it weigh upon your mind too much." He said, and, with a swish of his cape, turned to storm out of the shop. The wine maker swallowed thickly.

That was a sure way to get him to worry about it.

***

"…they say that Reika lives atop the Life-Giving Tree, in the center of the galaxy. The place where all life stems from, where the Spirit River flows to take our souls through the cycle of reincarnation." The old priest said, his firelike hair flickering weakly as a sign of his age. The elemental's eyes, however, still crackled with lightning, his earth-like skin harder and more durable than any stone. "It is there that she builds a staircase to reach Heaven, and rejoin her sister Elvira in the skies above. And so we, too, can go and join them in paradise, once our souls reach eternity."

"That's ridiculous," a young girl complained, the elemental crossing her arms. "We already have a map of the world – it's round. There's no way a stretch of flat land could exist at the center of the universe, much less a huge tree."

"We can fly, girl." The priest deadpanned. "Our lifespans lengthen the longer we cultivate, and we can make flying cities. Anything is possible."

"That's cuz we made it under our own power. We did that, not the gods!" The girl complained. A few of the youngsters gathered nodded in agreement, though the youngest and oldest of the group all seemed to be on the priest's side, leaving part of the middle as part of the girl's posse. He frowned. He didn't like the girl's tone. It wasn't a necessity to worship Reika, he doubted a being as great as her minded much, but her teachings were what helped keep their home planet, Cradle, safe and healthy despite the high number of cultivators. "If we should be worshiping anyone, it's Dei!"

"Dei?!" The priest spluttered. "Dei!? He was a man!"

"Who became immortal!" the girl protested. "And he did it all on his own! If anything, there are no real gods, but immortals! We can actually do that. And his successor, the mighty warrior Xing Wu, hung a star in the sky so we can follow him."

A chorus of agreements rang up through the "gang" the girl had created around her, and the priest just rolled his eyes.

"Enough of this. If you are going to make a mockery of my sermon, take yourselves elsewhere. Believe as you wish – such is the teachings of my god – and do not disturb us any further. Reika is kind to all, so go in peace." The priest grumbled. The girl sneered.

"You all should come with me! Leave this old man to his ramblings. The gods were the ones who struck down Dei, killed him because they were jealous and afraid of his power. I follow the truly righteous path." And with that, the girl turned on her heel and stalked away. To the old priests dismay, a fairly large number of elementals followed, cutting those listening to his sermon down by a quarter. Had they come just to disrupt him and cause trouble? The old man shook his head.

He had the power in his body to force them to see, to call upon the spirits and shake the earth itself with the might he had been given. The might he had cultivated, through following Lady Reika's will and the essence of the great Lotus Willow – his Lady's will, here on Cradle. Slowly, the old priest turned to the dormant Treant, Lotus, that stood behind him, appearing as little more than an ancient willow ringed with sacred stones he himself had carved millennia ago.

The young ones didn't see. They weren't wise enough yet. They couldn't feel the strength of the immortal Treant, the being his great-great-great-grandmother had fought alongside when the Sun had turned to ash, in the time of the Sun War. Even if the immortal tree slumbered, its strength remained.

"Reika does not blame those who have yet to see the truth, to understand wisdom. Such is life – so long as we continue to change for the better, we will all have our place in the future. In Eternity. Now come, join me in prayer and pay no heed to the naysayers. We have our faith, and they are allowed theirs." The priest said, bowing his head. His fellows bowed their heads with him, and together, they began to pray.

Not all believed as strongly as he. He knew that. Nor did all believe others deserved the right to their own faith. That mattered not.

The only thing he could control was himself and his own faith, and attempt to guide others to a better path. So he prayed, for that was all he knew he could do.

***

Manu Ti was a lovely city, in Alanna's opinion. She walked the streets of her city, wings dyed a different color and dressed in plain clothes in an attempt to hide her true status as the Celestial Empress. Perhaps it was a bit cliché for an immortal to hide herself and walk amongst the mortals, but she found it relaxing in many ways.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

The flying city had a myriad of beautiful gardens, tall statues, and a thousand other things created by the formation experts of the city that she would have thought impossible when she was but a girl. Even down here, at the base of the Eastern Chain where mortals had built their own city, it was no less than gorgeous and wonderous.

Yes, Manu Ti was a lovely city.

When people weren't being stupid, that is.

"Get outta the way!" the cultivator shouted, clutching a box of jade slips to her chest as she rocketed down the street on a flying sword. She was too powerful for this area – nearly Heart Level, whereas the average here was no more than two stages lower – and thus burst through the throng of guards who had started to form about her. Her black robes flicked in the wind as she shot through the streets, unable to fly too high lest she activate the anti-flight formations in the city, weaving between mortals who barely saw her pass, clearly uncaring if she hurt anyone.

Alanna prepared herself to step in, seeing the disaster about to happen; an old man with a cane, too slow to get out of the way, would be cut apart by the woman's flying sword.

Someone else beat her to the punch.

A bestial-looking man covered in golden scales, wearing gleaming silver plate armor and a massive war hammer strapped to his back, stepped out of the crowd in front of the cultivator. His muscles rippled with strength, his muzzle pulled back in a snarl that showed gleaming white fangs. Whiskers hung from his snout, twitching as the woman barreled toward him – he was too weak to withstand the sword, not nearly high enough cultivation level –

He sidestepped quickly, reaching out and snagging the hilt of the sword with grace defying his hulking form. The cultivator was sent flying, tumbling from her ride head-over-heels. By the time she stopped rolling, the Draconian male was upon her, war hammer pressed against her chest and a growl rumbling in his throat.

"Stay down, girl, and this will not hurt any more than it has to."

"Stay out of –" Golden light lashed out from the warrior, binding her in place with runic seals, the Fae woman struggling fruitlessly against her bonds.

"I am a paladin of Alexander. You have endangered innocents. That gives me the right to act. Stay. Down." The Draconian rumbled. Alanna hummed, wings flaring a little behind her as she stroked her chin. That was impressive. She knew the young Draconian race was powerful, but for a warrior to completely subdue a cultivator at least two stages stronger than him? That was more than impressive.

"Bob." She said, knowing her shadow was close. The illusion master made no hint that he'd heard her. "Recruit him if you can. Noble and powerful? He would be a fine addition to our guard. Respect him if he does not wish to, however." A gust of wind told Alanna that her spymaster had heard her, and, satisfied, she turned away from the scene.

There had once been a meat skewer stall down this way she'd come to once or twice when she was but a girl, back before even Dei had taken her in. She wondered if it was still there…?

***

The Temple of Father Luotian and Mother Statera was a lonely place nowadays. Most worshippers had moved on to newer, fresher religions, such as those of the Big Four or the lesser elemental gods. The young saintess who tended the massive temple had even heard tell of people beginning to worship the unruly Xing Wu, the fierce Dei, and even the mischievous Kei. Try as she might to understand these young religions, she could not.

She wasn't even a Fae, instead being a Karae, one of Lord Keilan's people, yet even she could understand that the Father and Mother were superior. Were holier. Were more…perfect, when compared even to the other gods, to say nothing of the mortal and immortals who were now being worshiped.

Why worship those who did not even possess divinity? Was it their flaws that drew people toward them? Why would people not chase perfection, or at least bask in the light of it?

The Saintess sighed, stopping her sweeping to look up at the massive, thirty foot statues that depicted the Mother and Father. The Father, tall and regal, the grey stone adding to his imposing visage. In one hand he held his sword, used to cut down the Traitor, while the other was held out, as if asking to join him in the skies above. It was he who left open a path for people to become immortal. Then there was the Mother, elegant and kind, her smile promising warmth and compassion, hands cupped with the Lunar Star held within them. It was She who offers guidance at all times, aide to even the most unfortunate. The healer, to the Father's warrior.

They were the kindest, oldest, and most powerful of the gods. Why could others not see that?

The doors to her temple burst open, and in walked one of the banes of her existence. A Fae boy who was older than she, yet far less wise and understanding. Yet something was wrong. There were no taunts, no scoffs, no smelly food or abuse of her hospitality. No foul cultivation, spells designed and meant to drive people away from the temple carved into the lawn. Instead, there was the smell of blood, and a desperate gasping for breath.

The Saintess immediately began rushing forward, purple robes flapping behind her as she moved to the boy's side, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

"What happened?!" She demanded, kneeling before him. His black hair was matted with blood, one of his horns broken, bruises marring his face and hands.

"Hide me," he demanded, eyes flashing and qi roiling beneath his skin. When he spoke, she could see teeth missing. What had done this to a cultivator of his caliber?! "Sister, you have to help those in need, right? I need you to hide me."

"What-" the saintess started, but cut herself off when she felt it. An ominous presence. One stained with blood. Not quite a devil cultivator, but close, approaching the temple. "What have you done?"

"You have to!" the boy gasped – but it was too late. A shadow crossed the threshold of her temple, and the Saintess looked up to behold the single scariest person she had ever seen in her entire life. She was a little girl, with small Fae horns, black hair pulled back in twin tails, and an expression that could only be described as cold. Blood had been splattered across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were filled with bloodlust, and in one bloody hand she held a broken horn.

"It is too late for that." She said sweetly, and the Saintess hesitated when their eyes met. "You, girl. Step away from him. He has committed a grave sin and fatally injured three of my comrades. They will not last the night. His foolishness will cost him his life."

"No," the Saintess hadn't even realized she had said the word before it came out of her mouth, but it was a firm statement all the same. The little girl's eyes narrowed, head cocking to the side as she gripped the horn tighter.

"No?" she all but snarled. "Are you aware of the situation? I could crush you with a blink of my eye. I only warn you out of respect for your temple."

"This is a sacred place. There will be no violence spread here." The Saintess continued, pulling away from the boy's clutches to stand before the girl. Her hands did not tremble. Her breathing was even, even as she adjusted her robes. She followed the light of the truest god. This girl could not harm her in any way that mattered, even if she was terrifying.

"Violence implies that this will be anything resembling a fight." The girl spat.

"No."

"Truly? You protect this wretch? I know what he's done to you and your temple, yet still you protect him?" She asked.

"Yes. There will be no blood spilled here." The saintess said firmly. For one tense moment she thought the girl might consider walking away; then her hand clenched, fury etching itself across her face, and the Saintess raised one hand, calling upon the power that made her a Saintess. The light of the Heavenly Dao spilt down from the heavens, drawn upon by her very will, illuminating even the darkened temple. "I said no."

And all the tension fled. Fury and anger faded from the girl's face, panic and pain faded from the boy's. And the Saintess stood tall behind it all, never giving an inch. This was the grace of the heavenly dao. This was the grace of the Mother, and the path of the Father. This was why she would follow none else.

"I am sorry for what he did, but he will not be harmed here. Such is the will of the Dao." She said. "If your fellows are injured, however, you may bring them here and I will tend to them. I cannot promise you their lives, only the best of my abilities." The girl frowned at her, all hatred gone from her face. Instead, it was filled with curiosity.

"You would aid even me?"

"Yes." She said without hesitation. "We are all children of the same Parent."

"I do not worship the same god you do." The girl said slowly. "But yours might be the only other religion I respect. Fine. He may keep his life for now. Bye." And with that, she vanished. The saintess let out a sigh of relief, a small part of her hoping that she did not return with her fellows, despite her promise to heal them. She was far too scary. Far too dark. But she would still provide aid. She turned slowly back to the Fae boy, frowning at him.

"You…" he started, staring at his hands in confusion. She understood. She had felt the same way upon first touching the light of the Heavenly Dao. She knelt beside him, smiling kindly.

"Come. Let us get you cleaned up and healed, and then we can discuss what you just felt."

***

The girl watched from a nearby hilltop, considering what she had just felt and witnessed. She hadn't lied; three of her companions had been fatally injured. She just didn't really care if they lived or died – it had been more important to put the fear of the Shadow into the fool who tried to cross her. His blood still dried on her face and hands, and she smiled to herself.

"I did not expect to find a true Child of the Great One here." She muttered to herself, crouching as she watched the temple. Even during her time as one of the Heavenly Host, those who could touch upon the Heavenly Dao were a rare find. Too bad she had never gotten along with her fellows, and had come here instead.

After the Sun War she had come to a realization. Morgan had been, in some ways, right.

"You may be the light, and a kind soul, but as a follower of Morgan it is my job to ensure your kindness is not abused. Forgive me for my methods, but not all are easily dissuaded." The words were no mere words. They were a promise, etched in blood. And the girl would see them through.