NOVEL NEXT Chapter 41: "Realms."
This council was not a mere gathering of deities, but the very fabric of existence, the ones who shaped the world and the fate of those who dwelt within it.
The Council of Gods was an assembly of divine beings so ancient their names had been lost to the ravages of time. They met in the hallowed halls of All-Sky, a realm that lay beyond the veil of the mortal world. It was here that they decided the fate of the continent of Avaricia. Their edicts were the laws that governed the land, dictating the rise and fall of civilizations, the ebb and flow of power, and the very essence of existence itself.
The Council was known to reward those who remained steadfast in their faith, showering them with miracles and blessings that manifested in the most profound ways. In times of drought, the rivers would run with water so pure it seemed to be drawn from the very tears of the sky. In battles against insurmountable foes, the air would tremble with the thunder of their divine favor.
But for those who dared to spurn the divine, who chose to walk a path of darkness and deceit, the Council's wrath was swift and unforgiving. Crops would wither in the fields, livestock would perish without cause, and the very ground beneath their feet could crack open to swallow them whole. Their names would be stricken from the annals of history, forgotten by all but the whispers of the damned.
The Council of Gods had decreed the fate of every living creature since the dawn of time, their will shaping the destinies of men, beasts, and even the very elements. The pantheon was vast, encompassing deities of love and war, of creation and destruction, of life and death. Each god had their own domain, their own sphere of influence, and yet they all bowed before the will of the Council.
The members of the Council were as enigmatic as the whispers that spoke of them. Their identities were guarded secrets, known only to the most devoted and ancient of priests, the ones who had devoted their lives to the study of the sacred texts. These priests spoke in hushed tones of gods with names that resonated with the power of ancient incantations, names that could make the bravest of warriors tremble.
Yet, amidst the divine, there was the possibility of the mortal ascending to those lofty heights. It was a concept that defied the very nature of existence, a bridge built of hope and faith that stretched from the earth to the heavens themselves. For in the Pledge of Birthright, it was written that a being, born of the divine lineage, could be deemed worthy by the Council.
To be deified was not to become a mere god, not in the traditional sense. It was to be recognized as a being of equal standing, an eternal guardian of the cosmos, a shepherd of the stars. The chosen one would ascend to All-Sky, shedding the frail coil of humanity and becoming something more. They would sit among the ancient ones, their voice joining the chorus that shaped the very fabric of reality.
The pledge of birthright was not just a promise, it was an invitation to greatness, a beacon in the night that drew those who bore the blood of divinity. Arteus and Ava were two such souls, bound by blood and law to walk a path that would lead them to the very heart of creation.
Arteus looked into Ava's eyes, searching for the truth behind her actions. "Why do you let them call you a goddess?" he asked, his voice a mix of accusation and curiosity. "You know as well as I that we are but shadows of the divine."
Ava sighed, her eyes dropping to the book. "I didn't choose the name," she murmured. "They needed something to believe in, a symbol to rally around." She closed the book with a gentle thud. "And in their desperation, they found it in me."
"But do you wish to claim it?" Arteus pressed, his voice a low rumble. "The power, the dominion... the Council of Gods?"
Ava looked up, her eyes gleaming with something akin to defiance. "Do I wish to claim it?" she echoed. "I don't know if I believe it's real, Arteus. I've seen too much pain, too much death, to put my faith in ancient promises." Her voice grew stronger with each word, the doubt in her eyes fading into a steely resolve.
"But if it is true," she continued, her hand resting on the book of prophecy, "if there is a chance that I can bring peace to Sovereign, then yes. I will claim it." She took a step closer to him, her breath misting in the cold air. "But that's a discussion for another time. Right now, I have a meeting with Tobias Kingg, savior of the village Barley."
"Savior?" Arteus echoes her inquisitively.
Ava nods. "The villagers of Barley have placed their trust in him, believing he will lead them to a new life here in Sovereign. He speaks of a world untouched by the prophecy's shadow."
"And do you believe him?" Arteus's voice was skeptical, the candlelight playing across his furrowed brow.
"I want to," Ava admitted, a hint of desperation in her tone. "But I've learned not to take words at face value, especially not in the shadow of the world's end."
With that, she turned and exited the stable, leaving Arteus alone with his thoughts and the flickering candle. The door swung shut behind her with a muffled thud, leaving only the soft whispers of the horses to keep him company. He stared at the spot where she had stood for a moment longer, the warmth of her presence lingering like a ghostly embrace.
The sun had reached its zenith by the time he left the stable, the light casting a stark contrast to the shadows of his contemplation. The square outside bustled with activity, the townsfolk of Sovereign going about their daily routines as if the second birth didn't loom over them like a specter. Arteus felt a twinge of envy, wishing he could share in their blissful ignorance.
He made his way through the throng, the weight of his axe a constant reminder of his own burden. His eyes searched the crowd for any sign of trouble, his hand resting on the pommel, ready to draw the weapon at a moment's notice. His thoughts swirled like a maelstrom around Ava's words, the implications of her birthright, and the Council of Gods.
What now?
Meanwhile, in the demon realm, a gathering of the highest ranking demons was underway. The air was thick with the acrid scent of brimstone and the cacophony of their malevolent laughter echoed through the cavernous halls. Their eyes, like embers of a dying fire, flickered with the anticipation of the coming chaos.
The topic of this discussion was the youthful Jezebel Grande, the ambitious daughter of the fallen demon Queen, Melissa Devereaux. Her lineage was undeniable, her beauty unmatched, and her cunning had earned her a reputation that had even the most seasoned demons wary of her intentions. The question at hand was whether she was fit to rule the realms of the demons after her mother.
-To Be Continued-