From the Astral realm, Cassiel watched the proceedings in the Ether. He lay sprawled next to the viewing pool, his wings draped lazily on the ground behind him. A bowl of gilded gold stood on the step below him filled with fresh fruits and he reached down to pluck a grape from its vine, popping it into his mouth and biting down on the taunt skin and relishing the sweet tartness.

  As the events unfolded, Cassiel sat up with a grunt and leaned in closer over the pool.

  “Any closer and you’ll fall through,” A voice joked.

  Cassiel chuckled and turned around and saw the god of storms approach. He smiled and invited Aest to watch with him, patting the seat beside him. When Aest sat down, Cassiel silently handed him the bowl of fruit, then turned his attention back to the Ether.

  It would be a complete falsehood to say Cassiel was entirely relaxed. It was an act—in part to reassure the other gods and in part to reassure himself. He knew that there were very few things that could harm gods, but all the things that could harm gods were gathered in the same place as Pelos and the other sibling gods. He knew he had very little reason to worry for Pelos’ wellbeing, but Cassiel couldn’t quite shake the anxiety that stayed in the back of his mind.

  <--<< >>-->

  The creator god landed lightly on the cold marble floor. The form he had taken was strange. It was not mortal, but it was not his true form. It concealed his true nature just enough to preserve the lives of the mortals when they were shielded by the sibling gods.

  Pelos hesitated, feeling unsure of how to begin conversation with him. He knew that what they had done was wrong and that Haert had every right to destroy what they had created, but he hoped that there was some way to not let Dargon suffer the consequences of their mistakes.

  “You will return to the Astral realm with me, now,” Haert said, his voice like the rumble of thunder.

  It was not a choice or an offer. It was a command.

  Pelos battled within himself. Everything in him wanted to obey his grandfather, but the tiniest part of him knew that if he didn’t fight for Dargon, no one would.

  “Grandfather…” He began, wondering himself how to say anything.

  Haert’s burning gaze bore down upon him and Pelos stumbled back a step, before regaining composure.

  “There will be no resistance, unless you wish to meet the same fate as these mortals,” Haert rumbled.

  “W-What will you do when we leave?” Gialan asked quietly, then shrinking back as Haert’s gaze moved to him.

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  Haert said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

  “No!” Pelos cried out, “We created those worlds and we have a responsibility to protect them!”

  Haert remained silent for a moment more, the stars on his body shifting slightly, then he moved his body in a jerky, unnatural rhythm and pointed to Aeliyas. Her mortal form began to glow and dissolve. She looked down at her own body and cursed. She looked back up with a forlorn expression and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to Pelos before she disappeared. As much as Pelos felt like she’d just abandoned him, he knew there was no other way. Haert had dissolved her mortal form, and her true form would kill the mortals they had just protected from Haert.

  Haert turned to Gialan and did the same. Gialan, now aware of what was going on, tried to reverse the process. His actions were futile, though, and he ended up leaving just as Aeliyas had.

  With a rumbling exhale of breath, Haert said, “I can make you a new one. With little mortals like the ones you so adore. I’ll make more worlds for you all, so just leave this one.”

  Pelos scowled and said angrily, “It HAS to be Dargon! You can’t just… replace them! Each and every one of these mortals is unique and special!”

  “These worlds you have made must go,” Haert said heavily, “One way or another.”

  Pelos silently shook his head, disbelief and rage still whirling within him. Haert merely raised his arm, but just as he was about to repeat his actions with Pelos, a tiny dagger bounced off the creator god’s back.

  For a moment Pelos blinked, then fear flooded through him as he glimpsed the terrified expression of Lirya, her arm still outstretched from the throw.

  Why would you do that?! Pelos internally groaned, resisting the urge to facepalm.

  She had doomed herself and Pelos wasn’t sure that he could even do anything to save her.

  Why didn’t you just stay quiet?! He lamented mentally.

  Haert slowly and with jerky movements, turned to Lirya. Pelos moved over to try to defend her from the creator god’s dangerous attention, but Haert briefly glanced back at Pelos, rendering Pelos unable to move. Pelos was helpless to watch as Haert turned to Lirya.

  The effect of his presence was immediate—Lirya’s nose began to bleed and she shook uncontrollably.

  “Foolish child, how dare you think to kill me? I AM creation. I am unkillable,” Haert thundered, showing something akin to anger in his expression.

  Lirya shivered under his gaze, blood pouring from her nose profusely, then her eyes rolled up in her head and she lost consciousness. Taryn caught her before she hit the floor, and laid her down gently.

  “The mortal must pay the price for her actions,” Haert said in a monotonous tone, “Move out of the way, mortal boy.”

  “No,” Taryn shook his head, standing protectively over her.

  Haert was quiet for a moment, then he jerked his shoulders and said, “This mortal or that mortal matters not, I suppose. The balance will be appeased regardless.”

  Haert turned his gaze towards Taryn and as his smoldering eyes met the terrified guardian’s, Taryn Aegivyl shattered. Like a fragile ice sculpture, he burst into a million shards that dissipated in an instant, leaving behind nothing.

  It all happened so fast that no one had a chance to say anything, or do anything.

  No body and no soul—nothing remained of Taryn Aegivyl but the horrified silence of onlookers. He had been erased from the world.