Ikenga's gaze drifted back down to the field, where young Ikelos was now crouched in the dirt, poking curiously at a glowing, multi-legged beetle while the tiny tortoise on his head bobbed in rhythm. A soft, indulgent warmth filled his chest. Deciding that intervention could wait just a little longer, Ikenga let out a quiet breath. He had other matters to attend to first, an old acquaintance named Red who was long overdue for a conversation.
For millennia, they had been shackled to the high planes, forced to watch Nana through a distant, unblinking lens. Now, the weight of their own divine bureaucracy had lifted. They were now somewhat free. They had greater autonomy, unmonitored reach, and the sweet, heavy air of the mortal world filling their lungs once more.
And the cost was too small for them just for this taste of freedom.
