While in the mortal realm, Lys and Elowen shared a moment of quiet understanding, far above, in a plane beyond human sight, the atmosphere was crackling with an entirely different energy.
There in the gods' realm, everything pulsed with raw power, a place where eternity stretched in every direction, and judgment chains hung heavy over the grand hall.
The hall itself was immense, deserving of its name 'Grand'. Its walls were carved from shimmering ether that shifted colors like living auroras. Towering pillars rose to a ceiling lost in swirling mists, making it look like there might not be a roof to this hall. And the floor gleamed like polished obsidian, reflecting the faces of those gathered.
The seating arrangement formed a vast circle, each throne elevated on tiers that descended toward the center, creating the illusion of an arena. Yet, it was no gladiatorial pit for sport; this was the Court of Eternal Verdict, where divine beings weighed the fates of worlds and their keepers.
In the middle of this 'Grand Hall', stood a solitary platform, bathed in a harsh, unyielding light that exposed every flaw, every secret.
There, on that platform, knelt the goddess who had once appeared so benevolent to Alex, before he was granted the offer to choose between worlds. She was the reason Alex had to become Lys now. Everything Lys had now was given by her. His new body, his system, quests, everything.
This Divine goddess's name was Liraya, the Weaver of Fates. However, many mortals back in the world know her by many titles. This is the name she goes by here. To the mortals, she was a being out of legendary tales, a being to worship and respect. After all, she holds the power to turn any mortal's fate around with just a wave of her hands. She was the pure example of the Divine.
Though today she looked anything but Divine. Her shimmering gown, once woven from starlight, hung tattered and dim, her long silver hair matted and unkempt.
She kept her eyes downcast, hands clasped in her lap, but the tremble in her shoulders betrayed her fear. She was in the lowest state she could hardly ever imagine herself to be, in her unimaginably long life.
Surrounding her, on their ornate thrones, sat the council of gods, a motley assembly of beings from across the cosmos.
Some were breathtakingly beautiful, like the goddess of desire, Vaeloria, whose curves rivaled the most alluring sirens, her skin literally glowing with an inner fire that made the air around her shimmer with heat.
Others were grotesque, such as Gorath, the lord of decay, his form a bloated mass of rotting flesh and writhing tentacles, exuding a stench that even the immortals wrinkled their noses at.
And then there were those who defied human form entirely: Zephyrion, a swirling vortex of wind and shadow with eyes like distant stars; or Thalor, a crystalline entity that shifted shapes like liquid glass, its voice echoing in harmonic tones that could shatter stone.
The air in the hall was thick with tension, with a palpable aura of anger that pressed down like gravity from a black hole.
The gods were whispering to themselves. After going on like that, the whispers turned to murmurs, then to outright shouts as the gods were evaluating Liraya's crimes.
The accusations had been laid bare by the high oracle's visions. Liraya had been entrusted with the world of Elyria by the council of gods. It was a realm meant to flourish under her watchful eye.
But in her laziness, she had allowed a corrupt soul, a twisted entity born of malice, to slip into that world unchecked. This evil had unleashed a curse upon the men, rendering most infertile and twisting societal norms into a desperate scramble for power and survival. Now that the world's balance was teetering on collapse.
Worse still, instead of confessing her failure and seeking aid, Liraya had hidden her blunder. She intercepted an innocent soul, Alex, a young orphan from Earth, on his way to the afterlife and tricked him into a "mission" to fix her mess.
Posing as a benevolent guide, she offered him a choice between oblivion and a new life, saddling him with the impossible task of repopulating the world single-handedly. It was the highest state of irresponsibility one could never expect from a goddess. It was a violation of the divine code that bound them all: Gods nurtured worlds; they should never pawn off their duties on mortals.
"You lazy wretch!" bellowed Gorath, his voice a gurgling rasp that sent flecks of his decay spattering across the floor. His tentacles lashed out in agitation, slapping against his throne.
"We all knew you were slack, Liraya, always weaving your little fates half-heartedly, letting threads tangle because you couldn't be bothered to untie them. But this? Sending an unsuspecting mortal to clean up your catastrophe? You're lower than the sludge in my pits!"
Vaeloria leaned forward, her fiery eyes narrowing as she toyed with a lock of her crimson hair. "Pathetic. I expected better from one who claims to weave destinies. You let that corrupt soul run amok, cursing an entire gender, and then you dump the fix on a boy barely out of his mortal shell? If I were in charge of Elyria, I'd have seduced the curse away myself, made those men beg for fertility. But you? You hide like a coward? Shame on you!"
Even Zephyrion, the non-humanoid swirl of elements, chimed in with a voice like howling wind. "Irresponsible... Unforgivable... Worlds crumble under such neglect..." Its form whipped around its throne, stirring gusts that ruffled the others' garments.
The accusations flew like arrows towards her, each god piling on with their own flavor of disdain. Thalor, the crystalline being, resonated with a deep, vibrating hum before speaking in fragmented echoes. "Betrayal... of duty... Shame... on us all... for trusting you..."
Liraya flinched with each word, her face a mask of feigned sorrow. She raised her hands slightly, palms up in supplication. "Please, esteemed council... I beg your understanding. It was a mistake, a momentary lapse. I thought the mortal could handle it; he was strong, resilient. I only wanted to preserve the world without causing panic here. Forgive me..."
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. The gods knew her too well. This wasn't her first offense; whispers of past negligences floated through the hall, worlds she'd let falter, fates she'd botched only to cover up with clever manipulations.
Gorath snorted at her plea, a wet, disgusting sound. "Forgive? Ha! You're just trying to weasel out again, like that time, when you made us create an entire magic-less universe just to make your own work easy. I should have known back then, it is always the same excuses from you. Your name should not have been the goddess of fate; it should have been the goddess of laziness. That suits you better."
Liraya started weeping and begging for forgiveness, all while only curses were coming at her.
Vaeloria crossed her legs, her gown slipping to reveal a glimpse of flawless skin, but her tone was venomous. "Save your tears, Weaver. We see through you. That boy, down there, must be breeding like a stud animal because you couldn't do your job. How many lives twisted because of your 'lapse'? How many did you hide like this from us?"
Even though she was weeping outside, frustration was building inside Liraya like a storm. She bit her lip, head bowed lower, but inwardly, she seethed. 'How dare they judge me?' she thought.
'They sit on their thrones, meddling in their own realms without consequence, while I get dragged here for one little error. If they knew how tedious overseeing Elyria was, the endless births, deaths, petty mortal squabbles, they'd slack off too.'
But she said nothing, knowing defiance would only worsen her punishment. Her fingers dug into her palms, nails drawing ethereal blood that shimmered and vanished instantly.
The barrage continued, the gods' voices overlapping in a cacophony of curses. "Slothful harlot!" "Irredeemable fool!" "You disgrace the pantheon!" Liraya's shoulders hunched further, the weight of their scorn pressing her down like an invisible hand.
Then, suddenly, a hush fell over the hall. A massive figure rose from his throne at the highest tier, his presence commanding instant silence in the massive hall.
He was Kronos, the Titan of Order, a god of immense build with muscles like forged iron and an aura that radiated like a supernova. His skin was bronzed, etched with glowing runes of ancient power, and his eyes burned with the fire of creation itself.
As he stood, the air grew heavier, the mists above swirled in response to show his might. Every god turned their gaze to him, with great respect and a hint of fear in their expressions. Kronos was no mere council member; he was an elder, one who had shaped and controlled realms before many of them even existed.
With deliberate steps that echoed like thunder, Kronos descended the tiers, his massive frame casting long shadows across the hall. The other gods watched in anticipation, some smirking knowingly. Liraya felt his approach like a tidal wave, her body shivering uncontrollably as he neared the platform. She dared not look up, but she could feel his heat, his overwhelming energy enveloping her.
Kronos stopped just before her, towering like a mountain. He gazed down, his shadow swallowing her form. For a moment, there was only silence, broken by his deep, rumbling laugh, a sound that started low and built into a mocking boom.
Then he spoke with a deep voice, which made the woman below him flinch, "How low can you sink, Liraya?" he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Once, you were my main woman, my favored consort, weaving fates at my side with such promise. And now? Look at you. Kneeling here like a broken mortal, begging for scraps of mercy from gods, many of whom were far below you once. Pathetic."
The hall erupted in laughter, the gods joining in with cruel glee. Vaeloria's melodic chuckle blended with Gorath's wet guffaws, while Zephyrion's winds howled in amusement. Even Thalor's crystals chimed like mocking bells.
The humiliation burned through Liraya like acid, her cheeks flushing with shame. She remained quiet, head bowed, but inside, rage simmered. 'You'll regret this, all of you,' she thought. Yet outwardly, she was the perfect picture of submission.
Kronos leaned closer, his breath hot against her skin. "You thought you could hide your failure forever, or what? Sending that poor soul to breed away your curse? Don't you know that nothing gets past from the great Oracle? Why would you even try that? I can't save you every time you mess up, Liraya. Now the council will decide your fate, but know this: your weaving days are over."
The laughter died down, leaving only tension. Kronos straightened, his gaze lingering on her, dark, cold, and unyielding.