Meanwhile, in a throne room that shimmered with stolen starlight, Andohr was making his pitch.
"Think about it, Kranar," he purred, his voice a smooth, silken thread that somehow managed to convey both menace and temptation. "Zorian's power is waning. Noah's death… it left a void. He might be the God of Sun, but even he can't escape the consequences of that loss."
He leaned back on his throne, crafted from shadows and whispers, his sapphire eyes gleaming with a cold fire. "The mortal realm might be plunged into darkness, but even here… even in the realm of the Gods… I can feel it. The balance is shifting. And Zorian? He's losing his grip."
Kranar, the God of Lightning, shifted uneasily on his ornate, lightning-shaped throne. He stroked his neatly trimmed beard, his brow furrowed in thought. Andohr's offer was tempting, no doubt about it. A chance to join a new pantheon, one that was on the rise, led by a God whose power seemed to grow with each passing day…
