Three wisps of light whispered with the wind, not by choice but by their crestfallen state. Once, they were glorious gods, waging endless wars in their unruly splendor. Now, they drifted aimlessly through the mortal realm, their constant bickering unchanged.
"You dare awaken me from my slumber? I'll pulverize you when this is over, Caelum!"
"You do scare me, Lucius. As if being reduced to ashes matters when I'm already in this useless state!"
"It was your fault we're in this state, wasn't it?!"
"Hey! You were at fault too!"
Caleum and Lucius continued to bicker until Riven chimed in. "Stop fighting before you wreck another havoc, you two! The northerners are yet to recover from the blizzard you brought years ago."
Finally in peace, the three wisps roamed the mortal realm for an urgent inspection. Something strange was afoot in the mortal world. What used to be small traces of celestial energy from the past centuries now filled the air like a thick miasma. The mortals were breaching their boundaries causing instability. They began to utilize the power of the gods to which they confused with "magic".
As they flew west, Riven descended, drawing his companions to a sprawling kingdom. For a mere second, a streak of light gleamed from above a luxurious château, catching their attention, and they hovered closer to find its source, when a young boy looked up to them.
The wisps froze. For eons, they had been dismissed as mere whispers of the wind, but this boy stared, curiosity swirling in the gray depths of his ashen eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.
To their greatest astonishment, he spoke not in mortal tongue.
He spoke the ancient language of gods.