The world of Aethera had been shaped, its lands populated with mortals, and the balance of elements tenuously maintained. Yet, beneath the surface, the seeds of conflict continued to grow. The races created by the gods—Ignarri, Undini, Aeriads, Drahl, and Sylvans—had begun to clash over territory, resources, and power. The gods, watching their creations spiral into dispute, grew anxious. Though they had agreed to maintain the balance of Aethera, none of them could ignore the ambitions of their mortal children.
And so, a council was called.
The Gathering in the Hollow of the World
In a place that existed between the realms of the gods, at the center of the world's great axis, there lay a hollow, an ancient cavern deep beneath the earth's surface. This was where the gods would meet when their power threatened the balance, for here, even their divine abilities were subdued. The Hollow of the World had been carved by Gaethra herself, a place where no flame could burn, no water could flood, no wind could stir, and even stone was brittle and delicate.
Pyrrhos arrived first, his form wreathed in flickering flames that dimmed in the Hollow. His molten eyes gleamed as he paced, impatient. "This is a waste of time," he muttered under his breath. "Let the mortals fight. They were born to struggle, as we were."
The air shimmered as Rheia emerged from a ripple of mist, her long, flowing robes drenched in the waters of the deep sea. Her dark eyes regarded Pyrrhos with disdain. "Your children set the world ablaze, as always. It is not the struggle I fear but the recklessness."
Zephyros, floating on a current of air so subtle it barely moved the dust of the cavern floor, landed softly between them. His wings folded behind him, and his blue eyes held a note of weariness. "We are all complicit. The Aeriads have seen the flames rise, the forests burn, and the seas boil with fury. If this continues, the balance we fought to protect will unravel."
A deep rumble echoed through the Hollow, and from the very earth beneath them, Gaethra emerged, her massive form taking shape from the stone itself. She said nothing as she settled into her place, her eyes like great boulders, ancient and unreadable.
"Where is Nytheris?" Pyrrhos asked, a flicker of flame curling from his lips. "She summoned us."
There was a moment of silence, and then from the shadows, as if woven from the very darkness of the cavern, Nytheris, Goddess of Death and Decay, appeared. Her form was shrouded in a deep cloak of shadow, and her face was hidden beneath a dark veil. Only her cold, silver eyes could be seen, glinting like moonlight on a corpse.
"The time has come," Nytheris said, her voice a whisper that sent chills through even the gods. "Mortals walk the earth, and they rise in power. But with that power comes destruction. You have seen the fires and the floods. You have watched them clash over dominion. If this continues unchecked, they will bring ruin to all."
Pyrrhos scoffed. "Ruin? They are but children. Let them burn. Let them rise and fall. That is the way of the world."
"And what will you do when there is nothing left to burn, Pyrrhos?" Rheia countered, her voice like the soft crash of waves. "Your fires threaten even the seas. We cannot let their conflict grow."
Zephyros spoke softly but with a firmness that caught their attention. "We are gods, yet even we are bound to this world. If they destroy it, we too will fade. The mortals are ours, but we must guide them."
Gaethra, her voice slow and deliberate, rumbled from her stone throat. "The balance must be maintained. But how do we intervene without imposing our will too heavily upon them? We crafted them to be free, not to be our puppets."
Nytheris's eyes glimmered with a cold light. "Freedom comes with a cost. We must impose a reckoning—a Great Trial—so that the mortals may know their place in the world. Let them prove themselves worthy of our gifts, or let them perish. Those who cannot survive the trials will fall, and their lands will return to us. It is the only way to preserve the balance."
The Proposal of the Great Trial
The gods considered Nytheris's words, and though they were wary of her motives, they could not deny the wisdom of her plan. A great trial, a test of survival and strength, would allow the mortals to prove their worth. It would cleanse the world of the weak and reckless, leaving only the strongest and most faithful to inherit Aethera.
Pyrrhos grinned, his flames flaring slightly in excitement. "A trial of fire. Let them walk through the flames. Only those who survive the heat shall be worthy to live."
Rheia's face darkened with disapproval. "Not all thrive in fire, Pyrrhos. Let the seas rise, and those who can navigate the storm will be the true survivors. The waters will test their endurance."
Zephyros, ever the diplomat, folded his arms thoughtfully. "And let the winds carry them to the highest peaks. Those who can stand the storms of the skies and navigate the air's uncertainty will be favored."
Gaethra, her massive stone form unmoving, spoke last. "And the earth will judge them as well. The mountains will rise, and the land will tremble. Those who can endure the shifting ground will prove their strength. The earth does not favor the weak."
The gods had spoken, and each of them imbued the trial with their element, their power, and their judgment. Fire, water, wind, and earth would all test the mortals in a Great Trial, and those who survived would emerge as the rightful heirs of Aethera.
The Oath of Nytheris
But as the gods discussed the details of the trial, Nytheris remained silent. Her cold eyes watched them carefully, for she had her own designs. In the Great Trial, there would be another test—one that the gods had not foreseen.
The trial would not only test strength and endurance, but it would also test the mortals' hearts. Nytheris would sow seeds of doubt, fear, and decay. She would test their resolve, their unity, and their loyalty to the gods themselves. For in the darkness of the trial, when all hope seemed lost, Nytheris would whisper her temptations.
Those who listened, who gave in to the promise of power beyond life and death, would fall under her shadow. And through them, Nytheris would gain her followers, for she knew that in every heart, no matter how strong, there was a desire to escape death's grip.
The gods did not realize it, but they had opened a door to Nytheris, and she would walk through it when the time was right.
The Mortal's Fate
The gods left the Hollow of the World, returning to their realms to prepare for the Great Trial. Their mortal children, unaware of the divine council, continued their lives—waging wars, forging alliances, building empires. The flames of Pyrrhos burned bright, the seas of Rheia churned, the winds of Zephyros swept across the world, and the earth of Gaethra stood firm.
But soon, the world would tremble, and the mortals would face their greatest challenge yet.
And as the gods watched, Nytheris smiled, for she knew that in the coming trial, it was not only the mortals who would be tested. The gods themselves would soon learn that even they could not escape the shadow of death.