The Heavenly God was resting his head against his right fist, his golden pupils shining with interest. "Interesting," he muttered; his tone showed a bit of curiosity and feigned surprise. The other gods looked to him, their eyes fixed and all weight leaned forward, awaiting the continuance of his words that would finally let the mystery unravel. Slowly, his left hand gesticulated with gracious, yet commanding elegance: "So, what countermeasure do you propose to prevent this?"
The God of Astronomy and Foresight, his composure cracking under the weight of divine expectation, had to force each syllable out of his throat. "Yes… the vision… but the right course of action is… to evacuate members of the Celestial Race from the Primordial World." His voice shook, as if with each word it dragged his pride behind it, battered and bleeding.
