Someone knocked at the door. Jakir stopped pacing and opened it to find a guard kneeling, his head bowed low. The guard's hair writhed like snakes, twisting and curling as if alive.
"The gods of death, Laea, and souls, Sanera, await you in the throne room, Your Majesty," the guard murmured.
Jakir smirked. "That's all I needed to hear."
He stepped into the grand hallway leading to the throne room. Statues of the Finati—ancient, long-dead gods—lined the path, their hollow gazes watching over the silent passage. Majestic pillars rose to the ceiling, and ancient inscriptions adorned the walls, whispering forgotten secrets. A deep red carpet stretched before him, a silent invitation.
Jakir pushed open the gilded doors to the throne room, stepping inside.
Sanera stood near the window, gazing out with disdain at the palace warriors training below. His sneer spoke volumes. Laea, on the other hand, appeared fascinated by the Kesint owl perched on Jakir's throne. The owl, with unblinking yellow eyes, stared back at him, regal and defiant.
"You have quite the peculiar pet," Laea commented, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I wonder what would happen if I snapped its neck."
"How many times have you killed it already?" Jakir asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Five," Laea replied with a shrug.
Jakir chuckled. "It's an ancient bird. I had to win a riddle contest against a dwarf king to get it. If you kill it two more times, you'll become its enemy."
Laea tilted his head, intrigued but wary. "Enemy to the bird?"
Jakir nodded. "It'll reawaken with a singular purpose: to hunt you down. And since it can't die, you'll never get a moment's peace."
Laea stepped back, his expression cautious.
Meanwhile, Sanera turned from the window, his face a mask of disdain. "Jakir, your warriors are pathetic. Even my household servants train better than this rabble."
Jakir's face reddened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Sanera retorted, his smirk widening. "I'm looking at them right now."
"Take that back!" Jakir snapped.
"No."
"You're just jealous. Your warriors can't even hold their spears properly!"
"At least they try," Sanera countered. "Yours look like they're only good for slaughtering chickens and stuffing their faces."
Laea sighed, stepping between them. "Enough. How about a match to settle this?"
Sanera shook his head, feigning horror. "I wouldn't insult my warriors by letting them face this... plague. What if incompetence is contagious?"
Jakir took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I didn't summon you here to bicker."
"Then why are we here?" Laea asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jakir hesitated. "To help me cause mischief."
Sanera laughed outright. "You must be joking."
Jakir's expression grew serious. "Follow me, and don't ask questions."
The two gods exchanged wary glances but followed as Jakir led them into a shadowed stairwell. The steps spiraled downward, the air growing damp and heavy. The walls, made of packed mud, earned a disgusted grimace from Laea.
"This is revolting," Laea muttered.
Jakir ignored him and continued into a vast underground chamber. At its center stood a massive metallic box, its surface etched with intricate runes.
"You can't be serious," Sanera groaned.
Jakir strode to the box, opened its door, and stepped inside. Laea followed reluctantly, muttering threats under his breath. Sanera entered last, his face a grimace.
"Start talking," Sanera demanded.
Jakir took a deep breath. "The God Supreme has summoned me for killing Bas. I suspect he knows I possess something... forbidden."
"What is it?" Laea asked, his voice low.
Jakir pulled a golden statue from his cloak. It depicted a bat, surrounded by metallic rings forming a spherical dome.
"This relic can awaken Finito, I found it in the caves of Metu when I raided Bas's world." Jakir said.
The room fell silent.
"Why in all realms would you want to do that?" Laea asked, his voice tight.
"Because I'm rebellious by nature," Jakir replied with a shrug.
Sanera's gaze turned cold. "Finito is the god of chaos. Resurrecting him would doom us all."
"Or," Jakir countered, "he could help us overthrow the God Supreme. Imagine humanity at our feet, serving us as slaves."
"Your plan is madness," Sanera said.
"Perhaps," Jakir replied, "but I'm willing to risk it. After all, the God Supreme can't sense us here. When I'm summoned, I don't expect to return. That's why you two must carry out the rest of the plan."
He handed the relic to Sanera, who stared at it as if it might bite.
"This is a gamble," Laea muttered. "A reckless, foolish gamble."
"I know," Jakir said, a small smile playing on his lips. "But isn't it tempting?"
Sanera sighed. "I'll miss you, old friend. Now go and die gloriously."
Jakir smirked. "Let the games begin."