Chapter 53: The Celestial Conclave

  It was into the hidden prison called ‘Kaia’ that the goddess known as The Embrace descended, hoping she was early enough that she would be second to arrive this time. There was no use trying to arrive first, as this prison was the domain of The Faithless, and he was as ever-present as the air and magic around them. It was only by his will that anyone could enter or, more importantly, exit this place. For a prison it was ideal, though disconcerting to a visitor.

  But Kaia was unlike any ordinary prison. It was a prison with a singular, lofty purpose: a prison made for gods.

  Just as it had the last time she’d ventured into its glassy, iridescent depths, Kaia made The Embrace feel... unpleasant. No, it was more than some vague discomfort. It was an experience she hadn’t known in over a millennium, not since she was a fresh godling. And with it paraded an equally forgotten feeling:

  The Embrace was nervous.

  She hated the sensation, but she refused to let any potential observers see her squirm. Even hurrying was beneath her station. Appearances were a non-trivial consideration when one became a god, and in dealing with other gods especially, they were paramount. Appearances were a large part of belief, after all. To seem and to be were only a short mortal lifetime apart.

  She was The Embrace, and she had a reputation to maintain. The realm bent to her will.

  Concerning appearances, for this meeting she was wearing one of her more regal facades. Flowy blonde hair cascaded midway down her tall, lean back. Proportions that drew the gaze toward points of distraction, with vestments that both emphasized and hid depending on angle and her will. This was perhaps her most statuesque form, and it had been famously painted over fifty times in the last century alone.

  Regardless of her immense impact on the realm, she felt small in her current surroundings. The scale of Kaia was impressive, but then again, so was its scope. The cells within were incalculably strong, impossibly occupied, and as expansive as all the dungeons spread across the realm, like a little collection of worlds beyond number.

  Luckily, its purpose, and its creator’s goals, aligned closely with her own. At least closely enough that it still fit within her Perfect Picture. She hoped never to need to consider how to even begin removing this place from the realm.

  This was only the second time she'd entered Kaia, in large part because she had never known its location until that first invitation arrived those few years past. That she was here again, now, spoke of a haste, an urgency, that she did not share or generally like to indulge. She, Plenty, and a few others had already been conspiring for nigh on a century. Yet the second “official” meeting of what they had agreed to call ‘the Celestial Conclave’ would soon begin, with or without her. Despite the distaste, The Embrace would not miss it for all the worship in the realm.

  She’d decided to arrive early because she knew she would need time to acclimate to the... charms of the place. Passing through the exterior gate brought a chill that bypassed even her own considerable blessings. This was, of course, intended by their ‘host,’ and since this was his domain, his rules were absolute. One such rule was the blanket of silence that made her steps entirely soundless, despite even her most childish attempts.

  Though really, could anyone as old as I be truly childish?

  This place made her wary, and also curious. She was still not entirely sure if the place could have existed were it not The Faithless’s Truth. It was so alien, and while not exactly ugly, it lacked the sense of style she usually draped around all her machinations.

  What could she expect from a being so ancient his very existence was mostly lost amongst the legends that even her kind had taken to calling ‘The Old Gods’? The Faithless had been an elder god long before she had been born, and now, per his own admission, “Only a few remain.”

  How many of his kind are trapped in here?

  It was a chilling thought, and one that brought with it great caution: If it could happen to them, then why not someone like me?

  Perhaps that was why she’d striven to limit how long she’d spent studying Kaia’s creator. Despite their previous meeting being their first, he’d felt entirely off-putting. The ease with which he became and could remain absolutely still, his deadened eyes, and his thin yet powerful frame all spoke of a being that had weathered countless storms.

  But unlike an ocean cliffside or a mountain, The Faithless had not been eroded.

  The Embrace thought that a necessary quality in an ally for the task ahead. A statement as true now as it was when she had first calculated it before the initial meeting. It was the only reason why she would ever have risked coming to this place.

  Through the long, straight corridor, lined with glass that, while solid, looked as though it could have risen and fallen with the tide, she eventually found the Conclave room. It was cloaked in darkness, with a single candle burning in the exact center of a round, transparent table, which was cool to the touch. Despite appearances, the table was not glass, as she could not scratch it even with the needle normally nestled deep within the flesh of her palm.

  It didn't matter. With a smile, she noticed that none of the others were yet present, so none noticed as the needle retreated into its hiding place.

  She took the seat directly opposite the door, affording herself the view of all that would approach and the opportunity to study and judge their choices of where to sit.

  “An expected choice,” a deep voice resonated from behind her.

  It was all she could do to keep from moving, despite how startling that was. He was not there a moment ago. Yet here, now, how could she actually be certain of that? She did not turn to face her host.

  “My greetings to you, The Faithless. I hope the years since last we were here have served you well.”

  “There have been no new gods and no new fallen, so that is well,” he responded, walking widely around her and taking the chair directly opposite her: the one with its back to the entrance. His thin form settled into the shadow as if he had always been a part of it, leaving only his gray eyes to shine forth.

  “Indeed,” she said, keeping her head and upper body completely still. “I also have had good reports of our progress ensuring that, though I shall await the others before sharing more.”

  The Embrace did not enjoy working with the other “gods”--and she would barely consider any of them that, other than Plenty. Technically, by tier at least, they were divine, but their pursuits were so limited and simple it was almost alien to her.

  Still, as always, she would do all that was necessary to make the world work out as it should. Her Perfect Picture, her ideal of how the world must work, would come to pass, whatever the cost.

  And though there existed so many mortals to cover the costs these days, sometimes the duty still fell to her to pay.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as The Faithless leaned back subtly, closing off their private correspondence as another arrived soundlessly. It was unnerving that he could sense all that went on in his domain but denied the rest of the Conclave the same.

  It was Plenty herself who next walked into the Conclave Room. She wore another smock-like dress over her ample form and a garden hat atop her head. The hat was a nice touch, seeing as it was constantly in-bloom, with fresh blossoms rising to replace older blooms as they withered away.

  The motherly woman moved without any hesitation at all, keeping her gait absolutely steady, striding all the way around the table and sitting at The Embrace’s immediate left.

  Outwardly, The Embrace smiled. Inwardly, she hoped none of the others misconstrued their placements as The Embrace being anyone’s right hand. She suspected that it was a show of clear alliance, but she had to at least consider the likelihood of the goddess’s action as an intended slight, no matter how slim that possibility may be.

  Aren’t we all supposed to be allies here though? she reminded herself.

  “It is pleasant to see you both,” Plenty began, “and I do hope you’ve found plentiful blessings in the time since last we were met.”

  Coming from someone that always gave away more to her followers than necessary, it was likely she truly meant her words and that they weren’t merely dressing upon their shared table. But The Embrace had a hard time fully trusting anyone who could have so easily reaped more to advance their godly domain and did not. Altruism, or at least the appearance of altruism, had its place, as long as it was tempered against serving the truly greater good.

  With a half-nod that did not cause her to lower her eyes, The Embrace folded her hands calmly on the not-glass table. “Indeed. Times have been good and prosperous in my domain. I hope they have served you as well.”

  Plenty turned her head toward their host. “And how go the endeavors of our fine host?”

  A barely-polite smile was the start of his answer. “They are interesting, to say the least. It appears as though we may have an exciting decade yet.”

  The Embrace was not sure how to feel about such a reply, and while she might normally have analyzed it promptly, the jarring sounds of others entering the chamber forced her to delay. Suddenly there was boisterous laughter and discourse echoing through the lofted chamber. She stored a recording of The Faithless’s words away for later analysis.

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  Three more had entered the Conclave Room together: The End, The Uncertain, and one more that The Embrace did not immediately recognize.

  “You need worry no longer,” The Uncertain said with his usual jovial tone. “I have arrived. And look! I’ve brought a new friend!”

  The youngest of them all with barely half a millennium to his divinity, The Uncertain was still a child in The Embrace’s eyes. He played the jester constantly, but she suspected it was more so to test those around him and gauge their reactions.

  Today he appeared to be wearing a form with the height of a gnome and the width of a dwarf. His hair was long, black, and greasy, pulled to both sides in pigtails that then immediately frizzed out in a tangle. Yet what immediately gave away his true identity, the only parts of his current appearance that were familiar at all, were his glistening golden eyes--which shone at all times as if light were reflecting off of them, even when none was present--and his ridiculous smile. He wasn’t always smiling, but it was near enough to the truth that she hated him for it.

  Added to that, bringing someone new to their Conclave was borderline reckless. She caught The End making a nervous glance in the newcomer’s direction, even as they walked in beside them. Given that The End was a god in the domain of time, surprising them was no small feat--and no doubt at least a consideration for why The Uncertain had done it.

  At times The Embrace wondered if The Uncertain hadn’t chosen his name more for others than himself. Having paid careful attention to his mannerisms, The Embrace had come to a realization she believed few others had: His antics were deliberate, needling and prodding others so that he might discern their inner workings. With that information, he adapted, responded, and prepared accordingly.

  The Embrace debated with herself whether he truly could belong in her Perfect Picture or not.

  “You brought someone new?” Plenty asked, almost keeping all the strain from her voice. “Well, I suppose any god working toward the cause is a boon.”

  The Embrace was not so sure, or so trusting. Yet she recognized that The Faithless had not repositioned at all, and now that she thought of it, there were the correct number of chairs to accommodate their increased numbers. And none are allowed entrance without an invitation. Interesting.

  The Uncertain was the first to sit, and he chose the seat opposite Plenty, beside their host. The newcomer sat immediately beside him, though whether that showed solidarity or decisiveness was hard to say.

  That left The End to take the final seat, between Plenty and their host. He was wearing the same all-concealing cloak as ever. She couldn’t say for sure if it was the exact same cloak, but she did compare the gray-blue hood and its thin, white-lined patterns to the images she’d kept from prior meetings, and they were indistinguishable.

  A hush fell over the table.

  “I take it we are all here,” The Embrace said, indicating the filled seats.

  “I’m only half here at any given time,” The Uncertain quipped. “Actually, only half at best.”

  The Embrace struggled not to roll her eyes. None of the others seemed perturbed either.

  “Tough room,” The Uncertain continued. “I’m just trying to liven things up a bit, before we get into all the doom and gloom, and the whole ‘divine ending’ shtick, ya know?”

  “That is quite enough,” The Faithless said, raising one thin arm, which then thudded down like thunder. “Let’s begin in earnest, shall we? The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll make meaningful progress.”

  Around the table, the others inclined their heads in silent consent. Though The Embrace did notice that Plenty was sliding a slice of something that looked suspiciously like cake toward The Uncertain. No doubt a clever attempt at buying his silence for some time. She only hoped Plenty had brought... enough.

  “I think we should first hear from our newest addition,” The End said, “if only to alleviate concerns. Please, explain why you wished to join our Conclave.”

  The newcomer shrugged, pushed back their chair, and stood up once again. As if on cue, a bright light shone down on them from directly above. The Ever-Scarred presented as a red-haired human male, relatively young, in peak physical condition--though without so much as an [Identify], The Embrace could see that every muscle was much larger and more powerful than any mortal could ever achieve, to the point of straining the credulity of the form.

  What was most fascinating, however, was what marred that peak physical perfection: the body was nearly covered by scars. By her estimation, 85% of his visible skin was hardened and discolored in some way, and there was a lot of skin visible.

  He was clad in what might have been called leather armor by some, but The Embrace was more inclined to call it all “straps,” some even of the kind devoted to pleasure. In fact, with that sort of activity in mind, she thought she could see several marks across the newcomer’s body that looked like they might even belong to such... adventures.

  When The Ever-Scarred finally began to speak, his voice was a smooth baritone. There was almost a hurrying energy from one word to the next, but that was strangely undercut by a calm composure between sentences that suggested each idea was carefully considered before being put forth.

  “I’m called The Ever-Scarred. Pretty obvious why. I expect you’ve heard of me. I live for battle, both by duel and by war. I see this conclave as the best way to find it. Bring on the fight of eternity! Let’s challenge the very nature of gods!”

  The End interjected. “It would be more than just ‘challenging their nature,’ friend.”

  “Indeed,” The Faithless responded. “We are not here to merely upset, but to end them. No new gods.” He looked around the room, clearly measuring, his dark eyes daring each of the others to meet them.

  The Embrace was one of the few who weathered his glare and did not look away.

  Another was The Ever-Scarred. “And I’m getting behind that. I hear you were boxing up gods before most of us were old enough to know what a box was.”

  “Absolutely! What a jolly old man,” The Uncertain chimed in. “That’s why he runs a prison. Totally normal and lovable, that.”

  The Ever-Scarred turned to address them all. “What you all have accomplished already is remarkable. The fall of legends--”

  “Remarkable,” The Faithless cut in, “yet still not enough.”

  “Yes, yes, but we can only take one step at a time,” Plenty chimed in. “We can’t just cook the whole pie without first finding the cherries.”

  “I could,” The Uncertain said with a sly laugh. “And so could you, Plenty! Even when we were mortal. And now? We’re gods. Gods with--”

  Plenty tsked. “Gods with a Path, followers, and devotees, excepting, of course, our friend Faithless here. No disrespect intended. We can’t just do whatever we want, whenever we want to! That’s what the others do, The Uncertain. You know better.”

  The Embrace finally decided to dip her toes into the conversation. “It’s why there should be no others, as soon as possible. Every time a new one appears, they make the perfect world less possible.”

  The Uncertain slapped his knees. “Oh, you’re funny. Not all of them are awful. I mean, just look at our new ally, won’t you? He’s, what, barely into his third century? But at least he has sense enough to agree with us!”

  For a moment, The Embrace allowed herself to seethe: if The Uncertain was a child, then this was an infant!

  The Ever-Scarred’s jaw tightened. “It’s true that I’m younger than all of you--” He paused, staring directly at The Uncertain. “--But I will slaughter every one of your followers I find if you continue to insult me.”

  The Faithless set his hands firmly on the table before him and leaned slightly in, an action that somehow brought all attention back to him. “And then I will imprison you, as I have countless others before you.”

  A momentary quiet surrounded the table.

  The Embrace took the opportunity to speak up. “As I’m sure even one as short-lived as you must have found, there is an unspoken rule among our kind: we do not interfere in followers.”

  “Directly,” The Uncertain said. “Usually. Though you surely didn’t have a problem ignoring that when you screwed over The Hope and her champion’s whole team now, did you?”

  The smile that The Embrace put on was so practiced it might have even become natural. “We decided upon that action, and I’ll remind you that I did none of the legwork. I’m as innocent as a fresh-hatched chick.”

  Beside her, Plenty laughed out loud; to The Embrace it sounded almost like the cluck of a chicken. “Yes, dearie, I’m sure you might even believe that, too. But that Brightside fellow is one of yours, is he not?”

  The Embrace chose not to respond.

  “I heard that was a glorious battle,” The Ever-Scarred said, catching her eye and thumping a hand against his chest. “I wish I’d been there to witness it.”

  “It wasn’t all that,” The Uncertain said, stretching an arm over his head. “Over in barely a minute or two, like so many other enjoyable things.” He relaxed and smiled broadly again. “But I do wish I’d been in her domain when The Hope found out! I heard she actually leveled a mountain! And can we talk about the irony of having someone named Brightside set up the fall for a dude named Brightshield? What a bright idea!”

  “That isn’t irony,” The End grumbled.

  “Rather than talk, talk, talk, might we instead return to the actual planning?” Across the table from her, The Faithless was once again directing things.

  He turned to The End. “How did the action beneath The Sovereign’s city go?”

  The Embrace leaned back and listened, observing each of the others around the table as the conversation developed into an actual plot. She wondered if all of their machinations would be successful, as even the best laid plans often went awry, especially when it came to mortals. Yet there were a few shining moments, not the least of which was her bright pupil. If they could just find a few more of those malleable beings to educate, encourage, and guide through ascension... Well, with the right Truths, the rest of the Conclave’s pieces would easily fall into place.

  Her thoughts drifted a bit as the others reported on some of their prior suggestions. Two more potentials were confirmed, much to the dismay of The Faithless, but no more, yet. His hesitance wasn’t unexpected, and The Embrace allowed her thoughts to drift slightly as the Conclave discussed additional options for people whose Paths could be used for their cause.

  Which kinds of targets they would be would depend on their willingness to play by the Conclave’s rules.

  After what felt to The Embrace to be an inordinately long time, they had agreed to suitable next-steps, with contingencies for the inevitable interference.

  She was curious, though, to know more about whoever had interrupted the tunneling operation. Perhaps a deeper, more personal inquiry of her own, in addition to what the Conclave had decided on, was in order.

  The Faithless rose.

  “You may now go,” he said with the subtlest of smiles on his narrow lips. It was the unnecessary reminder that they were all there by invitation, and his permission could conceivably be revoked.

  All the others around the table stood, and The Embrace had no difficulty joining in them. She had no intention of overstaying her welcome.

  She had many plates spinning and more yet to raise.

  But beneath that, with her incredibly well-trained and skill-boosted hearing, as the last goddess out of the room, she heard The Faithless lament, “Two more accursed fucking gods. The Realm will be better when there are none at all.”

  Except us, she thought. Or perhaps we can eliminate him after we succeed. Either option was acceptable. Either option would help ensure her Perfect Picture became reality.

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