Part II The Gods of the Living
THE GODS OF THE LIVING sank to the bottom of the abyss with a dissonant thud.
This was no place for such beings as them.
It was the antithesis of their godsworld, barren instead of flourishing, a graveyard of souls too dark for their once luminous divinity to touch.
They were supposed to be vitality incarnate, effervescent and enduring, forming together an ineffable harmony. But not in these hellish depths.
The living did not belong with the dead.
Yet here they were in death’s domain, forced to cower in the cold and the dark to preserve what little divinity they had left.
It had waned to near extinction, stolen by the monster who had cut them off from their source of power and sought to make himself a god in their place.
They would make him pay.
Centuries may pass before they clawed their way out of here, but what were centuries to gods, even diminished ones? It gave them time to orchestrate their return to the living, to formulate a plan that, ironically, rested so much on death and those touched by it.
It was only a matter of time now before they escaped this prison. And once they did, they would bring the false god to his knees and save the realms of the living that he was bound to destroy in their absence.