"You're coming with me," Myra glared at Ira. His tail had become crooked after being repeatedly slammed into the earth. "I get why you did it. But that doesn't mean I'm any less angry with you."
"What was that power, soft-skin?" Ira grumbled. "You absorbed the essence of my kin and became something else. I can feel it. As I can feel the residue of divinity from the Sky-God."
"She spoke with the Sky-God directly."
A voice, heavy with shame, echoed. Celeste, her white scales scuffed, covered in soot, debris, and traces of blood, approached. Her sharp sapphire eyes lacked the glint they once carried.
"What did the Sky-God ordain?"
Bitterness swelled in Myra's heart and her gaze fell. The image of this divine Sky-God, her so-called God of Tenebris, had shattered her view of the world. Perhaps to lesser beings, he would have appeared in glorious forms. But having ascended, she saw him for what he truly was.
A soft-skin, like her, though unlike any she had met, with round ears. His face lacked eminence. His clothes and stench reminded her of when her people had been at their worst. If anything, he looked exactly like them. More mortal than divine. And yet, it was their lives, their world, that this man lorded over.
For now, in this moment of doubt in her heart and beliefs, she spoke only to satisfy their curiosity.
"He's your god, my god- every god that appears in this world. He warned me that my people are in danger, and that another war will come in twenty-six cycles."
"Another war?" Celeste sighed wearily, her form drooping. "Is this a result of our failure?"
"No," Myra replied firmly, watching her carefully. It was like illusions being shattered. 'What would Celeste think if she ever saw her Sky-God's true form? Was there power she simply couldn't perceive?'
"We were successful here. A foreign god seeks to destroy An-Ki."
"An-Ki?"
"That's what he called this world," Myra admitted. "I don't know what it means."
Celeste fell silent before a hushed, distraught voice emerged.
"Was he... disappointed in us?"
"No," Myra said. "He only said he couldn't heal your kin. The world is still apparently in its youth and so he lacks the divinity to act more directly."
'Or so he says,' Myra thought, her expression twitching.
"You seem less concerned about the coming war and more about the Sky-God's opinion," Ira snorted, sharpening Celeste's gaze with anger. Her body rose from its slumped posture, clearly not having it, as he continued.
"What a shocking disappointment it would be to know where your mind truly lies! Perhaps the Sky-God is too lenient on you, Celeste."
"I've been burdened with responsibilities while you've done nothing but kill our kin and flee!" Celeste snarled. "A petty Primordial, who has yet to receive judgment, will be judged now!"
Ira released a challenging roar of his own to meet hers. Immediately, the surrounding Primordials and dragons rose in anger and agitation. Their losses, combined with Ira's blatant disrespect toward their queen, were too much. A new battle looked ready to erupt.
Myra watched silently.
Their politics didn't matter much to her. But Ira? Despite his stunt, he had a noticeable battle sense. And a slight twitch of his eye toward Myra betrayed his hidden intent, causing her eyebrow to twitch in agitation.
'Don't let him die. He needs to live for a new task I have for you- and for the war.'
A now familiar, godly voice echoed through her mind, and immediately, her expression contorted with rage. A sharp crackle of red energy interrupted the rising confrontation, instantly drawing everyone's attention.
Myra stood, her body now a solid ruby-red hue, a mist swirling around her. Her voice, cold and menacing.
"Don't touch Ira. He is mine."
"Mine?" Ira snarled. "I am not a submissive-"
A whip-like lash of energy struck Ira with a sharp crack, flinging him to the side with a pained roar. His black scales hissed as they seared away from the strike.
The aura radiating from Myra penetrated the senses of the Primordials and dragons alike, compelling them to step back instinctively. Ira, however, continued to thrash and roar in defiance.
"This god just whispered another task to me," Myra said through gritted teeth. Celeste stepped back again in cautious silence.
"So Ira cannot die. Not yet."
"But the Sky-God promised us-" Celeste began, but Myra cut her off.
"The Sky-God's promise was broken. The new war requires Ira to live."
Those words didn't sit well with Celeste. Myra noticed it- the subtle shift in her posture at the words 'broken promise.'
As Myra's form faded back into her dark elf body, the Primordials and dragons around them relaxed.
"Congratulations, Ira," she said wryly as he smirked. "Looks like the Sky-God has noticed your uses."
"As he should!" Ira bellowed, returning to all fours. A trail of blood trickled from his side where she had struck him.
"But try to use me again, Ira, and that will change."
Her warning only made him chuckle and nod. Celeste, however, wore a bitter expression, one mirrored by many of her kin.
"Do you have rituals for your dead?" Myra asked, her tone softening with sympathy.
Celeste shook her head.
"The dead return to the soil. Do what you must under the Sky-God's will, Queen Myra. I have my people to tend to."
Was that resentment? Bitterness again? Myra said nothing in return. She only nodded and turned to leave.
Ira, following behind, offered parting words with gleeful, mocking triumph.
"Until the next battle."
------------------
"That is a sharp turn in her attitude," Atlas mused, concern furrowing his brow.
Wisp chirped near his ear, "What did you expect? A terrible first impression and then demands before her mind could even settle."
"You're right, but Ira can't die yet. He has a good sense for battle and self-preservation," Atlas sighed. "He can be Myra's sky-car for a while. Maybe seeing more of the world will change him too."
His gaze followed Myra's bitter, angry expression as she briskly stormed off.
"You said my followers can turn on me, and the result could be the same as the Smiling Tree, correct?"
"Correct, Weaver Atlas."
Sucking in air, he leaned forward over the console as the globe rotated to the tree where Eleos's soul now resided. He had similar abilities to the Smiling Tree of Wishes, but couldn't yet control souls.
'Even if he could... I doubt he'd fare better than the Smiling Tree- if he'd even be willing at all.'
Atlas leaned back with another deep breath. Wisp chirped again.
"Instead of a contingency, you could simply try improving your relationship with her. Raise her affinity toward you."
"Eh?" Atlas rolled his head with a groan. "You think she'll warm up to the guy who decimated her people because he overslept or whose drunk antics caused this disaster?"
"Who's to know?" Wisp tilted its head.
"You. The system. And- wait- can other Weavers observe the history of my world?"
"Yes, Weaver Atlas. As time progresses, the first stages of your world may become visible, as they will be irrelevant in later stages."
Snapping his fingers, Atlas pointed at Wisp. "See? Still potential fallout if an enemy plays their cards right."
"A simple suicide curse?"
"Still worried it could be detected and used against me. Or she might figure it out if I ascend her to full godhood."
"Unlikely. A god can detect curses placed on those lesser than them but not if the source is their own Weaver."
Atlas's expression darkened and he groaned, "This... is getting a little too dark of a conversation for me."
His hands opened in a half-hearted gesture of negotiation.
"I could find others with strength equal to hers. There are plenty of candidates already. Ira, Celeste, Selena..."
His words trailed off as the reality hit him. There were only three and he had no more gene points. And one of them was corrupted.
"A curse on a god must be expensive. I don't need to worry about another Weaver discovering Myra's early history during this war so I've got time..."
He rapped his fingers on the console again out of habit, eyes following Myra and Ira as they took off.
"I just have to roll the dice again. For now, Myra needs to know her task and I need to put on some decent clothes."
Opening the CDIM console, he selected Blessings, which now read [Cost: Free] when Myra was the target.
Atlas paused, thinking for a minute and rehearsing it several times in his head before he spoke aloud.
"Myra. The souls of the world are becoming corrupted and dangerous without a guide. On the western continent, there is a tree containing the elven soul of Eleos. He has the potential to replace the Smiling Tree of Wishes. The two of you must convince him to take up the mantle. Otherwise, the world will descend into chaos."
From the globe, Myra's voice echoed back, agitated, "Why don't you do it?"
"I need to conserve my remaining divinity for the upcoming Weaver War. If you manage to convince him, it will save me vital and precious resources."
Silence followed. Her expression hardened in contemplation. Ira tilted his head at her, cautious and confused, as to him she suddenly began talking to herself.
'Ah... she's going to meet her uncorrupted kin,' Atlas realized with a flicker of dread. 'That... Shit? Or maybe a blessing? I'll need to babysit this carefully without making it too obvious I'm watching. Just out of caution...'
Myra's curt voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Understood. Please guide us there."