The landing was far from soft, and the young man groaned in pain, curling in on himself. He sprawled across the hard surface, dazed, and rubbed his head. As he lifted it, the only thing he managed to glimpse before collapsing again was a tall palace, from which several people came running in alarm. He shut his eyes and exhaled peacefully, though the ringing in his ears wouldn't let him fully relax.
"Is everyone accounted for? Are you sure? How is this possible?" a gentle woman's voice mused. "All who are able — proceed to the entrance at once. My palace is crumbling before my very eyes."
A young woman in a long cloak stood beside him, her wary gaze filled with concern.
She gave the stranger's outfit a tired once-over and gestured toward one of the buildings, then turned her attention to the gathering crowd:
"What are you standing around for? Apprentices, gatekeepers — back to your duties. High Seers, head to the Council Hall."
As the onlookers began to disperse, the woman crouched beside the young man and gently ran her hand through his light brown hair.
"And what's your name?"
"Manyan."
His voice trembled from a sudden stab of pain in his head. He flinched, but the woman continued calmly:
"I'm Lyra," she said, her eyes drifting briefly to the side as her lips pressed into a thin line. "Also known as... the Goddess of Earth. You're injured. Had you not Ascended, your wounds would've been far worse — consider yourself lucky."
Manyan raised his brows in disbelief and repeated her words slowly, trying to make sure he'd heard her right:
"Goddess? Ascended? You must be joking. Though, to be fair, I've been the butt of worse jokes. So I won't judge. Am I dead? Is this... heaven?"
The Earth Goddess smiled patiently as he worked through his confusion. She extended a hand to help him up. He accepted it without resistance and stood, the pain already fading from his body.
"The Celestial Realm," she replied shortly.
Manyan closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I've lost my mind."
"Not the worst reaction," she said. "Some were so terrified they jumped off cliffs and shattered across the Enchanted Lands."
"Enchanted Lands? What nonsense is that?" he thought, glancing around.
The palace he'd first glimpsed no longer seemed so towering. Four stories high, with the first floor being the tallest, it was lined with white columns reaching ten meters at least. The entrance was unusually wide, spanning nearly the full length of the first floor. The columns nearby shimmered gold — not just painted, he realized, but actually gilded.
Back when his parents had some fortune, he'd seen buildings like this — though never as grand. How many kilos, if not tons, of gold had been used to decorate such a vast structure? The side wings featured small balconies, while the central area boasted a grand terrace beneath a pointed, gilded spire that reflected the sun.
Another palace, the one belonging to the Earth Goddess Lyra, stood nearby. Though slightly smaller with only three floors, it was just as richly adorned with gold, precious metals, and stones. Yet its beauty was more refined — mosaics and stained glass emphasized its wealth, statues of the goddess embodied her presence, and lush gardens with towering trees surrounded the entire building, echoing her element.
But now, all that splendor looked worn down. Cracks marred the walls, several trees were burning, and pieces of the supporting columns had broken off — one was even split in two, causing a balcony to tilt dangerously to one side.
Lyra cleared her throat gently, reminding everyone of her presence, and gestured toward someone standing nearby.
"Go through every scroll with prophecies from the Lesser Gods of Cosmos and Dreams. Quickly!"
The person gave a barely perceptible nod and hurried toward the tall palace.
It was hard to tell whether the woman was simply tired or irritated by Manyan's sudden appearance. He was inclined to think it was the latter.
"What's all this commotion? I was rudely awakened in the middle of my well-earned day off," came a smooth, velvet voice.
"Every one of your days is a day off — though not in the least bit earned," replied another voice, just as confident, but laced with irritation.
Two tall, regal-looking figures emerged from behind the grand palace, followed by a small entourage.
"Your opinion means nothing to me. It's as pitiful as you are."
"Strange how you became the God of Wind and not the God of Terrible Insults."
"Strange you became a god at all."
"Enough!" Lyra snapped. "Two deities, and you behave worse than mortal children."
The two young men, no older than seventeen, approached Manyan and the goddess, flanked by about a dozen nervous-looking attendants. The boys threw hostile glances at each other, clenching their fists, then turned their dissatisfied eyes on Lyra — and then to Manyan, then back to Lyra, and once again to Manyan. A flicker of surprise — maybe even confusion — crossed their faces before they quickly composed themselves.
Manyan was painfully aware of how he must have looked: his hair disheveled and dirty, his clothes torn from the fall, and his legs caked in mud — he couldn't even afford shoes. But what truly caught him off guard was how overtly one of the deities was staring at him. Any second now, he half-expected someone to point and shout, "Beggar! Vagabond! Homeless!" Though technically he did have a home, calling it that felt like a stretch.
The ash-haired boy raised his hand to his temple and closed his eyes with exaggerated focus.
"My apologies. I must take my leave. Urgent matters."
He was obviously lying.
"Is being near me really so unpleasant?" Manyan thought sadly. "Though who am I to blame him?"
The stranger turned and walked away, exchanging a subtle glance with someone nearby. That person nodded almost imperceptibly and followed him. The rest of their entourage trailed behind, casting cautious glances at one another.
Lyra smacked her forehead in frustration.
"Useless as moonlight at noon," she muttered under her breath. Then suddenly, she shouted: "And the Living Council? Hey! What's with this disobedience?!"
But the mysterious figures had already vanished behind the palace walls.
The goddess took a deep breath, then another, and finally turned back to Manyan.
"My apologies. They're… unique individuals."
Manyan chuckled and waved it off.
"I wouldn't dare judge them."
Lyra thoughtfully ran her fingers through his unruly hair, then gestured for him to follow. At that moment, it all began to feel like a dream to Manyan. Gods? Ascension? Enchanted lands? Really? What sane person would believe any of this?
"Рerhaps it's all a hallucination," he speculated. "I've been through too much not to have lost my mind at some point. The real question is, when exactly did it happen?"
He began to sift through his most recent memories: a broken shack by the lake, working as a meat cutter for a wealthy merchant, brawls... No, better not think about those. And yet the last fight — with a whole gang of pompous boys — kept creeping back in. Pride had been at stake.
He hadn't fought for food since he was thirteen. Better to starve than grovel like before. Like back then...
He still remembered the taste of dirt. Bitter. Acrid. Enough to make him gag — quite literally.
Manyan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them, discovering fresh scratches on his palms and the familiar calluses on his fingers.
"You're injured. Did something happen?" came Lyra's voice.
The young man offered a polite smile and waved it off.
"It's nothing. It'll heal."
"No need to be a great analyst to piece things together: bruises on your leg and head — old enough not to be from the fall; calluses on your hands — suggests hard labor. Yet you're poorly dressed: the clothes are clearly worn, and there are no shoes at all. Your hair looks like it hasn't been washed in a year — and something tells me it actually hasn't. During your ascension, you fell — which leads me to two conclusions. First: you tried to take your own life, because yours clearly isn't an easy one. Second: someone's been mistreating you, and perhaps they even tried to kill you. Am I right?"
"Right on target," thought Manyan. He barely noticed the harsh description of his appearance. Only the bit about his hair stung a little — he had washed it that very morning. But dirty work rarely let it stay clean past noon.
"You're absolutely right."
"Which conclusion is it?" Lyra asked, curious.
"The second one," he lied with confidence.
He couldn't possibly admit that he'd thrown himself off a cliff because he lost the ring that had accompanied him through all of life's thorns, could he?
The lady gave a strange little nod and opened a door. At last, Manyan got a clear view of the tall, enchantingly beautiful building they were entering.
"Welcome to the Celestial Palace."
The Celestial Palace. That was the name of the grand structure that had captivated Manyan the moment he saw it.
"Much obliged!" he replied sincerely. Just last night, he'd slept in a wooden shack with a leaky roof — and now he was walking into a masterpiece of splendor.
He gazed ahead in awe, trying to take in as much as possible. A magnificent hall unfolded before him, trimmed in gold, supported by marble columns. Stairs ascended to a second floor, crowned by a grand window overlooking a picturesque garden. The staircase railings were inlaid with gemstones: green like malachite, crystalline like diamond, and mesmerizing like pearls — though by the look of it, those were expertly cut emeralds.
A hanging oil lamp swayed above the stairs, beneath which sat a block of unidentifiable stone with a half-burned candle resting on it.
Further down, the corridor opened into a modest room with a table and nine chairs — or rather, thrones — each unique in its craftsmanship. At the far end of the table sat a man of about twenty-one, his gaze focused, his hair neat and short.
"Where is everyone?" Lyra asked, clearly annoyed.
"Faradon and Tsadanora are delayed. Raniel and Ardan are coming down. Lyuisa, as always... And Yuvatsani will arrive later — she's dealing with the new treaty paperwork. The Demon Ruler refuses to sign again," the man replied without missing a beat.
The Goddess of Earth waved her hand dismissively and sank into the grandest throne.
"Centuries pass, and he never changes."
Each throne had its own distinct design. Lyra's seat — the largest and most imposing — resembled a maple leaf and was crafted from granite, limestone, and marble, accented with emerald and gold.
The next two thrones were less eye-catching — standard leather upholstery and silver trim. The fourth seat had two sharp finials and a spire-like top. The fifth boasted exquisite red leather and brilliant golden inlays. The sixth — where the young man was seated — was tall and simple, made from gravel and dolomite.
The seventh looked quite refined, with sharp points at the top and a flawless diamond sphere in the center. Its fabric was a shiny silver, the rest resembling soft gray quartz.
The eighth throne radiated serenity. Shaped like a gentle peony petal, it suggested its owner was a delicate and elegant soul.
"I wonder who sits in that one," thought Manyan, eyeing the last seat. "Such intricate craftsmanship: rubies carved to resemble emeralds, embedded into the very structure. The fabric pairs perfectly with the polished marble — and the color! Ripe blackberry with a rich blood-red hue. Perfect!"
His admiration was interrupted by a quiet chuckle. Manyan looked up but couldn't spot the source. The man still stared at the table, and Lyra sat tensely, eyes closed in thought.
"Who was he talking about?" came a sharp female voice in his mind.
"Figure it out yourself. You've nagged me about that throne long enough," Lyra's voice answered, equally annoyed.
Manyan raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced at the Goddess of Earth's tightly pressed lips.
"Jealous that you don't have as exquisite a taste as I do? Hit me up if you want to swap that decrepit chair of yours for something decent. Don't be shy," the girl drawled sarcastically.
Lyra's voice didn't react at all, only throwing out: "So you have time for meaningless chatter, but not for the Living Council?"
The girl snorted: "Actually, you yourself put the peace treaty negotiations on my plate. So as soon as I'm done — I'll come running to you, don't get bored."
The Earth Goddess snorted in response: "You might not come at all, Lewisé would be enough." — "You know he can't stand you." — "It's hard to forget that when his seat has been empty for centuries."
The voices inside Manyan's head started to tangle into a chaotic mess, and the young man, unable to hold back, asked:
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?" the girl's voice asked mockingly.
Lyra slapped the table and hissed:
"Stop it, Yuvatsani," then turned to Manyan: "This is a supreme connection that allows supreme beings to communicate over distances. A very useful thing, I must say."
The young man ran his hand over his forehead, quietly said, "Got it..." and thought, "Voices in my head too. I'm definitely losing it!"
"Take a seat over there," Lyra said, pointing to one of the chairs.
Sitting next to it was the silent man with light blond hair and a striking face, supported by his fist. He lifted his gaze from the table and scanned Manyan, studying him carefully. Without any reaction, he lowered his head again and wearily closed his eyes. The young man slowly sat down beside him and bit his lip. The room was filled with suffocating silence and tense atmosphere — at least for Manyan. He didn't even dare raise his eyes, afraid to meet the gaze of anyone present.
From the other end of the palace came the sound of footsteps quickly approaching the Council Hall. The young man raised his head quickly, but instead of looking forward, he stared at the plate on the table. Manyan hadn't even noticed the large plate with sliced fruits and sweets in the center of the table. His stomach suddenly ached and rumbled so loudly that Manyan hugged himself and clenched his hands, trying to suppress the noise. He carefully lifted his eyes and saw everyone curiously examining him. Manyan spread a polite smile, looking at the newcomers: two tall, stately youths he had seen earlier by the entrance to the Palace of the Celestials; an unremarkable young man with a faint smile; and a serious man with pure white hair wearing light black armor — shoulder guards, elbow pads, and knee guards made of steel, the rest composed of several layers of leather and metal straps holding the whole construction together. When this last man entered, Manyan's left shoulder ached sharply, and his head started pulsing strangely. He touched the top of his head and awkwardly began to massage it, trying to focus and calm the painful throbbing. He looked up again and saw the armored man's gaze fixed directly on him. Manyan coughed nervously and folded his hands neatly on his knees.
"Manyan, meet," the Earth Goddess began, pointing at the two arriving youths, "the Most Powerful Supreme Gods: Fire God — Faradon, and Wind God — Tsadanora."
They respectfully bowed their heads but didn't utter a word.
"This is the Supreme God of Time, Ardan," the lady said, stepping closer to the unremarkable young man. He smiled even wider and nodded, so that his short hair briefly covered his studying eyes.
"Very glad to meet you," the young man said friendly, extending his hand to Manyan and shaking it chaotically.
A few chuckles sounded, and Manyan wasn't sure if they came from the hall or his head.
"And this is the Supreme God of Death, Raniel," Lyra extended her open palm toward the man in armor.
He kept staring at Manyan with pursed lips and suspicious eyes, examining every inch of his body. His white eyes stopped at the young man's left shoulder, and the man raised his eyebrows.
"My respects, unknown guest," he replied quietly, not breaking his gaze from the shoulder.
His deep voice sent light shivers down Manyan's spine.
"And the God of War — Valmeris," Lyra added, glancing at the man who had been sitting in his place all this time. He said nothing, only once again scrutinized the young man with a glance.
The Earth Goddess nodded and gestured for the Gods to take their seats.
"Gods! Damn it, these are Gods! I'm crazy!" Manyan panicked silently, hiding his anxiety perfectly. To his left, two people took their places: Faradon nearest him and Ardan at the farthest seat. On the right side sat Tsadanora first and then Raniel. Manyan was surrounded from both sides and started feeling even more uneasy.
"Help yourselves," Lyra offered. Only when he looked up did the young man realize she was addressing him alone.
Manyan waved his hand and smiled politely.
"Thank you, I'm not hungry!"
Though in his heart he would have gladly eaten some of the fruit. But the pride he hadn't yet lost wouldn't let him dive for the treats and then ask for more.
The Earth Goddess nodded and began:
"I think you all understand why you were gathered here in the Council Hall."
"Obviously!" Yuvatsani sarcastically chimed in, and the young man winced at the sharply appearing voice.
"Yuvatsani, don't interfere! The connection is not for your comments but for those who don't attend the Living Council."
The girl's voice snorted and fell silent, so Lyra continued:
"As we know, ascension can only happen for a few reasons: first — the death of one of the Gods and ascension of his successor; second — the fall of one of the Gods, banishment as punishment; and other 'buts' which are not relevant to today's situation. All the Supreme Gods are present, including Yaodda, who is currently on a mission in Paviliom."
Everyone listened silently, occasionally exchanging glances with those sitting next to them.
"And who exactly is this then?" Valmeris asked.
The lady sat silently for a while, tapping her nails sharply against the hard surface of the table.
"I sent my junior servant to the Low Gods of Dreams and Cosmos. As you remember, they predicted some events, but most of them were so insignificant that everyone long ago forgot about this so-called ability. Only, I do recall something related to our situation, but I can't quite remember what exactly…"
Lyra fell silent again. The gods looked at the young man with interest, so he lowered his head and closed his eyes.
"Supreme Earth Goddess, madam, I think I found what you asked for!" a spirited voice sounded in the minds of everyone present.
The lady rubbed her palms in anticipation and stood up. She waved to the gods, signaling them to follow her, and threw in: "Manyan, wait for us here!" The attendees jumped up from their seats and left the hall with quick and confident steps. When the young man was left alone, he felt a nervous relief. His gaze immediately fell on the plate of food, and hunger made itself known again.
"Is it really so terrible if I have a few pieces? Wouldn't that be too bold of me, considering I came here uninvited and caused so much trouble?" he wondered with a hint of doubt.
Unable to resist, Manyan finally popped a few pieces of peach and bitter chocolate into his mouth. He used to eat these often once — but that was no less than twelve years ago. The young man didn't even notice how he had half emptied the plate. He only snapped out of it when he'd eaten almost to the point of nausea. Knowing your limits was hard, especially when you haven't eaten for several days and then get a single piece of bread. He felt so brazen he wanted to sink through the floor and leave this place as soon as possible. But feeling the long-awaited fullness, Manyan pushed the plate to the middle of the table and propped his head with his hands, then after a few seconds, completely lay down on them. It didn't take long before Manyan drifted off. He hadn't slept for several days because of his work: with the upcoming autumn fair, people stocked up on goods, so meat-splitting services were in some demand. And for urgency, the young man was paid twice as much, so there was no time for sleep.
"Manyan walked ahead with two youths. They loudly argued, throwing sharp remarks at each other. Manyan watched them and everyone around with a wide smile. Nearby, the sound of splashing water could be heard, and the young man ran ahead.
"Shall we go there? Is that okay?" he asked enthusiastically.
The two guys nodded and quickened their pace with a smirk. There really was a small waterfall with crystal-clear water in the forest. The three youths approached and dipped their hands in. One of them grinned slyly and flicked his palm, splashing the one standing next to him. The latter frowned displeased and did the same. Manyan laughed and sprayed them both from head to toe. They cheerfully began drenching him from all sides with water and splashing with their feet. One guy nudged the other in the side, so he fell forward, knocking into Manyan and grabbing the sleeve of the one who pushed him, and all three fell right into the pool. Or rather, all three fell in at once, but no one minded. They laughed heartily together, continuing to splash water and kick their legs. The guy who had pushed everyone peacefully closed his eyes and for a moment forgot all his worries. They were happy. For now."
"Manyan?" Lyra asked uncertainly, nudging the young man's shoulder.
The memories of the dream scattered, and the tears that for some reason were coming quickly dried up. Manyan raised his head, rubbing his sleepy eyes and squinting. He had almost forgotten how and where he ended up.
"Sorry, I... fell asleep," the young man rasped, glancing at the plate of food. The food caught his attention again — the feeling of fullness never lasted long.
"They didn't even notice," Yuvatsani sarcastically tossed. The Earth Goddess seemed to hiss something in response and sat back down in her seat. The others slowly followed her example. The lady sighed wearily and rubbed the spot between her brows, lost in thought. This was not a good sign, considering the looks of the other gods weren't filled with friendliness.
"Well, the turn of events is quite interesting…" Lyra began thoughtfully. "Fortunately or unfortunately, my suspicions turned out to be true. Indeed — one who ascended at the moment of death, I quote: 'On one day, and from the sky to the sky, a benefactor will appear to the world. Ascended at the moment of death, he will reconcile war and peace, restlessness and tranquility, and cross sword and hand of blessing, and cut off the festering wound to heal it. And he will be called the God of Peace who brought peace to the troubled heavenly realm.'"