There are many gods for darkness, many for balance, but the ones of light sometimes can seem fewer, far between. Living gods even less. Poor Wraithvine has the equivalent of an "infant god" on hir hands. Now ze has to protect against those that covet this power, will kill for it, until the new temple is built strong enough for the new god to be settled in, and truly get to work.
@internutter/challenge-03311-i023-eggshell-crackd -- Anon Guest
A hatching god. Soon to be a hatchling god. Deification happened in weird ways, sometimes. The Magefont and Lillian's accident was a new one that few wished to repeat. Not that they could repeat it. There was only one Magefont, a relic of Elven hubris in attempting to meddle, merge, and somewhat terraform other planes.
Mundis Magica was not Nanogh and it never would be. Those once terrified of living with lesser magic had adapted. The faeflitters had evolved from insects near the font, and supplied the world with magic.
They were working on other things, now. Other, permanent things. Things that should have been done eons ago, instead of the patchwork system of temporary measures that took up too much time and too much energy.
Amber to store the leaking magic in its rawest form. Faeflitters for everything else. They had to move to the new residence, so there was a potential for better ways.
Talking to Elementals had never occurred to any of them. Earth and Fire and even Water elementals could help channel the Magefont. And Lillian was making Her Will known.
"There should not be a need for a well," she said. "There should not be a need for just one source. It should be part of the world. We're all linked, are we not?" She looked to the friends of her mortal shell. "Bonds of love. Bonds of troth," this said to Wraithvine. "Bonds of dedication. Bonds of family. It's all... a web. A net. Woven together. Even with bonds of hate."
"We try not to focus on hate," said Wraithvine. "It makes ruin of good things."
"True," said Lillian. "The world might be better without it, but... it is part of the balance. Without hate, how would we know what love looks like? Without light, there are no shadows... and if not for shadows, how would the light know where to shine?"
"That is some... interesting philosophy," allowed Wraithvine.
"Ah! There is my mountain. There are easy fortifications to ensure there. I will rest there, and make the new way."
Such authority. "You will bend the world," said Wraithvine. "What of the faeflitters? What of the other ways?"
"Some will change. You know well that change is the nature of time. And you know that ephemerality is the nature of gods. I can... try... to restore what was once in this shell. For her friends who miss her still."
One of those friends, face sagged from so much weeping, said, "Succeed or fail, there will be an end to it. We. Need. An end to it."
"What sort of god will you be?" wondered Wraithvine.
"Not one of wrath," Lillian assured. "I can be the god of magic easily, yes. But I also see... balance. Not justice. Balance. This world is uneven and broken in many ways. Many have done the breaking. I can stitch... some... of it. I think... I shall also be the God of Bonds. That which brings things together." She smiled to her keepers. "Fear not. You will not have to guard me long."
Wraithvine looked down at hir hands. "I swore an oath to better the world ere I died. I have already outlived many on that oath's power. Will I outlive the world because of your balance?"
"We shall see," said Lillian. "I may yet tip the scales towards light with your help. Darkness, hate, ignorance... they need no help from me."
The new temple, on an island in a lake inside a cave near the peak of the mountain, was stunningly easy to fortify against those trying to stop them. And when the goddess hatched... the world bent to her will indeed.
The web of her magic wove around the world. An unbreakable net, but not unchanging.
After all, change is the nature of time.
[Image by Christopher Campbell on Unsplash]
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