They met at the Matriarch’s lands, deep below all that is known. Such a collective had never been known to any ground, hallowed or mortal. The plants, the soil, the air and the animals around could feel the very energy that tore at the world - not from the Cataclysm just days before, but from the presence of these very individuals. Energies could be seen meeting in the air, swirling about and colliding like streamers in summer wind, changing colors and flitting about as the very Divine Essence of the world congregated for the very first time. One spoke, high-voiced and proud. He calls to the deities, mumbling to their friends and casting wary glances at those who could not be trusted - Andros, Bestellen, and Theras, for example, throwing sly glares at Neoma and Acquine, who stood very close. Fareea and Sadys spoke in hushed tones, while the Matriarch stood and watched. The Professor speaks:
“They cannot stay there forever. It will not sustain them - eventually, they will throw themselves at Acquine’s barrier and be torn asunder by their own ambition. The Cataclysm is over. It is but volatile ashes. They are strong enough. We must send them home!”
There’s silence as deities turn to stare at the diminutive God, and Senhora gives a slow, silent nod. Fareea’s face contorted in fear. Andros and Bestellen bang their chests in agreement, while a sly grin takes Theras’ impish features. Sadys mutters quietly to himself, while Acquine and Neoma share a nod and a tender look. The Bastard Son speaks.
“The small man is right. They’re either bored or violent - it serves none of us. We cannot serve them, for if we do, we risk another end. We all know this though. It’s why we’re standing here and why the fancy deer refuse to shit. I pity them. Let’s get this over with so they can shit.”
The murmur of agreement grows louder. The Almighty, Bestellen speaks, stern and commanding tone carrying out over the crowds.
“Acquine and I will remove the barriers. Whatever will come to them, will come. I have a concern, though. They’ve made little attempt to leave the island. They don’t have the tools to leave the island. It would be a suicide effort, but for the most valorant among them. How do we tell them it isn’t? We cannot risk entering their world now.”
The Obdurate raises her voice, calm and quiet, yet demanding absolute attention from her peers and siblings.
“It’s true. The seas, even with my aid, would be too strong for those men. The Night Tide have found Lunaris. The Bulette knew to tunnel to them. That island won’t be safe either, no matter the wards we put up. It would end with squabbling between us and them. It always does.”
She casts a harsh gaze to Andros, who sneers in return. The other gods shrug and look away - they know the truth when they hear it. Theras pipes up, unabashed as ever, voice carrying over the crowd as invitingly as the Lunarian breezes.
“I’ll send them a boat and supplies. It’ll be all the hints they need. Acquine and I can push them along the right course. They’ll be safer in the North-West - my winds tell me the heaviest damage is opposite that. If we sail them there, all our efforts will be for nothing. They will be slain, and we will have nothing but ourselves and a broken world.”
Silence follows. Neoma speaks, delicate and quiet, though her words, simple as they are, carry articulate wisdom and thought beyond the years of them all.
“Then we guide them. Aid them. It was always the plan. We’ve watched over them all like our own sons and daughters. We cannot give that up now. Not even if they ask it of us. We love them and they love us - so let us show it. Reward them as we please. Guide them to new lives and new lands. Give them stories to tell to their sons and daughters, and those after that.”
“It’s time for a new chapter.”