It sounds dramatic, but this time our story really starts in a world filled with … nothing. Darkness everywhere. A night that never ends, an emptiness filled to the brim with loneliness.

Or, rather, we start with everything and nothing at the same time.

In that emptiness shone a star. A ball of energy, godly power, all forces in the universe merged into a tiny dot—however you want to call it. I don’t know, for I wasn’t around then. And Ismaraldah—the time traveler—always refused to take me back there. Perhaps it was simply impossible.

But one star became two. Two pure life forces that found each other. Not out of love or agreement—no no, that didn’t exist yet. Simply because everything in this universe shared one property: the desire to find other life and thus ensure that life existed for a little longer.

A flash, a bang, and from the emptiness grew a palace. The Heavenly Palace. Whatever you imagine right now, dear reader, if it’s beautiful and heart-warming, or horrible and heart-wrenching, you’re correct either way.

They made a place that held everything from this universe. The good and the bad. A mini universe in which the Chiefgods lived and oversaw all else.

Although, at Mother’s insistence, it seemed to hold more good than bad. For each abyss there would be a thousand pretty flowers. Her gardens, which she called Eden, contained shimmering rivers and a network of meandering bridges to cross them. It was a paradise of eternal sunshine and growth.

Until the palace was done. Mother and Father thought it ready to receive life. And thus, dear reader, we arrive at the first moment in time that I know about.

“Have you already decorated our child’s area?” Mother asked.

She was an angel wrapped in colorful gowns. A creature that seemed a human female from afar, but a clearly distinct magical creature from nearby.

If you ever see her—however unlikely the event—you’d see something entirely different than I do. You would probably walk away thinking humans were shaped in the Chiefgod’s image. Or that the gods bear a striking resemblance to that annoying teacher or your favorite pet.

“I guess I could find some beautiful decorations of yours to … reassemble,” Father said calmly. He sat comfortably on his throne with eyes half open. Mother assumed he was observing some faraway place in the universe.

“Yes.” Mother laughed. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate some statues missing limbs. Trees sliced in half. Bridges with holes.”

“Well, gives him something to play with, doesn’t it? And you already know it’s a he?”

Father’s appearance was similar to Mother’s, though it exuded a male energy. It was one of the forces on which Mother would not compromise in this universe: two genders. Just like she didn’t want to deviate from round planets, stars that gave light, or black as the default color when light is absent. She could be quite stubborn—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

“How long until birth?” he asked.

“As long as I want.”

Father shook his head. “Sometimes you speak in riddles, Gaia. If I want our son to appear now, would he—”

“We have matters to discuss first. Important matters.”

“Important enough to delay the birth of our first son? Of course, we have all the time in the universe, but—”

“Important enough that the fate of that universe depends on it.” Mother’s appearance temporarily flashed a bright red. “And no, we do not have infinite time!”

Father’s eyes opened wide, his mouth shut tight. Mother crept closer and smiled sweetly. She placed her hand on his cheek, her seven arms completely covered by her wide clothing.

“There is a prophecy,” she said.

“A prophecy? By whom? A stone? A grain of sand? A star?”

“In a way. It comes from ancient powers.”

“Ancient powers. Sure. My dear, you really must tell me all the places you’ve been before I met you.”

“Now please be quiet and listen, Oeros.”

His face turned sour, but he listened.

Gaia was the one who put him on a throne and told him he was the Chiefgod, but she sometimes treated him like her child. He … he could destroy her with one wave of his arm! He could create and destroy entire planets with one breath!

He—he was very curious about this prophecy, like a child eager to learn an adult’s secrets.

“The fastest shall be the slowest,” Gaia started. “Haste shall quicken the death of all.”

“Confusing already,” Oeros mumbled.

“The lightest shall be the heaviest. Explosions come at attraction’s call.” Mother paused as if expecting another interruption. “The brightest shall be the dumbest. Who thinks and never acts shall surely fall.”

“Long prophecy,” Oeros whispered.

“And the first shall be the last. A monster to make the universe wither and crawl.”

“Specific prophecy,” Oeros said. He stood up and paced up and down the throne room. “And yet it has no clear meaning. We’ll wait and see, Gaia, how everything—”

“Wait and see!? Did you not hear?” Gaia pushed her face into his. “The FIRST shall be the LAST MONSTER.”

“You … you think … "

She turned away. “The meaning eludes me too. I can’t delay the coming of our son forever. I don’t want to—I’m not the God of Cowards.”

“Well, me neither!”

“I know, dear, but …”

Father’s thoughts drifted in all directions. The prophecy seemed to speak of multiple children. Quite a lot, in fact. Or was that merely his interpretation? All those properties—heavy, fast, smart—could match a single child.

A monster. A demigod meant to defeat them and take over their power. Father quite liked his power.

His hands, human at first glance until you noticed the eight fingers, grabbed his wife’s hands.

“We let it happen,” Father said. “But at the first sign of a monster … a hint of animosity or a destructive soul …”

Gaia’s hands moved to her belly. There was no way to tell she was pregnant, for gods do not deliver children the same way as humans do. For centuries she had been attracting energy and particles, wherever she walked, to grow a second soul deep inside her.

Once she decided it was ready, the soul would split and immediately turn into her first child. At least, that was how she designed this universe, if she hadn’t made a mistake.

“And what if it’s true? What if it’s a monster indeed?” Gaia turned red again. “Our children are immortal like us!”

“Is that true? We have no idea!”

“You have no idea, but—”

“Here’s an idea: we lock him in a cell for eternity.”

Gaia sighed. He was right. They only knew the extent of their powers, the truth behind demigods and the universe, if they tried. Do it and see what happens. Though that was obviously easier when applied to something simple, like telling somebody you like them or trying new food for the first time. Once “try something” meant swinging godly hammers at a galactic anvil, the consequences were far greater.

The Heavenly Palace had no concept of time. No night and day. The world had only just started and centuries would pass at the blink of an eye. It didn’t matter, for there was no life to feel the passing of time.

In fact, the universe was still expanding at a rapid pace, like a balloon inflated by the breath of a thousand giants. Everywhere was hot, everywhere was filled with stardust.

And so it was that Gaia visited her Eden—alone and worried—and left Oeros behind to impatiently groan.

After repeatedly asking if everything was well, Gaia appeared before his throne. She held a small bundle, wrapped in so much cloth that Oeros could not even see his first son. But he heard soft mumbling and cooing, usually followed by wiggling and shuffling in Gaia’s trembling grip.

Oeros smiled and proudly proclaimed: “The whole universe shall love him and honor him for his good soul. And he shall be named … Ardex.”

Gaia looked up with tearful eyes and a bleak expression.

“I tried everything … and, I know I’m impatient, but I waited as long as I could … and … but … "

Oeros was at her side in an instant. “What? What is it?”

“Ardex is ice cold and responds to nothing.”

Oeros and Gaia had designed the laws of the universe together. They had determined the lowest possible temperature, and they, being Chiefgods, could handle that.

But they could not hold Ardex for long, for his temperature was even lower than that. Their hands froze, their cheeks, even their magic.

They studied each other questioningly. Until Oeros smiled. “Give it time. He’ll get warmer! Were we not equally vulnerable after our birth?”

Gaia shook her head. She wrapped another cloth around Ardex and cradled him, a Mother who thinks her love is enough to make children twice as big and strong. “I’m not letting him go.”

“I did not say that.”

Oeros waited an hour, a day, a year, perhaps a century. Time meant nothing for Chiefgods. He offered to take over, but Gaia’s body carried her first child as if it could not tire.

Eventually, he returned to his throne. With eyes narrowed, he observed the universe in search of problems to solve. All would be well. Ardex just needed time. The universe was slowly cooling anyways.

But for the first time, Oeros did feel the flow of time, as he slowly stopped believing his own lies.

A god who lets his first son die? Who can’t even bear children that survive? What a hopeless Chiefgod he would be. If multiple universes existed, with multiple gods, they’d laugh at him.

He felt an indescribable pride. His son! He could send him on missions. Ardex perhaps held powers they didn’t possess or fully understand. With the right upbringing … three was always stronger than two, right?

Gaia should have never tired, but Ardex seemed to siphon energy. The Mother of the universe wavered, then fell.

Oeros snapped out of his trance—but too late. Gaia hit the floor hard, though it sounded like the touch of a feather on pillows.

Ardex’ fall, on the other hand, sounded like multiple meteors peppered the floor. He slipped out of Gaia’s embrace and skid across the floor. He broke two pillars and a part of Oeros’ throne before finally coming to a standstill.

Oeros was not angry. He was impressed.

Ardex didn’t have a scratch. Oeros made sure Gaia was fast asleep, then unwrapped the cloths one by one. His son’s body wasn’t dark blue, nor dark purple, but black from the lack of warmth. A darkness that almost hurt to look at.

Yet Oeros kept looking. His son! Already mighty and powerful. So strong. So different.

Gaia mumbled something. Gods had never needed to sleep, so that wasn’t truly what she did. She was merely too tired and weakened to open her eyes or get in touch with her magic.

Oeros floated between her and Ardex, obscuring her view. He removed the final cloth. Before him lay a trembling ghost. A demigod with the potential to be incredibly strong, but now … now he seemed to die.

Ardex’ body swirled like patches of fog, pushed around by even the tiniest force. And when any particle almost touched Oeros, he felt a shock like never before.

He collected pieces of broken stone and held them above Ardex’ head. Without looking, Ardex slapped them away. A powerful, quick swing that carried the stones to all the way outside the throne hall.

Oeros was even more impressed.

“Ardex,” he whispered. “I’m your father. If you can hear me, open your eyes.”

For a tiny moment, Oeros could see right into the soul of his son. Then his tired eyes shut again.

“Change your appearance.”

Ardex tried to imitate the throne, but froze halfway through the transformation—half-god, half-chair.

“Forget it, forget it, go back to your own form.”

It was impossible. Ardex was too cold. The particles that created him couldn’t move in such temperatures. All the magic in the world could not make it happen.

Oeros panicked.

Gaia mumbled again. She could wake up any moment, though the deep lines through her face and body were a new sign of exhaustion.

Why was he scared of his own wife? He was the Chiefgod!

He made his choice. He touched his son, body against body, no matter how much it hurt.

It allowed him to send a spell through both of them. In a flash, they teleported to another place, far outside the boundaries of the Heavenly Palace. A place with blinding light and scorching heat.

They stood on the nearest star.

Oeros dropped Ardex. Due to hurt, due to fear, due to hope. His hands had become black as well.

Ardex fell against the star’s surface. Without the protection of the cloth, for they were left behind in the throne room.

His eyes opened. His body flashed with all the bright colors that gods could see—which were infinitely more colors than human eyes could understand.

He screamed and screamed.

Oeros’ panic transformed into blind magical bombs. This was what happened when you wanted to move too quickly! He shouldn’t have let Gaia stir his haste.

He dove towards Ardex and pulled him from the star, sending him all the protective magic he could think of.

Ardex had heated up, that much was certain. He was also certainly dying.

“Please, Ardex. Please.”

He cradled his son, who now appeared as a tiny star not much larger than a human baby. He kept crying. His appearance burned away due to the heat, creating a pattern of black splotches.

“What do you need!? I’ll give you anything!”

Ardex suddenly stilled and looked at his Father with intent. He spoke his first word: “FIRE!”

Oeros did not doubt and sent his fire magic right at Ardex’ soul. The flames extinguished. Ardex’ body took on a uniform pink color and … he smiled.

“Oh. Aw. Yes.” Oeros smiled and bumped Ardex’ nose with his own. “Yes, that gave us quite a fright, didn’t it? But all is well, dear. Here, come with me, we’ll return to—”

He felt a tug. Gaia already pulled him back. Could he ever escape from her?

A flash. He stood before Gaia again, back in the throne room. Her body was five times the usual size and contained a thunderstorm.

“What do you think you’re doing? Have you completely lost—”

The sight of a laughing Ardex made her shrink to the size of a mouse.

“He’s fine now!” Oeros said. “You see, it just needed time. Time and nothing else.”

Both parents held him and giggled.

“Come, come,” Gaia said. “We’ll show you which part of the Heavenly Palace is yours!”

Ardex kept shapeshifting. He was impossible to grab and wouldn’t let anyone carry or drag him.

Then he started coughing.

A fireball shot from his body and melted whatever was left of Oeros’ throne. Though the throne was made of the strongest metals in all the universe, it now dripped and created steaming puddles on the floor, like the liquid magma at the core of planets.

Ardex kept coughing. He leapt from his parent’s protection. As he raced through the palace, everything he saw had to be burned to the ground.

The beautiful cloudgardens and decorated rooms in Ardex’ area quickly turned into beautiful volcanos and lava baths. With each flaming cough, Ardex gained more control. He could destroy things with increasing speed and precision.

He was quite proud of it.

Once recovered from the shock, the Chiefgods easily caught up to him. They kept him in place with a magical locking spell.

“Now listen to me,” Gaia said sternly. “If you destroy one more thing, I’ll lock you up for a long time!”

“Dear, dear, calm down,” Oeros said, impressed beyond belief. His mind raced to consider missions and tasks for the powerful Ardex once he grew a little more … mature. “He’s a child. Did we not do the same when we were little?”

Gaia frowned. “No? I can’t even create fire! What did you do before I found you? Are you responsible for the bites taken out of the edge of the universe?”

Oeros stepped up to the borders of the invisible jail, only visible when touched. “Ardex, I’ll create a special area for you where you can practice your powers. What else can you do? Did you try anything else?”

“Oeros! Come here! Now!” Gaia pointed at the floor as if he were a dog that had fetched a stick. Oeros listened.

Gaia kept the locking spell going and added magic to prevent Ardex from hearing their conversation.

She looked concerned. “I did not want to believe. But … but isn’t it obvious?”

“So obvious that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Oeros whispered.

“He is the monster! I couldn’t even break a pillar from this palace if I used all my magic. And him? He destroys the whole palace, giggling and barely born.”

“Dear, you do realize that those are my powers too? My magic could destroy entire planets if I wanted. This child, well, probably has a little more of me and a little less of—”

“He has nothing from me! And I’m the Mother of all life. Thus, he’s the monster.”

She looked away, as if the discussion was finished and the choice made. Oeros shook with his entire appearance, creating a cloud around Gaia.

“Life is destruction. You’ll see once the first creatures appear. They must eat. They must use energy to survive. So life, by definition, destroys. Ardex is no monster. He’s a child playing with newfound powers.”

Gaia started a powerful communication beam, but Oeros shut her up by beaming back with more energy.

“And from destruction, new things can grow. Look, he’s given us a great opportunity to build the palace again! This time even better!”

Oeros held his wife as tightly as he could. A merging of souls, a bond of stardust, rather than an embrace. “No life without death,” he whispered.

Gaia looked over her shoulder. Ardex had shapeshifted into a ball covered with spikes, which he relentlessly slammed into the jail boundaries. He’d never escape, of course, but the attempt was quite—

Ardex escaped.

Gaia yelled and immediately erected a new jail where he stood. Ardex grinned mischievously and started the search for his next escape.

“I must admit,” Oeros said, “that this exceeds my wildest dreams.”

“Dreams? You dreamt of a destructive, stubborn child?”

“Always so negative, dear. I dreamt of a powerful and independent child.”

Gaia spit and thundered. She turned into a giant who bend over Ardex as if he were a mere ant, to step on whenever she pleased. But Oeros noticed her hidden interest, a hint of curiosity in her eyes that followed Ardex’ every move.

“Three chances,” she said.

“Chances for what?”

“We test if he’s the monster, three times. If he fails all tests, then the only solution … "

Oeros didn’t dare ask for details of Gaia’s solution. She would … kill their own child? Could they? Gaia surely could not, she’d have to ask him to do it. Eternal incarceration did not sound like a better punishment.

He already imagined ways to delay the execution of the tests. Gaia shattered his hopes. She seemed prepared for this event, her monster tests invented and refined millennia ago.

Back in the wrecked throne room, Gaia explained the plan.

“We make a fake creature,” she said. “Something that seems alive, seems soulful. We tell Ardex that he just received a sister! We leave him alone with the fake creature, and if he shows any aggression …”

Oeros frowned. “Surely he’ll feel the lack of soul? He’s a god! And a powerful one! You won’t fool him that easily.”

“Hence the test. Can monsters feel life? Do they care about souls?”

Oeros sighed. It was worth a try. He still didn’t understand why Gaia was in such a hurry. If things went bad, he’d always be stronger than Ardex. The universe didn’t contain life yet, so besides broken pillars and molten chambers … what evil could Ardex truly cause?

So he accepted the test, assuming it would confirm to Gaia that there were no monsters here.

Gaia had already grabbed Ardex and released him from his cage. She told him about his new “sister”, to which Ardex spoke his next few words: “Sister? Where?”

“She’s playing now, like you. You’ll meet her soon.”

Gaia and Oeros walked away. They avoided Ardex on purpose and left him alone with the fake creature: a godlike appearance made from particles that could support life, such as carbon and hydrogen.

Their magic let the creature move and even communicate with simple beams of energy. It waddled through the Heavenly Palace like a ragdoll made of transparent cloth.

For extra insurance, they build a large locking spell around multiple chambers. Ardex had to meet the creature soon, and couldn’t escape or meet his parents.

The Chiefgods could do nothing else but wait. Patiently. Time meant nothing to them—unless they were so curious that they could not put their mind to anything else.

If life had appeared at the other side of the universe, right now, Oeros would not have noticed. He held Gaia’s hand as they floated in circles around the palace, forcing themselves to wait a while before coming back.

How much time had passed? A year? A few years? Was it enough?

With trembling heart—if gods had one—they eventually returned to Ardex.

Oeros immediately knew they’d made a grave mistake in their assessment. Gaia too.

The fake creature lay on the ground, ripped to pieces and burned until it was unrecognizable and emptied of all magic.

Ardex had grown. A larger appearance, solid and sure. Not yet, dear reader, what you might call an adult, but surely a teenager.

He controlled his powers and showed a clear face.

A face that erupted with anger.

Ardex would not even look at his parents. He spit a fireball as large as the entire room. One that burned Gaia’s colorful gowns and reminded Oeros of the black spots on his body from touching Ardex all those years ago.

Then he turned around and walked away, through the opening that had been closed to him all those years.

“Ardex! Wait!”

“I’ve waited long enough!”

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Gaia repeated it so often that she became sick of herself. Ardex kept walking away. Each footfall was unnecessary, for he could float now, but Ardex used them to burn holes in the floor.

Gaia raced after her son, while Oeros studied the pieces of the rag doll scattered everywhere. He searched for excuses, but there was only one explanation.

He joined Gaia, who held Ardex with all she had.

“You’ve grown so much! And we … we thought that demigods didn’t grow this fast … and you taught yourself a lot about magic … and—”

“Let me go, mom.”

Oeros held up a piece of the rag doll. His voice was as neutral as possible. “And how do you explain this?”

“I heard you talk about a monster who would destroy all. I thought this was the monster. I thought you’d let me go once I defeated it. But no,” Ardex said, his voice dropped from angry to sad. “Then my stupid mind realized the truth.”

He ripped himself free and kept floating away from his parents.

“You think I am the monster.”

“Not true,” Oeros said. “We merely tested if you were—”

A spell from Gaia blew Oeros to the other side of the room. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Ardex. It was a mistake, we’re sorry. Come! We could … we could arrange a feast! Just the three of us, the family of gods. I can magic the tastiest foods!”

“A feast? You’re not just stupid, you’re liars, obsessed with your power.” Ardex spit. Hot spit that burned more holes in the walls and floors.

Oeros smiled and separated his wife and his son. “It needs some time, I think. Ardex, we’ll never lock you in a cage again. When you’re ready, look for us and talk to us.”

“See me as more than a monster. Then we’ll talk.”

Ardex disappeared. Gaia struggled to see him go, as if her body was a magnet attracted to her children, something she had to fight every moment.

Oeros was sure she understood this was for the best. That she realized her tests were insane, that she shouldn’t hurry or force anything, and—

“I’m not convinced,” she said, sure that Ardex was out of earshot. Though Oeros was increasingly certain that Ardex broke all the “rules” of godly magic.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ll seek out Ardex,” she said. “Talk to him, ask what he wants, spend time with him. And then I’ll accidentally reveal a secret: you pushed me to do the monster test because you secretly want all power for yourself.”

Oeros turned purple. “But that’s not—”

“Be quiet now, Oeros. I know it’s not true. It’s the next test. Ardex can only ‘save’ us if he uses all his powers to attack you.”

“Do you perhaps have a different test we can try?”

Gaia laughed. “Are you afraid that he will win that fight?”

“No! Nonsense. Absolute nonsense.”

“Great, so you’re in. A while later, you will do the same. Visit Ardex, reveal the supposed secret that I want to take over and Ardex needs to attack me.”

Oeros eventually nodded. “A wise god would discern the truth first and not act without certainty. Only a monster would use deadly force against his parents.”

Gaia nodded with him, with such ferocity that she mostly seemed to comfort herself about the cleverness of this test. “It has to happen. We can’t let Ardex grow stronger and stronger for years, until he burns the entire Heavenly Palace with a single breath. Additionally …”

She smiled and rubbed all over her body. “Additionally, the next child is coming.”

Pride flooded Oeros again, the desire to bring another demigod into this lonely universe. It was almost instantly crushed, put away and painted over, by the feeling that this one might be the monster too.

Gaia had said as much: she couldn’t prevent the children from coming. So, really, they were doing the right thing. They were gaining experience with quickly testing who was a monster.

After building a new throne, Oeros resumed his usual duties: observe the universe, look for problems, look for life. He considered introducing a few new laws of physics—for he was bored—but could not find anything balanced with what they already had.

In that respect, Gaia was the better goddess. She could invent new ideas that worked; he could merely change or break what already existed.

In the mean time, Gaia visited her son, floating around a campfire in his own area. Ardex let her come, but kept his focus on the flames. Something he’d probably done for years, locked up for the first monster test.

“I want to leave,” he said suddenly.

“Leave?”

“Leave the Heavenly Palace. Send me on a mission, give me another planet, whatever.”

“But … but … "

“Do not start about family and being together with your liar’s face!”

“Gods make mistakes too, we admit. And now we learned. As we said, we’ll do anything you ask and we’ll train you to become the best god—”

“And I’m asking you do none of that and let me leave.”

Gaia had hoped for a little more leeway. She wanted a connection with her son. She wanted to hug him, see him grow up, teach him how beautiful the universe and magic can be.

But he wanted the final bridges burned, the final threads severed.

“You can’t leave, dear,” Gaia spoke softly. “For I fear for my life.”

Ardex turned in the air, his shape lit up from behind by the flames. Endless fires and explosions happened inside him, covering him in a permanent mist. His form was, otherwise, much more solid than Gaia’s, almost like an animal of flesh and blood.

“Oeros,” she whispered, “pushed me to do the test. I didn’t want to! I fought with all that I had! And now I am sure he wants all power for himself. He’ll kill us both and rule the universe alone.”

Ardex’ form froze. The fires inside were extinguished.

“You must defeat him before he defeats us,” Gaia whispered. She anxiously looked around, pretending to be afraid that Oeros would appear any moment.

“You …” Ardex searched for words. Years without anybody to talk to had made it hard for him. “Are sure about this?”

Gaia nodded. She crept closer for her first hug with her son. As she did, her form became more solid too, almost indiscernible from a young woman to me. He let it happen, too surprised to say or do anything.

“I wouldn’t mention it if I wasn’t certain. You must kill Oeros and do it now.”

At another time, dear reader, she might have convinced him. Ardex would’ve visited Oeros with fireballs and waves of flames, starting a legendary fight that saw few survivors.

But Ardex understood his powers better with each day, and remembered more and more about what happened those first moments of his life. He had his powers because Oeros gave it all to him. In panic, perhaps, but Oeros had put his entire destructive powers in Ardex’ soul.

That’s where his strength came from.

Without that, he might have died, or become a god with no magic. He’d have been an aid or a slave to the Chiefgods, even more of a toy than he already was.

But Oeros had accidentally given him even more powers. Magic that Ardex cultivated during his years of loneliness and captivity. And pain. Endless pain. He was always on fire, always angry and filled with energy. It drove him insane.

“As I understand it,” Ardex said, “you have all positive forces of creation, and Oeros all negative forces of destruction. That’s how you keep the universe balanced.”

“Ja?” Gaia said, confused. “Now don’t say it’s normal that Oeros wants to kill us, dear, because he’s an expert of death and—”

“He gave me deep knowledge of destruction and death. And strangely enough, dear Mother, I see all of that in you.”

Ardex blew up to ten times his size. The explosion around him extinguished the fires, send rubble into the ceiling, and slammed Gaia against the back wall.

The Chiefgod of Creation fell to the floor like a rag doll. He had split her body and her soul, causing her magic to float above her head like dark clouds.

Ardex froze again, eyes wide open. Gaia should have harmlessly passed through the wall.

He did not intend to do this, dear reader. Do not judge him harshly. If you’d known Ardex as I did, you’d know his heart was made of gold and he carried guilt from this attack until his death.

At this moment, however, he was too angry to care.

“I’m talking with Oeros. See what he was to say. He’ll probably let me leave.”

He looked behind him once more. Gaia still seemed asleep, her purple soulclouds unsure how to return to her appearance.

“And you’ll never see me again!”

Ardex could not find his father Oeros anywhere. That wasn’t strange, for this was the first time in his life that he could actually travel and discover the Heavenly Palace. It harbored secret rooms, areas, bridges and gardens in every corner. Some were magically locked to him; some were magically enhanced to be more attractive.

His anger had to compromise and let in a little wonder and awe.

Until he realized he had to miss all of this for years. His parents had locked him up, right after being born! So he had to leave, it was the only choice. Loneliness was his only friend and his powers weren’t useful anyway. He’d rather rule over a small planet in no man’s land than ever see his deceitful parents again.

His inability to find Oeros was not due to lack of magic or sight. Oeros simply wasn’t home.

He wandered for a good while—never seeing or hearing Gaia again—before Oeros suddenly appeared back in the throne room.

Ardex had a question mark on his forehead. Oeros was joyful and energetic.

“It has happened!” he said. “The first seed has been planted!”

“Which means?”

Oeros flew towards Ardex, his appearance wide as if he prepared for embrace, but freezing just before it happened. Father and son merely sent each other positive, smiling energy.

“The first life has appeared in our universe! Far away from here, past Dalas, the small red planet. The first life! Besides us! I’ve seen it with my own eyes, felt it with my own soul, my own—”

“Can I go there?”

Oeros froze again. “Wait a little longer, until they’ve developed further. We’ll see how it plays out.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Ardex mumbled. “Give it time, calm down, take a break. Can you say anything else?”

“But it’s the truth!” Oeros exclaimed, his joy untouched by the chagrin of his son. “And Gaia must hear it. Otherwise she moves too quickly.”

Ardex did not believe that this bumbling god, astonished by what was probably some aimlessly swimming worms, wanted to kill him and Mother. All his actions merely seemed to protect and support Gaia.

He was done with games, lies, devious plans. At least destruction is clear and direct—Ardex was the God of Clear and Direct.

“Gaia said you want to kill us both and rule alone.”

Shocked, Oeros lost control and changed his appearance several times in a row. “Did she now? Did you mishear it perhaps?”

“Is it true?”

“Of course not.” Oeros waved his four hands as if that could make every accusation disappear. Then he leaned forward and whispered in Ardex’ ear. “I’m afraid to say it, but the reverse appears to be true! Gaia wants to keep testing if you’re a monster. I don’t agree. She’s planning to take over.”

They studied each other in silence. Ardex saw through all of it. Did they really think they could fool a god this easily? A part of Oeros lived inside of him, and a part of Gaia, although he hadn’t discovered that. He could read their intentions like an open book, their thoughts as if they were yelled across the room.

“And now the truth please.”

Oeros lost his joyful stance, albeit for only a moment. Then he returned to his throne, looking more tired than strong.

“The truth is … that this is another test. But you are no monster. I know it, I can feel it. If you’re a monster, then so am I.” He shrugged. “I’m trying to delay and see what happens, in any case.”

Ardex felt a weight lifted. The fires, ever burning inside him, became warm candles instead of volcanos.

It was so simple. Somebody who didn’t see him as a monster and treated him like a living being.

“I want your promise,” Ardex said formally.

“What must I promise?”

“You do not test me again. You don’t even talk about the possibility of me being a monster. And if Gaia ever wants to hurt me again, you help me defeat her and give me permission to use the full extent of my powers.”

Oeros shuffled uneasily on his throne. Ardex knew his wish was not to be taken lightly. But he wanted security and felt Oeros would honor such an agreement.

His views aligned with Oeros more and more. They had to calm down. Let things happen. Let life appear and develop on its own. Gaia was simply wrong.

That seed of life, on the red planet, would slowly grow. They had billions of centuries to visit it. Why the haste? Why try to control everything?

It seemed that he was almost entirely the child of Oeros. The good bits of Gaia only appeared in his little toe. If she had any good bits at all.

“What’s your answer?” Ardex demanded.

“I see so much of myself in you,” Oeros said. “Make the tough decisions. God of destruction and order. Stubbornness. The desire to flaunt your powers. And you are powerful, Ardex, make no mistake.”

“What is your answer?”

“Even gods can become bored or tired. One day …” Oeros looked around. The wrecked throne room still wasn’t a beauty to behold. Ardex grew eager to add some more burned objects to this collection.

Oeros hugged him, with certainty this time. “One day this is yours. I want to train you, teach you, show you what it means to be Chiefgod. But all in good time.”

Father and son studied each other. “You have my word. If Gaia ever attacks you, I’ll support you and fight back.”

Another weight lifted. Ardex’ appearance grew less solid and more akin the ghostly mists that enveloped his parents at all times. As if a carapace fell to the floor and he finally revealed his true soul.

He asked the question he’d wanted to ask all his life, whispering and vulnerable.

“What is wrong with me?”

Oeros held Ardex more tightly. “I … don’t know. As ice cold as you were at birth, the way you removed life energy—we’d never seen it before. We hadn’t thought it possible! But that makes you no monster.”

“But you are the supreme god, Father! Surely you know everything about how the universe works?”

“I am one of two gods, son. My theory? Gaia merely wants positive powers. She wants to create and to add to the universe. Her intentions are good, but—”

“The path to hell is laid with good intentions,” Ardex mumbled.

Oeros strengthened his communication beams. “So what does she do? She puts all her negative powers in her first child, to get rid of them. You were born with so much destructive magic, that your temperature was below the lowest possible temperature!”

“But then …”

Oeros sighed. “Then I gave you a huge part of my magic. I thought you’d die. You were too strong for a young demigod. But give it time … and you’ll grow into something fierce. Believe me.”

And for the first time, Ardex could do that. Believe his parents. His desire to flee and never come back was suddenly nowhere to be found.

Until Gaia had finally risen and reached the throne room. She approached Ardex with … fear?

“Something changed,” she told Oeros, as if Ardex didn’t exist. She rubbed her whole body and changed colors regularly. “The child … the child inside me … it feels different. Weaker. After … after Ardex …”

“After I did what?”

“Nothing, dear, nothing. An accident.” Gaia trembled. “It doesn’t feel so good.”

Oeros waved his seven arms. Ardex had learned the sign for leave us alone long ago. This time, however, Oeros retracted it.

“Stay, Ardex. We are one family and share everything.”

Gaia grabbed Oeros’ face, eager to change his mind. Ardex made the tiniest sound and made Gaia tremble and shut up.

He grinned. He enjoyed her fear as if it were his favorite drink after centuries of thirst. He grew stronger and more confident from it. It was her own stupid fault. Do the crime, do the time.

“From now on,” Oeros proclaimed, “each child receives one specific power. At birth we decide which part of the universe becomes theirs. We’ll teach them and guide them, never test or stop them. This way, all children will be strong together, but none of them is … overwhelmed by the size of their powers.”

“Agreed,” Ardex said, still grinning. “I can’t wait to welcome my little sister!”

He turned towards Gaia and yelled “boo”. Gaia yelled and floated backward, a weapon forming in her hands, which she immediately dismissed in a puff of smoke.

Ardex left the room laughing.

“See you tomorrow! At my first training!”

What he didn’t know, dear reader, was that Gaia had succeeded in truly making Ardex deaf to her conversations with Oeros. And she talked with her husband for a long, long time after he left. Until they had reached a crucial decision together.

Growing up a demigod was surprisingly normal. Ardex learned to control his powers like an athlete builds muscle or a painter learns colors through a thousand paintings. The major difference, of course, was that Ardex’ canvas was the entire universe.

He didn’t learn to keep a campfire burning, no, he visited the nearest planet and accepted the challenge to place ten volcanos before Oeros returned.

The first few times, Ardex still thought it was a test. So he held back. He pretended he was only able to make one weak volcano. He was afraid Oeros would never return and insisted on practicing as much as possible in the palace.

But with every challenge he grew more confident. His parents kept returning, kept giving him meaningful challenges, and never even uttered the word monster. At least not when he was near.

Year after year his powers grew. No, they were freed from their chains. Until they couldn’t practice anymore inside the palace, for any spell by Ardex was too large and destructive.

“Look!” Ardex yelled triumphantly. He was still a baby in the eyes of the universe, but nearly an adult in the eyes of a human. “One spell and I created a lava river across the entire moon! Believe me, next time I can do two rivers at once!”

Oeros smiled faintly. Ardex’ joyful energy instantly dissipated.

“What? What’s wrong? Am I not doing it right?”

“It’s great, son, you’re doing great. But power and size aren’t everything. In my eyes, you should practice keeping things small and contained.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Perhaps it’s no fun. But you need control.”

“Not fun? I’m a god! Why would I ever do something I don’t find fun?”

Oeros laughed loudly. Ardex wasn’t sure if he was being laughed at or laughed with.

The Chiefgod teleported them both back to the Heavenly Palace. He’d chosen a silent and beautiful spot where Gaia had been growing statues and decorations for years.

She said her Eden was strictly forbidden for Ardex until he had control—so why did Oeros suddenly take him here?

“Why,” Oeros said, “do you think we’re training?”

“Because … because a large fire is more fun than a small fire? Because sending deadly strikes of thunder is more fun than useless sparks?”

“I’m asking a bigger question. Why do we exist? What’s the purpose of gods?”

“Solve problems in the universe? That’s what you do, each day, sitting on your throne. Oh and try to find life!”

Oeros hummed and nodded, while studying a statue missing a limb. It showed him and Gaia losing themselves in a kiss. He seemed discontent with his image.

“And then?”

“Help that life?”

“Help? What is help?”

Ardex found a statue of himself. Gaia had given him sharp tusks. He glanced over his own appearance, but there were no tusks in real life.

“Well,” he said, “when life almost dies, we save them. Or if they’re hurt, we take the pain away. Nobody should feel pain.” He knew he’d give all his magic to be freed from the fires within him, always hurting him. No, he wouldn’t even dare imagine what pain meant to lesser non-magic creatures.

“But what if two different types of life appear on the same planet and they fight each other? We can’t help them both. Saving one means killing the other.”

Ardex fell silent. And he stayed silent, for each response he imagined sounded like it was foolish and naive.

They walked to the next garden, larger and prettier than the previous. Besides statues there were many arcs filled with a kind of purple window, which he did not recognize or understand.

“And what,” Oeros continued, “if the universe becomes so full that there’s no more space or food for all? Each planet occupied. Each ocean emptied. Did we help by saving all life thus far?”

Ardex studied his father questioningly. “I … don’t think so?”

“I don’t want you to say what I want to hear. I want you to think about this. One day this will all be yours. And the truth? Being god isn’t always fun. In fact, it usually isn’t.”

At first, these words felt like a punch to the gut, a whack on the head. After Ardex cleared up his confusion, he mostly felt frustration and helplessness. “So I’m supposed to do things I don’t like until the end of time? You knew that and still bore a child?”

Oeros studied one of the purple windows inside the arcs. Ardex faintly recognized them from the locking spell Gaia used on him long ago. They weren’t windows, but rather a thick mist.

“You’re thinking wrong,” Oeros said.

“And now you call me stupid!”

The flames ever inside him woke up and several volcanos on faraway planets rumbled. It was only strong magic and soothing words that had, so far, prevented Ardex from turning the whole Heavenly Palace into a volcano.

Oeros laughed again. “No, no. You said it yourself: the end of time. There are only two options. Either the universe exists forever, or it ends one day.”

Ardex tried to lean against the purple arc, but his appearance passed through without any resistance and he quickly retreated.

“So what’s the goal?” Oeros asked. “What’s the meaning of life? There is no goal. In the first case the universe never ends. And if something never ends, how can it have a goal? If you go on a journey, but the route is infinitely long, then you never arrive!”

It dawned on Ardex. The second punch to his gut. He finished Oeros’ explanation. “And if the universe does end, then everyone will die and all you ever do will be erased. So what’s the point of having a goal?”

Oeros grew into a giant and hugged his son enthusiastically. “That’s my boy. Gaia doubted, but I knew you had grown mature.”

Ardex didn’t know how to react. If this was the meaning of adulthood—realizing just how bleak and pointless it all is—then he wouldn’t have romanticized it so much. He already grew nostalgic for the years spend as a teenager, feasting, playing, and doing missions with mom and dad. The happy family he always wanted.

He had hoped Gaia’s hatred for him had subsided after all these years. On the other hand, she still said the next child felt “wrong” since his attack, and it took much longer before she was born.

“Thinking about goals or meaning is useless,” Oeros said with finality. “It’s about the journey, not the destination.”

Oeros looked in his son’s eyes, really looked into them, and connected soul to soul. They shared a collection of memories of the past few years, laughing, speaking, making mistakes.

“What will you enjoy more?” he asked. “The past few years of being together and doing challenges, or the single brief moment when you become more powerful than me?”

Ardex dared push more and more of his appearance through the purple mist, as he floated besides his Father.

“What you’re saying,” he tried, “is that I should stop pursuing my goal of being the strongest and the biggest? Stop thinking there is some goal to reach and that, once reached, playing god will be fun forever?”

“Yes. You should just be, you should just do. Every moment of every day.”

Strangely enough, this sounded like the most impossible challenge Ardex had ever been given.

“I want to send you on missions,” Oeros declared. “You’re ready for the real work. Do you remember that red planet where I discovered the first seed of life? Well, they are in some trouble.”

“Why don’t you go yourself?” It came out more harshly than Ardex intended. He was simply confused, as Oeros remained a hundred times more powerful than he. “Maybe I make a mistake and then—”

“I said nothing about solving issues. We’re just watching. Seeing what happens. Have you already forgotten all I taught you?”

“Yes, yes. Wait and see, let it happen, your favorite words!” Ardex sent positive energy to his Father to signal he meant it as a joke.

“Great. If this mission goes well, I have a bunch more for you to do!”

Ardex did not like the sound of that. All his life, he’d suspected Oeros to simply groom him to become their aid, doing their dirty work across the galaxy. Maybe that was false. But given his history with his parents, he did not give them the benefit of the doubt.

“See me as more than a slave to toy with,” Ardex said gruffly. “Then we’ll talk—”

Oeros sent a powerful spell in all directions and shot Ardex through the purple mist.

The last sound that Ardex heard was his mumbling father: “See me. Zyme. Hmm.”

Then his body was ripped apart, pulled in all directions, as he lost contact with his magic.

Ardex could kill his parents. But, well, to do so he’d first have to find a way back to the palace.

Always the same. He said no to their missions, so they just forced him to do them. Father needed him on another planet—and, what do you know, he was just thrown at it with force.

He floated high above a yellow-red planet that didn’t seem special to him. Was this the home of the only life in the universe? Surely they were tiny and nearly impossible to find.

He started searching.

The gods, dear reader, didn’t see the world like you. All that was alive was bigger to them, and connected through glowing lines like a gigantic spider web. They could feel if a soul was near, even if it lived several planets away. So the fact that Ardex did not feel life … scared him.

Were they right after all? Was het the monster? He surely wasn’t what a god was supposed to be. Could he truly not care about life and not feel it as he almost stepped on it?

But … he could feel his parent’s soul. Clearly, even, as close as they were in the palace. All those years he spent locked up, he could feel exactly where his parents were at any given time, like a pungent odor with nowhere to go in a locked room.

“Hello?” he yelled. “Is anyone there? Living creatures, show yourself to your … god!”

The planet just about turned away from its sun. Ardex heard shuffling, but the surface became too dark to witness what caused it. He created light the only way he knew: lava rivers that traveled through the yellow-red crust like thunderbolts.

And that’s how he saw his first ever sign of life in the universe.

It was wonderful and disappointing.

Whenever the gods wanted a solid appearance, they’d usually assume one of three silhouettes. Gaia called them Earthwaker, Skydancer and Sunbeamer. Ardex assumed it were ancient forms known to each god at birth, just like his Mother said the prophecy came from “ancient forces”.

These animals had exactly those three forms.

The one at the back had a beautiful, dark green fur that grew roots and sticks from the back. Large, gleaming eyes shone a wisdom that Ardex felt was beyond his comprehension.

Another had feathers in all the colors that gods could witness, shining as if they were made from droplets of morning dew. When this creature moved, gusts of wind appeared that sang songs.

And at the front stood a lion with fur made from tiny glittering stars, of which Ardex could feel the heat at a distance. The creature looked at the sky and gave a powerful roar.

Ardex almost felt small and insignificant before these creatures. Almost.

The three creatures stood at a distance from each other, as if the other species were all contagious. Was that his mission? Healing these creatures from some illness that Father had invented?

“I, erm, came to take a look. How’s it going?” He sounded like a little boy. Ugh. He should have practiced speeches as well.

No, wait. This was the practice, right?

“You’re a god and you ask us how it’s going?”

The Sunbeamer studied him with disgust, shaking shiny gold rings woven into his manes. Then he turned his back on Ardex and walked away, together with all other Sunbeamers.

“I just wanted to test if you spoke the truth! Of course I know what’s happening. I know everything. I’m omniscient. And yes, sometimes I repeat myself, but using different words. My father—the Chiefgod—taught me this.”

Ardex felt like an entirely different person. He kept talking and explaining himself, as if he had to prove his worth before these animals.

Well, they were kind of his animals. He was one of only three gods in the universe. These creatures, of which hundreds more were gathered in the distance, were almost his … children.

The Skydancer laughed. “Ah yes, I already assumed you weren’t the real Chiefgod. Otherwise I’d be truly disappointed. No, you’re just his weak aid.”

Ardex shapeshifted into a Sunbeamer lion himself and dug his claws deep into the dirt. “Weak? Weak?”

He roared at full power. A volcano rose from the floor, simmering and shaking, which drove the groups of creatures apart.

“You will respect your gods, as you respect your elders!”

“Who must demand respect,” the Earthwaker said, “is not worth it.”

“Oh shut up and put a piece of seaweed in your mouth.”

Ardex calmed himself and his volcano. He studied each creature, one at a time, locking eyes with them. Then he climbed higher on his own volcano.

“I merely came to watch you. To observe. Pretend I’m not here and continue living.”

Multiple Skydancer birds laughed. “Ha! Easy! We pretended you weren’t here the whole time!”

Ardex’ volcano came alive again. No, stay calm. Stay smart. This was the first time these creatures saw a god! And hadn’t he pestered his own parents in similar ways many times?

He felt weird. He couldn’t see or feel the souls of these creatures. The planet seemed faintly familiar. Didn’t Oeros practice with him here, long ago? Was this planet already under Oeros’ magical protection?

When he looked down, he was surrounded by a circle of creatures. Only the Sunbeamers kept their distance, gathering at the horizon. He heard their whispers, asking how long Ardex would stay.

Perhaps they thought he’d only stay a few heartbeats. But no, he knew better. He’d observe these animals for years if needed. And then he’d return home to let his parents know what he though about this challenge.

A bird near him whispered softly. “There … is an actual problem.”

“Finally,” Ardex mumbled. “Tell me and I’ll see what I can do.”

Zyme. He heard father’s words again. Let things happen and only interfere when truly needed.

“And that might mean I do nothing,” he was quick to add.

Whatever it was, they barely dared speak it out loud. Ardex leaned forward and encouraged them.

As he listened to their struggling sentences, he noticed the Sunbeamers gather and create an even larger circle around everyone.

“The lions … they … they attack us … and kill us.”

The Sunbeamers felt they’d waited long enough. They stormed towards the Skydancers and Earthwakers surrounded by a deafening roar. They tried to flee and climb up Ardex’ volcano, but it was too steep and too hot for most, while smoke clouds made it impossible to fly.

The first lions grabbed their prey. They bit right through them, ripping them apart, like it was nothing. Like they were toys to play with, not living creatures.

“Stop! Now!”

Ardex didn’t even believe it himself. He sounded like a tiny mouse, scared of everything. He subconsciously shuffled backwards, further up the volcano, out of reach of both prey and predator.

Doubt made him freeze.

In front of him, animals were killed by wild lions, much larger than the others. It wasn’t a fair fight. It wasn’t a fight, it was a slaughter. Each doubt, each moment of indecision, killed twenty helpless creatures.

Oeros’ voice, screaming in his mind, told him to let it happen.

Gaia’s voice told him to interfere and save the larger group.

Both choices meant death and destruction.

He was the God of Death and Destruction.

He bellowed and created several earthquakes with his voice.

“My flames will feast on you!”

Columns of smoke shot from the volcano’s opening like fiery tentacles. Hundreds of steaming snakes reached in every direction and found the heart of all Sunbeamers. The fearful yells of all animals were replaced by fearful yells from the lions. One by one they burned away in the heat, before they could even blink, and left nothing behind.

With a god at your side, each war would be won within five heartbeats.

All lions had changed into ash, picked up by a powerful wind. Only one lion, the one to address him in the first place, was smart and fast enough to flee.

Ardex would not accept it. He chased it at full speed, underneath stone arcs, squeezing through a crack between mountains, towards a cave where the lion hoped to be safe.

He thought wrong.

Ardex overtook him and cut through the lion using the appearance of a spear. The lion disappeared in a puff of smoke, but not before Ardex could grab one ring from his manes.

Distracted by the shining object, he didn’t notice that this entire part of the planet was covered in a suspicious purple mist. A thick mist he should’ve recognized.

Before he could return to the animals and accept their gratitude, he teleported back to the Heavenly Palace.

Oeros and Gaia stood before him … and sent him all the positive energy they had.

To you, dear reader, they would look like proud smiling parents, clapping and cheering. For Ardex, this was the biggest gift he could ever receive. He finally felt love and support from both his parents. He could ignore how tired and weak he felt, while the shining ring closed on his appearance like a tight bracelet, and spit out an endless array of sparks.

Ardex refused to let go of his Firering. Since receiving his Heavenmatter he felt both reborn and exhausted. He was too euphoric to really investigate it. The years that followed were the best years this family of gods had ever known.

Gaia had finally accepted that Ardex was not the monster. Oeros remained neutral but kept talking about his Zyme.

Which did not make sense.

Oeros should not have been proud. Ardex had interfered! He’d broken the Zyme rule. He had been impatient and destructive, the opposite of his lessons! The consequences where hundreds of dead Sunbeamers. Perhaps Gaia was now comforted, but his own doubts about his monstrosities grew stronger.

So when his parents thought all was well and dropped their guard, Ardex secretly crept towards Eden.

Most arcs with a purple mist had been cleaned up. On instinct, however, he could still find a few of these magical spots.

He realized it was a setup.

That yellow-red planet was familiar to him. It was Dalas, a planet nearby that had been his practice ground for a while.

The creatures weren’t real. All those years that he wasn’t allowed in Eden, his parents had secretly used their magic to create this extremely powerful illusion. He had not killed any creatures. This was not the first seed of life.

It was the third test to see if Ardex was a monster.

He cautiously stepped through another purple arc. He landed on a small moon, not far from Dalas. Still it held the same three creatures, but these didn’t walk or speak. They were statues, unfinished and damaged. A failed illusion.

One of many, it appeared. His parents had worked tirelessly to invent this one perfect, living illusion that had fooled Ardex completely.

“Ardex?” Gaia’s voice sounded several gardens over.

Ardex wanted to hide in a dark corner, but that was nonsense. First of all, Gaia could feel where he was. Second of all, he did nothing wrong. He was allowed to be here.

He had done nothing wrong.

“I’m in your gardens,” Ardex said with a singsong voice. He pretended to be obsessed with a statue. Gaia floated next to him and followed his gaze.

“Oh, yes, one of my better creations, isn’t it?”

Ardex had learned not to give honest feedback on Gaia’s creations.

His Mother rubbed all over her body. Ardex’ sister should come any moment now. As opposed to his own birth, this time you could clearly see that Gaia was pregnant. “One day I hope these creations appear and actually live somewhere in the universe.”

“Wasn’t there already a seed of life? The one Oeros discovered a long time ago?”

“Yes, well, yes, speaking of that …” She was shaking. “No, we don’t want to bother you with that, dear.”

“I’m old enough, mam. I’m ready.”

He didn’t know when it had happened. But at some point, Ardex had changed his mind. He was fine with doing missions for his parents. Helper of the Chiefgods? Didn’t sound so bad. It sounded like something he could do, every day, something he could be.

Maybe it was his guilt over attacking Gaia, something from which she still suffered. Maybe it was his gratitude for giving him the Firering.

Maybe he had experienced freedom now, long enough to know that true freedom and only doing what’s fun … was only fun for a short time. And he was supposed to be a god for a long time.

“Tell me the mission.”

“That seed of life … is dying. Oeros knows the details. Without aid, soon we might be entirely alone again in this universe.”

At the mention of his name, Oeros entered the room. For somebody who always preached calmness, he appeared quite panicked. “You’re both right. Come!”

The three of them merged their mists and, after a flash, floated near a different world.

Ardex instantly felt all the living souls. He saw shapes and silhouettes, larger than they actually were, glowing and connected in the web. This was no illusion, no test.

This was the real work. Ardex had to be ready for the real work.

He’d always been told he should feel extra powerful when near other life—but he only felt more exhausted. Father’s theory that Gaia had only given him negative powers had a pile of evidence by now.

Those living creatures, dear reader, were tiny worms without any order or pattern. They could move and collect food particles, but in no way looked like most animals you know. No eyes, no legs, no intelligent behavior. But it was alive, of that he was sure.

When Ardex stepped closer, his heat made the creatures flee. If they found a crumb of food somewhere, they climbed over each other to get the most of it. As he’d been told, these creatures did everything they could just to survive another day.

But by now, not many of them were left.

“They never learned to eat more efficiently or develop further,” Oeros said with sadness in his voice. “They were lucky their numbers exploded the first few centuries, but now they’re all dying. Without our aid, they won’t survive much longer.”

“So we help—” Oeros shut Gaia up. She grabbed Ardex and sent him mixed energy. “What do we do, dear? These are decisions you have to make. You said you were ready.”

“What do we do, son?” Oeros repeated.

Ardex looked down. The reason for his exhaustion became obvious: the teleportation had removed the Firering from his body. It lay on the stones, a shiny object that seemed to attract the animals as well.

He saw into the future. Say he let them grab the Firering. The animals would suddenly receive a burst of godly power. Yes, they’d survive and become strong. But maybe they’d become a danger to the gods later. Maybe they’d be too strong and kill any other life that evolved on this planet.

Maybe they couldn’t handle the power and he would have actively killed them. Like Oeros had given Ardex too much power in a panic.

And it still hurt. He could not live without pain, without flames deep inside him, without an anger that could erupt without warning. He’d almost killed his own Mother on accident—and, in all honesty, did so using only a sliver of his real power.

Ardex was thinking about the end goal; he had to think about the journey. These creatures had lived for a while. They had existed. But now the laws of nature deemed their time at an end.

He had to let it happen, right?

Gaia looked at him expectantly. Oeros studied the crawling creatures with all his energy, as if it could teach him one more secret that would solve the situation without their interference.

And then the second realization hit.

The Firering was no gift. It was no present, no reward. It was the next prison: they had locked a part of his power inside that ring. If he didn’t touch it, he was much weaker. If he lost it now, he’d be a near helpless god.

He kept shapeshifting, his appearance following the wild waves of his thoughts, until it all turned into the same grey soup.

There was no correct choice. There was never a correct choice.

There was only a choice.

“Zyme,” he said. “We do nothing.”

Ardex turned around and walked away. Behind him, the first flame of life in this universe slowly went out.

Oeros was quick to join him on the way back.

Gaia refused.

“You’re both monsters!” she yelled. “Save them! Don’t let them die!”

“You gave Ardex the choice,” Oeros said. “He made it.”

Gaia could not save them. Ardex’ attack had weakened her. With effort she might be able to create more creatures, but they’d just die as well if she didn’t also create more food.

Or perhaps it was just disbelief and tears from the Mother of all life. In front of her eyes, the last blobs stopped crawling and searching for food. She stormed at her husband and son, a red giant whose tears created rivers.

“Disgusting! You’re supposed to rule over the universe like an affectionate father!”

“We do not rule over the universe, we are part of the universe!”

“And thanks to your monstrous deeds we are now the only thing in the entire universe!”

Ardex reached his Firering. Touching it again confirmed his suspicions. Energy surged through his body and he felt like exploding. Even having the ring was also tiring and dangerous.

His parents had given him a curse either way.

They’d given him nothing but curses and cages.

“Call me a monster one more time,” Ardex screamed, “and you monsters will soon be erased from the universe too!”

Gaia towered over them both.

Oeros stepped away.

“You’ve shown your true soul,” Gaia screamed. “You’re an ungrateful, disgusting, monster!”

The child inside her was now clearly visible and vulnerable. The bright ball looked unhealthy, with black spots that leaked stardust.

“Foul witch! Because of you my life is nothing but pain!” Ardex spit a fireball that burned all creatures still on the floor. It set Gaia’s new dress aflame and turned her tearful rivers into steam.

“Murderer! Monster! You’d kill your own sister!”

“Tyrant! Worthless goddess!”

Two mist trails danced in front of Gaia and turned into arms. Soon after, they held a sword that seemed formed from the pebbles and water droplets all around her.

The planet broke into pieces at her yell.

She leapt at Ardex, the sharp sword pointed at his soul.

Oeros was just in time to pull the entire group back to the Heavenly Palace. Ardex felt his Father tug for a little longer, trying to pull Gaia and him apart, but he didn’t let him. In his rage he even blew the Chiefgod far away from him.

Ardex studied the environment. Oeros had moved the fight to the largest area outside of the palace. His magic would be strongest here, and there was almost nothing to destroy.

“What god just lets his life die?” Gaia screamed. Her sword whizzed through the air like a bird of prey, faster than Ardex anticipated. He sent a barrage of fireballs to melt the weapon, but wasn’t fast enough.

The metal cleaved his appearance diagonally from top to bottom. Nobody would recover from that.

Ardex was mostly disappointed with himself—until he realized he was still alive and felt fine.

“What parents lock up their kid after being born?” Ardex roared. He fed his own rage, raised his inner fires higher and higher, knowing the strength it lend him. “What parents see their kid as evil and nothing but evil?”

What had Gaia’s sword done?

Ardex’ appearance grew until all wounds from the sword had been covered. Like a muscle that breaks down when used, but then grows back stronger. Yes, exactly that. The Firering had to change shape to still fit around him.

He grinned. Why had he ever been scared? Of course his Mother couldn’t do anything. She could only make, not destroy. Only grow, never shrink.

Without fear, Ardex charged Gaia. She held up her sword, but she knew it was hopeless, as if the weapon had suddenly grown too heavy to hold.

“Well,” Ardex said nonchalantly, “that’s what you get when you give all negative powers to someone else. You can’t fight, can you? You cannot hurt me in any serious way.”

He roared again, became a Sunbeamer lion, and sprinted at her. Tornadoes of fire circled his body like snakes, flames blown every which way by invisible winds. His manes sparkled with the light of stars, bright enough to blind everyone and himself.

“Oeros! Help me!” they both yelled in unison.

Oeros did nothing. He floated at a distance, covered in magical mists of a thousand colors, as if he held every possible spell and weapon ready and loaded—but he didn’t seem eager to fire any of them.

One leap and Ardex had Gaia dead to rights.

She could only make, so she made a black wall with unbreakable stone.

Ardex shapeshifted into mist, but even that was stopped. He roared and roared, using searing hot flames to burn away the wall. Once the hole was large enough, he continued at speed.

Gaia was nowhere to be found. Panicked, he circled and circled the area, until something hit his head.

Something … soft. It multiplied. More and more pinpricks hit his head, until steam swirled from his skin.

His mother was a watery silhouette in the distance, dancing and floating.

She’d called for a rainstorm.

Each droplet hurt. The water clashed with the fire within him. Sometimes his element won, sometimes hers. But losing half your body still hurt like never before.

“You promised to support me,” Ardex yelled at Oeros. The pain made his communication a messy signal. “Or are you a lying monster like your wife?”

He stood in a puddle of water, somehow growing deeper and deeper.

“I … I …” Oeros was speechless. Hopeless.

As Ardex grew up, he’d already learned that Gaia was the true Chiefgod and Oeros her pet. If Gaia was to win, Ardex would be the next slave, just like his sister, just like all children to come after it. If Gaia became the rules, the universe would be unbalanced and filled to the brim with wars, for she only made and never removed.

Ardex saw that Oeros was no less a toy than he. “Then I’ll destroy you both!”

At the last word, his body turned red and yellow. He produced an explosion so hot that all colors disappeared and you could only feel the heat. All rain in a wide radius immediately turned to steam, all puddles now swirling lava pools.

In return, his sight was disrupted by a thick white mist.

He used it as cover to find Gaia and secretly creep up on her from behind. But anger had made him stupid—gods could feel each other’s presence.

Gaia appeared in his back, a giant compared to him, and held him in a death grip. He was rendered motionless before he could respond.

Of course, Gaia could only kill you with a hug that’s too tight.

She grew plants and trees from the barren, burned floor. They grabbed Ardex and held him in place, like hundreds of hands.

She pulled all stardust from her surroundings and turned them into a shiny blanket that covered Ardex from above and pulled him down further.

She made small creatures that ignored the trashing demigod and tried to steal his Firering.

But whatever Gaia did, Ardex could destroy it all. Destruction was always easier than invention.

He gave himself sharp claws and cut the stalks as if they were paper.

He returned to his earlier self, a black hole of negative energy, pulling in stardust much faster than his Mother could.

He grabbed her creatures and corrupted them, like spoiling food with a terrible poison, turning them against their maker.

His spirals of fire burned holes in Gaia from all sides, but she refused to let go, even as the child inside her screamed.

He remembered his attack years ago. How one unexpected explosion sent Gaia flying and permanently weakened her. In a fit of madness, he tried the same again.

He broke free.

Like two fast Skydancers they chased after each other, drawing shapes and trails in the sky. Ardex led them back to the palace. They broke through the first wall as if it wasn’t there, and the second, until Ardex had to deviate from his path to avoid one of the magical portals.

Gaia repaired walls just before Ardex would hit them. He destroyed statues as he passed and sent the sharp pieces straight to his Mother.

But would he ever win? Could he win? Could an immortal god die?

And what then?

“Last chance, Oeros!” Arex roared. “Help me and end this fight!”

Oeros didn’t come. He was probably standing in a dark corner, mumbling Zyme.

That thought, dear reader, however small or quick, was Ardex’ demise. His head filled with memories of Father. Their years of training and conversations. It even filled with Mother’s smile. Her happiness and positive energy about … everything.

He didn’t want to fight. He wanted family. He wanted to welcome his little sister and show her the wonders of the world, an older brother who helped his siblings come into their power.

He was no monster, of that he was sure.

Gaia also wasn’t.

But if one would kill the other, then the monster would be born.

So there was only one solution.

He aimed for Eden. Avoiding the network of fountains, rivers, and bridges, he lingered far too long and only pretended to prepare some huge spell.

For once he was in range, Gaia did exactly what he expected. She made all fountains erupt at once, shooting walls of water into the sky. Like a hundred whales who surfaced at the same time to get air, but this time they hungered for a bite of the firegod.

The hit temporarily split his body from his magic, like he’d done to Gaia oh so long ago.

The pain overwhelmed him. The last thing he felt was the energy from a terrified Gaia who tentatively approached. The last thing he heard was her scream asking Oeros for immediate aid.

He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious.

When he woke up, he sat inside a tiny stone room. Underground. He recognized it immediately. The luminous walls that sparked, against which he fought for years during the first “monster test” from his parents.

A magical jail.

Oeros was the first to visit. Ardex felt like an eternity had passed. Oeros’ first spoken line, however, proved that couldn’t be true: “Gaia is currently delivering your little sister. Our second child.”

“Great.” Ardex still felt strange, both in appearance and in mind. “When can I leave?”

“That’s … still up for discussion.”

“Gaia attacked me first! I promise I won’t hurt her.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here,” he looked around, “at the only time Gaia will not look for me.”

Ardex smiled, until he remembered Oeros had done nothing to help him. He would have even preferred it if his Father had helped Gaia! Then he would have had clear enemies in the fight! But now … now he wasn’t sure what his Father actually stood for. Or if he could make the tough decisions when the time came.

“You know I’ll break out,” Ardex said as threateningly as possible. “It’s a matter of time. Leave me to rot here and I shall be less friendly.”

“Ardex, please. You should hear yourself talk. If I wanted, I could crush you with a wave of my hand. Do you understand that? Your threats mean nothing and if you ever attack me you’ll be dead on Dalas before you can blink.”

Oeros said he was strong all the time, but he never showed it. But Ardex didn’t dare risk it, for something in Oeros’ energy told him it was the truth.

Great. Both his parents were talking about killing him again.

“I am sorry,” Ardex said. “I don’t know what you gave me, Oeros. But it’s an uncontrollable fire. It’s too much. I want to be a good god and a good son, but sometimes it’s like … I don’t even control myself.”

Oeros sent comforting energy through the magical bars.

“I know. That’s why we gave you the Firering, the first Heavenly Object, and we’re planning to give each child one of those. You might see it as a curse, but it’s a gift. I meant it as a gift anyway. I cannot speak for Gaia’s intentions.”

He made a piece of white cloth appear out of thin air.

“In fact,” he whispered, “I secretly brought a second gift.”

He pulled the cloth away. A frozen flame, as if it was made from glass and stone, floated before him. Inside, Ardex saw tall fires and bright sparks, but most of all a deep black hole, as if the heart of this flame was violently pulled out of it. Light was bend at the edge of the hole, as if looking through a glass of water, while inside of it all light disappeared.

“The Flamefeaster,” Oeros said. “Use it to control the worst fires and tame the worst magic.”

He leaned forward and whispered. “Not a word to Gaia. The rule is one Heavenmatter per child and Gaia doesn’t even want me to talk to you.”

Ardex barely heard it, enamored by the Firefeaster. The moment he touched it, the fires within him calmed down and he … felt no more pain. No more pain. Peace.

“How … how do you make these things?”

He remembered his test. How that one Sunbeamer lion had purposely led him away to an area covered in purple mist. He sighed.

“It has to be voluntary, doesn’t it? I had to voluntarily, with the Firering, run through the purple mist, so you could trap part of my power inside it.”

Oeros sent confirming energy. “And so the Firefeaster was accidentally created when you voluntarily surrendered to Gaia. Yes, we know what you did. Say what you want, but Gaia did design the laws of this world to reward good deeds.”

Ardex couldn’t say anything nice about Gaia. And they were going to test every child from now on? What if one of them failed? What if he wasn’t the monster from the prophecy, but he had to look as they tormented one of his brothers or sisters who turned out to be monstrous?

The silence was the cue for Oeros to leave. He froze in the opening to the tunnel upwards.

“You did the right thing by letting life die and not interfering. You did the right thing by surrendering. In my eyes, Ardex, you’ve only ever done the right things. No life without death, my son.”

Ardex ran towards his Father, but bounced off of the magical wall. He felt something new. Sadness? Happiness? Tears?

Whatever it was, he wanted to keep feeling it. After all that pain and all those fights, the Firefeaster seemed to give him the calm and control he yearned for, along with his Father’s approval.

He gave himself two claws and scratched a message in the stone floor.

No happiness without sadness.

The feeling was cut short by a voice from upstairs. Gaia’s voice.

“Oeros? Help! Help, our next child is—”

And so it was that life continued …