"The pen of the lowliest Star towers over the blade of the highest Gods."

-Scribe Hathons, Servant of the Dueling Nova

Anagas' father worked in the trade of creation, which complimented his mother's skill in destruction. For as many weapons he pulled out, that was the number that she destroyed in turn, ending up with them resorting to base physical violence, until even that gave out to something much more intimate in nature. Anagas didn't mind the lurid details now, having grown up being told such things and more with no more than a knowing wink from his mother or a perverted grin from his father, but the memory of having the other kids look at him like he'd turned mortal still served him well in reminding him that his family life was anything but normal.

As he arrived in his father’s domain, he noticed with some trepidation the towering walls surrounding him. They were at arms reach for him, but were he to look a bit harder, he would notice movement upon them, and even occasional sparks as well as smoke. Anagas reached out to a larger speck of dust than most and saw it rest for but a second before once again charging headlong into the depths of the wall. This was the first level of challenges that awaited all save for the chosen; the HINDERING-OF-CHAFF-UPON-WHICH-DESTINY-SURVIVES. True to its name, the only ones that will make it to the end are those whose destinies demand that they survive.

The heirling proceeded through it all with little fanfare, reaching the portal to the next level in good time. A speck floated through the threshold at the same time, turning into a battered and nearly-dead dragon. Its six arms were ashen twigs scrabbling upon the polished crystal floor, and the stumps of four wings beat at the air as two pathetic puffs of smoke left the dragon’s two mouths. But even with more wounds than scales, a glint of recognition passed its remaining good eye, and a single plea came through to Anagas’ mind.

Help me, please.

Anagas considered the offer, looking at his personal guards already encircling the expiring dragon, their weapons ready to deliver judgment. He thought to ask his sister for advice, but her soul remained unusually quiet at the moment. In a rare turn of events, the heirling had the chance to make a decision all on his own.

This is going to hurt. Anagas said to the dragon before a barrage of energy beams disintegrated rained down upon its target. Once every trace of the body was gone, Anagas held out his hand and pulled on some invisible fabric of the world, changing the fate that had transpired into the one he had foreseen; the path that will bring him what he desired most in the world.

Once the heirling had finished, he looked upon the dragon before him, no longer bruised or cut or singed. The change went deeper, though, as now Anagas’ newest servant had the body of its master, or rather, its pale imitation. It saw with two eyes and flew with one pair of wings, with merely a pair of arms and legs on its body. Its horns fused into a tapered lance which tipped the dragon’s nose, giving the servant the impression that it had a blade for a head. Its mouths were merged into one, with a binding upon its tongues to prevent falsehoods and betrayal from being uttered.

All it needed now was a name, and Anagas had just the one. One by one, the letters were carved upon his newest servant’s soul, to be their deepest truth. The process took no more than a minute, but the effect would last forever. Upon completion, the dragon transformed once more, turning into a humble umbrella.

“Useful.” Anagas remarked as he called the umbrella to hand and unfolded it. The canopy came not too soon as rain fell in the second part of Anagas father’s realm. At the moment, it appeared to be a lush rain forest, thick with vegetation and bursting with life big and small, though none paid the heirling any heed. It seemed a far cry from the previous labyrinth of death, but only to the ignorant.

Upstream of a river Anagas stepped over with ease, a band of brothers fought for their lives against one another by the hand of a simple pollen. The flower it came from was plucked by the hands of a young rover, and in his mind he saw himself giving it to the handsome elf that caught his eye. Alas, now that same romance came to a head as the two beheaded one another in the same turn, eyes blind with rage and mouth frothing like rabid dogs.

This and other tragedies were hidden well by the garden caretakers. Their deception was perfect and their minds bent only to one purpose: creating the most perfect garden in existence. What alien thoughts roamed in their inscrutable minds were paused as they knelt before the passing of their master’s heir.

The portal to the next stage was on top of a gigantic, ancient rock in the middle of raging rapids created by several waterfalls. The only way to even reach the rock was by three bridges, each guarded by a monster personally created by Anagas’ father in his younger days. All three were waiting for him at the same place, merging their bridges to ensure only the safest and most comfortable route existed for the heirling.

Anagas saw their display and felt … annoyed. This endless parade of servants, of having life handed to him in a silver platter and of an eternity being in the shadow of his great parents. He knew of no other life, and so all he could focus on were the bad parts. He longed for this status quo to be shattered, for his life to be even a little bit more interesting, even if he had to give it all up.