“ ‘We cannot stop time’, says a Fool. Watch this.”

-A quote attributed to Caineris Suneater before they proceed to start the Infinite War, which rages still.

Anagas Song was still on the way to meet his father, but at a more measured pace. Given the distance, the effort taken, and the infinities between them, it would be stranger if no time was needed for the journey. This was a reality that his servants knew, and though new ones took the place of those that expired readily and without pause, somethig about seeing the trail of decay left behind made the heirling pause, if only for a minute. His sparring partner—the dragon he rescued—took this as a sign to press her advantage, and the thunderous slam of multiple boulders echoes through the ruined arena they were currently borrowing from the local spirits.

“My Lord, please take this seriously. I cannot help you understand the importance of a body if you’d not use it as I use mine.” The dragon spoke as they surveyed the carnage below from up above. Several heads of hers were ready to flood everything with flame while her arms were either gripping weapons or preparing spells and wards for the next offensive. As more time passed, the dragon decided to forego the order of battle and attack again. Massive gouts of fire poured and turned air into plasma as rock turned liquid and anything lesser turned into vapor. What was left were pounded, sliced, and to top it off, cursed and torn apart from the natural order of things, until not even Death could take them.

Anagas Song felt a bit of frustration that none of the attacks made him move from his spot. It was a given, but the heirling still thought that perhaps an exception could be made, that he could crack the secrets of his own body. But there was no destroying what survived the body of his mother, the great Wyrm of Woe and Destroyer-Of-All. It was of great surprise and delight to both his parents that she could conceive at all, and they’ve showed their love for everything save for one.

I still don’t understand why they won’t help you, Kak. Anagas thought to his sister, who had been mostly quiet for most parts of their journey. We’re both their children, aren’t we? Just because you don’t have a body doesn’t mean they shouldn’t stop trying to get you a body. I mean, how hard can it be to find one? I’ve seen our servants make bodies of their own easily, and they’re allowed to do so. What is it that I’m not seeing?

Give it a rest, Dek. I stopped trying to guess and care what our parents thought about my condition years ago. Now get moving, you’re making our new dragon sad. Anagas Song snapped out to see the dragon no longer aloft, instead planting her head at the ground with her wings bared to their base.

“I submit myself to your judgement, My Lord. I’ve failed in carrying out your orders for me. I have no excuse for my lack of capability.” Anagas Song stared at the dragon for a moment before suddenly bursting into laughter, which ceased as soon as it began. The heirling took his first step in a while, offering a hand to his newest servant, who took it with confusion apparent on her face.

“Cheer up, Draggy. I wasn’t expecting you to do what no one else could. Let me show you the reason why, so you don’t go and do that every time you fail.” With a wave of his other hand, Anagas dismissed all of his other servants and placed a protective barrier around the dragon before she could even blink. Then with another hand, he pierced through the wards and spells of this layer of his father’s realm and willed the hole he made to expand. For the briefest of moments, the dragon saw a million, billion, and trillion worlds exposed and bleeding raw, down a rabbit hole deeper than infinity itself. Then Anagas Song felt his father notice what he was doing and gave him a small chuckle before undoing his work with a gaze.

The heirling grabbed the dragon before she could collapse and with practiced ease, pulled out the damning memory from her mind and crushed it. The dragon passed out as soon as he finished and with one last wave of his hand, Anagas Song returned his other servants and let them take care of things, as usual.

He had things to think through now, and time was running out.

Karistina Larisfin had ambition overflowing from every pore of her body, aside from the usual blood and bits. The deities in Blood Falls Godhome dealt with the fluid in some way or form, and as the God of Minor Scars, she knew her way around it. What no one there had any experience with was politics, and it showed with the juvenile insults and threats that were currently swimming around in the Lesser Third Pantheon, especially between the Clean Cut Hegemony and the Festering Wounds Cult. The topic of the day was, ‘Should papercuts be more likely to get infected than other similar, minor cuts?’, and it was going nowhere.

Her eyes passed through a dozen or so of her colleagues before settling onto the few deities whose name she even bothered to remember. Gea Kos, the Goddess of Unconscious Cuts, was dutifully typing away at her laptop with all the details of the discussion she found important. From the blur of fingers hitting keys at speeds just barely tolerable by godly construction, the Goddess found every single part relevant.

The God of Minor Scars thought about leaving many times before, to some other Godhome where she could be living a much larger, more important life. But if deities had one thing in common with one another, it was their utter contempt for anyone else that wasn’t themselves, and that extended to deities from other Godhomes. The only exception to this rule was the truly powerful, those that ruled the upper echelons of Godhomes and the most dangerous parts of the Retribution Fields.

The clock that was the Pantheon’s centerpiece clicked onto the next moment and the deities dispersed their petty grievances and bickerings from public venues to more private avenues. It couldn’t have come soon enough, as Karistina slipped herself into the side of the departing Kos. The Goddess’ eyes flitted to the God’s own, three to four, and with that numbers game, the smaller of the two relented first and fixated upon the destination in her mind. That would not do, though, not for Karistina Larisfin, the God of Minor Scars.

“We need to talk, Kos.” Karistina stepped in front of the Goddess, who finally stopped ignoring the God and opted instead to glare at her.

“We have nothing to discuss, Karis.” Kos spoke one of the nicknames Karistina hoped would rather disappear from memory. “I am not like some of the monsters in this place, using the parts of our fellows for power with no regard for the consequences. There are limits, damn it!”

“If there were such things, they’ve failed long ago. We are power incarnate, but there are degrees and shades, and of course, the rules for rulers and the ruled. If I have to suffer infinity with this life, I’d much rather have it on my terms, not anyone else’. Wouldn’t you rather be up there-“ Karistina pointed to the Godhome’s peak, visible but a blur from where the two were. “-than this sorry place, so close to the edge you can smell the waste we throw off the wayside? Tell me you’re not getting cold feet after this far along. We are so close!”

“Your plan still makes no sense to me. What use are the parts of this godling to us? No ritual I’ve ever heard or read about or made requires such ingredients. Is this some kind of bribe to one of the stronger gods? A sacrifice of their design, in their own singular tastes, that you now hope to use as leverage to put you ahead? Give me a reason that can convince me, Karis, and perhaps I will not abandon you to your foolish fate.” The Goddess gave her ultimatum to the God, and for a moment, uncertainty flashed across Karistina’s face, but it passed as she leaned in and whispered to Kos the truth of the matter.

“We’re going to use him as bait."