Mourllian watched as his once proud city sundered in the wake of his father’s wrath. He stood hundreds of miles away on the edge of newly formed cliffs over an ocean that filled the void where the world was split in two. His eyes, blessed by his divinity, took in every detail as magma erupted through the crust at the epicenter of the cataclysm. Jolts of lightning met the volcanic eruptions where dozens of small islands formed as the fires met the sea. At their center was a larger island with a lake of molten stone at its center that refused to cool.
A red haze of dust shrouded the sky above him as the sun burned behind the veil, as if eagerly trying to catch a glimpse of the destruction for itself. The ground at his feet was scorched and shallowly cracked. Far below, the waves raged against the fresh rock. Some crested hundreds of feet in the air thanks to the spasmic tremors of a world reeling.
“You are a cruel god, father.” Mourllian said against the raging winds. “You destroyed everything… all my research and works. All that I sacrificed and strived for, taken away with a single swipe of your fury. Even the House of Creation is a ruin beneath my feet.”
Mourllian stood there for a long time, and though the sky eventually cleared, and the smog faded, he remained. He watched and wept as countless days and nights passed him by like silent watchmen performing their vigil over the fractured world.
Slowly, noticeably, his eyesight started to diminish. He could not see the ruins of Vedyllon any longer, and his other senses started to fade as well, but his mind remained strong.
“I feel drained as I never knew. Brother, do you feel it too?” A voice said from behind him.
Mourllian spun around, taking his eyes off the horizon for the first time in a very long time. Standing before him was his brother, Ketevlier, but the form he had taken was unfamiliar and clothed in the rough sheepskin garments of the humans that still lived among the plains.
“What did you say?” he asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
How are you here? What I did to you… no, you should not be here. Not placidly, at least.
“I feel our strength fade. New gods rise from the dead, mournfully made.”
“You sound mad… curious.” Mourllian muttered to himself. “Perhaps this experiment was not all a loss.”
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Ketevlier’s eyes grew wary, and he eyed Mourllian, “You are my brother, correct? Forgive me, but my mind is suspect. My thoughts feel like dreams never known, and my soul feels dark and alone.”
Mourllian cringed with an unusual pang of guilt as he answered, “Yes, Ketevlier, I am your brother.”
“That is good to hear, for you started to fill me with fear.” Ketevlier said with a child-like grin.
Ketevlier’s abrupt calm did nothing to alleviate Mourllian’s guilt which weighed him down like a stone sitting in the pit of his stomach.
If he remembered my experiments on him, how I tore his mind away time after time trying to find the solution, he would have killed me already. I will live with this guilt for eternity… Yet, guilt fades with time, it always has. If I stop now, then it would all have been for nothing, I will not let your sacrifice, unwilling as it was, be in vain.
“Do you remember how you came here?” Mourllian asked.
Ketevlier shrugged, “I cannot recall, but it may have been with a fall. I was flying, I think. That was before I came to this brink.”
“Never mind that, we have work to do.” Mourllian said with growing excitement.
“What is our work? Tell me, I will not shirk.”
Mourllian turned back to face the sea. A new plan formed in his mind and drew his spirit out of despair.
It will take millennia to rework the formulas alone, and I loathe to think of how long it will take to forge new implements to the necessary precision, but time is fortunately on my side.
He raised his hand and a set of stone stairs appeared out of the cliffside leading down to the remainder of the House of Creation.
At least some of my power remains. I will have to find a way to rectify that quickly if I am to have any hope of success.
“Brother,” Mourllian said with his back to Ketevlier, “you do not remember, but our father has cast us out of the heavens. He punishes us for our actions he deemed a sin, but we will not stop our good works.”
“What was our sin, and why would we commit it again?” Ketevlier asked with concern crossing his face.
“We will not. Before, I tried to grant the humans our knowledge… with your help,” he added quickly. “Now, our father has damned us for our generosity. I will not make the same mistake. No, in place of knowledge, I will bring them madness, and the world will rejoice.”
“What of the new gods? Surely, they will worsen our odds.” Ketevlier noted.
“The infant gods are an obstacle, but one we will remove in time. We will reclaim our might with each one we slay. No, this broken world does not need new gods, it needs the old and the wise.”
Mourllian walked down the steps, followed closely by Ketevlier, to the House of Creation.
If you had truly wanted to save this world, you would have destroyed me and this house entirely, father. What happens next is as much my accomplishment as it is your fantastic failure.
A quarter way down the cliff, he reached the last step and turned toward a tunnel in the wall. He stepped out of the wind and the light to walk into the darkness that now consumed the once radiant birthplace of the world.
