Several more days passed in which my life continued, primarily, as that of a guest on the island of Avalon. I spent most of my time in the palace or in Morgana's tower, though I also took time to explore the island and the ancient civilization it housed.
I took the opportunity to bring Elise out and spend some time together. Even though there weren't any major attractions to see or memorable activities to do, every moment by her side was, as always, fun and worth remembering. That is, until Morgana, after several days of recovery, came out and saw Elise for the first time.
To say she was intrigued would be an understatement. I could practically see the hunger and greed in her eyes. Elise wasn't a common magical creature—she wasn't just a unicorn. Otherwise, Morgana wouldn't have looked at her with such intensity. Morgana, like many other mages of her era, was a magical researcher. Many like her—solitary and obsessed with knowledge—sought answers through their own investigations. A specimen as peculiar as Elise awakened in her the same greed she once felt toward me… and we all know how badly that turned out for her.
The situation worsened when she discovered that Elise had transcended mortal limits and brushed against divinity. I could almost see her losing control, tempted to break the pact we had made—all just to get her hands on Elise… but she couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to, the pact also protected my people, my loved ones, and above all, my family. Since Elise was my partner, Morgana couldn't harm her. That powerlessness nearly drove her mad.
It took her a while to calm down. Having a being touched by divinity right in front of her and being unable to do anything about it was a heavy blow—just one more in a series of many she'd been receiving lately.
It was after that episode that we began to speak more deeply and exchange information more seriously.
I revealed some truths: about myself, about Elise, our goals, our era, the current state of divinity, and even how she herself is remembered through the centuries…
For her part, Morgana shared some of her knowledge about the gods. At first, she had no intention of revealing too much. The pact worked against her, but she was cunning enough to hide information between the lines. However, as our exchanges progressed and our discoveries deepened, her attitude began to shift. Little by little, she started revealing more delicate details—even secrets. And over time, as our cooperative relationship grew stronger, she would come to share even more.
...
Time passed like the wind. Morgana was a peculiar host. Even when the pact acted like a chain around her neck, forcing her to fulfill certain conditions, she behaved as if we were the ones who should be grateful for her hospitality.
But in truth, that mattered little. Once I had obtained the information I needed, we both resumed our mostly separate paths. She handled her affairs, and I handled mine. If necessary, we sought each other out; otherwise, we each followed our own course. Sometimes we'd meet for a meal, but even that wasn't guaranteed.
Beyond the mundane routine on that ancient island, my mind was immersed in reflection, processing, and planning around all the information I had received about the gods.
From all that I was able to extract from Morgana—and from the books I later read—I gathered a great deal of knowledge. Much of this information was difficult to verify, but surprisingly, a portion of it could be.
Let's start at the beginning: yes, the gods did exist and walked this world—something I already knew. However, I had no idea how many there really were. They weren't as countless as today's human population, but neither were they as few as people tend to believe. All known pantheons—Greek, Egyptian, Aztec, Chinese—were likely real, and possibly even more vast and complex than we had imagined. Even the Catholic Church or outer entities like those described by Lovecraft might have a basis in reality, though perhaps not as they are currently interpreted.
There was an era in which gods proliferated. While they weren't immensely numerous, they continued to appear and disappear. They could grow stronger, weaken, clash with each other... But all of that came to an end. Today, there are no gods left on Earth—or at least, that's what is assumed.
All gods, from all pantheons, left this world at the same time… or almost. They didn't scatter through space—at least, most of them didn't. Each pantheon had its own divine realm: a separate world, a different plane of existence, a sacred dimension where they resided. Asgard, Mount Olympus, Heaven, Hell… They were all divine realms, and it's in them that the gods now dwell.
However, during an event known as the "Recession of the Gods," all connections between Earth and those realms were completely severed.
Since then, those planes have been inaccessible. No one can enter or leave them and return to our world. That's why there is no longer any trace of "divine intervention." If any connection between Earth and the gods still exists, it is minimal. The world is, for all practical purposes, completely devoid of divine presence.
Apparently, at some point, the resources the gods used—or certain essential energies of the planet—began to run out, like a river slowly drying up. They didn't vanish entirely, but everything indicated that a long period of scarcity was approaching. During that time, many gods, from the most powerful to the humblest, would be weakened.
If a single god held dominion over a specific divinity, there wouldn't be a problem. But if several shared the same sphere of power, the situation became unsustainable. Take Zeus, Thor, and Raijin, for example: all gods of thunder, from different pantheons. During that time of energetic decay, all three would see their power diminished—though not enough to lose their divinity. However, the only way to keep their strength intact would be for only one of them to remain. That is, all the gods of thunder would have to fight one another until one prevailed. Only then, with no competition for that divinity, would their power remain stable.
Even as the sole god of a divinity, the risk never completely disappeared. Although during that period it was unlikely for new gods to emerge, if for some reason one appeared claiming the same sphere of power, in time the same conflict would begin again.
That situation was, in essence, a prelude to a large-scale divine war. And no one wanted that. No god wished to die, and facing open war against who knows how many others was an unbearable idea for most. But the options were limited.
Eventually, the great pantheons made an almost unanimous decision—a resolution imposed upon all gods. Whoever refused would be destroyed by the others. One less competitor that way.
All divine beings would completely abandon the Earth before those resources reached their lowest point. They would remain separated from the world until the end of times arrived: the Apocalypse, Ragnarök, the Twilight of the Gods. It was agreed that, when that moment came, all would return to this world to fight the final battle.
The gods understood that war was inevitable. Though this energy "drought" would be temporary, the planet would never be what it once was. The resources would never again be enough to satisfy all divinities, accustomed as they were to unsustainable levels of power and existence. That's why a sort of global truce was declared. No one knew who would survive or who would perish in the final battle, so the wisest course was to live as much as possible before the end came.
When the end of the Earth arrives, the gods will fight. Those who survive will be able to claim the last remaining energies of the world—either to rebuild it from the remnants and begin a new cycle, or to depart for other corners of the universe in search of a new home.
The truth is, all of this seems cyclical. No one can say whether our planet was the first… or just another in a long chain of worlds reborn after previous divine wars. Perhaps all this has happened before. Perhaps it is destined to happen again.
Certainly, it was shocking information—difficult to understand and even harder to believe. If it weren't for the fact that I knew Morgana didn't lie—and for other reasons too—I would have doubted it. The gods didn't leave without a trace: many priesthoods knew something about this exodus, but chose to keep it secret so as not to weaken the faith of their followers, hoping the divine return would someday come.
Morgana was one of those informed people. Her connections with certain gods gave her access to truths most mortals were unaware of. In fact, her "Broken Seal" state was nothing more than the result of having borrowed a thread of divine power from an entity that no longer dwelled in this world.
Although the gods had left Earth, traces of them still remained. And people like Morgana—intelligent, ambitious, cunning—had learned to take advantage of those remnants in many different ways. Precisely because of that knowledge, because of that ability to channel divine remnants, she so deeply desired Elise.
You see, the reason the gods decided to leave just as the drought reached its most critical point was out of fear. Fear that, in their absence, a new god might be born.
If a new deity emerged when none of the old ones were present, that entity could claim all the remaining resources… and even those that began to regenerate over time. Yes, it's true that those resources would never again be as abundant as before, but if a single being monopolized them, it would still be a threat.
And it wasn't just about material or energetic resources—but something more abstract, yet just as vital: faith.
Faith is also one of those "resources." During the drought, it lost some of its purity and power, but it still functioned. A god can sustain their existence through an essential divinity—permanent, inherent to their nature—or through faith, which is more volatile. Faith-based divinity is fed directly by believers: the more followers, the greater the power. But also, the fewer the believers... the weaker the god.
Many gods still existed thanks to that power of faith. But there was a problem: faith can change. It can be corrupted. If all your followers believe you are cruel or evil, and your divinity relies solely on belief, your essence may eventually change. Your personality may become darker—a reflection of your followers' fear or hatred.
That's why most gods preferred not to depend solely on faith, though not all had that privilege. Still, if a god already had an established divinity, faith was a useful "bonus." An additional boost. An advantage—as long as it didn't make them vulnerable.
And that was the real risk: if all the gods withdrew from the world and a new one was born, it could destroy all previous religions before the old ones returned. It could install a single faith centered only on itself. Then, when the original gods came back, they would face not just a god that monopolized the planet's remaining resources, but one that had seized all the world's faith. An absolute enemy.
That's why, before leaving, the gods left behind a kind of "curse." A subtle enchantment that would gradually erase the most important information about them: their true names, the methods to access divinity, the ancient rituals. Everything would fade away over the centuries. Thus, by the time the planet was ready to give birth to a new deity, there would no longer be enough knowledge for anyone to ascend.
And that curse… worked.
In my time, knowledge about the gods is practically nonexistent—reduced to blurry legends, forgotten texts, and muggle religions devoid of any real connection to the divine.
But what those gods didn't expect… was for someone as wicked as me to arise. Someone capable of breaking every rule. Of defying the forbidden. Of raising a new god in a world devoid of them.