"The Goddess of Shadows and Chains"
Maevhara stood silent for a moment, watching the trio of bloodstained children with eyes that shimmered like dying stars. Then she turned her back to them and raised her hand.
"Shall we," she said.
Maevhara extended her hand, and the very air shimmered around her fingertips. A deep hum, like the thrum of ancient chants whispered by forgotten gods, pulsed through the clearing. Then, with a flick of her wrist, the portal split open—wide and luminous. Swirling hues of violet and gold danced around its edges like liquid flame, laced with shimmering symbols no mortal tongue could name. The aura around it felt alive, ancient, and watching.
"Are you ready?" she asked, voice cold and regal.
Kael stepped forward first, unblinking. Nyra followed, silent and observant. Aelina trailed last, twisting her fingers with eerie calm.
They entered.
The moment they crossed, light engulfed them—and then, silence. Before them stretched a realm unlike any they'd known. Floating islands orbited the heavens, linked by bridges of crystal and starlight. Beasts with molten skin soared past deities cloaked in shadows. Spires of obsidian pierced the clouds, and rivers of luminous ether ran through the streets. All around them, gods and divine creatures paused to stare.
Whispers spread.
"Who are they?"
"Children?"
"No… maybe something darker."
"Impossible…"
"Are they mortal?"
"No. No, not anymore."
"They smell of demons—and gods."
Maevhara led them with grace, her silver robes barely touching the glowing marble. The crowd parted, murmurs following. But the siblings… they walked with no fear, no awe—or no unfeelness.
When they arrived at the temple—grand and spiraling, carved from divine stone—six figures waited. These were The Aetherbound, Maevhara's loyal council: High Priestess Vesira, Stormcaller Brakar, Whispered Flame Elarion, Bloodscribe Thren, Oathkeeper Mirai, and the ever-loyal, trembling Zephrius. They bowed low as Maevhara took her place on a throne carved of star-bone and blackened crystal, glowing faintly with power. Its aura felt suffocating—dominance given form.
Just as she was about to speak, a sneer cut through the air.
"With all due respect, Master… who are these insolent children? Why have they not bowed to you?"
The voice came from God-Knight Az'reth, a towering being with golden armor scarred by war, obsidian eyes sharp with contempt. Beside him stood his two siblings—Seraphis and Orren, elegant and venomous in their disgust.
Kael's lip curled. He heard the sneer, gave a death glare, and then added in a dark tone, "If you don't like our presence, old man, feel free to look elsewhere."
The insult hung in the air like blood in water. Murmurs turned to outrage. Seraphis gasped. Orren drew a blade half an inch.
Nyra said nothing. Aelina sat beside a bench, slowly petting a small, odd creature she'd picked up—plucking its fur until blood oozed from its raw skin. She giggled as it whimpered, uncaring. The council watched in revulsion. Even gods felt a sliver of unease.
Maevhara raised a hand to speak—interrupted again.
"Master," piped Zephrius, "perhaps it is better we introduce them first to the rest of the divine."
She nodded, then clicked her fingers.
A blinding flash.
Now they stood in the central sanctuary—The Celestum. A grand arena of floating thrones and golden platforms, filled with millions. Gods, divine beasts, astral warriors—every kind of being the heavens held.
Maevhara seated herself on her true throne—The Seat of Echoed Eternity, forged from the bones of an ancient dragon god and layered with molten celestial gold. It pulsed with her power—an aura of merciless beauty and cosmic dread.
"All hail the great Maevhara," the crowd boomed.
Maevhara the Undying Storm.
The siblings stood before them, still and silent. Some gods mocked. Others whispered. All stared.
Maevhara rose.
"I know you're all wondering… Who are these three strange children?" she said with a soft smile. "Why are they here?"
Kael rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
"These children," she continued, "will live among us. They are now part of our celestial place. Treat them as family, for they are mine."
"WHAT?!"
An uproar broke out. Shouts. Rage. Questions.
Maevhara raised her hand again, and silence fell like a blade.
"They are under my wings. They are now my children."
Silence.
Then, a roar of praise. "Maevhara the Merciful! The Wise! The Mother Eternal!"
Kael scowled and reached into his sister's mind through their telepathic bond. "Tch. You hear this garbage? If it weren't for you bribing me with food and shelter, I'd spit in this damn place and leave."
Nyra responded in silence, "We needed time. We're using her. Don't forget that."
Suddenly, a voice pierced their mental link.
"Have they sworn themselves to you, my lord?" It was Vesira, calm but firm. "Have they pledged loyalty? Offered their life? Made the sacred pact?"
Kael snapped, voice dripping with disdain. "Swear loyalty? To her? You've lost your celestial minds."
He turned to the court, loud and unrepentant. "Hey, old hag! Tell your lapdogs to calm down. We're not your soldiers. We're not your precious children. We're ourselves. No one's fan club."
Gasps echoed. Az'reth turned crimson. "You insolent brat! You dare speak to our Master like that?!"
The gods shouted. Threatened. Some summoned weapons.
Then—
SLAM!
Maevhara's staff—The Scepter of Unraveled Stars—crashed against the floor. It was a twisted shape, almost serpentine, made of molten gold and black diamond, its head an open eye of violet fire. The sound rang like judgment through eternity.
"Enough."
The crowd froze.
"They have not pledged to me yet. But they will—once their training begins."
Kael opened his mouth—but Nyra stepped forward.
"What kind of training?" she asked, her voice eerily calm.
A voice tried to cut her down. "Silence, wretch! You don't speak unless told!"
Kael snarled. "Who even are you, huh? A third-rate sidekick pretending to matter? Get lost, you crusty cosmic hemorrhoid."
Gasps again. Az'reth shook in fury.
"Now, now, Az'reth," Maevhara said coldly, "we don't need to argue yet."
She turned to Nyra. "You will learn to kill demons. Corrupted gods. Monsters that crawl from beyond the Veil. And fight other worlds. That's all for now."
Kael scoffed. "Old hag, you really should stop dreaming up fairy tales. We don't bow to gods. Especially not you. Don't twist this into something it's not."
The crowd exploded again—but Maevhara only waved a hand, and silence reigned.
"Enough," she shouted, her tone turning colder. "You may believe you're in control now, but remember your place. I can give you power beyond your understanding, but in return, you will respect the rules of this place."
But Nyra tilted her head, eyes cold. "I think you must be mistaken, old hag. Do not forget our deal when we agreed to the terms. We will do your so-called training and do what you ask—but don't think you can control us. We are not like your people. We are different, okay? And Kael is right. No one controls us. Got that?"
Kael added, "You can't tame storms with chains, Maevhara."
Aelina tilted her head, a small cruel smile on her lips. "Try and tame us. We'll return the favor—with your own bones."
Gasps turned into silence. Then uproar.
With that, the three turned their backs.
The golden doors slammed behind them, echoing through the divine halls. Shouts and curses followed. But they never looked back.
Maevhara sat quietly. Then… she smiled.
"They don't yet see it," Maevhara murmured to herself, "but those three will decide the fate of gods and monsters alike. And whether they burn this world—or build it anew—depends on who breaks first."