One of the strangest things about godhood is that darkness isn't blinding. I thought, idly. One of the first things I learned about mortals after committing myself to studying their memories was that they spent a lot of time in the dark.

Heh, mortals are often metaphorically in the dark, and they are often literally in the dark as well. Because they blink so much. Sometimes, my own thoughts amused me, I realized after I made myself chuckle.

My eyes were shut, but I could still see what surrounded me. I could still see the private chambers of Qu'Ren, the witch in charge of the proto-coven known as "The Traditional Sisterhood", as well as the beautiful dark elf herself.

The dark elf ceased her efforts to put on clothes, which was what she had been up to when I willed myself into her room. She wore pants but was topless in front of me. She had been standing up when I arrived, but immediately after I closed my eyes she sat down on a spider-silk cushion, the very same one she had been lounging on when she and I went on a tour of the city a few months ago.

On an aesthetic level, I appreciated her physical beauty. I was fully aware that it'd cause some people to not want to harm her due to the lust she evoked in them, those unlucky souls who were carnally minded. That weakness could be exploited, and throughout her life, Qu'Ren had exploited that weakness.

I studied Qu'Ren while scrolling through my HUD. After a few moments of waiting for me to move or speak, she gave up and idly closed her eyes as well.

It's so odd that she does that. I thought, curiously. It was a strange gesture for her, one she did unconsciously. The reason why I knew that was because she wasn't like me. Her vision relied on light, even minute amounts of it. Shutting her eyelids prevented her from using those small amounts of light to peer through darkness.

Whenever her eyes closed she was blinded by impenetrable, to mortals anyway, darkness. The darkness of her eyelids. The reason why this was so odd to me was that due to it being something she did unconsciously it was something she wasn't even aware she did.

I don't understand the brain well enough to know why or how things are done subconsciously. I thought, reminding myself that for all the knowledge I had gained, there was still a lot I didn't know or understand.

That was something I learned because I had enthusiastically dove into her memories. I knew my dark-elven servant. In many ways, she was an open book to me, which was more than I could say about myself.

Power. That one word was constantly on Qu'Ren's mind. It drove her. It had her whole life. I continued to study her, even as I inched closer to the part of my HUD that'd allow me to bestow upon her the power she craved.

I recalled how vividly her soul was drawn to power and the countless small ways power had altered her life. One particular memory of Qu'Ren sprung to mind. In it, I got to see an early example of both the dark elf desiring power.

When she opened her eyes all Qu'Ren could see was the gravelly floor of the wilder outskirts of Undermoon. And she felt pain. It wracked her body, causing her to have to control her breathing, otherwise her lungs would begin to burn from the blow she had just sustained.

"One... two... three..." She thought, counting the seconds after she last breathed. They went by agonizingly slowly and each of them offered her a tempting gift: the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. But here and now, unconsciousness would be followed by death. And so, though the dark elf appreciated the thought, she'd have to decline.

Once five seconds passed, the girl who wasn't even twenty years old yet and therefore an overgrown fetus by the standards of her species, dared to breathe again. As precious oxygen filled her lungs, she both felt the sudden relief of breathing after holding her breath for agonizing seconds, and deep, heated pain, that once more had rein to surge through her.

"Right now even staying conscious is painful." She observed all while trying to keep herself together.

"Damn it Mythos." She thought, cursing her brother's recklessness. And then she heard him begin to come to, his fallen form apparently not far from hers.

She heard him roll around a bit, and she could hear both pain and uncharacteristic caution in the slowness of his movements, the caution he exhibited. That brought the suggestion of a sadistic smile to her face.

And the moment the corners of her lips tugged upwards she felt pain crash into her skull, causing her to relent. Mentally, the young conjurer hissed and then pushed herself to refocus on her current unpleasant circumstances.

"I must move." She realized, remembering the danger she was in.

Finally, the girl began to lift her head up. Before she could move she needed to see her surroundings. She needed to see if her attacker, as quiet as it was, was moving towards her and her foolish brother.

"Every centimeter is... agonizing." She thought, as little by little she mustered the will needed to push her head up and grant her sight of more than just the silverly gravel that made up the unpaved tunnels of Undermoon's outer reaches. It took her nearly 10 seconds, 10 horrendous and unforgettably painful seconds, to move her head into a position where she could assess her surroundings.

In front of her was the building she had just been punched through. It was one of the many derelict buildings that made up Undermoon's slums. And though there was now a gaping hole in its walls, the minotaur responsible for hurling her and her brother out of the building was nowhere to be seen. At the moment.

Qu'Ren silently cast a minor healing spell on herself. She smiled as the pain that had made her miserable over the last few moments subsided. It didn't dissipate completely, but it lost its biting edge.

Qu'Ren, strengthened by her spell, eagerly got to her feet. Pain wracked her form as she did so, but it couldn't stop her with the threat of the minotaur so close.

"Damn you Mythos!" She said, childishly cursing his name. He groaned, the sound pained. His fallen form wasn't far from her and she turned to look at him.

Though her sibling had regained consciousness, he hadn't begun the process of standing up just yet. Qu'ren quietly considered whether or not to heal him, but then she picked up a flash of movement in the corner of her eye.

She again turned, this time in the direction of the building she had just been violently evicted from while taking a step back. She rose a hand in the direction of her brother and grunted as she magically healed the worst of his wounds, sending a wave of positive energy his way. He groaned once more, but this time the sound wasn't as pained.

"Get up you oaf!" She said, urgently. Each passing moment allowed Qu'Ren to worriedly consider the terribleness of their relative position, and that awareness drove Qu'Ren to think.

"What can I do here? How can I save us from this position?" She thought, frantically. Those were urgent, but ultimately rational thoughts. They were only part of the chorus she heard in her mind.

"Damnit, damnit! Mythos is so weak!" A bitter part of her complained. Qu'Ren tried to fight that part off. But that was just one voice in a dark, unhappy, choir of petty inner voices. The loudest one of them all wasn't easy to fight off.

"Qu'Ren... why are you so weak?" This inner voice asked, cuttingly. It wasn't done.

"It's one thing for Mythos to get hurt. He's weak. That's what happens to weaklings. But you... if you were stronger... if you are stronger than your brother, which you pretend you are, then why did you get hurt too?" The voice asked, not just challenging Qu'Ren to think about her weakness, but also chiding her for pretending she was stronger than her younger brother, Mythos.

"Power. If you want to get out of this, you need power." That same voice whispered into her mind as if it were not a manifestation of self-hate and loathing, but a lover who caressed her and kept her warm.

"Power." That word resounded in Qu'Ren's mind. She rose a hand in the direction of the building she and her brother were investigating.

"Power." She fixated on the word, as she saw the white-furred creature responsible for the pain she felt and for the still prone and barely conscious state of her brother. She rose a hand, unsteadily, in the direction of the creature who she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt wasn't done with either her sibling or herself. Her hand trembled, but it rose to fulfill her desperate wishes and strained reflexes.

"Power." She thought, so intensely that she actually mouthed the word, as she felt her heart race. The creature took a step forward, slightly lessening the distance between it and them. It was still within the building, but just a step or two away from the gaping hope the brutal attack it launched on her and her brother had created.

The hulking man-bull had metal armor on its chest, head, and legs. Both of its hands were wrapped in metal gloves, adding weight and impact to even the weakest attacks the mighty thing could throw at Mythos and Qu'Ren. Something the two siblings knew first hand.

"If I get out of this situation..." Qu'Ren muttered, her eyes focused on the bulky minotaur before her. "I'll never be weak again." She said, promising herself something she had promised herself before. Twice in fact. And then the young dark-elf began to ready a spell, calling on the considerable mystical energy flowing through her even at a young age.

White fire began to materialize in the shape of a thick ball just beyond her outstretched hand. She calmed herself, and then took careful aim at the monster in front of her. The bullish man-beast reared its bestial head back and roared. And Qu'Ren released the sphere of heat, sending it flying forward with but a thought.

[Hello Althos, how may we help you today?] The religion menu asked me, in a polite tone.

Seconds after remembering a bit about Qu'Ren's bad day, which was also the last time she promised herself she'd "never be weak again", I reached the part of the religion menu I needed to access to make Qu'Ren a true witch. It started off with that message.

I smiled and thought up a response. [Hello, I'm here to grant Qu'Ren the witch class. And therefore I'll be making her the first witch to gain her powers through me.] I responded. I didn't have to wait long to receive a response. But I also heard it.

Qu'Ren giggled suddenly as if something were funny. And then she began to smile brightly, though she kept her eyes closed.

[The system has confirmed that the dark elf Qu'Ren has agreed to become a witch of yours. The system has informed her that this will cost her her soul, in exchange for immense power. She agrees to the conditions imposed upon her.] The system informed me, its voice mechanical but its words significant.

[Those conditions include receiving a brand somewhere on her body which you will be able to customize and obeying commands of yours at least once a day. As she grows in power, her service to you will increase proportionally. Witches gain great power in exchange for their servitude, and those who provide them with their power use them in a number of ways.] The voice of the system continued to speak, its tone continuing to be eerily emotionless.

[New Patron Power Explanation: Brand

Brands are the first reminder a witch, ward, or warlock receives that reminds them that their power is not their own. A patron's brand is a physical mark that a patron places on their witches, warlocks, and wards that serves to perpetually remind the branded person that they have willingly given themselves over to something darker and grander than themselves in exchange for power.

No witch, ward, or warlock, can use the power their patron gives them unless they've been branded by their patron. They are told this right away, and anyone who becomes a witch receives their own alert about the brand before they agree to become a witch, ward, or warlock.

No true patron has existed in countless eons, but in the old age, patrons were fond of placing their brands on sensitive skin. The purpose of this was not to fulfill some sadistic urge or to break their servants to their wills more effectively, but for a real, pragmatic purpose.

Brands can serve as spell sigils, and patrons can remotely cast magic through brands. Placing the brands on sensitive skin can ensure the brand will be revealed to the unwitting in moments of passion, wherein the patron can use magic on unwitting fools or hated enemies seduced by their servants.

Brands can also be used to punish or reward the branded, as the brand serves as an arcane chain that binds them to their patrons. If the patron wills it, the brand inflicts all sorts of sensations on the branded, including but not limited to pain.]

Oh? Now that is... interesting. I thought, after reading and then willing away that notification, a confident smirk on my face as I imagined places to put the brand.

And that wasn't the only explanation I received either.

[New Power-Set Explanation: Patron.

Patrons are those who grant power to witches, warlocks, and wards.

Each type of higher being, gods, archdevils, demon-lords, archfey, great-old-ones, etc. was capable of creating their own distinct types of witches, warlocks, and wards. The powers their witches, warlocks, and wards gained were always tied both to the sort of higher being in question and to the sorts of powers the individual in question had at their disposal.

Patrons have a set of powers at their disposal to make up for the fact that they cannot become warlocks, witches, or wards. Those are some of the only classes that are not available to you as a god, instead, you are the one on the other end: the provider of the powers used by witches, warlocks, and wards.

Until you gain access to and the proper tier of influence over, the right sorts of domains and subdomains, you are limited in how many of the spellcasters you can create in a day. As of right now, you can create a total of five witches, wards, and warlocks in a day. That number will increase in time.

The process for granting someone the witch, ward, or warlock classes is an intensive one. It's a personal one. It shouldn't be done lightly, because these are significant classes with real power.

You do more than just brand someone when you grant them one of these classes. You mark them as your property, and you grant them echoes of your power. Keep that in mind moving forward.]

And with that, I began the process of granting Qu'Ren the witch class.