They stood around the light of creation; it was almost time. Yet for the moment time was paused, they could do as they pleased for eternity and not lose a single second within the central part of the realm.

They wouldn’t of course, all of them were eager to return, to see what had taken place and begin the cultivation of Wonder.

They had yet to start this of course, because Malan, hand hovering over the light. Was learning how to pick where they wished to go. The moment his hand rested on the light he felt rejection, creation informing him he wasn’t allowed to enter yet.

He knew this already and sent an assertion back. This outer realm was there to guide and help them navigate the game. So he willed it to show him a map of the realm, that way he could pick exactly where he wanted to appear.

The realm answered, and for the first time he saw the scale of creation. From a top-down view, he saw six main continents all linked together. He witnessed the inner sea, the water forever trapped because of the lands. Then he gazed upon the outer, an expanse that went on for thousands of leagues. It eventually reached the ice wall, and the landscape turned it a frozen waste. He saw Sun, and the sons had returned to their nature orbits, slowly circling the realm to bath it in light and warmth.

It was beautiful, the lands green and lush, though there were some areas they appeared dead, brownish. But those places were few. The realm had healed, and the destruction had been wiped away.

A new beginning was before him, he just had to move time forward again, but not yet, there was a small problem.

Gazing at the realm, eyes moving about searching, it occurred to Malan that he didn’t actually know where his home was. He had never seen the whole of creation before, and not from this point of view. His mental maps provide no help given the perspective was so off.

‘Where?’ He thought with purpose, focusing on the outer realm, it answered him with a blinking light on the map. He gazed, vision zooming in, honing on the place of his home.

He smiled, and sighed. There it was, the lands he knew, and the crater. It had been covered in a forest, but the steep decline of the pit wasn’t something to be overcome, the ruin of his home was still easy to make out, a scar that the reset had failed to remove.

“I have our mark,” he said to his fellows behind him. “Ready?” Replies of yes and for him to hurry up touched his ears. Time moved forward, the light of creation pulsed once, the tell they could enter.

Will focused at the center of the crater, he said. “Take us there.” Light engulfed them.

-----------------------------

They were in the forest, they were in the crater, the transition so quick he didn’t even have the chance to blink.

The shifting mists around them meant they were also in the Glen. No mortals would be able to see them, nor would Malan and his fellows be able to interact with the denizens of this new session. Not yet.

He heard Ryan let out a comforting sigh. “I can’t do anything,” he said, getting Malan to look. The Verm was waving his hand about, gaze focused and filled with intent. Ryan was trying to force his will on creation, but without a shred of power to his name, creation rebuked him.

The others copied Ryan’s actions, while Bronduff merely looked about, the ghost of smile on his lips. Malan himself wasn’t as thrilled as the rest; in fact, he found the utter lack of power disconcerting.

He thought back to when he had felt so helpless, so empty of might. What came back to him were his times as a pup, barely able to form his words and hopelessly lost as his guardians tried teaching him the basics of arcane symbols.

‘I’m a pup again,’ he thought, surveying the land that was reborn. “You all know the plan.” He said getting their attention. “Best we not waste time, since the realm just filled with gods.” All those Sovereigns who’d chosen to be both randomly placed and endowed an equally random godhood.

Malan and his lot were already being eclipsed, there was no way around that, but it was best not to make the matter even worse.

“I’ll see you around lovely.” Foy said to Derrin as she showered him with kisses. Then after, pulled Axel into a tight affectionate hug. “You to my quiet son.” Malan wasn’t hit with the waves of emotions, they were muted now, but Axel embarrassment was still easy to spot.

“Laters,” she said to the rest of them as she took off, still shaped as a Dargown. Derrin left next, gently taking his son by the hand. “We’ll be in contact as soon as possible,” the tome god said in an unaimed manner before he to wandered off.

Rimean said nothing, but bowed to them, his long ears flexed tight as he hopped away covering long distances.

Ryan sighed again as he slowly headed away, his long robes flowing behind him.

All that remained was Bronduff, the large and still lively looking Kolune surveyed the area with a touch of reverence. Malan didn’t need a link or pulsing emotions to see how relieved his execution was to be back in a place of restrictions.

But such acts of study soon left the large warrior, their eyes met, he bowed. “As Derrin said, I’ll make contact the moment I have the Devotion to do so.”

“I as well,” Malan said back, a problem they all had. Sending required power, and while with a Sovereign core that had never been a problem before. Now, powerless, the act wasn’t something to be done carelessly.

With his parting words, the giant Kolune, a being of hunt and dues, went running off into the forest glowing with orbs of light.

They varied in size, and at first he didn’t know what they were. But as he headed down his own path and studied them with godly eyes and knowledge, he found the truth.

They were souls, souls not yet holding memories. The clue came to him when he saw lights entering into new born mice. And after other repeated sights he knew his reasoning to be true.

Once they got to live, even a short life, the souls would take on the ghostly form of what they had been in life. Which meant this landscape of orbs was a rare sight, something only to behold at the beginning of new session.

Because of this he focused his awareness, captured the sights with his near perfect memory. This was a secret few would know in later ages; it would be nice to share to those mortal scholars that would take interest in the matters of souls.

The view helped pass the time as he marched through the forest, one bountiful and ripe for use. Any tribe that settled within the crater wouldn’t have any difficulties making a comfortable living. That is if they could safely scale down the steep slope

It was only made worse by the density of the foliage, but at least in places it allowed for hand holds, not many and only so far up. But if skilled, or mad enough to try, sentient minds could get down here.

He sighed as he gazed upwards, surveying the cliff, not long ago it would have been effortless for him to carve a path for mortals to take. Now it was an impossible feat, powerless, coreless, weak as a soul.

This was going to be a little harder than he thought. The last time he’d been in such a state, the realm was matured, battles were common, and sentient mortals were plenty. It was easy to come upon large battles where the living met their end, and life spilled into the land.

Right now, the land was tranquil, a fresh and innocent place without a mortal in sight. And while living things were dying, be it from old age or eaten, Devotion only flowed in the veins of the sentient. And while it was possible to gain power from beasts, the act had to been done in the form of a sacrifice.

A creational rule.

Madness had once told him it was to stop gods from trying to consume all life. Another chain to make them dependent on their followers.

Which was a bit of problem when said god didn’t have any. But he was ready for this, had the knowledge and means to collect his due, he just had to find mortals. And while he was thrilled to be home, and Wargain stain removed and thoroughly forgotten. It appeared that he wasn’t going to find that within the crater.

So bounding forward, he leapt and began clawing his way up the slope.

It took him, HIM, an hour to get to the top and gaze out over the land.

The Glen was different, he’d thought it merely his lack of Devotion at first. But after his climb he knew it to be otherwise. He was being limited in ways he hadn’t been before. He couldn’t jump as high or run as carefree. His means of traveling were being purposefully slowed, not to the extent of a mortal, but nowhere near it had been before. It appeared the Celestials had not liked how easy it was for gods and dead to travel the realm while within the Glen.

Malan huffed as he sat down at cliffs edge. At least the limitation wasn’t just set for him, so he had an easier time accepting it.

That and the view before him was making him feel calm.

It really was a beautiful spot, and a land to appreciate. It was full of so much potential. A clean slate, completely so, given the Endbringers act had removed the ancient ruins of his and his father city.

But that was fine, all could be rebuilt, for he remained. -Malan smiled happily- while all his enemies were gone. “I won Wargain, even after all the defeats and your endless victories, I won.”

The light of a new dawn shined over the realm, on him. He savored it, allowing himself the time to admire the wonder before his eyes.

----------------------------

He walked for days, not finding a single sentient, understandable. The session had just begun, tribes would be small, but plentiful.

Still the grand total of the population on the continent would be in the tens of thousands at best, not like at the end where millions were common. As such the lands were wild, the un-ascended beasts roamed freely, be they hunters or prey. The forests were overgrown and towering, reaching far into the sky and bathing the lands in deep shadows.

Splendid as it was, filled with a variety of plants that had gone extinct before by purposeful destruction, or over harvesting. It damped his mood as he’d walked and followed primal souls being lured to fitting bodies. It dawned on him that the likelihood of mortals finding the archive shines on the surface was extremely small.

Those that had survived on the surface would be smothered in foliage and vines. No mortal would see them unless they got lucky and cleared some of the forest, but that wouldn’t be for decades, or centuries. Not till real culture spung up again and mortals tamed the land so it could be used for farming.

The same could be said for the many archives deep underground, mortals wouldn’t venture to such places till much later. When they would need to do so in the quest for dwellings or rock ores to melt and smith.

Till then it would be the old, slow, journey of self-cultivation.

Really slow with how long it was taking him to find people and skirmishes to feed upon. It hadn’t been like this before, when he’d first been in this state. The session had been at its middle point, culture – even the barbaric kind – was in full swing. Mortals were plenty, same with their wars, it had been easy to gather power.

Not now.

Everything was too new, just returning to the patterns of life and death. Culture was small, infant.

“No wonder why Sovereigns choose to be placed within a premade god.”

It was a big step forward, if said entity happened to be placed in a form that was capable of surviving the ages. Most wouldn’t, he knew that from experience, and from tomes he’d read from Madness or old forgotten sources. The gods of now would be primal, simple, linked to nature in same way. A god of flame, or water, earth, nature. Though not to the extent Cycure had been. Not at the very start anyways.

Some would evolve as their religions developed, but most would crumple, consumed by other outside religions, or overtaken by cults that conceived of and brought into existence more complicated gods.

That latter part was quite amusing to him, as when such a thing took place. The new god and religion would label the old as a false one, not a true god but an entity feeding on the masses. They would get names, if they survived, like he had thanks to his core.

Wargain had loved using that trick, to always be the savior. Malan laughed at the memory of it, and the turn of events. “In the end you saved nothing.” And it didn’t matter, the realm as a whole laughed at all their efforts.

It screamed at him ‘look around you, life is still here, will always be here, it goes on forever.’

A shame that wasn’t true for the collective knowledge cultures had developed. And while he was a walking thinking archive, he knew better than most how little that was compared to all that had been forgotten.

“I should have learned more,” he bemoaned, he had tried of course. Gathered as much lost lore as he could, but Wargain had made that difficult, his default stance was to destroy everything not pertaining to him.

“I will be different this time.” Knowledge would be protected and cherished, beings like Wargain wouldn’t get to stagnant the realm again, he hoped.

“If only I coud fin-

He stopped, flexed his droopy ears, was that a voice he heard?

He rushed towards the sound that grew more distinct with each step, it was a voice, a young one.

“Guide me,” went the words. “Noble protector, holder of honor, bestower of sight, guide me home godfather.” Malan entered into a small clearing, his tail wagging at the sight.

The voice came from a single Kolune, badly wounded, death drawing closer. And around him, scattered in broken heaps were Heon. He saw small stone daggers, and spears made of wood, the latter mostly broken. But a number were pieced into the dying warrior, he was slumped against a tree. Lifeblood spilling out, same with the corpses around him.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad, if the Kolune in question had worn any armor, or leather hide. But he had none, same with his killers, the being was nude. Only his thick fur protected him from the elements, but such a thing hadn’t been designed to ward off weapons of killing intent.

Not wasting another moment, Malan acted. The first part was no different than a Shade feeding upon the dead. The process horribly inefficient and only allowed him to draw in a scant amount of power. But that was all he needed. With Devotion in hand, his knowledge came into play. He manifested a rune of claiming, and the power in the area, unclaimed by anyone, came surging into him.

He breathed in deep, the taste of power so sweet after being without. But it didn’t last long, there wasn’t much, and in seconds he’d drained the clearing of everything it had to offer. That is till the Kolune died.

It wouldn’t be long, the light was fading from his eyes, his voice was growing weaker as he repeated the same chant.

A god was already in play here, he could feel the other presence, mild as it was. It focused on the warrior, waiting patiently, same as Malan, though for different reasons.

While he waited, he gazed about the area, at the mess caused by the warrior. The four Heon corpses, even broken from physical blows, held his attention. He bent down near one, godly eyes of healing and weaving peering deep into the frame.

The Heon was small, which was normal, but the physique was off. He was lean and lined with compact muscles, something those from the session before had not had. His bones were thicker too, and more tense. Then there were the teeth, pointed like a predator, even the front buck choppers. A bite from him wouldn’t have been pleasant. Nor the scrape given the corpse had sharp claws.

Malan rubbed his chin, not pleased with what he saw. “Warrior Heon, if they still reproduce like before, things are going to get violent fast.” Which giving his current state was actually a boon, there would be plenty of dead to feed upon, but what about latter? When he began rebuilding a society of Wonder, another warrior cult wouldn’t fit well.

“I can always change them latter.” He thought, remove the worst tendencies from their bodies so the souls within would have more enlightened vessels to dwell within.

Rising he returned his attention back to the Kolune, he felt it in the air, Devotion spilled out and without waiting Malan pulled it into him. The act gained the attention of the soul who’d begun gazing about the Glen.

“Who are you?” Asked the soul. Its shape that of the departed body.

“Oh I have many names,” Malan said with a smile. “But none meant to be heard by you, your path is set, choice already made.” He wasn’t going to risk annoying a fledgling god by trying to convert one of its followers. Wasn’t worth the hostility it would bring at this early stage.

“The Glen, and your god will guide you to where you need to go.” He voiced to the confused Kolune. “Merely listen to the whispers and subtle pulls.” The longer the soul stared here of course, the less subtle said pulls would become. Unless the soul in question had a reason or strong will, it would be compelled eventually to reincarnate.

“A guide then.” The Kolune voiced and relaxed, happy with his deduction. The soul closed his eyes, and a few seconds stood still. When they reopened, the soul paid Malan no further attention, he turned and left, Malan following not that far behind.

-------------------

It wasn’t that far of a walk to the village, the Heon who had ambushed the Kolune had been quite daring. Others of its kind could have been near, lent aid, if circumstances had been different.

The place was cleared of most foliage, allowing the beginnings of grass to grow atop the black dirt. Dwellings - in the loosest use of the word - had been constructed from logs, thick branches, blankets of moss, and fur belts. Kolune belts, interesting.

The were the same fur colors as the living, deep browns and light tans, meaning the belts were from died relatives. He even saw some wearing them, the largest of the breed. Obviously they were the ones in charge of this barbaric sect. He made note of them as he followed behind the dead Kolune.

Or at least he was till he slammed right into the transparent dome of a domain. It got a start out of him and a great deal of bafflement. That wasn’t something domains did before, normally it only allowed a god to be aware of all those within its area of control. Not outright restrict access.

The moment he made contact the other god who hadn’t bothered to make a form, reacted.

It appeared before him within the domain. The shape of a Kolune in his prime, fur so deeply brown it could almost have been mistaken for black. Wearing many belts and the bones of the dead.

Malan took a few steps back, hands held up in the sign of submission. The other god glared at him, but made no advances. “I’m merely curious,” Malan said to him. “Looking around, taking in the lands, I’m no threat.” Yet, but he didn’t voice that part.

“You do more than that,” the god of bones said. “You consume the dead, gnawing on the remains of those lost.” The Kolune deity eyed him wearily, but did not strike out, or threaten. His rival didn’t appear eager to have a fight, which Malan found odd. Kolune were supposed to love fighting, and berate those they thought beneath them.

“What do you want?” the god asked.

“From you?” Malan replied, and was about shake his head in refusal, but a second reconsideration had him ask. “Knowledge of whether there is another tribe nearby.”

The god remained quiet, studying him for a time.

“And for this knowledge you will leave?” the other asked and Malan focused on that last word. Felt the intention of it since this was a deal being made. Leave was broad, the god of bones wanted him gone from the area. Malan shook his head, unwilling to make such a trade and be bound by it.

“No,” he replied. “There is so much to see,” he began to take steps back. “But I know when I’m not wanted god of Kolune, so I give you distance.” Retreating away from the small village of shabby huts, he departed.

The other gods question, joined with the Heon that had attacked the Kolune was answer enough, another tribe was near, and this god of bones was already being troubled by it. He would have been boastful otherwise, rather than guarded.

Malan wasn’t pursed, nor did the god threaten, which he found worrying, the Kolune god had self-control and studying eyes. Perhaps if he was open minded to Wonder, rather than shear domination and war, the two of them could become allies. But he couldn’t tell now, everyone was too young, their religions still forming and Malan lacked the power to enact any worthwhile change.

And until he knew precisely the kind of god he was dealing with, he wouldn’t make deals in a hurry. It wasn’t wise to show a possible rival what he was capable of.

So he walked and once he was far off from the village, he climbed up a tree and perched himself comfortably.

Senses broad, the Glen shimmering with colors and orbs, Malan focused all that he was on noticing the sounds of life.

For hours he stayed that way, listening and cataloging the noises. At first it was nothing but wild un-ascended beasts, those he began to ignore. After a while he moved to a new area with a new tree and began the process again. Another few hours, the land gone dark, Malan picked up on movement that didn’t match those heard before.

He leaped from his perch, landed on the ground without a sound and headed for the noise. Not long he found a small cohort of Heon, four again, of the same tribe based on their brown fur. The only thing they wore to be consider clothing was straps of tightly bond vines that served to hold their stone knives. This was joined with wooden spears that each held with the practice ease of much use.

While it was dark, and to mortals slightly debilitating. The cohort heading forward quietly and barely disturbing the plants around them. Malan saw them as clear as if it were day, the shimmering colors of the Glen joined with those that came off the living made it impossible not to spot them.

With easy strides, since none could hear or see him within the Glen. Malan followed along, quickly deducing the destination. The Heon knew where the Kolune tribe was settled, and the closer they got the more carful their steps became.

The march was painfully slow, enough that Malan began walking circles around the group as a means to waste time. There wasn’t any Kolune nearby, not that Heon could be aware of that like he could. So the crawl continued on for an hour before the group rested at a spot were they could spy on the tribe.

A loose wall of Kolune guards stood watch, gazing out into the dark, while most within the interior of the ‘settlement’ slept. It was easy to see since none of the dwellings had walls.

Malan hummed in thought, and slightly bored. The Heon were settling in their spot, ready to wait a long time. It was up to him to take the initiative and get those moving.

Walking forward and quickly reaching the boundary that marked the domain of the Kolune god, he poked the transparent wall. As before the god of bones reappeared, arms folded around his chest, a clear display of annoyance.

Malan put on his best smile, bowed. “Hello again,” he said and half turned, pointing towards the Heon laying in await in the distance. “You have guests,” and sent the god a vision of what he meant.

Surprise and worry flashed across the fur of the god as he unfolded his arms. Another version of him appeared, kneeling next to a sleeping form. One of those who wore the belts of their dead. The figure woke, breathing in deep, eyes distant. Malan knew that look; the mortal was being bestowed a vision.

The tribal leader rose, easily three heads taller than the other males, and twice as muscled. With calm strides he walked to the line of guards, many turning to look at their leader.

Malan himself look in the direction of the Heon, they remained still and their eyes trained on the changing situation. Wariness colored their auras, but they were season enough hunters not to give away their position with sudden movements. Sadly for them, all knew exactly where they were.

If the Kolune had possessed bows and arrows, maybe a javelin to throw, the attack would have begun then. But the ascended wolves only had their claws and teeth. That required getting close, and Heon by their very nature were adversaries one couldn’t catch easily. Not unless they were cornered.

The Heon hiding within foliage were not, so when the leader and pack of his fellow males sudden surged forward, rushing to the place they hid. The Heon bolted away, their hopping strides allowing them to outpace the pursuers.

Malan gave a farewell bow to the god, then hurried after them, slightly disappointed that none would die.

‘There’s always later,’ he thought.

The Heon had the Kolune in their sights, skirmishes would be common, and had been given the reaction of the bone god.

All he would have to do was wait, but first he wanted to know the location of the Heon tribe, and find out how many more were in the area.

The Kolune didn’t pursue for long, the leader of the tribe preventing any of the younger brash kin from pursuing on their own. With snares of hate aimed at the forest, the Kolune retreated back to their huts, all the while Malan continued after the Heon, who themselves stopped retreating after they noticed the larger hunters and ceased their pursuit.

They still remained quiet for a long time; their long ears flexed tight as they listened to the lands. He waited with them, knowing that the hunters were well alone and that their precautions were going to waste.

For a few more minutes they remained motionless, before what appeared to be the leader, relaxed his ears and stance, the rest followed his example.

As weariness gave way, anger and frustration came out, he could tell by their tight fists and flexed arms. Yet none were foolish enough to start making noise, they kept their discontent contained as the leader motioned for them to retreat deeper into the woods.

It was only when they were an hour march from the Kolune did voices come out.

“How did they notice us?” One voiced, more to air his annoyance they to receive a proper answer.

“How else?” the leader said. “Whatever they worship must have warned them.”

Grunts sound, and short laughter. “They can’t stay together forever; they have to hunt or wander off on their own eventually.” One voiced as he fiddled with stone knife. To Malan standard it was dull, and would have been worthless against foes that had some semblance of armor.

“Eventually,” another spoke “But how long would we have to wait to get our chance, we’re already behind on trophies.”

Silence fell as Malan kept walking circles around them.

“Others are in the same situation as us, to many hunters, not enough worthy prey. So we’re not falling that far behind.” The leader said.

“I heard people have found another tribe out east,” One of the four said. “Maye we could try there?”

The leader shook his head. “Others have already done so, and the distance isn’t worth it, prey is here, simply too tightly packed to reach.” Ears switching, lips forming into a frown, he voiced. “We’ll have to combine with others, make a large hunt, split the trophies.”

The other three with him groaned, but none disagreed, and the leader motioned them to move. “Lets hunt some game, at least we’ll have something to bring back, the long nosed will be too alert now to try another attempt.”

They followed their leader, Malan right behind them, smile wide as he memorialized every little bit of information they voiced.

-------------------------

The moment he laid eyes on the village of Heon, he knew they were going to be a problem. Unlike the Kolune whose numbers neared perhaps fifty, the sprawling huts here and all the Heon milling about, showed hundreds. A high enough number that he wasn’t sure how much long they would be able to sustain themselves.

While he was certain they could nurture themselves off plants, the Heon here were majority meat eaters. Dozens of cook fires were in the process of rending game that small groups of Heon commonly ferried into the camp. One that covered nearly an acre of land. The dwellings were equal to the Kolunes, pathetic. But the Heon did have an advantage, he could see the hair folk had burrowed underground, making small alcoves for them to rest in, and likely where the infants were stored.

Younglings were aplenty and played about the area, and most women he saw were pregnant.

He could tell, given the tools at the Heon disposal and they superior breeding. The Kolune nearby were going to be exterminated, and not only because they were rival to the god he had yet to meet. But because the tribe before him had no sense of food control. And the Kolune made for an appealing, and more importantly, large meal. Plus their corpses could be used for other practical purposes. He saw belts made from them, used as blankets, hut coverings, or trophies that many wore.

The skulls of the ascended wolves were placed about a crude shrine, joined with other tributes. To Malan it looked as though the entity would be another bone god, a being of death. But as he watched from afar, high up in a tree, he didn’t see the Heon perform ritual sacrifices at the altar of their god. They instead provided crafted trophies from those they killed - but never Heon - and recited adventurous tales they had survived.

As such the shrine was surrounded, almost encased, in bone trinkets. A monument of victories and glory. That’s what he heard the males of this tribe talk about most of the time. Their obsession, they wanted to prove themselves, and in the growing culture it was seen as a necessity in order to garner the attention of a mate. To which was the males true inspiration.

The Heon of this second session were the same to those of first, they bred wildly. Their boon, and now curse. Before it hadn’t been a problem, they had been plant eaters, great farmers, so they had no troubles acquiring the needed resources to sustain their numbers.

Here before Malan eyes, he could see the beginnings of the end. Hunters had to travel further and further out to find large prey, the surrounding land being stripped and soon barren of such things. After that the tribe would have to migrate, or splinter into smaller tribes, else these people would die out.

It didn’t seem the tribe was aware of this problem yet, nor the god. Perhaps the situation hadn’t reached a point to cause hunger. But it would soon, with all the pregnant buns, and the many acts of sexual communion taking place. The Heon appeared to be in race to breed, any woman not pregnant or already attached to a man or group of them. Was constantly offered tributes and flatteries from young males eager to claim. As such the women of the tribe bore many trinkets, and were treated near royalty.

They were still nude through, the concept of clothing yet to be conceived. He blamed the climate for this, it was warm, there wasn’t a need for extra layers, as it would be further north.

The realm was young and salvage, would be so for a time, centuries maybe if left to normal advancement. Which Malan had no inclination to let happen. Wonder, understanding, would blossom, had to if the realm was to stand a chance against the Endbringers and reach Bastion.

Alas he was weak, not a follower to his name, and only had scant amount of Devotion to call upon. He was in no position to ascend anyone, but he could make a difference. This tribe before him was a threat, not only to itself but every nearby group. It had to be dealt with, the god crushed or lessoned, before it become something that could centralize its hold on the surrounding lands.

His lands.

Memorizing all he saw, Malan left the tribe of hunters and headed back to the god of bones. The Kolune had to be warned, and any other tribe he could find.

--------------------------

When he arrived the Kolune were in the finally stages of departing, the God of bones planning to flee, and might have done this before. None were making a fuss, and appeared skilled in the matter.

No, this wasn’t the first time they’d done this.

He placed a hand on the domain, the god appeared, weariness practically woven into his fur.

“You seem to be leaving,” Malan started. “A wise choice, but not the best for long term survival.”

The skull god looked at his people, none aware of either of them. “The Heon will keep coming,” the god said a moment later.

Malan nodded. “Quite so, and no matter how far you retreat.” Not even bothering with a trade, he offered the god his sights. Showed him the scale of his enemy and the true threat it presented.

The Kolune went very still, eyes distant as he accepted the vision, the truth that if he didn’t make the right choice his time as a god would soon be over.

“We can’t fight this,” the god replied once the deed was done. “What else is there but to flee?”

“Well,” Malan spoke with chuckle. “To find others to join your cause, you shouldn’t be the only tribe being hunted, there must be some nearby.”

The god stared at him. “And you want to know where?”

He gave the thinking god a friendly smile. “It would be very helpful to me, and you, all should be warned of the threat and those who wish to be freed from it.”

The god may have been trying to be subtle, but Malan noticed how he kept looking him up and down, sizing him up. Probably full of questions of who he was, where he’d come from, and the quality of his beautifully made garb.

But the bone god didn’t voice any of those, he asked instead. “What do you want in return for this?”

The question of questions, in truth he was already getting what he wanted, knowledge and forces turning on each other. Battles for him to feed upon, the foundation to build a true society, a wonderful society.

“Your cooperation in this,” he said. “Someone must be the start, the center point to counter this threat to all.”

The god furrowed his brows, not yet understanding. “Your people might have to defend others, show them the way and buy strangers the time to prepare.” Malan could see it in the bone god stance, the rejection of the idea, of spending his own forces to those he didn’t know.

“You can’t win this alone, the Heon will always outpace you, you need allies, else the problem will continue to grow larger.” He gestured to the Kolune almost done with their preparations. “Eventually there won’t be anywhere else to retreat too.”

The god closed his eyes, taken by thought, Malan knew what the answer would be. The god had no other choice, and gods didn’t want to end, they wanted to thrive, for their view to claim the land.

The god sighed and opened his eyes. “Very well harbinger, you have my support.”