The deal was struck, and he only had to wait a week for the births to happen. He chose three girls, three boys, and a woman with a hurt leg. Dainon had showed an open look of relief at that.

The god of green had stayed humbled during the wait. Malan’s knowledge, a map of tribes around him, their location and size, had stamped down any notions of acting superior.

That and Dainon had become cautious of him.

Joined with the current state of the area, Malan had also bestowed the god knowledge of agriculture. Since Dainon alignment with nature made him well suited to using said information quickly. Malan had then provided the idea of animal domestication and herding. That way Dainon’s followers would eventually be free from venturing out into the wilds to garner meat.

It had taken repeated sendings of this information, both to Dainon and his followers for the knowledge to stick. They were foreign concepts after all, things that wouldn’t come to peoples mind for another decade or two. The fact they were able to hold on to it at all was a sign of Dargownian intelligence.

Thank the Celestials for that, because after a week of observing their traits, he would have wept otherwise. Their high opinion of themselves was going to get them into a lot of trouble, possibly killed off, or enslaved again. However, with the knowledge now given to them, if this Dargown tribe planned their moves correctly, their numbers could recover and swell. Maybe even over take the Heon if they kept themselves guarded from raids.

Dainon knew this to, since Malan had told the god as such. And the nature god accepted the words as the truths they were. Because- for all his misplaced importance- Dainon wasn’t dumb, there was no such thing as an imbecilic Dargown. Dainon understood perfectly the gift he had been given, the advantage in his grasp.

So when Malan made ready to leave, the six barely walking pups and woman doing the same. Dainon didn’t pull any stunts like some less understanding god would have. He didn’t attack, didn’t kill the non-believers in his mitts. He let them go in peace.

“Where will you go now?” Dainon had asked as Malan began to follow his mortals.

“To a place of peace,” he’d answered. “Let the others waste themselves,” he said to his fellow Dargownian god. “We will wait, nurture our following and when the time is right, show the realm what our people can do.”

Dainon had smiled at the words. “They will see our superiority in time.” He had replied back and gave a wave of parting. Malan did the same, only so it would keep everything civil, he didn’t want to be around Dainon any longer than he had to. A week of studying the god, and the temperament of the Dargown hadn’t been an enjoyable experience.

The worst traits they had in the last session seemed to have been amplified even more in this one. He could already see it in them, they would be slavers, warlords, a force to strangle those beneath them. They were order of the worst kind.

Purposeful stagnation.

He had kept the contempt from his face, maintaining his airs of kindness, even when he wanted to end the god and pull these fools from the brink of destruction that would come from them.

They would war against the realm, openly show their hate. They realm would answer in kind, and the fate that had befallen this race before would happen again.

‘No,’ he had told himself. ‘I am here, Wonder is here. There might be a small repeat, but it will only be that, it will not be lasting.’ He vowed to himself it would not. No matter how warped this session had made his people, he would right this wrong.

So many wrongs.

A week of dealing with Dainon, watching other tribes, and receiving reports from his Wonderbringers. Let him see this was going to be a violent age, more so than he’d expected.

Even at the worst of times, there had been culture, a set of ways and rules that the races ordered themselves. Not now, given they hadn’t been formed yet, the realm was young and the people savages to the core.

The Sendings showed cases of this, the endless skirmishes, clans slaughtering each other to the last man. Sacrifices being made to gods and portions of land ruined as the deities went at each other with divine fury.

The others were feeding well from all this, as he had been doing during his stay in the surrounding lands with Dainon.

However, because of the heightened aggression from clans, most of the Wonderbringers were in retreat. Rimean, after gathering a couple dozen souls sent that he was heading back to the crater, that the chaos in the lands was too much to keep those he’d gathered safe from the eager claws of others. Bronduff visions showed his people were already near the crater. And that he was settling them at the edge till he worked out a safe means to get them down the steep cliff.

Ryan, after converting some Verm, was also heading home. The village he’d sought to claim had been destroyed by a swarm of Heon. They had killed most, and those they were able to capture alive were sacrificed to some great death god.

As for Derrin and Axel, they had caused a schism in the Dargown clan they had found. The mortals were at odds with each other over who to follow.

It appeared the Wonderbringers would have won out in time, but attacks from other tribes made the point mute. The Dargown had been slaughtered, with the two Wonders only able to save ten souls. To whom they were guiding away from danger and using miracles to keep hunters distant.

Miracles that had been more difficult to perform than before. From his two fellow arcane weavers he had come across a problem that he had so far avoided.

It appeared after a certain threshold was reached, they weren’t able to affect the realm without committing themselves. They either had to form an avatar in creation, or act through a follower.

A troubling change, given the risk that came with avatars now.

‘We won’t be able to attack with assured safety anymore.’ He had thought once learning of the predicament.

Others, if he went on the attack, would have the chance to inflict losses on him.

‘I guess I’ll be acting through followers more than I thought.’ Using an avatar, and the chance of losing Devotion that came with it, was too great a risk for him to willing take during these times. Not unless it was a dire circumstance, and even then, he would be hesitant.

Luckily for Derrin and Axel no other gods came to counter them, possibly because they were focused on fleeing rather than slaughtering the mortals in the area. Still he was quite thrilled to have learned of this new limitation. Since it also meant his enemies couldn’t stay safe either.

In time Malan and his fellows would have a distinct advantage. The downside of using mortals, the way creation eventually killed their weak frames if they pushed too much. Meant other gods would have to act personally more often than not. Since, once he got to work, began uplifting mortals to greater heights. His followers wouldn’t be affected or suffer any discomfort at all. They would be able to move creation as they saw fit same as any god.

Yes, this new change would be to his benefit in the ages to come. But right now, it was still a handicap.

One Foy could attest to.

Tribes were after her, well her disciples anyways. The Heon she had gathered under her name -bled thirsty savages- hadn’t been subtle. They had used her gifts too openly and too frequently. Many mortals were after them, and on one occasion Foy had been forced to manifest into creation and kill pursuers.

She was able to get away, buy her followers time to flee before she did. But the point was made, it had been time to leave. So she too was heading for the crater, guiding her murdering folk of Heon to a place of peace.

The thought of it had him sigh. ‘We’re going to have to watch our followers closely.’ Once all were at the crater, races mixed together, it would be up to them to make sure the mortals didn’t kill each other.

‘It will be easy once we have a few litters born.’ The infants and children would only know the way of life they showed them. To them seeing so many different races working together would be the norm, rather than battles to the death.

It was the key to victory that Glor, and Dainon would never realize. In the end it came to numbers, who had more followers, who was bringing in the greatest amount of Devotion. No matter how skilled in battle, those with the greatest resources always won out. He knew that from experience, lived and died when Aronta was claimed by hordes of savages they thought could never breach their woven defenses.

‘Wonder must be open to all.’ It was the only way, every hand allowed the chance to claim it, to champion it, to see the realm and know they could rise above it.

He watched the six pups clinging or huffing to keep pace with the woman. They would be the first to adapt to the society of Aronta. Be its harbingers like those chosen by his fellow gods. The first to be given the chance, to see the endless paths only Wonder could give them.

None would ever conceive of that looking at them now. Pups without any clothing, being herded by a fearful woman with a hurt leg.

‘Speaking of which its time I fix that.’ He thought and placed a hand on his only follower.

‘You can stop walking,’ he sent into her mind.

She froze, eyes and head swizzling about looking for him. “Have I offended?” She asked to the realm. “I can move faster I promise. I just… give me a chance.”

Every word chilled him, it was a horrid thing Dainon tribe, one of competition. Everyone trying to prove their worth, to not be seen as a detriment. And not in the warm way where they wanted to provide more for those they loved. It was the fearful kind, the one that was aligned only with the self. A need to do better in order to be above others, but also so they weren’t cast out.

A horrible foundation for a society, it wouldn’t last. Even with the gifts he had bestowed Dainon, his days were numbered.

‘No offense young one.’ He sent into her mind, coating it in warmth and kindness. She relaxed immediately as questions formed in her mind. ‘The time to hide a miracle is passed.’ He informed her.

Acting, he plied his first trade. He spent Devotion as he turned his attention to her leg, guiding the flesh and mending the harm. She gasped in shock, marveling as the bloody scab that went down half her leg disappeared and her fur regrew.

‘I am Malan,’ he echoed in her mind. ‘The god of many things, secrets, knowledge, but most of all.’ How he wished to shout it to the realm. ‘I am the Holder of Wonder.’

The woman shook, not of fear, but excitement. He showed her visions, of the things they were going to do, of what she was now part of.

She began to weep, the pups whimpered in turn, confused as they held onto her. She clasped her hands together, gave thanks and prayed. Devotion flowed from her and into him, the process beginning anew.

She believed his every word, and that belief held strength, it would move creation more than any of them would ever guess. Through them his claim would grow, become a force creation recognized. His miracle acts in certain fields would become easier.

Yes, it was all starting again, his healer heart began to give him that tender chill. It had gone numb before, with no followers to his name, dormant. But now it was back and it moved him. He wanted her to succeed, he wanted her to thrive and live forever. Her and the pups.

‘And they will,’ even if death took them, he would bring them back. Or they could become new Shadows, his guides tending to a growing flock. There were no limits for them now, they could become anything.

‘You’re free of Dainon,’ he told her sweetly. ‘That failure of a god, that embarrassment of Dargownian divinity. You have me now, and you will rise, we all will rise.’

He wanted to begin now, to fill her mind with endless secrets, arcane mastery that would allow her to spin creation with her own hands.

Alas now was not the time, he had to get her to safety. ‘To the south,’ he spoke in her mind, bestowing a vision, a scene of the crater in all its glory. ‘That is where your destiny awaits, so go forth, I will be with you the whole way.’

She stared transfixed in the direction that led to her new life, smile wide, fur ruffling with excitement, she hurried on her pups, not a hint of apprehension about the long journey ahead of them.

He followed, eyes open and always searching for danger. If he’d still had his core, he would have made a personal tunnel underground for her to travel, eliminating any chance of her running into hostile foes. But that was beyond him, she would have to do this task on her own. She didn’t seem bothered by it, even as the thick forest tried to bar her advance. But with will and claws she and the pups made their way through.

As she marched, he split himself again, sent the shards of himself racing off to find skirmishes to feed on. Now with a follower he had a beacon, all the versions of himself would be able to feel out her location and hear her requests. They would know where he was, no matter how far they traveled. Because of this he kept splitting off aspects of himself, sending them far and wide as he stayed near Edith.

They had to stop from time to time, the pups tiring quickly, and they could only be carried so far before Edith herself grew weary from the act.

While they rested, he looked around, surveying the bountiful land. Finding food was simplistic, it was all around them. Berries, fruits of many trees, nuts, root vegetables. The food was endless if said person knew where to look. He bestowed the sights to her, showing the locations of where food was within easy reach.

“My worship Malan, caring god, gifter of bounty.” The praise from her was bright, the Devotion sweet.

‘How odd.’ He thought drinking it in. ‘Devotion never had a taste before.’ The additional sensation was quite a treat as it joined with the usual rush, the broadening of ones capabilities. The Devotion he’d been claiming from the dead had been empty of such taste.

‘Interesting, very interesting.’ Another subject to study. So many new wonders, so many new things to learn. He wanted to rush off and carry his devoted follower to her new life. But alas his power was limited and there was no need to waste Devotion on such a thing.

There would be no rushing, so he kept himself distracted by watching the infants. Their fur was still thin, but color seemed already setting. Unlike his gold coat- a normality in the days of Aronta- these before him were a dark tan. Some had light spots, like Edith whose face was sand colored, but mostly it was tan nearing brown.

He gazed into their inner workings, their muscles and bones still developing, but he could already see the end product. Like the Heon they were more robust than their forbears. But not to the same degree, mostly the changes were mental. The brains were differently shaped, not much, but even slight differences led to drastic outcomes.

‘Blessed be my craft.’ He thought to himself as he made notes. He had a long list of mental images when it came to brains, especially from Dargown of the past session. So his reference on what to fix was perfect.

‘Sections focused on anger and dominance have been bolstered.’ As he peered closer, he also noted those opposite, care and empathy had been shrunk.

He scowled at the sight. ‘Such a thing to do,’ he thought leaning away. ‘Might as well have set them up for failure.’ Such arrogant behaviors were fine if it was aimed outward, but the over growths caused inward dominance as well.

He gazed at the woman, she had the same cavity shape and brain growths.

‘I have my mark.’ And thankfully it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. It wouldn’t take him long to fix this slight. But he would have to wait till they were within the crater. A place where they could rest without fear of attack.

If he still had the reserves during the end times, he could have brute forced the process. Doing all the work at once and healing whatever side effects it caused. Now he would have to be slow, light pushes from time to time, generation by generation. But he would free them of this mistake. They would be his people, true Dargown that would carry forth the banner of Wonder with the rest of the uplifted.

Uplifted he would have to domesticate too, the Heon came to mind. Their aggression had to be subdued, so they too would be going through selective breeding and mental sculpting. As for the rest, they seemed fine as they were. The changes to the Kolune were positive, and the Verm from what reports he’d received showed them overly docile. Worse than what the Heon had been in the session before. They would make for an ideal work force again, Celestials be praised.

They were going to need it, while he could fix his following, those outside his influence would remain a blight.

He could see it, this savage age would be a brutal one, the gods born of it not the type that could survive the end times. They would be all force and no finesse, or understanding. They would be simple instruments up against a foe that would adapt to them and their methods.

While he knew running into the Warper of flesh two times in a role was, absurdly low, that didn’t mean the other Endbringers wouldn’t be any less troublesome to deal with. All were charged with killing off pantheons, no matter their aspect, they would have the tools for the job.

‘And I have mine.’ He thought watching the pups play, even tired youth wasn’t something to be held down for long. The mortals were the key, if they were masters of the realm, understood it ways. Then any Endbringer would have an uphill battle. It would face innumerable foes that could adapt to it, find its weaknesses, keep the entity in check long enough for Bastion to be reached.

But that was far off, there were many steps ahead of them before such a society of ascended could come to be. They had to survive to the end time after all, and with the way gods were turning out, that was a fact that couldn’t be assumed.

He glanced at Edith, who carried freshly plucked fruit in her arms and sat on the grassy floor. She was old, or better put worn out. Her insides showed signs of great struggle. She had lived a harsh life, as was the way of these uncivilized times. He could undo the damage, make her young again, and keep doing so forever. She didn’t know that, nor truly understood the ramifications of what he offered to all.

He would inform her in time, but right now he had a question in mind, one that had been troubling him.

‘Dear child,’ he sent after making physical contact with her. ‘How old are you?’

She froze in her task of peeling fruit. “Four seasons,” she answered, voice concerned.

‘And during those seasons how long has Dainon been active?’ The question came with intentions. One that inquired about whether or not Dainon had been openly revealing. That during her life, Dainon had been manifesting himself and answering prayers.

She focused, brow scrunching tight. “Maybe fourteen returns of Sun. He showed himself the first time during the great upheaval. Other clans, their deities showed themselves too, began to attack us. He came to our aid, fought them off. If he hadn’t.” She fell silent and eyes distant.

He had his answer, the nagging detail that had been troubling him.

‘So the races have been maturing on their own for years before we arrived.’

They had been conjuring up gods that didn’t answer or offer anything. Merely the acts of imagination or luck as mortals gave praise to deities not yet real.

‘And here I was beginning to think I’d messed up.’ Given Glors advantage over other clans, Malan had assumed maybe the god had been around longer. But no, Glor, whatever Sovereign that got to take up his form. Had gotten lucky, a tribe that had survived and thrived on its own before he truly came to be.

‘Yet another advantage for those Sovereigns that chose to be randomly placed into a godhood.’ They got to start way ahead of those like Malan, were given the chance to inherit a following well into its growth.

He sighed, annoyed but pleased that the time delay was only a few years, rather than a decade, or Celestials forbid a century.

“The land was peaceful,” Edith said suddenly. “Or maybe simple, only beasts and lesser people. Now it’s full of dangers I don’t understand.”

‘You will in time,’ he told her. ‘You’ll spin such wonders of your own, promise.’

‘In fact,’ he added. ‘Why don’t I provide a small glimpse?’ She could handle it, she was a Dargown. Besides it was a small thing, compared to the grand weavings she would one day perform.

Offering to her mind, he bestowed the knowledge of a single spell. Done correctly the air would quicken, become wind, small breeze or that of a mighty storm. It all depended on how much Devotion she would put into the weave.

She gasped as the knowledge sank into her mind. He kept sending the knowledge till he was certain the secret stuck. It was absorbed far better than the Kolune, nor did it cause her any strain.

‘Why don’t you give it a try?’ He sent. ‘Aim at the leaves above, make them dance.’

She did as he said, rising to her pawed feet in a hurry and aiming a hand upward. She closed her eyes, focusing all her will towards the pattern he’d bestowed.

‘That’s it,’ he sent. ‘Feed it your belief.’ Devotion was spent, and from her hand wind was born, a quaint breeze that ruffled the leaves above. The sound had her eyes open, and drew the attention of the pups. She stared at the wonder of her own making, lost in the moment and in turn losing control of the spell.

The wind died away; the leaves went still. But that didn’t dampen the broad smile splitting her face, nor the glee in her eyes, and a hunger he felt bloom within her soul.

The rush of control, the thrill of creation bending to her will, the ability to bring about something only gods were supposed to do. She wanted more, wanted to see, to under and ascend. Wonder spread through her, the idea planted, the cause taking hold, and with it the dedication to bring about his vision.

‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ He whispered sweetly into her mind. ‘And that’s just the beginning, follow me, follow Wonder, and there will be no limits to what can be achieved.’

She stared at her hands, prayers of Devotion filling her mind, and going into him. “It will be done,” she muttered absently under her breath.

‘Ah the birth of a devoted follower,’ He thought happily. ‘Always a pleasure to behold.’

‘To the south, to the south,’ he whispered into her. ‘Wonder awaits unbound.’

She began to giggle, hands shaking as she returned to peeling fruit. The pups came to her eagerly eating all she offered to them. “To the south, to the south.” She whispered to herself.

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

The days were a blur of change to him.

Shards of himself returned often, filling his reserves of Devotion before heading off to find more battles. As their journey to Aronta progressed he continued teaching Edith the arcane, while at the same time he had begun rejuvenating her body. It wasn’t long before she looked and moved the way of a young lass. The changes were making her even more eager and desperate to cling to every speck of knowledge given.

The winds were at her beck and call, as well as water. After tutelage from him she was able to use the liquid to form makeshift walls, or turn them into spikes that could be sent hurling off. She’d received the same training with the wind. She’d become skilled enough to turn it into a torrent that could knock people off their feet.

It was warming to teach and watch a student flourish, for a mortal to bend creation. Not that the latter was allowed to go unpunished, Edith felt creation displeasure from time to time. The girl was too caught up in the enjoyment of her craft to take note of the number of miracles she’d performed. But each time she recovered faster, thanks to him since he was improving her body slowly. Uplifting it, in time she would be mistaken for a child of a god due to her unnaturally good looks, and large figure.

The sight was pleasing, a Dargown returning to what her forbears had been. A race that had shaped the realm into a paradise that would forever raise them up.

It had worked too well, drawn too many wanting eyes that had been denied upliftment. They had tried to take what was denied them, and in turn destroyed the wonders they sought.

Not this time, when the masses turned to look, they would not be barred, they would be allowed to join, to partake in ascension. The mortals would be grateful, rather than bitter, thus the other gods would lose the means to form a force to slay him and the Wonderbringers.

‘You would have been happy to see this, Noreen.’ he had thought, his mood souring. ‘For me to fully accept being wrong.’ But she was gone, like everyone else.

He’d pushed the feeling aside, focused on the tasks at hand. He’d sent to Derrin his findings, showed visions of what had been done to the Dargown and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to fix. That their people would have a future within the bounds of Wonder. Derrin had been ecstatic, and sent visions back in turn. Showed his bunch of Dargown, all of whom were clothed in pelts, Heon make.

‘They keep fighting each other for dominance.’ Derrin had sent, clearly troubled by the fact. ‘Their obsessed with a hierarchal structure, they can’t stand the concept of being equal to each other.’ His words came with the sights of duals, many becoming bloody. The mortals didn’t hold back, save from killing each other.

‘I hope you can fix them,’ Derrin had sent. ‘This isn’t going to work otherwise. Not for what we have envisioned.’

He had sent back his assurances; he would see the imperfection undone. Either with the adults or through the pups.

Regardless of choice, once all of them were together again, the races would have to be kept separate. Thankfully the crater was large enough for each group of people to have their own spot. In the center he already saw the place being a neutral ground where all would slowly come together and form into a whole.

He had worked on the details of it as he stayed with Edith, godly eyes keeping her safely distant from any roaming Heon.

He could have left her side, wandered out personally rather than relying on shards of himself. Given she could pray to him and she was a beacon of focus, he could have instantly manifested next to her – he’d experimented to make sure that was still true-. Yet he stayed by her side, the healers heart pleading he not leave her on her own, not with six pups.

Besides it was a warming distraction to watch them, a break from the chaos happening in the realm.

His Wonderbringers and shards kept him well informed to the changing state of the lands.

The section of the realm he had eyes on was becoming a cauldron of slaughter. Gods were becoming more active, and weren’t happy with others near them.

Before a peace had been maintained, mortals -with their limited tools of war- had fallen into a stalemate when it came to removing rivals. Now with gods walking the lands, offering boons and curses, that peace was crumbling fast.

A fact sent to him by his shards. The many selves he had sent off to warn tribes had in turn received warnings of their own. Glor wasn’t the only problem, there was another Heon god, one more dangerous in the short term.

Irame was its name, a fire elemental of the worst kind.

Chaos and destruction were its natures, and the Heon that worshiped it were literally bathing the land in flame. The savages were destroying and consuming all other tribes they came upon. Some had been able to ward off the fire god, their own gods suited for the task. But most were taken by fire, the primitives ill equipped to battle flame, especially when it was being wielded by mortals. Irame was generous to its followers, bestowed them boons of fire that listened to their commands.

He’d paid close attention to the details brought to him, and the fact that Irame was a god that gained the most Devotion when it was done in sacrificial ceremonies.

In civilized times, gods like Irame had been rare and easily put down. Malan himself already had numerous miracles that could trouble the god, such as simple water manifestation. But alas he didn’t have the power reserves to fight Irame head on, not yet, and by the time he did, he wondered how much the realm would be a smoldering ruin.

He knew Irame’s type, short lived by horribly destructive while active. Their very nature compelled them to consume and destroy. There would come a point where its destructive tendency would lead to its own unraveling. That there wouldn’t be enough for it to consume-to fight- that its nature would turn on its own following.

Problem was that event depended on the ground around them being dead.

They weren’t though, the realm was new and fertile, tribes numerable and sacrificial mortals plenty. Irame wasn’t at its apex, it was still in its beginnings, and that troubled Malan, and he wasn’t the only one touched by that feeling.

With the threat of the flame god near, and the warnings of a second threat that was Glor. Tribes had been eager to listen to the words of his shards, the talks about Prost who would take them in. A god that was interested in joining forces with others against these destructive elements.

Many contemplated it, and to his mild shock were abandoning their lands. Dozens of small tribes where being guide to Prost, all Kolune. the pantheon Malan had started was now growing quickly and beyond what he’d conceived.

It was a boon, but if he wasn’t careful, it could just as easily become a curse. Another pantheon of power that could move against him, worse he could already see the shape of it.

Those forming its number would want stability. Order, that would be its heart, the stagnate chain, forever oppressing those within it out of fear of chaos being born anew.

That shape had to be changed, but how much could he reveal? At what point would Prost cast eyes of suspicion on him? Begin to question, to wonder, to conceive just how deep the well of knowledge went.

It was a delicate balance, not everyone saw the light of Wonder the same way. The wise saw the endless possibilities of growth, the ability to overcome any obstacle. Others, those especially fearful, only focused on what horrors knowledge could unleash. And in turn, thinking themselves noble, tried to chain the endless possibilities. Always saying it was for the benefit of everyone if some things were left in the dark.

He detested those people, but they would be common, the norm. If the age of chaos was too horrific.

Such troubling thoughts, it was ruining the mood as he sat on the forest floor, watching the pups rest, and a woman so taken by Wonder she stared into the canopy of leaves with unblinking eyes. A shame she couldn’t see the twinkling stars above and begin learning their patterns. There was always later, when they were safe and he wasn’t bound to them.

Of all the boons that came with being a god, the most useful had to be his ability to be in multiple places. It was a tad stunted at the moment, but with his other selves bringing in a steady supply of Devotion from skirmishes. He could risk spending Devotion on sendings, and in turn gain a complete picture of all his activities.

In a dozen places he herded Kolune towards a new home, a place where they could grow and gain the strength to fight off those with consuming natures. In other places, he watched mortals butcher each other, then feed on the spilled Devotion before the lands had a chance to claim them.

There was so many now, all thanks to gods flexing their might. Blessings were abound and the realm rumbled in protest as acts of chaos began to be birthed.

Mortals were sundered, tribes consumed, gods were feeding and dying. The Savage age was beginning in earnest now, a time of hostile chaotic deities.

The sights, both wonderful and terrible to behold, actually appeased his worries.

‘Prost won’t care,’ he realized.

‘He will be relieved that I have more miracles to save his people, that I keep bringing salvation.’ The dangers abroad weren’t going to end. Glor, Irame, and Celestials know how many others would become bloated from the carnage. Gods not of war, hunting and sacrifices, were at a disadvantage.

‘They need me.’

Prost might become wary, perhaps fearful, but he would never turn hostile. Not till the threats were gone, and by then, great wonders by then.

Aronta will have taken root.

Closing his eyes, he spent Devotion to link back to his shards. All of him for a single moment was whole... and then it fell away.

The plans were sent. Prost would get all the support he needed to survive and ultimately check Glor, he would know of Irame as well. Be kept informed of the chaos blooming.

All the while, Malans many shards aimed at feeding and warning tribes. Would make certain any god growing too large, too imposing to those around them, would be watched, their actions tracked. Malan would keep the gods not aligned with Wonder at each other’s throats, allow chaos to feed upon itself so those with higher visions would have the time to grow.

‘Its always about time .’ For ill or good. A threshold would be reached, chaos would birth order, the desire for peace so strong that those who should know better would allow themselves to be chained.

Order didn’t tolerate others, his ilk would be labeled with the chaotic, deemed a threat to balance and stability.

‘I must prepare for them, those gods of order.’ He would not be caught off guard again as Wargain had done. His foundation of power would be stable, his following strong and united with the purpose of Wonder. It would be their banner, a belief firmly ingrained into their minds.

He looked upward, eyes seeing passed the leaves, he gazed upon the stars. The Endbringers and whatever Sovereigns not yet in play were surely watching. The former expected him to provide a challenge, to show what Wonder could bring. He aimed to enlighten them, but he couldn’t be quick. Couldn’t be rash and act like the other Wonderbringers had. He had to be seen in a positive light, a friend, a force trying to keep chaos in check.

It would keep eyes away from him, at least in the sense of being considered a threat. At most he would be an annoyance, a pest revealing plans. Not a force to be reckoned with. Not an entity that could sunder the realm and make it into something beautiful.

‘Slow and steady, kind and friendly.’ Not like before, when the Source core had allowed him to be a tyrant.

He would not fall into that trap a second time.

‘They will gaze upon me with hope in their eyes, and wonder in their minds.’ Always they would seek another miracle from him, another salvation.

‘My name will be cheered, my name will be cherished, my name will be loved.’ If those of order came after him, they wouldn’t find willing allies like before, no, they would find malice and scorn. They would be the ones hunted, the ones hated and made to hide.

‘Such pretty thoughts,’ he told himself. ‘Such fantasies, but will they be made into realities?’

Only time would tell whether his acts of kindness would be mirrored back at him or answered with fear and betrayal. ‘Either way I will be ready for them.’ He would adapt as he’d done so many times before. ‘Wonder always finds a way.’

“And I will,” he said to the stars and those watching.