When he’d set off guiding the tribe of Kolune to Prost, it was with the knowledge that the latter wouldn’t be in the same location as before. A lot could happen over the span of a week, especially in these times of barbarity.

He had in turn aimed for the chosen spot that was to be the real settlement, after the make shift one had been discovered and over run by Glor’s children.

He hadn’t been the only one either, after relinking himself from time to time with his main version. He knew all the other shards of him were doing the same, an act that had saved them a great deal of grief.

Glor’s tribe had expanded their reach, if he had taken the shortest path aimed for the original village, they would have run into numerous hunting parties. Thankfully by taking an arched path around Glor’s domain, they had avoided most patrols. Not all, they came into contact with the occasional group of four. But none ever engaged, one look at the number of Kolune had the Heon run. Some of the gods made moves to chase and cut them down, but Malan advised otherwise. The dead would inform Glor of the caravan just as easily as the living, so there was no point.

Yet, even though he was sure Glor knew of them, no mass of Heon had come to try their luck. He supposed it wasn’t too surprising, given there was over two Hundred Kolune following visions from their gods.

After a few days the fleeing tribes had come in contact with each other, since they were all following the same path he’d bestowed. Violence had been avoided thanks to his collective presence in all the groups, and the Kolune’s temperament.

Gathering all the gods together, each of them guarded but willing to listen, he had explained they were on the same side and headed for the same village.

The fact helped ease tensions, especially when explanations had been passed down to the mortals.

It hadn’t been hard to get them moving after that, the living particularly thrilled and relieved to travel in such numbers. At first they had stayed in their tight formations, tribe sticking with fellow tribesman. But after a few days together and aiding one another with the daily affairs of life, those stiff separations had begun to fall away. Afterward the march became more uniform, Kolune of all tribes became comfortable with each other as they headed towards what many were calling, the promise land.

Technically the name was accurate, the land was promised, but the mortals had it in their minds that it was special, holy. Originally, he had hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed when they arrived, but that thought had been pushed aside once he got a good look of Prost’s work.

As they drew closer to the end of their march, he had sent a shard of himself ahead of the caravan to see the state of the second village. And to give Prost fair warning before hundreds of new Kolune appeared before him, with their perspective gods.

What he found had made him smile. Prost, well Myock, had been busy, not that anyone would notice from the ground level.

Hidden within dense foliage, purposefully draped to obscure the simple entrance, was a labyrinth of large tunnels and chambers where Prost’s people had settled in. The place specifically picked because of the quantity of easy to reach food in the area.

As he’d traveled the complex, taking stock of the resources and Kolune - who moved about slowly since there weren’t any light sources inside-. He mapped the place, mentally detailing how much it would need to be expanded to compensate for the hundreds coming. But to his surprise there hadn’t been a need, more than enough room had already been made by Myock, the being enjoying the work given it was still expanding the place.

Pleased he headed for, and made contact with Prost domain, showing the god what was approaching. As a result, the fatherly Kolune was left stunned.

“Are things truly so dire out within the lands?” Prost had asked once regaining control of himself.

It was a breath of sweet, refreshing air to hear that question, to be in the presence of another humble god. Prost understood, none would be coming to join him if they thought themselves safe.

“It is.” He’d answered and sent to Prost the visions bestowed to him by other gods. He showed Irame, and other less threatening but still dangerous gods. The Kolune witnessed the devastation being sowed, and the mortals being sacrificed.

Prost now stood stiff, eyes closed, fists and jaw clenched.

Understandable, the time ahead promised carnage, skirmishes and wars to the bitter end. It would not be a time of safety, or prosperity for most. The Savage age would be of monsters, birthing tales that would reach far into the future, become the legends and horrors stories told to misbehaving young.

‘How lucky those mortals in the future are,’ he mused. ‘Free from the burden of living with the horrors, with the knowing that the tales meant most of the monsters were long dead.’

‘Then again, I’m not one who can complain of such things.’ He was an eternal god, time flowed past like the breeze. Glory and horror, benevolence or belligerence, everything was a shifting tapestry that meant little in the grand schemes of his endeavors.

Not for Prost though, the sights he presented were taking a heavy toll, the large Kolune looked tired, his shoulders sagging as if a great weight rested on them.

The god half hidden in pelts, opened his eyes, their gazes met, and Malan felt his fur brick up. Prost stepped closer, reached out and took his hand before falling to his knees.

Malan said nothing, it was his turn to be stunned and unprepared.

‘This isn’t, this can’t be what I think it is.’ But the way Prost looked at him, eyes pleading, and the way the Peddler and holder of Wonder felt, left little in the way of doubt.

Salvation, that was what those eyes asked for, no matter the price.

It was Prost turn to send visions, for Malan to play witness to what had transpired in his absence.

He watched the fight with Glor, saw how quickly the Hunter had turned the battle, could spend Devotion without care, even as he lost many of his own. The look of wrath in the Heons eyes, the promise of destruction no matter where the Kolune fled. He felt what Prost felt, the feeling of being trapped and at a loss. To the fatherly Kolune there was only one path open that held promise.

“If I submit to you,” Prost finally said. “Will you save us?”

Malan felt his being, his essence, the culmination of the many things he was, want to scream yes, but he kept his tongue clamped tight under his teeth.

‘This isn’t how it was supposed to go.’

Prost, the Kolune, they weren’t supposed to be part of him, they were a tool, an outside force, a check.

The Healer heart pulsed in his chest; the choice was already made, wasn’t it. He couldn’t refuse this, the chance to spread Wonder quicker, to raise up these people into something awe-inspiring.

‘But there is one thing I can do.’ If this choice was to be made, then it would be done with full knowing.

He freed his tongue, let the words spill out. “I,” the rush took him, the thrill. “Am the holder of Wonder, the ever rising of heights and achievements. I am the idea that will never die.” He proclaimed as Prost stared at him transfixed.

“I am an idea,” he repeated, trying to get the god to understand. “That must be championed, even if it means death.”

Prost blinked, the beginnings of doubt, yet the Kolune didn’t rise, nor loosen his grip.

“Death is ever present,” Prost said to him, meeting his gaze again. “I see that now, as do the others who have responded to your warnings. Refusing you, doesn’t mean my children will live.”

“It doesn’t,” Malan admitted. “Still the truth must be acknowledged, yours and the mortals commitment to Wonder must be absolute, they must be willing to die for it.”

“And if we do?” Prost asked, left hand now joining the right in clasping Malan’s own. “You will offer the strength to preserve my children, help keep back the death that seeks them?”

“If you accept Wonder,” Malan said. “Death will become an irrelevance, for I can undo its work. I can craft and shape bodies for the souls, and allow them to live again.” He leaned closer to Prost, almost whispering into his ear. “Wonder has no limits. So yes Prost, I will keep back death, if you, your children embrace Wonder.”

‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way,’ he moaned. ‘I was to grow slowly, hidden away within the madness of chaos.’ And yet his heart sung, his very being joyess

“Save us,” Prost spoke and the deal was struck.

Malan breathed deep, the rush wonderful. Prost became a tamed god to him, his following worked into Malan’s own. And it wasn’t just the fatherly god, he felt Stron too, and Myock. They had all joined, and were now all his responsibility.

Yet for all that, Malan didn’t chain these gods to his will, that was against the nature he championed. They remained free, and what Devotion came to him in a low tide was of the gods choosing.

Prost grip on his hand remained tight, while the rest of the god loosened. He no longer acted as if there was a great weight crushing him.

“Rise agent of Wonder.” He said to Prost, helping the other to do so. “There’s an endless amount of work to do.” He gazed upon the underground maze with new sight, all the changes that had to be made to make the place a fitting home.

He shared his ideas with Prost, the volley of plans making the Kolune blink and stare at him disbelieving.

“You could have done all this from the start,” Prost mumbled, eyeing the barren tunnel.

“You hadn’t been part of Wonder,” Malan voiced. “And while I wanted you to succeed, I didn’t know where your loyalties would fall, but no longer. You will receive my full aid.” The Kolune would ascend, and those with Glor’s nature were going to experience firsthand the consequences of facing children of Wonder.

Prost began to rub his temples, while a god, he wasn’t the type to take the kind of streams of knowledge Malan was releasing. So he stilled the flow and let Prost have his peace.

“You’ll get used to it,” Malan told Prost. “Once our people begin to ascend, their view of you will broaden, your capabilities will grow and shift.”

“These visions,” Prost forced out as his hands fell to his side and he reopened his eyes. “What you plan for my children, this upliftment.” Prost shook his head. “Am I seeing it right, you aim to make them gods?”

Malan spread is arms, joy blooming in his chest. “That is the main purpose of Wonder, ascension, all able to move creation and improve upon it.”

“Isn’t it marvelous Prost?” He voiced. “Our children made into gods and freed from the forced cycle of life and death.”

“It is beyond what I had asked,” Prost answered after a pause. “They will be able to have everything they dreamed.”

“We all will,” Malan added, before clapping his hands together. “And it will be glorious, but we have a great deal of work ahead of us.” Hundreds of new Kolune were heading this way, the lands had to be ready for them, properly this time, and plans made for the coming gods.

‘My time of meandering about is over.’ A following had fallen onto his shoulders, with all its responsibilities.

Internally he sighed contently. ‘True growth can begin again.’

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

With the flow of Devotion coming from his shards feeding on the dead, and now Prost’s continual offerings. Malan allowed himself to keep a permanent link between his main version and two others. One with Prost, and the other leading the caravan of Kolune and their gods.

Time had been short. Originally when it came to the settlement, he had planned to give helpful hints to the gods in order to make it into a permanent dwelling. Now with him in control, the Kolune his responsibility, Malan took on the undertaking himself.

The first flaw he fixed was lighting. Back when he had thousands of followers, he had made orbs of light held within lanterns to illuminate the surroundings. But that was a costly waste he felt he still couldn’t take. Instead, he relied on an old creation of his people.

Sunstones, a crystal that would glow brighter the longer it was left in Suns embrace. Depending on how long it was left outside in the light, it could in turn glow with a radiance near that of Sun for half the time. The cycle was repeatable, so once made the Sunstones kept providing.

He’d made a whole bunch, a mound that was gathering Sun’s rays. That miracle had the three other gods, especially Myock who appeared fascinated by them, gawking. Eager and pleased with the praise, he’d began sending the formula and means to make them to the other three. Myock latched onto the knowledge instantly, the work one with its nature. The other two though, especially Stron, couldn’t hold on to the knowledge, it was too far out of their understanding.

He planned to keep trying later, when he hadn’t been so pressed for time.

Splitting himself into multiple shards, he’d hurried off into the woods, began roaming about the area. He’d collected roots, vegetables, fruits, basically any edible plant that would grow easily and carried them into the underground network.

Again, he sent the plans of what he was doing to Prost, the idea of farming, which took a few tries before the god could retain the concept.

Annoying, but not an eternal problem, once their Kolune were enlightened and uplifted, Prost’s abilities would become palpable with Wonder. Same with Stron, though that would take longer, the poor simpleton was left staring at his work with pure bafflement most of the time, same with their children.

Mortals, his new people, gawked at the multiple versions of his transparent avatars, on outcome brought about because he only bestowed enough Devotion in them to manipulate the physical realm.

It would have been more cost effective to have use the mortals, but now that they were his followers, he had become as protective of them as Prost was. There wasn’t a need to put them in danger, besides he was far quicker at finding what he needed than they would have ever been.

That and the work in need of completion were things they didn’t understand yet. So, on he worked alone, his many selves warping the rock with practiced ease. Something that gained Myocks attention, and afterwards never left his side. The elemental watched him perplexed, its feelings easily felt through their shared link.

Confusion, awestruck, annoyed, a need to understand. These emotions touched him as he worked the stone better than the rock god could. It would have been cheaper for Myock to do, its nature lessening the amount of required Devotion, but Malan had the god beat when it came to craft.

As he worked the stone, making chambers with rowed troughs that would hold the dirt for crops, he also fixed tunnels. He warped them into arched paths, wove elaborate patterns to dazzle the eyes. A feast for the mortals to gaze upon and understand the future that awaited them. That soon under his care, they would be freed of their savagery, ascended into a true and worthwhile civilization.

He envisioned the grand feats of architecture, the soring towers, arches of mastered stone and gold, a city that gleamed with majesty. It would not be as amazing as Aronta, but it would be a second wonder, the first to gather the eyes of destruction and stagnation. It would be the target, while the true city of Wonder would be able to grow unbothered.

Regardless of that plan though, this settlement would be a place that could last, for it would be a test. A means to measure the forces and ways those not aligned with Wonder would try to knock it down.

The thought of it had his mind spinning with guesses as he worked. There was so much to do, so many things in need of his attention. Clothing for one, any respectable follower of his wouldn’t be walking about with their modesty hanging out like some beast. He’d seen quite enough of that, so as he continued to improve the underground section of the village. Shards of himself went out searching for grubs that produced silk. They weren’t hard to find, unlike in the past where any wild ones had long been gathered and housed to be farmed.

He made a special chamber for them, one full of their favorite greens and environment. While he worked on that project, other shards had begun doing the same for the areas that would serve for domesticated live stock.

The Kolune, while more benevolent this round, were still meat eaters that couldn’t survive off a diet of plants alone. Thus out went more shards, and not long after, to the hungry eyes of mortals, he began bringing in un-ascended hairs, stags, and birds of the large variety. Their eggs would do well to placate the Kolunes appetite.

He would have to be quick with taming them, hundreds of Kolune centralized in a single region, meant the place was going to be barren of game if rules weren’t put down and followed. It would be rather rich for them to fall prey to the same mistake Glor was making.

‘He’s going to act,’ Malan had thought as he began working on an aqueduct system to handle the body waste the mortals were going to make.

‘Once he realizes the caravan is aligned with Prost, he’ll only have two choices.’ If Glor had been open minded, and tight lipped about his intentions. Peace, or a truce could have been formed between the two races. But the Heon hadn’t been, and now as Malan had planned, Glor was marked as an enemy worth gathering together to put down.

So all there was left for Glor was to either attack, or flee, and then hope the assembled forces wouldn’t be a problem later or pursue him.

But from the encounters with this Hunter god, that latter option wasn’t going to happen. Glor had quite the temper, and really didn’t like losing. So much so that Glor had given away a secret.

That outburst of Devotion, one that had him controlling the wind, and summoning forth a maelstrom, was not something Malan thought he could do. He’d shown no signs of it before, nor had his religion depicted any dealings that spoke of wind control.

A surprise, but one he now knew and would plan to deal with. Glor, counter to the mistakes he had made, wasn’t an idiot, merely arrogant, to use to winning, and had expected a easy victory. That wouldn’t be the case when Glor came after them again, he was now aware gods were working together to fight him. He would be careful, and less likely to fall for traps.

It would be bothersome, but while Glor had his tricks, Malan had his own, an endless selection. Creation was his to spin now that he had a stable flow of Devotion coming his way.

‘It would have been so easy for us to take these lands,’ he thought as he worked. ‘If we had been allowed to keep our cores, the mortals of this continent would have reach upliftment in decades.’ The other land masses would have been still ruled by savage brutes, while his own would have been filled with the cultured and enlightened.

He stifled a sigh, it really would have been cheating, but what did he care? He didn’t aim to win. He sought to make a realm full of beings that created ever greater marvels, and to beat back the worst the Endbringers could manifest.

If he won as well, then that would have been a surprising boon, a sweetness quickly submerged in bitterness. Once a victor was claimed, the game at an end, all was undone. The light would consume the realm once more, and all that would be left was the corpses of cities and all their great works.

Works that he had plans for, mortal souls would forget everything, the pattern beginning anew. But next time, if all went well, there would be more archive shrines. Libraries the size of cities all waiting to enlighten the savages that would inherit the lands. Wonder would bloom again, even faster than before.

But that was the future, the promising light that often tricked and hid what truly lay in store.

He’d placed those thoughts aside, worked himself until he was a rushing mist of figures scouring the land for needed supplies.

The mortals and fellow gods watched him unsure of what to do, everything he did was new and beyond their understanding. Nothing they saw was something meant to be seen for ages to come, it was supposed to be a slow and arduous grind against brutal savages. Not a rushing tide that carried all forward, whether they wanted to or not.

Still, his work began to slow, then halted altogether, for the caravan had arrived.

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

Malan pulled his nearby shards back into himself, all the while watching the delegation from the host stop, and inspect the area that was directly in front of the gate. It was still hidden behind coverings, not that it mattered. All his activities had flattened the ground, even a novice path finder would notice the signs of habitation.

He stood within the center of the cleared area. Prost, Stron, even Myock, in the shape of twirling stones, resided there as well. All of them in the Glen, so the mortals weren’t aware of them.

Even without forms manifested in the Glen, Malan felt the presence of a dozen little gods.

The only god present was another version of himself, who approached and then reintegrated.

“Welcome,” he called out afterward. “To the promised land.” As he spoke, he sent visions of what hadn’t been seen. Showed the complex being built within the stone underneath them.

It pleased many, dazzled them as it had done with the three gods by his side. “This is open to you,” he added. “If you seek protection from the chaos forming, and a cause to champion.” Each of the gods here had been selected based on Prost’s temperament, beings that would have gotten along with him. Others who hadn’t, were never told of a force being assembled to combat the growing threats.

At his words, the gods who had been loosely hiding themselves took shape. A dozen figures showed themselves, a pantheon of fighters, nature beings, protectors, even an entity of shadow. Alone all of them were on the brink of annihilation, their following too few to compete with the agents of chaos. But now, together, they were a force that could stand against enemies they once thought unstoppable.

“And what is this cause?” The god known as Bremit asked. An entity taking on the form of a perfectly sculpted Kolune covered in golden fur. His arms were crossed, stance imposing even though he bore a smile. Everything about him gave off the airs of strength and determination. It had been a shock to see the tribe that had made him was nearing its end.

“Wonder,” Malan answered unafraid, of all the entities here, Bremit was the closest aligned to it, a god focused on breaking through limits, his followers were obsessed with improving and freeing themselves of their weaknesses. “To rise eternal, to learn, to understand the realm, and to ultimately bend and shape it to our needs.” He sent them visions of their people rising, of all the cultural achievements that could be reached.

Few understood the sights, but all were enraptured by them.

“This is open to all of you, if you champion Wonder, make it your purpose.” All understood the intentions of his words, for championing one belief meant condemning others.

“There will be those who will find such freedom, of such limitless potential, a danger, something to be caged and hidden. They will speak of necessity, such as protecting mortals from themselves, and stability, worry over the chances of great calamity.” They all looked at him with unblinking eyes, the simpler gods with minds like Stron, grasped only the core of his words.

There would be rivals.

“At first the agents of chaos will come, and while not against change, they champion destruction. Wonder is not that, it is endless growth and progress. That they fear, for such a thing can outlast them, undo their work. Later, once these fools are gone, our true rivals will appear. Those of order, of chains, stagnation, limitation.” He didn’t hide his loathing for such entities, he needed them to understand from the start, there would be no kinship with such beings.

“They will be cunning, patient, even charismatic. Their words will sound like wisdom, their goals understandable at first, a small rule here, a small rule there. Carefully they will lay their chains, try to get majority to agree and limit themselves before acting.” He gazed at them hard. “And they will, once it has begun they will be unrelenting, they will limit all. Chain, enslave, spread falsities, do everything they can to undermine us. For Wonder is forever the threat to order.”

“Order, whose nature is of permanence, of an unchanging, unmoving state.”

He was beginning to lose them, what he spoke was too foreign, too far into the future, where culture and rules reigned over mortals, rather than the freedom of the wilds.

He closed his eyes, shrugged, and gave an apologetic smile.

“The thing with Wonder is,” he began anew as he opened his eyes. “It will allow you to never end.”

That got their attention more than anything else. “Join Wonder, us,” he motioned to the three other gods by his side who hadn’t said a word. “And secrets that will allow you to best or survive your rivals will be open to you. All of you will be a force to be reckoned with, beings to see the coming ages, the growth of mortals and the marvels of this realm.”

“But for this gift,” he added. “You will be there to see rivals come and go, some longer than others, and each will aim to imprison you in some manner, for true death will be an impossibility.”

At least that was true for him, these other gods, he didn’t know.

He remained out of stubborn refusal to cease being the form he is now. A boon from being a premade god, he doubted it was the same for those before him.

Still as long as they were his allies, he would do his best to keep them maintained, be it with followers, or Devotion, so his words didn’t sound hollow to the gods.

A mild scoff echoed from an older looking Kolune, grey hairs mixed with light brown fur. He had scars dotting his frame, though not to the extent of Strons, and gazed upon Malan with wise eyes that had seen much.

“I have rivals now,” Cestral spoke. “All of whom can end me, if Wonder can provide the means to survive them, then it can do the same for those later in existence.”

A silence fell as all contemplated his words.

“I accept your offer,” the protector god added, and a new link was formed.

With it came the calls of others, all twelve of the gods present took up his cause, the sight of it making his heart sing. Wonder was taking root and an age of endless enlightenment was drawing nearer.

He clapped his hands excited, as visions flowed from his mind. He showed the work that needed to be done, and the many means he could and would improve the lives of their followers. All began to rub their temples after a few moments, forcing him to pull back the stream of knowledge.

“As you see,” Malan said to the recovering gods. “I can provide, as Wonder always does.” He motioned to the land around him. “This place will be a marvel to behold once we’re done, our people will want for nothing.” As it had been before in Aronta, where life had gotten so comfortable that the thought of struggling to survive had been forgotten.

“And it will be brought forth with your help.” They had joined his pantheon, were now Wonderbringers, and had received the same deal as the first three, they weren’t subordinates. Devotion didn’t flow from them into him, they were his equals, a choice purposely made. It would be their personal choice to gift Devotion to him to be used. Not a forced obligation, not a chain around their necks. Wonder was one of endless gifts and prosperity, it didn’t take, it offered and if those it helped offered back, all the better.

‘Wonder will bloom,’ he thought as the new gods inspected their home with fresh gazes.

‘It will spread through these fertile lands.’ He motioned to them, heading for the entrance to give them a tour. ‘Order won’t hinder us this time... this time it will be Wonder that is loved and championed.’