This is the world the gods have turned their backs on. Even these creatures, these holy divine beings, can be overwrought with greed. Amongst themselves, amongst their factions, wars were fought. Wars were lost. Now the power is waning from the land, seeping back into the earth. What would the people do if they knew? Knew that the gates to heaven had been slammed shut. They couldn’t even see the blood pooling beneath their feet. They had to do something, anything, to appease the gods.

~~~

The dirt roads were crowded and cluttered with people. The veins of the city pumped their life blood up and down the winding streets, amongst the grand stone temples and between the little wooden shops and stalls. The city of the gods, Rarfu, was alive with the coming festival.

This city was the center of the world. The grand place where temples stood as parlament houses and priests ruled the land. Each god had his or her own house, creating a beautiful series of palaces at the center of the city. From there, spiraling outward, were the humans who served their divine masters. Those with the most wealth and power lived closer to the Gods, and the farther away you were from the eyes of the gods, the less the city had to offer you.

For most though, this did not bother them. Even in the smallest shack on the farthest corner of the dusty roads a man and his family would still take great pride in the fact that they lived in such a blessed place.

Nethira was one of those people who lived at the outskirts of the city. The poor peasant girl walked alongside her best friend as they strolled the dirt path towards their homes. Tomorrow was a big day, the first day of the festival that celebrated the coming together of the Gods. It was tradition that each citizen gather an offering for their patron and present it at one of the temples at the heart of Rarfu.

Once reaching the age of 12, each child in the city chose a patron deity. The god that they would offer themselves to for the rest of their lives. They took the name of that gods temple as their surname, a sign of their life long devotion.

Many children chose the deity of their parents. Most families married within their temple and their children would often pick to serve their households patron. Nethira’s best friend, Ismara’s family, was like that. Her mother and father both had been devoted to Fidta, the god of the soil. It was only to be expected, since she was the daughter of a farmer and Fidta’s grace brought a good harvest. Her life had always revolved around the earth, as did her fathers’, and his father’s, and so on.

Nethira’s family was the rarity. Even amongst the greater families, it was unusual to have a household as split as hers. Three, soon to be four, different deities were all served under the same roof.

Her Father, as a street performer, had devoted himself to Kaskan, the god of inspiration. Her older brother, who had always aspired to be a great knight, devoted himself to the Father God, Cors, when he had come of age. Cors, the Sun God, offered guidance to those who fought to protect his city. It wasn’t an uncommon choice for soldiers. Her little sister, who was not yet old enough to choose, often visited Gasain, the God of Love. For Na there was nothing greater than the idea of finding the person she was destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Then there were herself and her mother. Her mother was a ‘Shadow Woman,’ a shaman who worshiped Tillia, the Goddess of Magick. Nethira, while not yet a Shadow Woman, had followed her mother down the moonlit path of night when she’d come of age.

As Nethira thought about one day joining her mother in the ranks of the shaman, She clutched the offering to her chest a little tighter. She was both excited and nervous at the idea of being able to practice fortune telling and magick on her own.

“You’re gonna break it if you keep squeezing it,” Ismara insisted with a small laugh.

Ismara’s sweet laugh scattered her thoughts. Nethira laughed a little as embarrassment gently painted her cheeks red. “Aha, you’re right,” She said, loosening her grip on the parcel. She knew she wasn’t going to get to see Ismara every day for much longer. She’d gotten engaged to another young farmer who lived on the far side of the city. Nethira couldn’t help but think about how lucky that boy was. Ismara was quite pretty. Far too pretty for him. If Ismara had wanted to, she probably could’ve married up, but Ismara had no such aspirations. She was content with her farm and her family.

Nethira glanced down at the little basket that Ismara was carrying. The two of them had gone into the city to look for offerings for the next day. Half of the city was out and about, bringing a certain exciting anticipation to the air that filled and drained most of the people in the market at the same time.

“What did you get for your offering this year?” Nethira asked. A wave of pride swept over Ismara as she puffed out her chest, reaching into the basket. From beneath it’s cover she produced a single, gold green apple.

“What!?” Nethira almost spit out her surprise. “How in the world did you get an apple! A ripe one nonetheless! They don’t grow anywhere around here!”

Ismara’s grin turned a bit sheepish. “I had to go through a lot of trouble to get it, but it’s worth it. I need to make sure he hears my prayer this year, and that he looks to my family. I won't be around to help next year, so I need to be sure that my family's harvest is easy and plentiful. He’s given us so many blessings, I know it’s selfish to ask for more, but I really want my family to be taken care of. My brother is still too young to get married and have children, so they’ll need all the help they can get,” She said.

“What about you, what did you get?” Her friend asked in return. Nethira frowned, clutching the book to her chest once more. “I can’t tell you, you know that,” She said. There was secrecy around their sect. The Temple of Tillia was shrouded in mystery. So little was known about them by outsiders. Even her own father was blind to some of the rituals that she and her mother preformed. Offerings, especially on this day, were incredibly personal. She couldn’t share it.

Ismara didn’t seem to take it too personally though. “I was just curious, no reason to get so defensive,” She said with an irritated pout. Nethira tried to soften her friends ire with a small smile. She took her hand, squeezing it a bit. “Let’s not fight. We only have so many days like this left. How about tomorrow we go to the temples together! We can walk together, and then after we leave our offerings we can get something to eat!” She offered with a big grin.

“That sounds wonderful!” Ismara leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow, just the two of us, no talk of families or future husbands. A girl’s trip!”