She could still remember those first few decades. After the initial surprise of watching one’s own funeral, she grew to embrace her new state—she quickly took to experimenting her form, ultimately leading to the one she preferred now.

Iztris came with her whenever Elsyn went to Relan, explaining it once as a combination of “boredom and curiosity.” Elsyn couldn’t exactly blame them, since she went to Letrela for the same reasons. They were given plenty of time to adjust to their new forms when Iztris was the only one of the two that particularly needed it. In general, Iztris seemed more surprised by the whole thing—they would ramble about their brothers whenever Elsyn wasn’t entertaining conversation.

They were in the capital of Relan—the place that is, in modern times, abandoned. Iztris hid as much brown skin as necessary to avoid negative comments (something Elsyn even had to refrain from at times). The two had came here thanks to Elsyn making sure that neither of her sisters fell prey to the same conflict Iaspis did—that, and she was always fond of the dresses displayed in the shopping areas.

Every other word Iztris spoke in their earlier ramblings seemed to be nonsense; Elsyn couldn’t tell if they slipped into whatever language Letrelans spoke or if they just said it to quickly Elsyn couldn’t identify the actual word. Still, she did always try to listen, if only because she felt she had to as the older of the two.

Iztris was following Elsyn, either talking about the differences between their nation and hers or still talking about their brothers. They didn’t stop until Elsyn did at a particular shop. Elsyn wanted to go inside—it sold dresses, and while Elsyn didn’t need actual clothes she knew she could memorize a few patterns to wear later—but opted to wait a few moments for Iztris to understand.

When they noticed, they shook their head. “Don’t make me go in there,” Iztris said. “I’d like someremnant of dignity, thank you. I’m not going into a women’s store.”

Elsyn argued quietly so no one would question them. She had the appearance of a woman at the time—although she was still taller than Iztris since she was used to her height as Iaspis—so she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble browsing. “Not just one look?” Elsyn asked. “We can appear however we want to—it’s not crossdressing if we’re not technically a specific gender.”

Iztris shook their head. “No—a skirt would limit movement, for one. I’d also rather not be teased later.”

She wanted to mention how there there was no one to tease them—they weren’t allowed to speak to anyone who knew them in life, since they weren’t ‘high enough among the gods’ to be given permission to claim any of their siblings’ descendants shared blood with a god. Elsyn dropped the subject there, however, and went inside the store by herself.

Moments like those happened every so often. Elsyn always went with Iztris when they wanted to visit their family—every year for the first three decades, every five years for the following four decades, and every ten years at least at every point afterwards. Elsyn, although not quite as determined to stay close to her mortal family, did check up on Zanna, Delora, and their eventual families every few years.

Elsyn was given her role as peacekeeper during a time when Relan faced war, and as such she wasn’t given quite as much time to adjust as Iztris had been. In the eventual mediation of conflict between Relan and Cheryn, she was close enough to mortality that she tried to give the former the advantage—she managed to convince Cheryn to allow Relan to join with them, allowing easier lives for much of Relan’s citizens. Either personally or indirectly, she played a part in most wars; she would take on the appearance of any being they would likely listen to and promote peace among them.

Yet mortals always fought, and Elsyn noticed that within decades. Letrela set ships ablaze just to watch them burn; Cheryn attempted conquest to expand their own influence; Relan was often conflicted on whether or not life was better with Cheryn ruling over them; Aliviedo, although a quieter nation, also fought to claim territory and often found conflicts with Letrela. To promote peace among humans whose natural desire was to cause harm was nigh impossible.

This was never so noticeable as when Elsyn tried to mediate the conflict between Cheryn and Relan that resulted in their separation. Cheryn’s king had decided that Relan was a waste of resources—resources that Cheryn had enough to share to countries twice its size. That war came suddenly, and Elsyn arrived at a planned peace talk to speak some sense into them.

“I am a third party,” Elsyn declared at the beginning. The people there from either country did not look pleased. “I have come to discuss this conflict and find reasonable terms in order to end it.”

Each side stated what they wanted, and Elsyn found ways for that to happen. Before any treaty could be made, however, a Cheryn soldier came to announce that they successfully coordinated an attack on Relan. There was an uproar and, soon enough, Elsyn found that she needed to leave to avoid getting killed. She monitored the conflict from a distance, unable to prevent it in any way—she couldn’t even personally kill everyone involved, since all beings of her nature could not wield a weapon with any kind of force and thus death would come slow if at all—until the conflict ended the next year with the death of Cheryn’s king. She was able to convince the two nations to separate, but she retreated to her own thoughts shortly afterwards.

She came to the decision not long after that. Her job was to promote peace among mortals, yet they always—always, without fail, even when they tried to avoid it—chose conflict. War was inevitable; there wasn’t a single god who died from natural means, and almost every god died because of conflict. Iaspis lost his life in the beginning of a conflict—ultimately, Matali’s death was nothing more than a Letrelan version of Iaspis’s, with similar wildfires causing conflict.

She believed that killing everyone would ultimately solve the problem of conflict—after all, mortals can’t chose violence if there aren’t any alive. She was still carrying out her duty…just with bloodier methods.

Some selfish part of her just hoped that the gods were far enough removed from mortality that she didn’t have to kill them, as well. She would prefer not to have an old friend killed—or at the very least, she refused to be the one to kill them.