As Phyrn’s chosen stepped into the Sunset Dunes, they all felt the rush of the metaphorical wind at their backs. Up to now, each stop of respite had been painful to leave behind… but putting Ccidan behind them felt easier. Not because Ccidan had been any less enjoyable, of course.

However, this feeling spurring them forward was met in equal measure by one of foreboding.

“The more the sky reddens,” Emilie said, “the more the heat relents, the more I…” she trailed off, looking up at the cloudless wash of colour above, her voice light and airy. She and Phyrn rode on Danu, the goddess sat behind her hierophant with her arms loosely around her waist.

“I feel it too, My Lady,” Krey said, goosebumps rising on his arms with that distinct tingling sensation.

The time of day had not changed, it was still middle of the morning approaching midday, but the sky’s colours shifted as they went all the same. No matter what time of day it was, in would always seem to be sunset in these dunes, and always twilight in the easternmost land. For Livia and Pippy, it reminded them of home, reminiscent of Aubade’s rosy pink sky. They held hands and gave each other a knowing glance.

“Long has it been since I last walked beneath a sky at all,” Brightbrand thought aloud, “and longer still since I walked under this one. Your work is just as beautiful as I remember, Ponima.”

“Why, thank you!” Ponima crooned. “This has definitely got to be one of my favourites.”

Bel tittered. “Why am I not surprised in the least that you are responsible for such an inexplicable phenomenon?”

“What can I say?” Ponima shrugged. “If it’s inexplicable, it was probably me~”

“Truer words have never passed your lips,” Phyrn teased.

“Look!” Ponima urged, pointing almost directly up and slightly backward. “If you really focus - you might have to squint - you can juuust about see the real sun’s light through the haze of the illusion! I left that slight translucency in on purpose.”

They all looked up, following the point of her finger, and there it was, a vague area of light that, when pointed out, made a region of the illusory sky just a tad paler. Even knowing it was there, though, Phyrn’s chosen still found themselves losing sight of it, simply being just that faint.

“Why leave such a minute imperfection in the illusion?” Krey wondered.

“Just for the fun of it,” Ponima said. “One of the little tests I’ve left around the world, to see who has the keenest eye for illusions. My plan was to pick hierophants that way, but…”

“But then,” Phyrn continued, “we all agreed not to be so haphazard in our selection of hierophants, and Ponima decided she’d just rather not participate at that point.”

“Well duh!” Ponima blurted. “You all sucked the fun out of the process! You have no idea how hard it was to not mess with the oh-so-delicate system you all worked so hard on, cultivating those precious, tender links with the mortals of this world.”

“I see you still haven’t comprehended the wisdom of my suggestion, Ponima,” Brightbrand smiled. “That’s alright; at least the others had the sense to see, even if they didn’t entirely agree with my philosophy.”

“That was your idea?!” Ponima thrust her fists down at her sides in a strop. “Brightbrand! Why?!”

“To temper our hedonistic temptations,” Brightbrand waved a finger. “Any vaguely powerful entity can surround itself with mindless adoration and docile servility; we strove to create a truly compelling world for the people living in it.”

Ponima harrumphed and pouted. “I still think there would’ve been no harm in a little more… worship.”

“Think of it this way,” Pippy said, “with people the way they are, they’re far more entertaining to play tricks on!”

“Well, of course!” Ponima chuckled. “That’s why I eventually gave in and let them have it their way. But, before this little band of ours parts ways, remind me to show you all my personal little hideaway—”

“Ponima,” Phyrn interjected sternly, “you are not taking our chosen into your pocket dimension of abstract horrors. No.”

“Aww!” Ponima whined. “Wow, Phyrn, how did you become so anhedonic?”

“Tell me,” Krey spoke up, “do some gods just never grow out of being children even after reaching adulthood?”

“Your mortal, linear thinking disgusts me,” Ponima responded, “but to answer your question, yes. It is like that sometimes. Some gods never become adults at all, and some are never children.”

“Like me,” Brightbrand chimed in. “This is always how I’ve been; I was not ‘born’ in the way you think of it. I was brought into existence through… elaborate circumstances.”

Livia smiled. “Add that to the list of stories we’re looking forward to hearing, right under Emilie’s green witch story.”

“Why does everyone still remember me mentioning that?” Emilie said with a mix of bewilderment and embarrassment, evoking laughter in everyone else.

They had to rely on a combination of Ponima’s extra-illusory perceptions and their own body clocks to determine when it was time to make camp. Ponima had to shroud the pavilion in a smaller, temporary illusion to help the chosen sleep however. At first, the sunset sweetness had been a cosy comfort, but when they tried to sleep, the light level was disruptive. A good thing, though, that Ponima had hidden them so in a dome of darkness… for a fearsome power approached.

The sands were no different to any other region of Berodyl; they held monsters and terrors of the night all the same. Here, in the Sunset Dunes, the basands burned their furious trails, Berodyl’s wrongful elementals of fire. While Phyrn’s chosen would’ve most likely been able to fend off such creatures, it was difficult to fight while asleep; so, for the first time in a long, long time, Phyrn, Ponima, and Brightbrand took to the stage of battle side-by-side, to fight as one.

Brightbrand opened things up, summoning his greatbow composed of sunlight - True Almighty - and loosing a blinding arrow that exploded amid the swarming avatars of fire.

Once dispersed, Phyrn cast her radiant seeds across the sands, and even in this inhospitable earth did they take root, shooting up to bind the basands’ legs in thorny stems. However, even these stems could not ignore the fundamental harmonies of magic, and began to slowly char and burn away.

The time they afforded, however, was all Ponima needed to work herself into a lather that met the basands’ own fury and then some, unleashing a hail of pink lightning bolts that rained down upon the fire elementals with brilliance and ruination, obliterating many of them in a swift orchestra of combat manoeuvres.

This was enough to break even the unquenchable rage of the basands, and they scattered like mice in the face of the divine power arrayed against them.

“Woooowee!” Ponima cheered. “It has been too long since we teamed up like this! I’m having a blast! Shame they’re all running now, though.”

“Even so,” Brightbrand smiled, “I have thoroughly enjoyed this opportunity to exercise the tethers of our fellowship once more. This was hardly an exerting test, but…”

“But it has been a pleasant distraction,” even Phyrn could admit. “Normally, I am loathe to engage in such callous violence, but if any world is deserving of such reckless abandon, it is this one.” Suddenly, a heavy sadness pulled down at her heart, and pulled her mouth down into a frown.

Brightbrand dispersed his bow, scattering its ethereal form to the breeze in wisps of sparkling gold. “The fight is not yet over, Phyrn. This world may yet find its salvation… with or without us.”

Ponima pulled them both in with an arm around each of their shoulders. “Well, if there’re a few more mortals like the ones in that pavilion over there, I think they’ll be just dandy. Not that I’m in any rush to go anywhere, mind you; this world finally got interesting lately!”

“I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand you, Ponima,” Phyrn sighed.

“And that’s just the way I like it,” Ponima winked.