Koros, the third eldest of the Syranian Pantheon and the Father of Knowledge, had the appearance of a human male in his early twenties. He had short brown hair that fell around his ears, and eyes that varied from steel blue to brown, depending on how the god felt. They hid behind a pair of wire-framed spectacles. He was usually carrying a large leather bound book in his hands, and wore simple white robes. This time, however, the book was noticeably absent.

In front of him, hands clasped angrily behind his back, was the second eldest of the gods and god of murder himself, Fibius. Unlike his younger brother, Fibius had the appearance of a human male in his late thirties to early forties. With greased back black hair, solid black eyes and skin so pale and cold it resembled that of a corpse's, he was a very imposing figure compared to Koros. He wore a black suit that was decorated with gold chains and cuff links, along with some dress shoes.

And he was royally pissed off at that moment.

"He is angry, Fibius," Koros persisted, tailing his older brother so close from behind that he was nearly stepping on Fibius's heels. "He thinks this is your doing."

"I don't give a damn what Deyr thinks; it wasn't me. Deyr is so invested in his hatred for me, that he would genuinely believe that I destroyed two mortal cities. Now why in Father's name would I do that?" The god of murder angrily shook his head. He cast Koros a furious glance. "And dammit man, step back some! I just had these shoes polished."

Koros breathed out an exasperated sigh. He stopped walking. "Isn't it obvious who is the perpetrator?"

"I am not a fool, Koros," Fibius coldly replied. He came to a halt. "I know it's him, but no contact has been able to be had with him as of late."

Koros gazed intently at him. "He is up to something."

"That overgrown lizard is always up to something," Fibius snarled. He turned to look back at Koros. "Have you told Ophian?"

"He already knows. But we have kept this on the down low to keep the others from...panicking, or doing anything rash. Luckily for us, Asteris usually only speaks when spoken to, Deyr isn't too bright, and Ione tends not to care much about the Sylvari."

Fibius exhaled deeply through his nose. He reached up and massaged his temples. He was beginning to get a headache, and gods were not supposed to get headaches. "I am now deeply worried about what Vadrioth is doing. If he has destroyed two mortal cities and taken the souls of the dead, he can't just be planning a soiree."

"Lyrenbel and Iksyn," Koros quietly corrected. He quickly murmured an apology when Fibius cast him another black eyed glance. "What are we going to do about Deyr in the meantime?" he asked.

"Not a damn thing." Fibius crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care if he's pissed off or not, that is nothing new. What we need to do is to try and get into contact with Vadrioth, to see what little grand scheme he's gotten into his scaled head this time."

"With all due respect, Fibius, I think you underestimate our younger sibling," Koros said gently. "Among us, age does not necessarily define power."

"Underestimate?" Fibius raised an eyebrow. "No, Koros, I recognize Vadrioth's strength and power. I just don't like him. Believe me, I am well aware that he is quite possibly one of the most powerful among us. I am also willing to believe that he is the reason why we have been having problems with manifesting our power on the mortal plane recently."

"You too? I thought that was just me," Koros muttered, looking downward at the marble floor as his brows wrinkled in sudden thought. He shook his head. "This isn't good. We need to see what he is up to before it's too late-" his words turned into a soft groan when a sphere laced with red fire suddenly pierced his body.

Fibius turned his angry gaze to the unwelcome and very abrupt visitor. "You," he growled. "This wasn't what I had in mind when saying we needed to get into contact, you know."

Golden, reptilian eyes glinted dangerously in the pale lighting of the room. "It's not nice to talk bad about people behind their backs."

~-~-~

Onyx gazed at her rarely seen reflection through the mirror. She didn't understand mortal women's obsession with gazing at themselves through one of those reflective objects. When she had asked the souls of the Daughters of Tainted Blood that lived in the castle, they had explained to her that it was because they wanted to make sure that they looked "pleasing".

Onyx dressed herself to appease Fibius, so she thought that she would try out this mirror thing for once. She was dubious, but at the same time she found it somewhat strange and interesting to see herself staring back at her. Her shoulder length black hair was neatly combed and parted perfectly in the middle, while her solid black eyes contrasted greatly to her corpse pale flesh. She was dressed in a simple black suit and tie, along with some freshly polished dress shoes. Her appearance was both modest and professional; just the way that her creator liked it.

She turned sideways in the mirror and clasped her hands together on her stomach. She could see the slight incline of her breasts underneath the suit.

Her lord Fibius was one of the most powerful gods amongst the Pantheon. Unlike most, Onyx had no fear for the Ebony God. She respected him, but was neither afraid nor intimidated by him. Though she didn't know it, that was why Fibius liked her as much as he did. He found that fact admirable, and he made sure that his clerics on the mortal plane were the same way.

He had no use for cowards, after all.

Onyx was almost incapable of nearly any emotion. She very rarely felt pain, fear, happiness, sadness, and anger. She almost never smiled. From what she had seen of mortals, feeling emotions led to weakness, and if Fibius had taught her anything in her existence, it was to never be weak.

But recently, she was beginning to feel attachment to her creator.

She would never admit that fact, but she enjoyed being near him. She took great comfort in knowing that she was the only sentient being in the palace that was created by him, and the only one he actually seemed to remember and like.

Finally deeming that she looked presentable, Onyx dismissed the mirror and entered the large, obsidian and marble throne room.

When she did, she gasped for the very first time in all the years of her existence.

For what she saw caused actual and genuine fear to go through her.

Fibius hung from the wall, pinned by the horns of the dragon skull that was impaling his chest....

***🐉***

Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry for the short chapter. Was the pacing too fast? I feel that it was xD

If you have any critiques or suggestions, please tell me! Thank you so much again, and until next time~