Chapter 2: Life Up There 2

   Brelle's home was surrounded by a bush of cherry trees. It stood just below the biggest mountain in God's Realm. There were dwellings of various gods on the mountain itself, whether they be caves, bungalows, or tree houses. On its top, there was a high building resembling a castle. It was abandoned because no god found it attractive. That's why it was full of magical flora, perfect for them to settle in.

 

 

   From the top of the mountain, you could see the land stretch. Here and there would be a house, mansion, or pagoda, and it was full of wide, paved roads that led to them. It was a magnificent sight, but it looked strangely desolate. That was because the gods weren't at home. They would always be wandering around, going to Mortal Realm, or visiting their comrades for a talk and a brew. Of course, there were exceptions to the rule. For example, Lastor.

   Lastor was a God of Musings. He behaved like a shut-in and rarely went out of God's Realm. Nevertheless, he had friends and enjoyed their presence, especially when he'd be 'enlightened' once again. This happened once in several years. A thought or a concept would come to Lastor's mind, and then he'd develop it. It would start with mutters, sleepless nights, and papers filled with scribbles. After that, he'd hypothesize what would happen, how, and why. In the end, he'd call a couple of gods most suited for his newest idea and discuss it further. It could be said that he was a jack of all trades, but a master of none.

   The process after that was always interesting to witness. Numerous gods would strive to realize the newest Lastor's idea. They would bustle and hustle, cheat each other to gain an upper hand if need be. He was often the catalyst for many activities and anecdotes that followed the journey of realizing the idea, however abstract it might've been when it left his mouth.

   Lastor was a talkative person in any case. When with him, you'll never have the problem of thinking up topics to talk about. If you let him be, he'd talk on his own for hours at a time, but you wouldn't be bored. Such a person wasn't a burden. It was relaxing and reassuring to know there is someone next to you doing nothing but chirping to the skylight. There are times when older gods would come to him to take a rest in one of the rocking chairs Lastor was so proud of.

   Despite being a scholar, Lastor didn't have the behaviour of one. Always laughing, excitable and lazy was how other gods would describe Lastor. He was tall, even towering over the God of War, with brown, curly hair reaching his ears. He had green eyes, pale lips, and a Roman nose. He always wore long but comfortable robes in pastel colours. The sharp tips of his ears indicated elven blood in his veins, a rare occurrence because elves and humans always warred. Despite his height, his body was slender with no bulging muscles.

   His best friend lived on the mountain in a tree house. It wasn't that he wanted to live in a tree house, but was forced to. Heinrich, Lastor's best friend, was the God of Trickery and Thieves.

 

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   You can't describe Heinrich in an ordinary way. To understand what is on his mind, you have to talk to him. That is how Lastor made him open up.

   After a few too many tricks and pranks that involved missing vases and some beautiful gowns, the gods got pissed off and literally threw Heinrich to a tree house at the back of the mountain. But they didn't get their things back. They just couldn't find them. They threatened Heinrich many times, but they should have known that he would be stubborn. He never said anything. Only Lastor came to him and politely asked for his light blue vest back. Heinrich just took it out of mid-air and threw it to him, not saying a word.

 

 

   After that, Lastor would come by with gossip or a new idea suited for Heinrich. Soon, Heinrich himself started visiting Lastor. Since then, they've been close enough to share a hammock when watching the comets and stars, or fireworks of mortals. They thought of each other as brethren. Of course, there were a few misunderstandings (once again, made by lesser angels in charge of beautifying the roads) that haven't been resolved. Anyway, no one bothered with that stuff.

   When Lastor was once asked to describe Heinrich, he labelled him as a quiet person. As for his looks, he was a short sport in a moss green tunic. Black hair and blue eyes with a baby face made everyone melt, at least until uncovering his antics throughout the whole God's Realm.

   He once stole Melhen's plum garland and proudly wore it for a couple of days. She coaxed him into giving it back, but that was before the banishment. Now, whatever he took, he never gave back. Sometimes he'd gift it to pixies or Lastor, or he'd leave it alone. He was fully aware that Lastor always returned the things to their original owners. As always, he just kept quiet.

   As a God of Trickery and Thieves, he was worshipped by every snatcher, gambler, and trickster. They all imagined him as a scarred middle-aged man. Far off the mark, they were. Far off. Nevertheless, Heinrich never corrected them. Sometimes, illusions were better than reality.

   It served him well. He could easily come down to Mortal Realm and teach the children new tricks and games. He'd also use magic to put up a show for them. That's why he got cherries or cherry jam from Brelle every year.

   No one knew that Heinrich regularly visited God of Knowledge.

 

 

   When he was still a human, he was illiterate. God of Knowledge was his mentor from the moment he stepped into God's Realm. He was also the only god he had never stolen from. Heinrich thirsted for knowledge, and what he had learnt he turned into a game for mortal children.

   May not one be as he was. A prayer to the universe and the sky. After all, Godhood chose him, so what else is there to pray to?

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   He had a long list of all the people who dealt in the professions he represented. But not all of them would stop after stealing a few goods. They would also reap the lives of innocents. He would then find their name on the list and cross it out. This list was directly connected to the magic veins of his followers. His crossing out their names meant destroying their magic veins and thus, delivering them to the prison.

 

   

Because of this, his followers rarely murdered, and they were always careful not to harm the targets. It was hard to find a mercenary willing to steal and eliminate the target. Those who were willing... wished for death and freedom from the pathetic life that is living in the dark by unlawful means. Heinrich played a blind judge in their stead, unable to change anything and marking the caves with lines each time it happened. Lines that numbered in thousands.

 

   Sometimes, Heinrich would come to God of Knowledge's doorstep, but not come in. He didn't feel worthy anymore. He was a malicious god. His mentor, Saren, would not want a trickster and a thief in his enormous pagoda. Convinced of this, he hadn't visited Saren for 50 years now. Because of that, Saren had to get news from Lastor about Heinrich's whereabouts and condition. He missed the child he reared.

 

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   Saren was a man of principles. He was never a mortal. He was born from a Purple Lily and was fed dew and pollen until the Goddess of Nature found him after discovering an anomaly in the lilies she adored. She took him under her wing. Literally. She was one of the rare gods with obvious racial characteristics. She was a child of a fenix and a vampire. This caused her wings to be big, but have no feathers. They were bright yellow and wrinkly when folded. She preferred dark, backless clothes that wouldn't hinder her wings. Being a hermit, when she found Saren, she panicked and ran to the Goddess of Nurture for advice.

 

 

  'Saniel, he was born in your lilies. Bestow upon him a name, be his mother, and he'll shine. Let him wear purple, the colour of spirituality. Be honoured to be given a chance even I didn't have until now.'

 

  

   Saniel listened and spent decades teaching him until he stood on his own and took hawk's feather and had written her name on a parchment made of bat's skin. That is when the written word appeared for the first time in the whole universe. And it was the name of the God of Knowledge's mother.

 

 

   Soon his writings went around, functioning on one character - one sound system. Thirty-eight characters took their shape and defined the world. 'Read as it is written. Write as you speak.' These were the words Saren bestowed upon mortals and made them law. Saniel was worshipped more than before, people started respecting nature, animals, and the fields upon which they feasted.

 

 

   Both Saren and Saniel had similar features. Long mahogany hair, thick brows, full lips with highlighted cheekbones, and cat eyes. But while Saniel had yellow eyes and smooth skin, Saren aged until his appearance resembled a noble middle-aged man with a few whites in his hair, and his eyes shined indigo. Now you'd ask who was the parent here if you were to see them together.

   A girl with wings, in her early twenties, agile and up to the middle-aged man's shoulders, wearing backless tops with vine skirts.

   A man with white hairs, wrinkles from smiling and in a shirt and pants painted in various shades of purple, all covered by a thick indigo coat that was never buttoned up.

   They were a family. Son and mother, and always aware that they'll be happy if they stayed close.

 

 

  Saniel much preferred the cave Saren grew up in to the pagoda he lived in now, so she stayed on the mountain, overseeing the plains of the Mortal Realm. She was happy when he gained a child of his own, and crushed when she saw the child be rejected by many other gods. She helped him always be warm in the tree house he lived in, and sang when the nights were moonless to soothe him, all while letting him take a lily or two from her garden from time to time. She knew what they reminded him of.

 

   

   Even her indigo shawl was once taken by him. When she found him, he was standing on the edge of the cliff, looking into the sunset and letting the shawl dance with the wind while he just kept a corner between his fingers.

 

   

   She hoped for the little one's understanding to get better soon. Important people missed him. She didn't want him alone. Loneliness was dangerous even for a god, no matter how strong they were thought to be, which was something other ignoramuses thought the Little One had, too much even. Blindness and prejudice didn't evade gods either.

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