Chapter 1: Prologue

Another sunny day, thought Puttupi (புதுப்பி), watering the garden of stars. Indeed, weird as it sounded, she swished her hands to and fro. Colliding with each other, the seeds of a new realm had polished. She shielded her eyes from the bright bang, and she smiled. There. That should do it.

Outside her manor of white marble, she waved back at the ones below. All she thought of was how creative the children of tomorrow would become. A basket at hand, she opened the door and sighed. Not again. In another swish, the stars inside turned into untitled books. For the crumpled papers littering the floor, all had ashed in a snap.

Either way, seeing the drawing room busy as ever warmed her heart. But the same couldn’t be said when she heard another cough. She sighed again and dismissed even the butler for a yearlong vacation. Stars for lunch, who would’ve thought, she shrugged. Yet still, a heavenly transfigured smörgåsbord with every finger lick. If only she could enjoy her borscht, sighing again.

You better have a good excuse. Puttupi set her bowl aside and walked inside the drawing room. A million universes hung above the ceiling, but no star had direction. A quadrillion went off, and her frustration peaked. She snapped her fingers, crumpled papers flying everywhere by the wind.

The eye-bagged man had sketched and inked a drawing that blinked. After the perfect colors, he’d set it free on the floating globe before him. But the snap occurred at 150 dB, screaming in a jump. “I’m sorry, officer!” he covered his head, eyes closed under the table. “They framed me. I swear!”

Her eyes rolled, seeing him sweat and tremble more. “Come on. Get up,” she kneeled. “You’re eating, and that’s final. Don’t make me save your ass from loan sharks again.”

The man opened one eye and stood from his ducked posture. “Ow…” he bumped the table above him. Scratching his scalp, he sulked. “I’ve become the #1 cave troll, haven’t I?”

“Oh, you’ll be more than that if you keep this up.” Her arms crossed, eyes squinted. A million thrown ideas had flown above the multiverse since last night. Yet she couldn’t hope to deny the smiles of mortals on one world alone.

She sighed, hearing laughter in her mind. “Sorry, honey. But I’m still putting my foot down. Tonight will begin our three-year break. Please don’t fight over it.” Another snap went, and the papers floated no more.

“I can’t believe I’d say this,” she shook her head. “You’re more child than my man lately. Hard work’s your forte, I know. But is sleeping that overrated? I’m not mad. I’m just—” Her eyes widened, yet her lips felt no warmth this time.

He let go of his hug and held her shoulders. “Can I at least pat myself for not kissing you out of the blue?”

Puttupi failed to recall their first moment. Every week, they always had another one. Half of those days, it escalated to the bed. Yet she could only blame herself, hearing him atone for his behavior. His smile glowed even in deep regret all those years.

A box and a rose appeared in his hand. “There’s plenty more in the cupboards. All for you.”

The door closed behind her, and her cheeks reddened to their limit. Not one chocolate wasn’t her favorite. She took a bite and looked back. Damn it! How does he do it?

***

Everywhere the man went, the cosmos hung above. The last time it didn’t was during the war, but his wife shook her head, barring recollections. Even in the highest realm, taboo remained something to avoid. Taking another spoonful of borscht, he chuckled at their talk.

“That’s strange,” he smiled, hand under his cheek. “I thought we Gods are beyond human morality.”

She drank her orange juice and sighed. “No, that’d be our parents. And fuck them. Same for your slurping.”

He chuckled. “Amen to that! We should always— Wait, what did you say?”

With her spoonful of borscht, complete silence. “That. Perfect it, or I will kick you out again.”

What blinding stabs to the heart, he thought. Perhaps already too late, but he smiled once more. “Come on now, dear. I can make you worthwhile with more boxes. Delivery hasn’t arrived, though.”

“No.” She took another in a hush.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

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“No!” he pointed, grinning.

“Yes! I mean no, I mean…” she grunted and took the final straw. She wanted not another moment, but her heart couldn’t resist. Her eyes closed as the daring move went on for thirty seconds. She let go, faces moistened from their breath. Moving on, she scooped for seconds. “I can’t believe I’d say this, honey. But you’ve done it again.”

The man sat surprised upon their towering smörgåsbord. More than they could ever chew, yet Puttupi loved every taste. He lifted his bowl, another silence in one go. Wiping his mouth, he smiled at her again. “Happy anniversary, dear.”

Puttupi finished her bowl and stored the ‘leftovers’ in a snap. All of it would last them a year, but she smiled back. Following her heart, she wrapped her arms around him a second time. “Save it inside, honey.” The lights dimmed everywhere in the Romanesque manor. A little of their tradition in bed wouldn’t hurt.

His thumbs went firm from her back to her shoulders. Years of polishing the stars culminated in a moment to remember. “Oh, yeah… Oh, yeah…” her eyes squinted harder. The bedsprings creaked louder, and she clutched the sheets. Oh, yeah. She moaned, face deep in her pillow.

She laid on his side and smiled, panting. “Damn you… I said massage my back. Not pleasure me at the same time.”

“Well, I did ask,” he stroked her wavy black crown. “Now, we’ll have a prince to read our stories.” Such dashing looks would eclipse their own combined, he thought. Blue eyes and a warm brown tone: none could resist.

She giggled. “Actually, we’ll have a princess, too. I can feel it.” Holding her belly, she squinted at the most ornate book on their shelf. Within seconds, an idea had popped. Her husband’s masterwork moved to her lap in a snap. “Read it, honey. Let them know by instinct.”

His eyes widened at how long since he checked his older work. He chuckled, seeing its solid gold cover. “This is a doozy. The one book where I based two mortals on us.”

She giggled again, snuggling closer. “Don’t forget that show from Earth. You hated to admit we weren’t so different.” Yet at the two-page color spread before any words, she sighed. “I remember that asshole. But the bravest one I’ve ever met. Selfish forever till the end yet carried all the fear of those he loved.”

He smiled, eyes closed. “We owe them a billion times more than our populace, dear. That’s for sure. Now, for our future bundles of joy to remember.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath:

A king and queen walked into a bar, along with their princess. There, they saw a—

A record needle scratch came into his mind, a finger on his lips. His wife let go and made another move. “Skip the intro, honey,” she turned the pages. “I want them to be shocked at the real main character.”

He laughed as he glanced at the author’s notes. “So glad we haven’t changed, dear. I show you my shitty ideas, and you’re still my best editor.” After another throat clear, the cosmos above them zoomed into a planet. A perpetual light connected it to another: the land of the first mortals.

Only we, the Gods, can see such light. The otherworld never strayed far away from its sibling. So, I wanted them closer than ever. “Earthly Soul Reassignment” (E.S.R.), they now called it. I felt permanent flag tattoos on their nape would be enough indication. Once more, I almost crumpled my sheet until I saw the smiles.

Alas, like our realm, conflicts would brew. Parallaxis had many for a mega annum, even right now. The smiles and laughter endured more, no less. But I couldn’t disagree with Father on his words: heroes don’t exist. Sure enough, none of my six champions in this story ever were. None were heroes of golden hearts or those who surpassed tragedy by sheer will.

Yet they were something greater: leaders. Leaders who walked their own paths. Leaders who either sided or spurned each other. Humans in the flesh and every way, forever till the end. Even as the world caved in, a helping hand never hurt. Their greatest gift of all: they cared to move.

Here we begin on Pantaiyanilam (பண்டையநிலம்), the otherworld’s oldest nation. Surrounding the capital lay the Prosperity Triangle. Three keystone cities, all alike in dignity around fair Coelestis. Whereupon the oldest lay Vetus: The—

Puttupi snickered, mouth covered. Her laughter echoed throughout the room. “Oh, honey. Your quote-stealing still gets me every time.”

His cheeks reddened next, sweating bullets. “I-It’s not stealing! I love references, alright?” He cleared his throat the loudest that afternoon. His wife looked at the visual story above them again.

Whereupon the oldest lay Vetus: The City of Origins. Unlike all who embraced modernity in some way, tradition rang the most here. I always loved their perfect emulation of the German Renaissance. A surprise to be sure that they even spoke the language, but a welcome one.

Yet beyond any of my intentions, tragedy had struck the most one night. In the lively city square, a monster lurked beneath the shadows.

 

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