In the towering celestial palace that sat at the very core of the divine realm, the god of wind, cloaked in emerald and silver, strode down the radiant halls toward the chief god's chamber.
Every step echoed with defiance.
Servants and minor gods moved aside, casting wary glances. No one dared approach him, but everyone knew—he was walking straight into a storm.
Two towering divine guardians barred his path at the chamber's gate.
"The chief god is not receiving any audience."
One said.
"I am not here to ask. Let him refuse me to my face."
The god of wind growled, wind swirling dangerously around his form.
The guardians looked at one another. Protocol demanded rejection—but pressure from the swirling gales forced their knees to bend.
Wordlessly, they parted, and the colossal gates opened.
The chamber of the chief god was vast and empty, save for the lone throne carved of cosmic stone and lined with flowing light.
