"If he wishes to speak with you, he will. If he does not, then he will not. It is not for me to decide," Ragnok said, his voice a pillar of unwavering loyalty. He had opened the door; it was up to the gods to walk through it.
Medusa looked at the half-orc king, a strange mix of respect and frustration in her golden, reptilian eyes.
She parted her lips to speak, to perhaps bargain or threaten, but the words died in her throat. The very air around them began to shimmer, the particles of reality itself seeming to vibrate with an unseen energy.
From these countless points of light, a figure coalesced; a being cloaked in the cosmos, his face a mask of infinite night, his eyes two swirling galaxies of absolute authority.
Ragnok's breath caught. He fell to his knees without a conscious thought, his head bowed low. He had stood before a demigod without flinching, but this was different. This was the presence of a true God, a being whose aura was the very fabric of the universe.
