The abyss had fractured, and from its shattered pieces, realms were born. Each was a mirror of its god, shaped by their dominion, their desires, and their flaws.
Across the endless void, the newborn gods stirred for the first time. Their breaths filled their realms. Their powers bled into the earth. Their ambitions burned like stars.
And high above, the Twelve Thrones shimmered faintly — distant, silent, waiting.
The Storm God
Far above the abyss floated a realm of endless cloud. Black thunderheads rolled across a sea of gray, split by violent arcs of lightning. Bolts of electricity snapped down into the fog, illuminating shapes of mountains hidden beneath.
At its center stood a man with storm in his veins. Lightning crawled across his arms, jumping between his clenched fists. The sky obeyed his movements, thunder booming with every step he took.
He inhaled, and the clouds surged. He exhaled, and the lightning bent like dogs on a leash.
His lips curved into a sharp smile.
"The skies are mine now. And soon, the heavens above those Thrones will be, too."
He raised his arms, and lightning howled in response.
The Frost Queen
In another corner of the void stretched a wasteland of frozen glass. Jagged peaks of ice towered like broken spears, and a river lay still, frozen into a mirror of pale blue.
A woman stood upon the ice, her hair like frost, her wings crystalline and sharp. Each step she took froze the ground further, glaciers growing behind her like loyal subjects.
She touched the surface of the river, and the ice shifted, rising into the shape of a throne. Crude. Unfinished. But hers.
Her reflection stared back at her with cold, unblinking eyes.
"I was a nobody," she whispered. Her voice carried on the wind, calm but unyielding. "Here, I will be a queen. And queens kneel to no one."
Snow fell across her frozen wasteland, and her lips curved into the faintest smile.
The Iron Tyrant
A barren plateau trembled as iron erupted from beneath the earth. Towers of steel clawed their way skyward, spires stretching jaggedly into the blackened sky. The ground itself became metal, veins of molten ore spreading like rivers of fire.
At the heart of it stood a hulking figure, his skin fusing with iron plates. Each movement groaned like chains tightening, his steps leaving metallic prints in the ground.
He clenched his fists, and iron walls erupted on either side of him. He laughed, deep and booming, the sound echoing through his realm.
"Stone crumbles. Fire burns out. Ice shatters. But iron…" He slammed his fists together, sparks flying. "Iron lasts forever. I will forge an empire of steel, and the Thrones will be my anvil."
His voice shook the metal towers, and they rose higher, answering their master.
The Firebrand
Molten rivers boiled in a fractured wasteland, magma spewing from cracks that pulsed like open wounds. The heat warped the air, the sky flickering orange and red.
A boy stood at the center of it, his body engulfed in flame. His eyes burned like twin embers, his skin glowing like a furnace.
He raised his hands, and the rivers of lava rose with him, coiling into the shape of dragons — molten beasts with blazing eyes and jaws dripping with fire. Their wings spread wide, casting shadows of flame across the fractured realm.
They roared in unison, their cries shaking the broken sky.
The firebrand laughed, wild and reckless, as the dragons circled him.
"Let them come! I'll scorch gods, mortals, and Thrones alike! All of it — mine to consume!"
The dragons roared higher, but his laughter was louder still.
Other Glimpses
Not all were so loud.
In a realm of blinding light, a young girl knelt in prayer. Her tears fell as flowers bloomed beneath her, life bursting wherever she touched. Her body glowed with radiance, but her voice trembled.
"If I can claim a Throne… I can save them. I have to."
In a land of endless dusk, shadows writhed like living things. A figure half-consumed by darkness stood still, his whispers leaking into the void.
"They fear the night… and soon, they will fear me."
Elsewhere, a beast-god roared in a forest of titanic monsters he had just shaped from dust. Another candidate wept alone, calling out for family who did not answer. Others stumbled through their realms in silence, unsure, afraid, overwhelmed.
Not all were ambitious. Not all were ready. But all were gods now, whether they wanted to be or not.
The Tension of Realms
The abyss itself stirred. Where the realms of fire and frost pressed too closely, magma hissed against glaciers, spewing steam into the void. Where storm winds brushed against the rising iron towers, sparks flew, steel ringing like bells.
The gods turned toward the disturbances, their eyes narrowing.
"Stay out of my way," the firebrand snarled, his dragons hissing behind him.
The frost queen's eyes glittered. "Cross my borders, and I'll freeze your beasts into statues."
The iron tyrant only laughed, his voice like grinding chains. "Good. Let's see whose ambition cracks first."
But they did not strike. Not yet. Their realms pulled apart again, shifting back into the abyss, the tension lingering like the aftertaste of steel.
Kairos Watches
Far away, in a realm unlike the others, Kairos reclined on a jagged stone, serpents coiled lazily around him. His sky was torn, his ground cracked, his domain an unstable blend of void and chaos. But it was untouchable, unreachable — a serpent's nest no one else could invade.
He had felt their awakenings ripple through the abyss. Fire roaring. Ice whispering. Iron groaning. Storms howling. Shadows lurking. Light trembling.
He smirked, purple eyes glowing faintly.
"Everyone's busy showing off their new toys. Building castles, making speeches, throwing tantrums."
A serpent slithered up his arm, its misty body merging with the tattoos on his skin. Kairos stroked its head absently, his grin widening.
"And me? I'm lying down. Figures."
The serpents hissed softly, as if in amusement.
Kairos tilted his head back, staring at the faint shimmer of the Thrones above.
"Twelve seats, huh? Everyone's frothing at the mouth to grab one. But…" His voice dropped to a murmur, laced with sarcasm. "…they're forgetting something."
He tapped his temple with a lazy finger, eyes narrowing.
"They're gods now. But they're still thinking like mortals. Mortals rush. Mortals panic. Mortals fight before they understand."
He closed his eyes, smirking as the serpents coiled tighter around him.
"Me? I'll wait. Let them scramble. Let them bleed. When I move…"
The infinity symbol on his forehead flared faintly, pulsing with dark light.
"…they'll know it."