The examination hall's glow had barely faded when the twins were led out into a long corridor carved of shimmering crystal. The light there pulsed gently, as if aware of them—reacting to their presence with cautious curiosity rather than warmth.
Aethrion guided them forward with slow, measured steps.
"You two will not begin traditional training," he said. "Your divinities require oversight few gods can provide."
Dante exchanged a glance with Anarissa. "Is that… good oversight, or bad oversight?"
"Both," Aethrion replied. "Most gods receive one mentor. You will receive three."
He stopped before a vast archway that opened into a circular chamber. Three figures waited inside.
The first was a man whose form shimmered with fractured silver and shadow. His eyes carried dusk in one iris and dawn in the other.
"God Vorun," Aethrion introduced, "Divinity of Bound Realms and Dual-Natured Forces. He will assist with your Duality."
The second was a serene woman whose presence felt like rainfall across untouched soil. Her hair drifted as if submerged in water threaded with light.
"Goddess Lysera," Aethrion said softly, "Divine Sunweaver. She will guide your creation and solar harmonics."
The third leaned against an obsidian pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His attire looked scarcely real—shadowed fabric shifting between layers of existence.
"And Varael," Aethrion finished, "One of our foremost dreamwalkers."
Varael studied Dante a moment too long.
"You're already warping the air," he said flatly. "Trying not to, but failing."
Dante blinked. "I wasn't doing anything."
"That's the problem."
On instinct, Dante stepped back—then froze as the floor beneath him wavered, bending like disturbed water. Silver-blue fog seeped out from under his feet, curling around the chamber. Shapes flickered in the mist—fragments of memories, illusions, half-dreams. Anarissa reached out to steady him.
"You're leaking dream essence," Varael said, pushing off the pillar. "And without proper discipline, you'll slip into a fragmentation haze. Congratulations. You're a walking divine hazard."
Anarissa frowned. "He's new. You don't have to be rude."
Varael looked genuinely puzzled. "I wasn't being rude. I was being factual."
Before Dante could reply, a flare of heat burst beside him. Light swelled—warm, blinding—and Aethrion spun around.
"Anarissa! Your solar mantle—bring it down!"
Anarissa gasped, trying to dampen the surge. The bright flare pulsed again, strong enough that the walls shivered. A lattice of oblivion-black rings formed at the edges of the light, the two forces competing in a way that made even the mentors step back.
"I didn't mean to!" she said. "It just… reacted."
Lysera intervened, her hands raised. A veil of gentle luminescence wrapped around Anarissa, cooling her radiance without extinguishing it.
"You channel creation through instinct," she said softly. "A beautiful gift, but uncontrolled. You must be careful. Suns can burn, but they can also birth life. You bear both paths."
Vorun's voice followed, calm and steady.
"And both of you bear Oblivion. Most gods fear it. I will help you keep it from bleeding into everything you touch."
Before anything more could be said, a sharp sound echoed from the chamber entrance.
Someone was clapping.
A young god with platinum hair and gilded robes strolled in, flanked by two attendants. His smile was too wide, too polished.
"So these are the twin prodigies everyone murmurs about," he said, stopping short of the dais. "The ones with mixed divinities. And Oblivion, no less. How delightful."
Varael's eyes narrowed. "Lord Salix. This is not your hall."
Salix ignored him, gaze fixed on Dante and Anarissa.
"Since you are new, allow me to welcome you properly. A show of strength is customary. You may demonstrate yours by facing me. A simple duel."
Aethrion stepped between them. "This is not permitted."
"It is traditional," Salix replied. "Why deny them a chance to prove themselves? Unless… you worry they can't?"
The mentors stiffened. Anarissa stepped forward, jaw tight—not in anger, but instinctive defiance.
Dante placed a hand on her wrist. "Don't. He wants a reaction."
Salix's smile faltered for just a moment—then sharpened.
"You refuse? How disappointing. I expected courage."
Dante looked him dead in the eyes. "I don't duel strangers before breakfast."
Lysera snorted unexpectedly, trying to hide a smile. Even Vorun cracked a faint smirk.
Salix turned sharply and stormed out, his attendants scrambling after him.
Anarissa leaned closer. "He's going to make trouble."
"Probably," Dante muttered. "He looks like the type."
Aethrion rubbed his temples. "Moving on. Your mentors will begin your initial resonance test—"
He stopped suddenly.
Lysera stepped closer to the twins, her brow furrowing.
Vorun inhaled sharply.
Varael's drifting gaze sharpened to a blade.
"Your souls," Lysera murmured, "they… carry fractures."
Dante's stomach dropped. "Fractures?"
Varael circled around them, hand raised but not touching. "Torn strands. Missing segments. Not enough to destabilize your divinity, but…"
"But enough to cripple the foundation of your future Divine Kingdom," Vorun finished.
Anarissa swayed, grasping Dante's forearm. "What does that mean? We're gods now. We're supposed to be… whole."
Lysera placed a hand over her heart. "Your ascension was not clean. Too many forces collided. Too many souls layered. It is a miracle you stand at all."
Aethrion exhaled slowly. "This must be addressed immediately. Soul fractures left unattended become permanent."
Vorun nodded. "We cannot repair this alone. The balance of your wounds requires both ends of the cycle."
Lysera and Varael exchanged a solemn look.
"You must be taken," Lysera said, "to Myrielle, Goddess of Life."
"And to Kael'thos," Vorun added, "God of Death's Quiet Path."
Anarissa's voice trembled. "Both… at the same time?"
Lysera took her hand gently. "Life mends."
Varael glanced at Dante. "Death stabilizes."
Aethrion gestured toward the corridor. "Come. The Council has already been informed."
As they walked, whispers followed them through the halls—some curious, some nervous, some reverent. Gods old and young watched them pass with eyes full of speculation.
At the end of the corridor, two great doors opened—one glowing with verdant gold, the other with soft silver shadow. A warm breeze flowed from one, and a cool, still wind from the other.
Lysera guided Anarissa through the golden door.
Vorun and Varael guided Dante toward the silver.
Aethrion remained between them as the threshold split their paths.
"This is not a punishment," he said. "This is your beginning."
The doors closed behind the twins with a soft chime, and for the first time since waking in the divine realms, Dante and Anarissa found themselves separated.
Each stepping into the care of gods who wielded the power to mend souls—or unravel them completely.