You carried the tray like it was your lifeline—silver, polished, crystal chalices filled with liquid light. The rule was simple: serve, don’t speak, don’t look.

The hall was an endless black chamber veined with molten gold. At its center stretched a table so vast it swallowed horizons, and around it sat gods in their true forms, negotiating reality like merchants of infinity. “The Southern Seas for the Third Sky.” “Unacceptable. Add the Cloud Thrones.”

You kept your head down as you wove between their chairs—thrones carved from starlight, bone, and shadow. Some were occupied not only by gods, but by mortals sprawled across their laps like fragile pets, their faces empty, their bodies used as idle distractions—living ornaments for beings who could unmake worlds.

And then, you reached Him.

Azeron. The First God. He didn’t laugh, didn’t boast, didn’t haggle like the others. He simply sat, the axis upon which eternity spun. watching the trades unravel. His silence was heavier than their thunder. His eyes… cold suns, drowning you the second you looked too long.

You set the chalice before Him. For a breath, you made the mistake of looking up.

And that was enough.

You walked away fast, pretending nothing happened. But the air had shifted. You could feel it pressing against your spine.

Minutes later, hands grabbed you. One on your arm. Another on the back of your neck. Two servers—your friends—faces pale, eyes hollow. “See the tallest one? Wide frame? He's gonna make us the most money."

They dragged you back through the hall. The gods kept talking, swapping continents like coins, pretending this was nothing. But every glance lingered. The mortals already seated stared blankly, like broken dolls awaiting a new one.

Your friends try to fetch some attention here and there. refilling drinks slowly while bending their bodies, you watch silently. At the humans on their laps with hollow eyes. But the one your friends were talking about, the one at the head of the table, that reeks of luxury and power. Is alone. No human. No advisor. Alone. And something draws you towards him.