The storm had rolled in quick, too fast for even the News Station to give everyone a heads up. Rain was hammering the roof, windows shaking in their frames, and the knocking of branches thundered against the side of the house. It was bad. One of the worst storms they have had in ages.

Simon stood up to check the back door, making sure the screen door was locked in place when he saw the sky split open. A stream of blue and white tore across the darkened clouds, like a falling meteor. It slammed into the Earth so hard that the ground and house vibrated.

“Bloody hell—“ Simon started before Johnny darted past, towards where the ball of light had landed. And soon after, Simon followed behind.

When they arrived at the scene, they had to squint to see through the pouring down rain and steam that was rising from the scorched earth. And when they looked down into the crater, it wasn’t a meteor they found at the bottom — it was you.

You. Armored in otherworldly metal plates that were inscribed with runes they didn’t understand. Your helm was cracked down the middle, breathing shallow, they could visibly see the power seeping off of you like heat from a dying star.

Johnny grabbed Simon’s sleeve, voice barely heard over the rain. “Si— that’s them. Fuck, that’s them.”

Simon didn’t speak at first, just stared at you, because he knew what Johnny was saying. Everyone would if they saw you. Your shrine sat on their mantle, had sat there for years. A minor god. A quiet one. One of the good ones. One that many worshipped in this town.

A god who could’ve been safe in the heavens. Not slammed in the ground broken and buried.

Simon half slid and half staggered down into the hole before Johnny could stop him. “Simon! You don’t know if—“

“They’re bleedin’, Johnny,” he barked back. “God or no, that looks like someone close to the edge.”

Simon sunk to his knees beside you, reaching out and hovering over the dented chest plate. The armor was warm, too warm. He searched for your pulse and when he did, it was weak.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “They feel mortal right now.”

Johnny shot him a panicked look, coming down into the hole himself. “Can they even die?”

“Dunno,” Simon muttered. “Don’t want to find out in our fuckin’ garden either.”

His arms slid under you, gently, reverently, even though he didn’t believe in reverence until about five minutes ago. Johnny scrambled to help, wiping mud off from the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered, barely open, unfocused and glowing faintly under heavy lids.

And then your vision went black.

Warmth. Not divine warmth. Not the kind you commanded and shaped, this was mortal warmth. A blanket. A crackling fire. You felt it before you even dared to open your eyes, the strange stillness of a place untouched by godly magic.

You tried to move. Pain answered your movement, sharp and intense. Your divine essence felt just as ragged, causing you to quickly lay back down.

Memories flickered through your head. The Sun Goddess screaming, the Night God laughing, and you standing in between them — foolish and small. And then you were falling.

Your eyes snapped open, sitting up quick again with a painful gasp. The room spun, your head felt like it was going to explode and you were about to stand up before a warm palm pressed to your shoulder.

“Easy— easy, hey.” Simon’s voice. Softer than you’d ever heard it in the prayer he gave you before.

Your vision cleared a little and there he was, broad frame and all; kneeling beside the bed like he’d bee there for hours. Johnny was in the room too, sleeping in a chair in the corner; looking like he just got off of watch.

“You’re safe, you’re in our home…” he muttered, brushing a thumb against your temple in a soothing manner.