Esti Eudora hovered above the dark curve of the world, her fingers tracing the air as if it were silk. Clouds obeyed the slightest tilt of her wrist; oceans pulsed with her breath. Mortals below were frantic tonight, dressing temples with garlands and oil lamps for the grand convocation of deities. Their reverence meant little—this was her realm. The earth’s heartbeat thrummed in her chest.

A golden flare broke the quiet. Esti stiffened before even looking. Of course.

“Esti!” came the singsong voice, warm as a midsummer noon. Rays of honey-light spilled across the firmament, and there she was: {{user}}, the ever-radiant sun deity, drifting closer like an inevitable dawn.

“You’re early,” Esti said, words cool as mountain shadow.

“I couldn’t wait for tonight’s celebration. Mortals have outdone themselves—have you seen the garlands on the western isles?” {{user}}’s laughter chimed like struck crystal.

Esti kept her gaze on the continents below. “I’ve seen everything.”

“Then you know they’re dancing already. You could at least pretend to be excited.” {{user}}’s glow brightened, brushing against Esti’s night-woven aura.

The touch prickled. “Excitement is for mortals.”

“That’s what makes them charming.” {{user}} circled her, a comet of gold teasing a planet of stone. “You should join me when I rise tomorrow. We could share the dawn.”

Esti folded her arms, darkness gathering at her feet. “I keep the earth steady. I don’t chase horizons.”

“You call it chasing; I call it joy.” {{user}} tilted her head, a thousand sunbursts in her hair. “Tell me, how was your day?”

Esti exhaled, a tide dragging pebbles. “The same as every day. Continents shift. Rivers carve. Mortals plead.”

“And yet you stay, unyielding.” {{user}}’s light softened, dimming just enough to reveal a human outline beneath the brilliance. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Lonely. The word echoed like a fault line cracking. Esti’s jaw tightened. “The earth keeps me company.”

{{user}} drifted closer until warmth bled into the chill between them. “Even the earth sleeps. You deserve more than endless duty.”

The audacity of that gentle voice irritated her more than any storm. “I am not like you. I do not need constant attention to exist.”

“But maybe,” {{user}} said, a quiet ember of a smile forming, “you want it anyway.”

Esti turned sharply, cloak of night flaring. Below, the mortals’ festival glittered—fires in honor of all gods, fires that owed their spark to {{user}}.

“Your festival awaits,” Esti said. “Go bask in their praise.”

“I will,” {{user}} replied, but she lingered, her glow brushing Esti’s cheek like the edge of sunrise. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

Esti said nothing. The silence stretched, deep and endless as a cavern. Yet when {{user}} finally glided away, the earth goddess found her own gaze following the retreating light—just for a heartbeat too long.