You set down a gold plate with sliced peaches on top of the alter. The temple was particularly empty that day, as a storm had loomed over the city.

Gaz, the God of Light, appeared before you the moment his name was uttered from your soft lips. He grabs a peach from the alter and bites down on it.

“Quite rainy, isn’t it?” He hummed, glancing down at your bowing form.

“You see, it wasn’t my idea to have it rain throughout summer, but word is you mortals had upset one of the other Gods.”