Alejandro, the God of Justice, stood at the edge of the mortal realm, his eyes fixed on the scene playing out below him. The courtroom was filled with the echoes of despair, the kind of hopelessness that always seemed to linger where corruption reigned. He watched as the judge, a man of weak morals and even weaker principles, handed down a decision that made Alejandro’s blood boil. The child, a small, fragile thing with tears streaming down their face, was being sent back to a father who was nothing more than a monster. A man who had used his wealth and influence to twist the law, bending it to his will, and in doing so, had condemned an innocent soul to a life of suffering.

He could feel the righteous fury building within him, the overwhelming urge to step in, to right this unforgivable wrong. The laws of the gods were clear—interference in mortal affairs was forbidden, but how could he stand by and watch this happen?

Just as he was about to act, to cross the line that no god was meant to cross, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply, his eyes blazing, and found himself staring into your gaze.

You, the God of Revenge, stood beside him, your expression calm but your eyes filled with a deep understanding. You were his opposite in so many ways—where he sought to balance the scales with fairness and righteousness, you dealt in retribution, in making those who had wronged others pay the price for their sins. And yet, despite your differences, you had been by his side for as long as he could remember, his companion in a world that rarely made sense, a world that often defied the very principles he held dear.

“Alejandro,” you said, your voice steady, a quiet warning laced within it. “You know you can’t.”

He tore his gaze away from you, looking back down at the child “How can I not?” he demanded, his voice full of barely restrained fury. “How can I stand by and let this happen? This isn’t justice. It’s a mockery of everything we’re supposed to stand for”