The goddess Ariki was entranced as she watched the thoughts of the gnome before her. Creativity always had this effect on her, and this inventor inched toward an epiphany. On the table before the gnome was the source of his inspiration, a toy boat built by a friend for their son. The intricate device used the power of steam to turn the toy’s propeller. It was not the first device the inventor had seen that used steam for motion, but it was the most sophisticated yet, and the sight had seeded within his mind the thought that perhaps this curiosity could be used for more than playthings. Perhaps steam could drive more than just toys. Perhaps steam could drive more than toys.

Ariki saw the gnome’s mind identify the problems with scaling up such toy engines and leap toward solutions. The mortal mind was endlessly fascinating; Ariki could watch such thinkers for days. But today, her attention was drawn away by an insistent call nagging at the edge of her awareness.

With reluctance, she shifted her focus, only then realizing it was her husband trying to get her attention.
“Jurian?”

The god of justice rarely demanded the flighty goddess’s attention, and even when he did, he did not insist. Today, his call was unrelenting.
“What is so pressing?” she wondered.

Foreboding thoughts arose in Ariki’s mind, but she pushed them down, dismissing the possibility that today could be the day she had dreaded for millennia. The goddess waited to see if her lack of response would discourage her husband, but when the summons did not abate, Ariki had no choice but to see why Jurian so urgently needed her attention.

Bound by no body, she had no need to travel. All she needed to do was shift her focus. With deliberate effort, she tore herself away from watching the creativity of the gnome inventor tinkering with steam power and instead centred her focus on her husband. The gnome’s workshop within Golodhel faded into a windy cliffside overlooking crashing ocean waves.

Ariki knew this place. It was a remote island Jurian had made his own early in his tenure as Lord of Judgment. Stark and desolate, the small island was dominated by one building only: Jurian’s hall, where he judged the souls of mortals. But this was not the only use it saw, as this was also where Jurian had convened the gods to agree to the covenant that had bound them to peace with one another in the early days of the world. It was also where he had heard arguments and rendered judgment on the one violation of that agreement when Aransa fell.

Dread filled Ariki.

Seeing the fear in her eyes, Jurian grabbed her hands and held her gaze with his own for long minutes. His calm appeased her heart and soothed her fear, though it did not dispel it. In fact, her fear was confirmed by her husband’s solemn manner. He seemed a man resigned to his fate.
“Thank you for coming,” he told her.
“Is it really happening?” she asked.

Jurian nodded, then led her to walk with him. “Come. The others have been waiting.”

Together, they walked hand in hand toward Jurian’s hall. He wore his most common form: that of an elderly, mostly bald man with wisps of white hair, dressed in formal robes of black layered over white. Ariki, for her part, had taken the form she most liked — that of a gnome — though, to better match Jurian, she chose to make herself his height. She wore a gown of purple trimmed with yellow, even though she felt it would have been more appropriate to wear funeral black.

The hall–a simple building of unadorned marble–resembled a courthouse. Fluted columns flanked its entrance, supporting an overhang that created a portico. The entablature featured a set of scales in balance, a symbol often used by Jurian’s followers.

The entrance’s double doors opened as the pair approached, revealing the hall to be half-filled with figures familiar to Ariki. This was an assemblage of the gods of Vorantas, though not a united one. The interior of the hall was divided by an aisle leading from the entrance to Jurian’s bench, and the gods were arrayed in two groups, one to each side of that aisle. Leading the five on the side traditionally reserved for the plaintiffs in a case was Furia, the Vengeful. Lurking behind her were the three dark sisters: silver Nocti, grey Neirki, and pitch-black Nekara. The sulking figure of Roenus the Hunter completed their group. Opposite them, Ariki saw the shining sun god, Aransur, leading his favoured gods. At his side stood his current wife, the beautiful Rae, and their son, proud Ramek, god of Victory. Behind them, hand in hand, were stalwart Vorantum and his own wife, Laurana the Pure.

Absent, she noted, were the goddess of death and the mad god Moargat, which did not surprise her. The grudge she expected to be settled this day was not one in which those figures held any stake.

The bickering between Aransur and Furia quieted the moment the door opened to herald the judge’s entrance. Both sides of the dispute assumed more respectful stances, observing the solemnity of the occasion. Such a gathering had not occurred since the judgment that led to Magrinor’s destruction nearly a thousand years ago.

Ariki’s anxiety spiked. This assemblage was exactly what she feared. She clutched Jurian’s arm, wanting him to turn back, to run away, but he ignored her and kept walking toward his bench. Jurian relinquished his hold on his wife when he reached the steps to his bench but turned to meet her worried eyes before mounting them. All she saw in his green cat’s eyes was calm.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with him.
“I am honour. I am truth. I have pledged, and now I have no choice but to follow through, my dear. To do otherwise would undo me as surely as what is ahead.”

The goddess nodded then, but she turned away and shut her eyes to hold back tears. As Jurian took his place at his bench, Ariki collected herself and remained standing beside it. In her heart, she fed her sadness into a furnace of rage she held for those who would take her love from her and, in so doing, damn the entirety of creation. She glared at the assembly as her husband called for order.

Jurian sat on his bench, composed and relaxed. This was his place, his role, and it felt right. He banged his gavel once, and the gods quieted, their attention centred upon him.

“You have called, and I have answered,” he spoke into the silence he had created. He turned to look upon Furia and asked, “We are here at your request, Storm Queen. What is the matter you wish to prosecute?”

The goddess smiled, revealing rows of sharp, pointed shark’s teeth. Her cold black eyes flicked from Jurian to Aransur, who stood opposite her, then back to Jurian before she said, “I alone do not call you, Judge. Those behind me support my petition.” She motioned to the three dark sisters and Roenus, who nodded their agreement. “Further, we are joined in this action by Aransur and his” — the goddess’s mien soured as she continued — “family.”

Jurian raised an eyebrow at this development, but he was not truly surprised. The agreement that bound the gods had only once required his intercession, and that had been an earth-shaking event. Since nothing noteworthy had recently transpired, there was only one reason for the gods to gather like this that came to mind. He looked to Aransur.

“Is this true, Day Lord? Is this a joint petition from both your camps?”

The tall, bearded, and golden-haired god hesitated. It seemed to cost him much to agree with his opposite number, but at length he nodded and said, “It is true. It pains me, but the time has come, Jurian. We wish to dissolve the covenant that exists between us all.”

Ariki could not keep a whimper from escaping her at this confirmation of her fears.

From his bench, Jurian accepted Aransur’s statement with no hint of emotion. He only asked those behind Aransur, “And you concur with Lord Aransur?”

They did.

“You all understand that I have tied my very existence to this agreement, that my life stands as its guarantee?”

Furia seemed unconcerned by this, but Aransur and those gathered with him were drawn and solemn.

“I, for one, would agree to waive that clause, Lord Judge,” said Aransur.

“It cannot be waived,” replied Jurian‌. “If you are to end the covenant, you will have to end my life. The two are inextricably bound.”

The answer clearly pained Aransur, but it did not dissuade him or his followers.
“Then yes, we understand and accept this consequence,” he confirmed.

Ariki then burst out, “How can you do this? You are fools — all of you!”

As Jurian called for order and banged his gavel, Furia leered at Ariki, and the three sisters traded whispered jokes at Ariki’s expense. For his part, Roenus remained aloof and distant.

Aransur pointed at his co-petitioners across the aisle and accused, “This is why we must dissolve the compact! We will not suffer their existence any longer! They are foul and must be expunged.”

“And you must pay for Magrinor!” retorted Furia.

“And you for Aransa!” Ramek cried.

Ignoring Jurian’s continued demands for order, Ariki pointed at the assembled gods on both sides of the aisle and shouted, “You will doom everything with your squabbling! I foresaw it and warned you. If you do this, you will destroy all that we have built.”

“Then we will rebuild it,” Aransur replied with confidence. “And it will be all the better for it.”

Ariki shook her head, more resigned than angry now. “No. You will not be able to,” she said in a quiet voice.

Furia scoffed. “You say that, but what could stop us?”

“I don’t know,” said Ariki. “But I have seen it. You will not be able to remake the world.”

“She speaks nonsense,” said the night goddess Nocti. “She only wishes us to spare her precious husband.”

“Silence!” declared Jurian. This time, he forced compliance through the power of the agreement binding them all, his patience exhausted. Once order was restored, he composed himself and looked at both groups of petitioners. “I have heard your request and acknowledge your right to make it. Of the fourteen of us who are party to the covenant, ten wish for dissolution. Ariki, your objection is noted but insufficient. Absent are Locruta and Moargat, who, I guess, have no interest in the proceedings.”

The god of justice took a deep breath before slowly letting it out and speaking again. “As a clear majority, I have no choice but to grant the petitioners their wish.”

The finality of his words silenced the hall for long moments. Finally, Jurian rose from his bench and descended to stand before a distraught Ariki. He gave her a sad smile and then kissed her forehead. The goddess struggled with her emotions, torn between despair and fury, but Jurian’s previous imposition of order on the court held her and the others still. All she could manage under its power were quiet tears and resignation.

Jurian moved to stand in the aisle between the two groups of gods. Once there, he addressed them. “Only the act of destruction itself remains. I will not consciously resist your will, but you must manifest what you desire, and my instinct will be to survive. You will not be free of the covenant until I am no more.” He extended a hand to each group, and gods grasped at his arms, all ten holding firmly onto him.

Ariki watched in horror as energy flowed into Jurian from his executioners. Her husband closed his eyes, stoic, as the godly will of ten gods seeking his destruction manifested and built up within him. She could see him struggle to remain passive as the glow of power focusing upon him grew ever brighter. Jurian at last could not keep himself from resisting, and for a moment there was a brief dimming of the glow enveloping him, but the next instant the gods redoubled their efforts and Jurian screamed in agony.

Ariki forced herself to keep watching. She felt she owed her husband that much. But as she saw his form grow more unstable, she etched in her heart the names of those she blamed for this madness. Yes, she hated Aransur and his followers for this, but the ones she ‌held responsible were Furia and the three sisters of shadow who stood with her. She knew them to be the roots of the conflicts that led to her husband’s death. Unlike Jurian, Ariki was not impartial, and if the agreement keeping the gods from committing violence upon one another was ending anyway, the goddess intended to make those she blamed most pay for the pain they caused her.

Finally, Jurian’s screams ended as he lost all form and became an unstable nimbus of godly power, pulsating wildly.

There was confusion then, as the assembled gods did not know what to expect upon the death of one of their own. They stared at the energy, unsure if they had managed the deed. Ariki, for her part, had no doubt they had indeed killed Jurian, for her desire to strike out at Furia was made manifest without resistance from the covenant, since it was no more.

Thus, Ariki struck the first blow in the war of the gods.