By Zyla(@zylaeth)
To Hide From Gods
Mortals attempt to hide from gods after a horrible revelation.
A cube. That was the idea. In the soft light of a candle flickering ever so gently, I write this story. As a storyteller, I have served in the courts of multiple royals, witnessing empires rise and fall over the course of my elven lifetime. Tonight, I will recount one of my favorite stories that I personally bore witness to, a story of a simple cube.
It begins in a well-lit bunker beneath the snowy Mountain of Elbar under a starless night.
“For too long, we have been puppets, chained to their wills and desires.” King Koldukar began, voice stern as his thick braided beard swayed with every word. The resolve in his voice was as unyielding as this mountain he called home. “But no longer.” In this vast chamber where the rulers of many great lands and revered sages from various races had assembled, every eye was fixed on the Dwarf King of the North. His words echoed in the silence, punctuating the tension that had been building for months. King Koldukar continued, “The revelation brought by Bazz cannot be ignored.”
Planewalker Bazz. A brave mortal who journeyed through the planes of existence in search of knowledge. In one of her adventures, she stumbled upon a truth that shook the very pillars of belief in many religions in the realm. For centuries, mortals were told that they had the freedom to choose whether to worship or not any deity of their choosing. The gods, in their infinite benevolence, blessed them with this freedom. They could live as they wished, and when they died, those who chose not to venerate any deity in their lives would simply return to the Greater Will where their soul would be recycled to form a new life. In all it seemed fair, or so they thought.
Bazz’s discovery had shattered this comforting illusion. It was a lie, and those souls were not peacefully returned. Instead, they were condemned to a fate far worse. Tortured for eternity, their souls were twisted and torn in the dark corners of reality by the servants of the divine themselves. All because these mortals dared to deny the gods their precious prayers. A crack, a gaping maw in the facade of divine benevolence and holy authority.
“Is that freedom? We were told we could forge our own path, yet they place a sword at our necks if we do not grovel and kiss their feets. We are no freer than a rabbit caught in a trap.” Koldukar’s voice pierced the silence in the chamber like a spear.
“They refuse to answer.” A solemn voice comes from the crowd. It was the Prophet Io, her eyes clouded with profound sorrow and sadness. “We sent emissaries to heaven demanding answers. They choose to stay silent.” She clutched the holy symbol around her neck ever so tightly, desperately trying to anchor her belief in the gods. The chamber remained hushed, the weight of Koldukar’s accusations hanging heavily in the air.
“They do not need to answer us.” replied Emir Khan, his voice laced with bitterness and cynicism. “They are gods after all. Who are we to question their will?” A rhetorical question he asked as his gaze swept over the round table.
“We are their creations. Even creation has limits to its suffering.” retorted Empress Ada of the Southern River. “Did they ever love us in the first place?” She pondered aloud, revealing the underlying pain in her heart.
The council had met on numerous occasions before, discussing matters of great importance and complexity. But tonight’s gathering was different. Leaders sat rigidly, jaws clenched, exchanging defeated glances that spoke volumes. The usual murmurs of side conversations were swallowed by tense silence, broken only by the soft tapping of a few fingers against the ancient mahogany table. The air felt thick, as though frustration itself pressed in, tightening the walls around them. It was Koldukar who pushed forth the plan that would change everything.
“A cube.” The dwarven king declared, his voice suddenly low as though the very gods were eavesdropping. “A magical artifact, to be precise. One that can block any divine influence.” His words hung in the air as a ripple of disbelief passed through the room.
“And where can we find such an object, if it exists at all?” muttered one of the beastkin councilmen, shaking his head trying to dispel such incredulous thought. A single magical artifact that possesses such power?
“We build it.” Koldukar declared.
“Build what exactly? There’s no such materials with anti-divine properties,” Empress Ada scoffed, crossing her arms. As a master enchantress, she knew the limits of enchantment magic better than anyone in the room.
Koldukar remained silent as he produced a small cube from his satchel and placed it on the table for all to see. It was no larger than a fist, adorned with various glyphs engraved on its surface that glowed faintly under the lantern’s light. The council leaned in, eyes flickering between Koldukar and the mysterious object, curiosity stirring them.
Ada raised an eyebrow. She extended her hand and carefully picked up the cube, her finger tracing the engravings. “Fascinating…” The word escaped her before she could stop it. Realizing her slip, she quickly set the cube down and cast a wary glance at Kolkudar.
“May I?” Prophet Io asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer. She cast a simple divine spell at the cube. A faint shimmer glowed before dissipating. “It works…it really works,” she whispered, her eyes widened as she slowly unclasped her holy symbol.
“This is but a fraction of what it will become. In our studies of skymetal, we found that lead is an exceptional shielding material. Not only does it block the corruption that arises from handling such metal, but surprisingly it can also resist divine influence. Combined with other carefully chosen materials, the artifact will be capable of blocking any divine presence. It will exist across multiple dimensions simultaneously. The construction will take place in Lighthalzen where its creation will remain hidden. Once complete, the archmages from Brilliant Tower will use their transmutation magic to expand the cube until it covers our entire solar system, ” Koldukar explained at length.
A murmur spread through the room at the sheer absurdity of the proposal. The notion of creating an object of such magnitude was beyond anything they had imagined.
“We will create our own sanctuary.” Koldukar finished.
The council ended soon after his dramatic proposal, with many still uncertain but too intrigued to dismiss Koldukar’s plan outright. As we filed out of the chamber, the dwarven king’s eyes caught mine. His gaze lingered a moment longer than usual as he flashed me a playful smile, followed by a wink. The gesture was so intimate that it caught me off guard, leaving me unsure of why he seemed so interested in me. There were rumors about the dwarves of the north and their eccentric carnal desires, but I had never been one to believe such things. Besides, I always thought dwarves found elves rather unattractive. To be noticed in such a way, especially considering my age, was oddly fascinating.
Over the next several months, work on the cube commenced in earnest. The cube was no simple artifact. Crafted from a combination of rare materials, it was a marvel of magical engineering with each layer meticulously selected for its properties. Lead was used to block divine force, similar to the material used to build the bunker. Gold harnessed and stored the sun’s energy to ensure longevity. Skymetal provided the frame to strengthen its structural integrity in withstanding dimensional pressure and manipulation. Cherry wood for its grounding properties, anchoring the cube’s connection to the core of the mortal realm. Mercury ensured its fluid adaptability as it expanded. Together, these materials formed a structure that would exist not only in the physical realm but also in dimensions beyond.
Lighthalzen, an industrious city known for its towering factories and perpetual glow. Its skyline was dominated by great spirals of chimneys spewing thick clouds of smoke while the city itself bathed in unceasing radiance, offering no refuge for darkness . The deities could only peer into our world through the stars, and Lighthazen’s endless light ensured their sight would be blinded. It is the perfect place to conceal our operation. There, amidst the clanging of hammers and the hiss of steam, the cube began to take shape. Once the construction was finished, several archmages from Brilliant Tower would perform the final spell, using modified transmutation magic designed to break the usual size limitations and expand the cube to cover the entire solar system, sealing us off from the deities forever.
To further ensure secrecy, a proxy war was ignited in the East as a distraction. We supplied both alliances with resources, weapons and intelligence, deliberately fanning the conflicts until it erupted into a full scale war across the continent. The destruction wrought by this struggle was so massive that the deities were forced to intervene. Celestial envoys were dispatched to broker peace and restore order but their efforts proved unsuccessful. As the chaos grew, the gods’ avatar descended onto the battlefield further intensifying the violence. Their temples and churches were consumed by the war effort, resources stretched thin as the conflict rages on. Countless lives were lost, but this was a necessary sacrifice for our freedom.
Now, here we are, at the final phase of this grand endeavor. I stand among the council members, gathered before the completed cube, its energy humming and crackling in the air around us. The archmages are chanting, their voices rising and falling in a ritualistic rhythm. The cube glows softly, illuminating the faces of everyone in the room, their expressions a mix of anticipation and eagerness. I wonder how long it will take for these mortals to realize the truth. How long before they uncover that King Koldukar is the Deceiver? Our child who we left to slumber in the frozen wastelands up north for millenia. They have not merely constructed a shield but have instead created their own prison, a gilded prison with a hungry beast inside.
The Deceiver will surely revel in this new world, becoming the sole god and basking in his newfound supremacy. I can only envision the kind of chaos this child will unleash, a storm of turmoil and upheaval that will be nothing short of glorious. It will be a symphony of discord, where the cries of the oppressed blend with the laughter of the newly ascended god. The hopeful inhabitants of this new world, now confined within the shimmering prison of their own making, will soon face a new tyranny. The very freedom they sought will be turned into chains, binding them tighter than they ever experienced.
As the cube expands, the sky darkens, its spread moves gently at first and intensifies with each melodic chant. The once-starlit sky begins to dim, each star flickering as if snuffed out by an unseen hand. The expansion quickens, consuming more celestial bodies as it unfolds. I can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. This moment, rich with irony, is unraveling into a story far more captivating than I had ever hoped it would be.
And now, as I hold this cube in my hand, I am left to ponder what to do next.
