Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Today I must meet with my sibling gods so I merely step from my house, Uorsin and Mattia watching me with tilted heads, and straight onto a dais where my brethren wait.
I don’t know what this place is, but I know to come to it when we have to meet and discuss matters. Just like I know if I thought of anyone in particular who was not a god and wished them dead, they would be so.
The thought of so much power actually scares me.
I’ve been here many times, and the scenery still takes my breath away. I know we’re not anywhere in the First Dimension, or Earth realm as some call it, as everything is too perfect. The sky is too blue, the sunshine too luminescent, and the clouds too symmetrically fluffy. The green grass spread over rolling hills shimmers, and the air is perfumed with jasmine and gardenia. I have no clue where it comes from, but I can hear a harp playing distantly—a calming melody that seems right in this place.
The dais is set under a sprawling gazebo complete with thick Grecian columns of silver- and blue-veined marble. Spread around are chaise lounges and sumptuously squishy pillows you can sink down into for relaxation and gossip.
Except as gods, we don’t do that. Instead, we sit at a round table with no head seat, as all five of us are equal.
Well, except I’m not exactly equal because I have no clue what the hell I’m supposed to be or what I’m doing.
“Greetings,” Veda says as she moves to me. Her hands come to my elbows, and she leans in for an air kiss on each cheek.
“Hello,” I say, still suffering a severe case of impostor syndrome next to the beautiful woman with pale skin and black-to-silver ombre hair. The god of Humanity looks younger than me, but she’s as old as time.
When the gods are feeling officious, we dress in Grecian-style robes with red capes, but on most occasions, we wear what we want. Today Veda is in a pair of slouchy, faded jeans that sit low on her hips, a halter top of brown suede with beads sewn in tribal patterns, and her feet are bare. Very hippie, and I’m most comfortable with her.
“Come sit with us,” she says, and whether she meant it to, that statement still suggests I’m an outsider trying to fit in.
At the table, Onyx sits ramrod straight and no one would need to guess she’s the god of Conflict. I’ve never seen her in anything but battledress of bronzed breastplates with shoulder and shin guards. Her skin and irises are as black as a raven’s wings. She’s the fiercest thing I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen some stuff in the Underworld. The only thing that makes her somewhat approachable is her modern-day hairstyle of a vivid pink mohawk. She gives me a nod of greeting.
To her left sits Cato, the god of Nature. At almost seven feet tall, he’s the largest of the gods and commands lightning bolts with a mere wiggle of his fingers. He, too, is dark skinned, but it’s more caramel colored, and his eyes are molten gold. He’s almost too beautiful to behold with his sculpted cheekbones and patrician nose. Despite his physical perfection, Cato is usually down-to-earth, and next to Veda, he’s the nicest. Cato loves contemporary clothing, especially if it’s bespoke. I don’t know much about fine clothing but I’m betting the dark charcoal suit he’s wearing cost a mortal fortune.
“Hello, Zora,” he says with an incline of his head. “I had hoped you would bring your dogs with you today.”
“My apologies. I didn’t think of it,” I say, but it actually had crossed my mind and I chose not to. I’m clinging to mortal parts of my life and want to keep them separate.
The look Cato gives me is gracious, but I can tell he doubts my words. They all know I’ve got my struggles.
“I much prefer cats,” Circe says in her breathy voice, the last of our Council. The god of Fate is a mystery I’m not sure I’ll ever figure out. At times she appears flighty, and at others, wickedly dangerous. As always, she’s in full dress and makeup, her platinum-blond curls styled à la Marilyn Monroe. Her lips bear ruby-red stain and her complexion is flawless. Today she’s wearing a retro dress of white silk with red strawberries embroidered all over. It has a fitted bodice, capped sleeves, and a swishy skirt.
I’ve got nothing to counter her comment about cats. I like them fine, but I do prefer dogs.
“Sit,” Veda says with a hand at my back, and I take the chair between her and Circe.
“Let’s begin,” Onyx says and launches into a summary of the major conflicts across dimensions, realms, and the universe. The scope of the gods’ rule is so vast that I can’t quite understand how we keep track of it all.