As long as we remain, so does our home

"Your Highness!"

Nairmis turned his head. The spirits were cautiously making their way toward him.

The rain of fire had stopped some time ago. Only after that destructive sense of oppression had completely dissipated had they dared leave the cave and search for him.

Acenoe ran at the front and barreled into Nairmis's arms. The other spirits followed, crowding around to cling to his arms, legs, and waist, their little faces deathly pale and their expressions terrified.

Nairmis's gaze passed over each of them. Once he had confirmed that everyone was all right, he gave the spirits hanging off him a little shake and breathed a sigh of relief himself.

"It's all right now. It's all right," Nairmis said gently. "The fires are all out, and the villain is gone. Everyone's here. Everyone's safe."

The spirits quieted a little, but they still pressed tightly against him, and a few of the more timid ones were still trembling faintly. Only when Nairmis silently spread his power over emotions did they slowly recover.

Just then, Oreas let out a heartbroken cry, her voice pitiful.

"My... my pots..."

She was the goddess of pottery. Standing before the ruins of the collapsed palace, she held a pottery shard in her hands. She had made it herself, spending seven whole days on it, and had planned to put it in the newly built palace to grow flowers once it was fired.

Now, however, only broken walls remained of the palace, and all her painstakingly crafted pottery had been destroyed.

"Everything was still fine during the day..."

Her voice was very soft, choked with sobs. Hearing her words, the others' faces fell as well.

Yes, everything had still been fine during the day. Laughter had filled every corner of Proeon, and they had all been dreaming together of their home's beautiful future.

In a single night, everything had been destroyed. Dejection spread among them.

Nairmis took a deep breath, then smiled, stroking the head of the little spirit beside him who was still grieving.

"Everyone, listen to me. If the palace collapses, we can rebuild it. Proeon has never been made up of these stones. It's you, every person standing here. It's wherever we're all together."

The spirits lifted their heads, looking at him with tearful eyes.

"As long as you're still here, and I'm still here," Nairmis said, his lips curving into a smile, his light blue eyes shining faintly in the firelight, "we can rebuild our home at any time. So don't be sad anymore."

His words lifted everyone's spirits a little. A few spirits wiped their tears, exchanged glances, and slowly managed smiles.

The eyes of Dryope, the goddess of crafting, lit up. She opened her mouth to say something, but her gaze suddenly froze as it swept across the night sky.

That was the direction of the Sky Divine Domain. A destructive rain of fire had just descended from there, burning everything they had.

"But..." Dryope said hesitantly.

She left the rest unsaid, but everyone understood.

What about tomorrow, or the day after? That tyrant in the high heavens could send down an even fiercer rain of fire at any time.

If he burned it down every time they rebuilt it, what would be the point?

And what if, one day, it was not their buildings that were destroyed, but their lives?

The spirits had only just raised their heads, but now lowered them again in dejection. Against that sovereign of the high heavens, they were utterly powerless too.

Nairmis felt their spirits sink again. Rather than speaking immediately, he turned and walked toward the ruins.

Among the fallen stone pillars, Nairmis carefully searched through the rubble. The spirits and the five subordinate deities all watched him, unsure what he was looking for.

A moment later, he straightened, holding several small torches originally intended to decorate the palace entrance. The rain of fire had destroyed everything, but the bodies of these few torches had fortunately survived intact.

Nairmis raised them. Flames kindled at his fingertips, and several fireballs circled through the air before flying from his fingertips into the hollows of the torches.

"These flames carry the divine power of my flame divinity."

Nairmis walked back and held out the torches. Acenoe took them.

"As long as I don't actively extinguish them or deliberately put them out, they'll keep burning without any firewood."

His gaze swept over every face illuminated by the flames, and he spread his divine power of courage for everyone to feel.

The spirits looked up, light already flickering in their eyes. As the five subordinate deities looked at the torches, their expressions gradually shifted from fear to resolve.

"From now on," Nairmis began slowly, his tone solemn, "what happened today will never happen again. I promise you."

Acenoe and the others nodded vigorously, and the other spirits nodded along. They trusted Nairmis. They trusted their master unconditionally.

His Highness Nairmis, beautiful, gentle, kind, and so steadfast and dependable.

Seeing the renewed light in their eyes, Nairmis let out a soft breath of relief, finally reassured.

He turned to Acenoe and the other four subordinate deities. These once-timid Nymphs now stood upon the ruins with calm expressions and resolute eyes, already looking like deities.

"I need to go out for a while," Nairmis said. After a moment's thought, he explained, "There's something important I need to do. I'll return safely. Look after our home."

The five subordinate deities asked no further questions. Acenoe stepped forward and said, "Go without worry, Your Highness. We'll take care of things at home."

"Come back soon, Your Highness."

"We'll keep everyone safe."

They all told him not to worry. Nairmis looked at them and nodded, heartened.

He bent down and picked up the Bottle of Life beside his feet. He waved the flame above his head, leaving it hovering there to light the way ahead.

"I'm leaving. Wait for me to come back."

Under the gazes of the spirits and subordinate deities, Nairmis turned and stepped into the night.

Meanwhile, beside the River of Fate, Nyx, the goddess of fate, opened her eyes.

On the riverbank, Clotho's spindle had slipped from her hand, Lachesis's ball of thread had rolled into the water, and Atropos's scissors stood embedded in the ground.

The three young goddesses of fate had fallen unconscious, their faces pale. The backlash from manipulating fate had struck their origins.

Nyx's gaze did not linger for long. The corner of her mouth curved upward before she looked away.

She looked at the layers of silver threads wound around her. Those threads of fate bound her densely, fixing her in place upon the River of Fate.

But with the three goddesses unconscious just now, the power of fate had temporarily lost its steady controllers, and the silver threads had loosened a fraction.

That fraction was enough.

Nyx moved her right hand slightly, shaking loose the silver threads around her wrist. Seizing that opening, she gathered a wisp of the divine power of fate at her fingertip and gently swept it toward the River of Fate beneath her.

The river's surface shuddered, and ripples spread outward, spreading throughout the world.

Then the broken silver threads wound around her again, binding her right hand once more. But Nyx smiled.

In the Night Divine Domain, Nyx smiled upon her divine throne as well. Her robes spread out as she raised her right hand and waved it gently.

A sliver of her origin separated from her body and slowly gathered in midair, gradually solidifying into an avatar of night.

Nyx raised her head from her divine throne and exchanged a glance with her imprisoned self in the River of Fate.

They smiled at each other, then each withdrew her gaze. Nairmis, who stood outside fate, pleased them greatly.