Chapter 5: A God’s Responsibility

The weekend arrived, and Anshar, god of chaos and balance, stood at the gates of his vast celestial temple. A low hum filled the air, the vibration of ancient power seeping into every corner of his domain. The temple itself was a marvel—a shimmering structure of white stone and glowing gold veins that pulsed like a living heart. Surrounding it were endless gardens filled with plants that did not exist on Earth, their colors shifting and changing in the light.

In his arms, Samael rested quietly, her small face tilted upward as she gazed in awe at the bright, swirling lights that floated lazily above them. Anshar allowed himself a small smile. She didn’t cry or fuss as he crossed the threshold, her wide, innocent eyes absorbing the grandeur around her.

“Welcome home, little one,” he said softly, his deep voice resonating through the chamber as they entered.

Anshar’s temple was not a place accustomed to the laughter of children. It was vast and imposing, built for worshippers, not for cribs and toys. His servants—beings of pure energy and shifting forms—hovered in silence, their luminous shapes watching curiously as their master carried a mortal child into their sacred space.

“She’s so small,” one murmured, its voice like a breeze through reeds.

“And so fragile,” added another, its form shimmering in and out of visibility.

“She is also under my protection,” Anshar said firmly, his golden eyes narrowing. The servants shrank back, their forms flickering nervously.

Anshar strode through the main hall and into his private quarters, where he had prepared a space for Samael. Unlike the grandiosity of the rest of the temple, the nursery was simple but carefully designed. A crib carved from celestial oak sat in the center, its frame glowing faintly with protective runes. Soft, cloud-like bedding filled the crib, and toys crafted from stardust and moonlight were scattered across the floor.

He set Samael down in the crib, watching as she kicked her feet and grabbed at the shimmering mobile above her. For a moment, Anshar stood there, his divine aura dimmed to avoid overwhelming the fragile mortal.

“She’s content,” he muttered to himself, though the words felt foreign. Contentment was not something he had experienced in millennia.

The first challenge came at dinner. Anshar, unaccustomed to the needs of mortals, had forgotten that babies required frequent meals. When Samael began to fuss, he stared at her blankly, his golden brows furrowing.

“What is it now?” he asked, his voice more curious than irritated. Samael responded with an insistent wail.

One of his servants hesitated before stepping forward. “She may require sustenance, my lord.”

“Sustenance,” Anshar repeated, frowning. He summoned a bowl of celestial nectar, its golden liquid shimmering as it materialized in his hand. “This should suffice.”

The servant hesitated. “Perhaps… something more appropriate for a mortal child?”

Anshar’s frown deepened, but he nodded, waving his hand to summon a bottle filled with warm milk. He offered it to Samael, who latched on immediately, her cries subsiding as she drank. Anshar watched her in silence, a strange feeling stirring within him.

The night brought new challenges. Samael refused to sleep, her tiny form wriggling restlessly in the crib. Anshar tried rocking her, his movements awkward and uncertain. He summoned lullabies sung by the winds themselves, their melodies filling the chamber. Nothing worked.

Finally, he carried her to the balcony overlooking the temple gardens. The stars above sparkled like diamonds against the inky black sky, their light reflecting in Samael’s wide eyes. She cooed softly, her tiny fingers reaching for the heavens.

“You like the stars, don’t you?” Anshar murmured, his voice softer than he intended. He sat on the edge of the balcony, cradling her in his arms as he pointed to the constellations. “That one is Amara, the Shieldmaiden. She guards the eastern sky. And there—that’s Rynis, the Wanderer. He keeps the balance.”

Samael’s gaze never wavered, her awe palpable. Anshar found himself speaking more, telling her stories of the cosmos, of battles fought and peace brokered in the heavens. It was a strange thing, sharing his history with someone so small, but it felt… right.

By the time dawn broke, Samael was fast asleep in his arms. Anshar carried her back to the crib, his steps careful as though he might disturb her rest. He stood over her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

The next day, Anshar decided to introduce Samael to the temple gardens. The air was warm, filled with the scent of alien blooms and the soft hum of energy coursing through the ground. Samael gurgled happily as Anshar carried her, her tiny hands reaching for the vibrant flowers that shifted colors in her presence.

“She is not afraid,” one of his servants remarked, watching from a distance.

“No,” Anshar agreed. “She sees the world as it is—with wonder, not fear. Perhaps that is her greatest strength.”

As the day wore on, Samael’s laughter filled the gardens, a sound so pure that even the most ancient trees seemed to sway in rhythm with it. Anshar found himself smiling more than he had in centuries, his divine burdens feeling lighter in her presence.

When the weekend came to an end, Anshar stood at the temple gates once more, Samael bundled in a blanket and ready to return to Astaroth. He handed her over carefully, his golden eyes lingering on the child.

“She did well?” Astaroth asked, his tone warm but cautious.

“She is resilient,” Anshar replied, his voice carrying a hint of pride. “Far more than I anticipated.”

Astaroth smiled, cradling Samael against his chest. “Thank you, Anshar.”

As they left, the temple seemed quieter than before. Anshar returned to his chambers, the absence of Samael’s presence a stark contrast to the liveliness of the past two days. He sat by the balcony, staring at the stars she had marveled at, his mind uncharacteristically heavy.

“She is mortal,” he said aloud, as if reminding himself. “Fragile. Temporary.”

But as the stars above flickered softly, he couldn’t help but feel that Samael was anything but ordinary.