"That's absurd! I... I absolutely refuse!" screamed one of the timid twins on the right edge of the circle. Her face was as sweet as the terror she felt, clutching the hand of the exact copy of herself sitting next to her. They had to be twin sisters, just like Yae and I, but their physical resemblance was much sharper. "We almost lost our lives up here to the fire of those flying beasts! Surrounded by an entire pantheon and divine guards! Do you really think just nine goddesses, thrown into the unknown without the direct protection of the palace, are going to survive an invasion that nearly destroyed the clouds of Hyperion on our own?!"

Ellednera leaned over the table, pressing her hands against the glass and glaring daggers at the fearful twin.

"What made you think this was an optional invitation? This is not a plea for clemency, child. This is a divine obligation. Up in Hyperion, the palace does not survive through democracy. We value stability and Absolute Order. And Order is not suggested. It is imposed."

The goddess of Tragedy straightened up, adjusting her posture.

"All of you will be banished from the celestial realm. The gates of heaven will be closed to you until the duty dictated by the palace is fully completed. Any futile attempt to bypass the mission and return home prematurely... will be punished with the blood of high treason."

"What splendid irony," retorted the Primordial in the shadowy chair, throwing her head back and laughing. "The fake heroes of the palace hide their hands while using the bastards they once denied a seat at their table as meat shields. Whether our humble, miserable mission brings peace to Primitia or ends with our heads impaled on a dragon's tail, I assure you this political gamble of yours is not smart at all."

The room went dead silent, until a velvety, trembling voice broke the funeral quiet.

"But... I... do I have to go with them too?" Stella asked. Her face, once haughty and bathed in solar radiance, was now masked in pure dread and confusion.

"You are a Primordial, are you not? It doesn't matter if you won favors from the high hierarchies to climb the palace stairs early. Your blood demands it. There is absolutely no doubt about your duty to us," Ellednera shot back, without a drop of remorse.

"But you invited me! You said you needed my power here, alongside Apollo and Ra! You said I belonged in the Greater Palace!" Stella's voice started to crack, despair and the sting of betrayal overtaking her pride.

Arendelle took a silent step behind Stella's chair, assuming a condescending, paternal tone.

"Princess of Light, as we explained minutes ago, the palace sages did not foresee the breach in the temporal fabric that brought the dragons to us. The invasion tainted our plans for peace, forcing us to alter all prospects and positions for newcomers. This tragic little interference directly changed your route. But look on the bright side. The gods have now granted you an infinitely more glorious role in the theater of life."

"That... that is a lie! This isn't fair at all! I abandoned my old home and my people for you, and I haven't even completed my ceremony for full integration into the crown!" Stella screamed, furiously blinking back tears as she gripped the edges of the round table.

"Oh, Stella... Are you really that easy to manipulate? The old gold-plated bureaucrats never kept their own word, my naive little princess of light," the Primordial of shadows provoked, reveling in the other girl's anguish. "Why on earth did you assume that, amidst centuries of lies, you would be such a special little snowflake to them?"

"Tenebris! Enough!" Ellednera roared, slamming her fist violently against the mahogany table. The impact made the drawn magical illusions shudder. "Swallow your profane insolence as long as you breathe within the palace walls! Or I promise you... I swear to you on the ancient legends, Tenebris, that a dragon will be the cutest of your mortal problems!"

Tenebris slowly pulled her legs down and dragged herself to her feet. She smoothed out the immaculate creases of her purple and black outfit, completely ignoring the goddess of Tragedy's furious threat.

"And there you have it, my dear sisters. The truest reflection of the real cowardice of the Thrones of Hyperion." Tenebris pushed her chair away and walked with silent steps toward the exit. "And you don't even need to threaten my well-being to kick me out. Keep your filthy palace. I'll do the honors of my own withdrawal."

When she reached the doors, before the polished glass could even move an inch, Tenebris's body dissolved, swallowed by her own shadows. She vanished without a trace.

Ellednera frowned. She straightened her dark coat to regain the dignity crushed by a primordial goddess. She cleared her throat, coughed three times, and immediately slipped back into the impenetrable mask that defined her.

"You—what remains of the original Primordials—will descend tomorrow to the terrestrial planes. You are the beacon of hope for the rustics of Primitia, and simultaneously the loyal chess pawns of Hyperion. You have the mandatory honor of cleansing the lands of evil and not staining the immortal gift the Creator bequeathed you. Hyperion remains the crown you answer to, and your physical actions down there are the blade with which we will cut out the plague. Do you understand?" Ellednera cast a sidelight glance, but her discomfort was glaring after Tenebris's shameless spectacle.

"And what exactly are the guidelines of this forced salvation agreement?" questioned the girl with tanned skin and impatient red hair.

Arendelle cleared his throat.

"The rule is simple. Being a mere reflection of our divine brilliance, your actions will serve as a testament to our goodness. You must, under all scenarios, spread the word of our deeds and publicly affirm to the humans that the miracles you perform are, in fact, the will of the generous Gods of Hyperion. Additionally, be warned: it is imperative that you maintain zero human interference in kingdom disputes, do not foster mundane bureaucratic coups, and intervene strictly to eliminate drastic natural or cosmic threats."

"Are there any further questions before tomorrow morning's departure?" Ellednera threw the words out with the rudeness of someone who just wanted to end the audience and be rid of the exiles' heavy stares.

In the left corner, the imposing girl with short brown hair slowly raised her robust hand. Silence froze the round room again, and the glare she aimed at Tragedy and Triumph bordered on threatening.

"Proceed, Gigroth," Ellednera huffed, exasperated.

"What's the fine print on our little sightseeing tour? What tangible punishments do you intend to enforce on those who break your holy guidelines—you who refuse to get your own nails dirty in the mud beneath these clouds? And why are we forced to polish the statue of a divine class in Hyperion that, if we're honest, already has enough worshippers and paladins to dominate Primitia with empty prayers?" the woman, now identified as Gigroth, lashed out at their authority.

Ellednera leaned forward again.

"Why on earth would you dare claim the stage and proclaim yourselves the vanguard and true light of Humanity, when your souls were outlined by the same Higher Gods you now turn your noses up at? When the desperate call to cull the evil was strategically managed by us? Do you think yourselves so enlightened that you can seize command of terrestrial will just to stroke your own miserable immortal egos? Be warned: the slightest proof of celestial rebellion will see your cosmic penalty converted into irreversible expulsion from Hyperion. You will cease to be messengers of honor and will immediately fill the archives as enemies and extreme threats to the state before the Thrones of Heaven."

The impact of those statements silenced us on instinct. The silence hurt. The humiliation simmered. It was an obvious and direct assault on our inherent freedom and the morals we thought we held in our celestial friendship. But, for me, the dilemma strayed far from the tantrums of vain gods.

The threats from Ellednera and Arendelle represented the schemes of immortals from the comfort of golden palace walls... But Primitia... The rustic lands beneath the clouds didn't share our bubble of celestial pride. The people down there suffered pains of the flesh. Humans were going to be sliced apart by dragons of night and darkness. They were going to lose hope and children to hellish calamities beyond walls that couldn't withstand the world shaking. The fragile desperately needed us... and me, no matter how small the sphere I could channel.

And deep within my sharp, feline pupils, even bathed in the hypocrisy of Hyperion's golden palace, I held onto one absolute certainty that they preferred to ignore: Primitia was bleeding. And the world below, if it was to survive tomorrow's sunrise without burning to ash needed us.