"Fire burns," he answered, echoing Ventu.

[i]"That is the purpose -- to destroy, to renew. Your brothers spend their days at their creations, but then I destroy them so as to remind them of the ultimate power."[/i] Ventu, of course, reveled in the smashing, and spoke of this revelry often to his youngest, the one stamped the most like him. And so it was how he knew that Ventu, inevitably, would destroy Aroesus and Svanus out of hand, those two who dared to stand against the destruction in defense of their creations. Ventu preferred the simpler existence, the straightforward and the taking of pleasure. In his old age, apparently Aroesus' lineage became clearer as well.

"And then it goes out. What use is a ruler who destroys and sleeps? Any time when I might have ruled is well past." Perhaps Ventu would have taken the throne gladly, and he would have started to destroy everyone's creations and children, but now there was too much of everything, and no one would ever give up so much of their power, their own interests. Sileon, who drew strength from something as fundamental as fire was also fundamentally unsuited for the sophistication of Krona and the ways of these gods.

When Aroesus was alive, he served, and he kept to his place. But now, some usurper might take the throne or some child. What did he owe them, securing this rule for them, being only viewed as their weapon? That brow creased beneath coal-dark hair as he contemplated -- a long time, for a god, of pondering and wondering. Sileon was never counted among the most glib of deities, or the most politically astute. Nonetheless, he thought on a different level and of different things, and was certainly thinking now. Some, what was left of the flunkies, watched in apprehension at what seemed an eternity of the flame god pondering his acts in the days to come.

"I will not rule. But neither will I serve." And with those words, it was Aroesus' own brother that decided to leave the Pantheon. It was, perhaps, fitting that he was called the Herald, for his announcement signaled the end of even a pretense of the old order.