[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLmYxNjcwNC5VR1Z5YVd4c2FXRnUuMAAA/springmarch.roman.png[/img][/center] [hr][hr] A new deity, even as the old awoke. Anacahe was the next to wake, and whilst there was little lost between the pair, it was always pleasant to see one of the originals still around. Then there was a rush of them. Nyrea, Amp, Legio, the whole lot Perillian took a deep breath, perhaps her thoughts had been unfou- No. No, no no. She held a hand up to her head, pushing away the hair that was there and causing her to stumble back a little, recoiling in shock. Sandrimor?! Of all the people she could have thought to have faded, that was… Not at all correct. How had he, one of the most powerful of them, been taken? She looked to the rest as they awoke, and then ‘sat down,’ taking a moment to process this. “How did… You form so fast then?” The forgemistress turned to the new deity, the strange… Blob of tendrils and tentacles that was apparently one of them now. Things had changed a lot between the first three cycles and the latter ones it seemed, since most of the first ones had looked like the primordial elves… Or humans, like her and Legio. She shook her head out a little, letting her hair tumble around her, and then she cleared her throat. “I think we should head to the throne room. If nothing else it seems… Symbolic to go there to usher in this leaderless age.” She looked around, looking for anyone who would disagree, and then held her hands out, pushing hard. Out of the nothingness two large bronze doors appeared, slammed open by her action. The inside formed itself quickly, and she stepped through, looking at the hall. This room… She remembered at the end of the last cycle when all the gods had been here, along with some of the best of their mortals, celebrating the end of days. With Sandrimor on the throne, the room lively and decorated. Not this… Bleak, coldness it held now. Tiered flooring lead to a series of seats along either side of the hall, and her greatest creation sat in the middle. The Throne of Kings. It had taken her an astonishingly long time. Every inch of it had been refined into perfection- tuned to a single atom in order to make it as pleasing as it could be. It wove together colours and symbols that normally would never fit- golds and silvers, reds and blues and whites and greens and every other colour, each one swirling and mixing across the surface like clouds on a windless day. At its back, just above where the monarch’s head would rest was the series of indents that would fit the various Cores that the gods held with them. “So… What do we do now?” She turned around and looked at the rest of the gods, sitting down on one of the chairs. There was plenty to do… But they had plenty of time so it wasn’t like there was any need for urgency.