Immortality was a lie—at least to mortals. The only true constant was power. Ascension to godhood didn’t grant eternal life; it simply meant wielding and shaping the forces that already existed. Deities weren’t the source; they were conduits, bending reality to their will. In the end, even gods were subject to the ebb and flow of the cosmos, just like any mortal. The fabric of reality didn’t flow from them—they simply learned how to weave it.

Nyxeria didn’t know all the details, but her father had always been an anomaly among the original gods. He never cared for followers or temples. Instead, he focused on shaping the world in strange, unpredictable ways, bending reality for his own amusement. Why? He never said. His motives were as cryptic as the stars themselves.

Then came the twist of fate: a mortal woman who captured his heart. It was an unexpected turn, but being a god, he did what gods do—claimed her. To her surprise, the woman loved him back. And from that union, Nyxeria was born.

It worked in theory, but reality was a different beast. The heavens had stagnated, at least on a large time scale. Most deities maintained enough influence to never be truly threatened. But Nyxeria could see the changes. The Pantheon had once shared power evenly, but over time, as mortal beings began to worship specific gods, their influence grew. New races emerged, tied to particular deities. Power dynamics shifted dramatically. And her father? True to form, he had remained aloof, unconcerned.

Now she was here, doing what he probably should have done a thousand years ago, when he still had a handful of cults to call his own.

Her mother, a practically demi-god by now, had not completed her ascension. That process was still ongoing. Of course, in her absence, Nyxeria’s father had seized the opportunity, burdening his daughter with this tedious mission. It was just like him to pass the responsibility on. If it had been up to Nyxeria, she would have stayed in the shadowy realm her father had sculpted, safe from all this mortal nonsense. But no—here she was, hurtling toward the mortal plane, tasked with something she couldn’t care less about.

She would never admit it to her father, but she liked his carefree style. It was a liberating way to exist, untethered by petty things like worship or responsibility. But if he wanted to maintain some semblance of his influence in the heavens, he needed to acquire loyal subjects.

That’s where she came in.

Her father wasn’t well-liked among the other gods. They only turned to him to break ties during votes in their council, but lately, he’d been completely shut out. His grumbles about the other deities—complaining about their growing power, their scheming, their disdain for him—had become her constant companion. And now, thanks to his selfish nature, here she was, falling through the sky like a comet. The last place she wanted to be. Politics, divine or mortal, had never interested her. She had inherited that much from him. Yet, as much as she despised her current situation, she knew one thing: she had no choice but to press on.

Where was she falling? Not a clue. What would she do when she landed? Well, she’d figure it out when she got there. Planning had never been her strong suit. Honestly, she preferred it that way.

But the fall itself… this was something she hadn’t anticipated.

The transition from divine to mortal wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was agonizing. Her divine essence began to withdraw, sealing itself away in the heavens, out of reach. It wasn’t gone, not forever, but the feeling of it slipping from her grasp felt like a wound being torn open. The power that had once hummed beneath her skin now felt distant, foreign.

Nyxeria gasped, but the sensation only grew more intense. This is what it feels like to be mortal, she thought. Her senses were dulling. Her once-immense strength was being replaced by the fragility of flesh. Her body burned, as if she were being reshaped by fire, hollowed out. But there was no fire. No physical flame. It was her very being, her connection to the divine, being sealed away.

She clenched her fists, bracing herself against the onslaught of weakness. Her wings, once capable of carrying her across worlds, felt heavy, as though gravity itself had multiplied. Each second felt like a year, each inch of descent a long eternity.

The world below—whatever it was—was growing closer, but she couldn’t focus on it. Her body screamed, the pain unbearable. Her mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, the weight of it all dragging her down.

I should have stayed in the shadows, she thought one last time before the darkness claimed her.