Eighty years ago. The Divine realm where gods reside.
High above the world where clouds floated like a soft white sea. There's a Divine Spire, a shiny crystal tower, glowing as it drifts among the clouds. Its edges sparkled where they touched the misty air.
It was too calm.
The silence was broken with loud and healthy cries of the newborn baby. The moment the cries began, a shockwave of pure, unrefined power rippled through the celestial building. The entire garden of silver flowers below turned towards the sound at once.
The force staggered Celestia, who was waiting in the corridor, one hand flying to her chest.
She burst into her sister's chamber in panic.
Ersyn lay in the center of the room on a bed made from golden-white clouds. Once the most feared deity in existence, the Goddess of Death and Time was now at the edge of death.
Her white hair spilled across the pillow; her once bright golden eyes were dimming like a flickering, dying candle.
Yet she was smiling.
