Story a day: 11.30.16

Four Gods lived in the realm they’d created, embodying sixteen Aspects. Their Aspects scattered into the world, first dividing in half, keeping two pieces bonded together as one, then distilling further, into 16, then distilling further, into countless little pieces of magic suffusing the world.

The four Gods concerned themselves with none of this. The four Gods concerned themselves with the Balance.

The Balance had broken. Four Aspects were missing, slain by their brethren. Thus, the Balance tilted always, sliding slowly, over ages and eons, toward chaos. The Gods did not have the power to permanently mend the Balance; they could not bring their fallen Aspects back from the Void of nonexistence. It was as though those four never were, as though there were ever only twelve.

But to the Gods it felt wrong, like splinters in their feet, nagging constantly. And they knew something about constantly. They had been for as long as Being had been; they would be until Being was lost to nonexistence.

Perhaps that would be soon. With four missing, it felt like it could be any moment. Ever, the Void had encroached slowly, in a measured tempo they felt and did not fear. But now it jumped and stuttered, sometimes drawing very near, sometimes retreating so far they could hear only echoes. Overall, though, it approached, step by step, jump and jerk by start and fit. It moved more quickly now, as though those four Aspects had held back a tide that now surged.

The Gods could not stop it. And so in fear and panic they produced a blight. The blemish would restore the Balance, or it would usher in the Void so quickly not even gods could push it back.

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