He decided to start his search for Hunt at the Pantheon, having found her there last time.

But when Creation arrived, she was nowhere. In fact, no one seemed to be present at all in the vast hallways and lush landscape surrounding the domed building. Perhaps they were all still off dealing with Chaos?

Creation passed through a massive entryway into a lavish and equally massive room. He’d never been given the chance to explore the place of his birth, but even so, he couldn’t have imagined this: a lounging room filled with finery. Silks in various deep colors—all warm tones—hung about the walls and decorated plush furniture. Pillows were strewn about, and incense swirled through the air in blue trails of smoke.

“Oh! You must be the new demigod!” A god approached him with a smile. This must be Love.

It looked as though he’d taken to wearing one of the room’s many silks as a draping robe, the nakedness of his lithe, tan body still evident beneath. His hair hung about his shoulders in multiple thin, dark brown braids and his bright green eyes sparkled with excitement when he was within arm’s reach of Creation.

“It’s Creation, right?” Love asked, placing a hand on each of Creation’s shoulders for a moment before pulling him into a tight embrace. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I heard about your making from Life.” Love pulled away, eyes scanning his stunned face. “What brings about this sudden return? Did you come to see me?”

Creation stepped back, not so much to put distance between them but to catch his breath from the whirlwind of the presence before him. “No, not you, apologies . . . I’ve come looking for Hunt. There’s something I wish to discuss with her.”

“Last I heard, the gods had gone to do some battle, and Hunt is not one to miss a battle.”

That sounded right to Creation. He wondered if, despite Hunt’s earlier words on it being too quick, the arrow had already been used. He almost hoped it had, because that would mean the notion of destroying the world would be off the table.

“Why aren’t you with them?” he asked Love.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter.” The man spun in place. “Have you checked the scrying pool for them?”

“No.”

Crossing his arms over his half-naked chest, Love grinned. “Follow me.”

He led him into the back of the quarters, to an ornate table, upon which was a large, marble bowl filled with water. Creation leaned in for a glimpse and saw nothing but the bottom of the bowl.

“Last I heard, Hunt was currently leading a group of warriors somewhere in Ollafùr,” Love said, waving a hand over the water, causing ripples to expand from the center. “Let’s see if we can find out where exactly, shall we?” He threw Creation a wink and the water began to shimmer with a newfound iridescence.

The rippling liquid now revealed faint shadows of movement, an image beginning to form. Hunt’s visage was the first to solidify into something recognizable, the area around her hazy and out of focus. She appeared to be leading a group of men, her wolf charging along at her side.

“Yes, she seems to be within the Ollafùrian Wilds,” Love explained his scrying as the images shifted. Creation watched, captivated, as Hunt drew an arrow from her own quiver and fired it swiftly and precisely—though at what enemy, he couldn’t tell. “If you go now, you might be able to get to her before she leaves.” With a wave of Love’s hand, the images faded into nothingness.

“Thank you, Love,” Creation said, pulling his gaze from the bowl and offering the god a smile. “I appreciate all your help.”

“I’m here if you need me.” Love winked again, and Creation chuckled softly to himself at the flirtatious display. The more gods he met, the more he began to realize how different they all were. How different he was from them all.

Once again, Destruction’s words filtered through his mind, about being her own person, regardless of the god she used to be a part of. Even if Creation had been given life from fragments of the other gods, not split as she had been, he still hadn’t even considered his own autonomy, his own personality until her. At least not in the ways that mattered. But now, he desired a chance to be himself, to be not just what he was meant to be, but what he wanted to be. And it was all thanks to Destruction and the love she’d chosen to give.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Love was suddenly leaning into Creation’s personal space, his eyes mischievous. He lifted a hand to Creation’s chest, fingers settling right over his heart. “This isn’t the gods’ work. Well, this isn’t Light’s work, at least. This is mine, and I’ve not laid a hand on you until now. How delightful it is to find it naturally occurring in one such as yourself.”

If possible, his smirk grew wider, his eyes softening as he straightened back. Before Creation could register the transition, he was pulled back into a fierce hug.

“Oh, well done, you!” He laughed, lifting Creation from the floor and spinning him around in a full circle. Creation stumbled when he was put back down, not quite following the sudden shift in atmosphere. But when Love placed his hand back over Creation’s heart, eyes shining and smile pure, it all fell into place. If possible, Creation’s face grew hotter. “I’m proud.”

Creation didn’t know what to say to that, but his chest felt warm and his heart felt full, so he just nodded, offering up his own shy smile in return.

That seemed good enough for Love, the god patting him lightly against the cheek before stepping back and making shooing gesture between them. “Now off you go. Hunt should be finishing up soon. Go have your conversation so you can get back to the woman who truly matters to you.”

“Thank you,” Creation repeated, and with one last smile and nod, he rushed back through the Pantheon and descended from the gods’ balcony towards the Ollafùrian Wilds. With any luck, Hunt would be done and away from the warriors by the time he arrived.

Destruction’s plan was a brutal one, and something certainly not meant for mortal ears.

Something was off the moment Creation breached the border of the Wilds. Not in the air, but the atmosphere itself, like magic was spilling out from deep within the woods, tainting everything in its path. His gut reaction was to turn away, to avoid entering any further into the thick of it, whatever it was, but based off what Love had shown him, Hunt should be in there.

Despite each step sending a chill down his spine, Creation hurried forward.

He didn’t need to go very far.

Just beyond a cluster of trees, a wave of sickening magic overwhelmed him. . Creation wasn’t sure he would be able to breathe if he continued, but as a movement from within the brush caught his eye, he knew he had no choice.

The first assault was the smell, like iron and moss and something sickly sweet coming from his right, but despite its intensity, nothing could have prepared him for its cause. Hanging halfway up the trunk of a massive tree was the contorted form of a torso-less body, limbs splayed out like branches and a head partially hidden in crimson-soaked bark. A tree had sprout itself right out of the man’s middle. Half of his face was locked in the shape of an anguished scream.

And he was not the only victim to such travesty. The farther into the wilds Creation walked, the more he saw. A man half-melted, his liquefied form dripping in hues of blue, purple, and pink. Three men tangled together by the elongated crisscrossing of their own limbs like some odd and nightmarish human braid. One young man lying limp and clearly denied of any oxygen within the confines of an iridescent, pink bubble.

It was a massacre built around insanity.

Around chaos.

Creation’s feet dragged, his stomach souring further with each step. When he passed an archer, whose fingers had been turned into arrows, her body contorted into a grotesque rainbow-colored bow, Creation nearly got sick, turning away from the sight to catch his breath. . .

Only to find a familiar head of black curls and dark skin lying unmoving a few feet away.

Creation wasted no time, rushing to Hunt’s side. He hoped she was simply unconscious from the attack. The moment his hand touched her shoulder, however, his hope shattered. That simple touch, a barely-there grazing of his fingers, had caused large chunks of her shoulder to chip and crumble away.

Creation wrenched his hand back, but the damage had been done. He watched in horror as the cracks and fissures spread throughout Hunt’s prone form, breaking or crumbling away completely. Heart pounding, Creation inched his way around her, careful not to damage her further, until he could see her face.

The divine weren’t supposed to be able to kill their own kind, but there was no life in Hunt’s eyes. And as the cracks spread up her neck, her face, there were eventually no eyes at all. Chaos’s magic broke every law they thought they knew.

She had forsaken the pantheon and all its rules with it.

A whimper from his left drew Creation’s startled and horrified attention, his heart beating rapid-fire deep within his chest. Inches away from its master lay Hunt’s wolf, fatally wounded and sprouting roses with blood-tipped thorns from between tufts of matted, dark fur. Creation reached for him, only to be met by fanged teeth and a rough growl. So he pulled back, doomed to do nothing more than watch as the animal dragged himself to his master and burrowed into her side.

That simple action, however heartfelt and desperately well-meaning, was the last push Hunt’s body needed, the dismantled form of her shattering into pieces around the whimpering pet. The wolf howled once, a broken and mournful noise, then settled into the remains of his master and closed his eyes. Whether the wolf continued to live or not, Creation knew he would not move from his spot.

Creation needed to press forward. If Chaos had the ability to kill Hunt, to kill a god, then his and Destruction’s mission was suddenly much more dire. And much more dangerous.

Destruction had been right all along: Nowhere was truly safe as long as her counterpart drew breath.

Sparing one last glance at Hunt’s remains, her loyal pet unmoving, Creation took off in a sprint out of the wilds. Destruction needed to know exactly how high the stakes had just become.