The mansion was quiet.

The Society’s wish this time hadn’t been particularly taxing, but there was always an exhaustion left behind in the wake of a session. More physical and magical for Snow—from the destroying and rebuilding of the world (though it had gotten easier with time)—and more mental for everyone else. It wasn’t quite calming, but there was also a sense of contentment in seeing another job well done, another wish granted. They’d earned their rest, and Snow was more than willing to take some of his own.

“Somebody looks relaxed.”

All at once, any hope of rest vanished, tension filling the room. To his right, Pan was situating herself with a flourish and a bounce directly into his personal space, bright green hair swinging about her shoulders. Snow frowned.

“It’s impossible to be relaxed around you, Pan, and you know it,” Snow replied, deadpanned, looking back at the members of the Society and ignoring the twist in his gut.

“You wound me, Snow,” Pan replied, a giggle in her voice. Snow winced.

How long had it been? After so many years and countless wishes, time became convoluted and dense, overlapping and causing his memories to feel hazy. But when had it happened? At what point had they started referring to each other, to themselves, by the names the mortals had given them?

At what point had they gone from Chaos and Creation to Pan and Snow?

Somewhere around Eslar joining, if he was forced to guess. The High Elf and first member to remain in the Society always had suspicions about their true nature. But it was easier to leave it at “Snow” than explaining the circumstances that had brought what the mortals now called the “Society of Wishes” together.

The longer they were a part of this little envelope of timeless, ceaseless wish granting, the more their original selves chipped away. Snow closed his eyes, imagining tan skin, dark hair, a mischievous grin, and warm eyes. These memories, at least, would never fade. Even as Snow, he still loved her, that ache for her still as fresh as the day they were separated.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Pan nudged him with her elbow and Snow quickly schooled his face into one of blank indifference.

“Don’t you have a nap to take?” Or a hole to die in? was what he really wanted to say.

“I’m bored,” Pan whined, and even though Snow kept his eyes on the gathering of Society members in the common area, he heard the petulant frown she no doubt was sporting. “Bothering you is more fun than exploring the darkness behind my eyelids.”

This, Snow chose to ignore. He watched as Samson bustled about the kitchen with Nico, the Italian man laughing and talking with their crafter. Samson’s eyes shined with interest. Nico was a kind soul, warm like sunshine and filled with an easy happiness that Snow almost envied. Sometimes it felt like his happiness had been ripped apart with Destruction’s body.

The sound of a curse pulled Snow’s attention to where Wayne and Takako were locked in a game of strategy. It was clear who won by the smug look on Takako’s face and Wayne’s petulant demands for a rematch.

The pain of his situation was always a bit easier to bear when he saw his charges getting along, growing into their roles as a team, a family. None of them had asked for this burden, and being forced together for centuries to help him destroy and rebuild the world with wishes only added to the difficulty of it all. Yet, in moments like this, some relief could be found.

After Samson had joined them with his fateful wish, Snow had wondered dejectedly if they were doomed to live in silence, forced to shelter themselves to avoid more tragedy. Not that Snow blamed Eslar in any way for his immediate refusal to offer Samson any kindness. No, Snow blamed himself for his foolishness on that wish. But while time did not heal all wounds, it did tend to soothe, and even Eslar was not immune.

Even he wasn’t immune to the dulling effects of time, given how he let Pan sit at his side for more than a minute, at present.

Eslar removed himself from a side table, book he’d been reading in hand, and walked into the kitchen to join Nico and Samson. What had once been tense and uncomfortable, sometimes even hostile between the two, was now softened, worn down with time. Samson smiled at Eslar as he approached, blushing with pride as Eslar said something to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Snow couldn’t hear the praise, but he saw it on the elf’s face, practically felt it in the way Nico laughed and Samson preened.

The three men chatted amongst themselves, and for the first time in a while, Snow felt the contradicting tug of wanting to join them while simultaneously wanting to keep himself away from their little bubble of happiness and ease. He was their leader, their warden, and he owed it to them to keep them ignorant of what this place really was . . . lest he taint their experiences further.

Pan sighed dramatically, all but collapsing into his side in a stubborn lean. “You’re boring, too, you know that? Just standing here, watching everyone like a creepy prison guard.” Snow bit back his wince and stepped forcing Pan to stumble and right herself.

“Why are you still here then?” he asked, narrowing his eyes down at her, only to hesitate at the look in her eyes. He knew that look, remembered it like some distant memory of a dream. His heart began to sink even before Pan opened her mouth.

“Because I know something you don’t,” she said, straightening with a devious grin as she ran delicate fingers through her hair, each strand she touched streaking the bright green with a jarring fuchsia. “And I want to see your face when you find out.”

Another contradictory sensation ripped through him. He’d waited so long, aching and desperate to see his love again, but things were different now. Their situation was different from what Destruction had wanted, what she’d given up her immortality for. And as much as he wanted to see her, he also wished she would never have to experience this life, from this trap and out of Pan’s reach.

Even if it meant never being near her again.

But Snow knew he had no choice. Pan said, “We have a wish, Snow. A very special wish from a very special girl.”

Despite his warring desires, Snow couldn’t help the way his heart picked up at the thought, that longing he’d buried centuries ago returning full force. And based on the way Pan laughed cruelly, it was written all over his face.

“You’d best gather up the team, Snow,” Pan continued through her giggles, stretching her arms over her head with a pleased sigh. Then, in rare seriousness, she turned towards him, her cat-like eyes shining and her grin every inch the chaotic embodiment of her namesake. “The real game is about to begin.”

Just as quickly as the seriousness had come, it was instantly replaced with the childish demeanor he’d come to expect of Pan, her focus once again on the rest of the Society members, all of them blissfully unaware of what was to come.

“Such a cute little family,” she hummed before heading down the hall towards the briefing room and, adding while Snow was still in earshot, “So sad that it’s all about to end.”

Snow watched her go until she was out of sight. Once they granted this next wish, everything would be out of his hands. What if it was too much? What if he couldn’t protect the woman he’d given up everything for? What if all of this had been for nothing and Oblivion would yet reign? What if—

“Snow?” Nico’s voice startled him out of his spiral. Snow’s eyes jerked away from the empty hallway to his friendly face filled with concern. “Is everything all right?”

For a foolish moment, Snow considered saying no, considered telling the kindhearted man everything. But what good would it do? Nico didn’t deserve to shoulder any of Snow’s burden. None of them did. As much as it pained him, Snow worked his expression into something resembling confidence.

“I need everyone in the briefing room in five,” he said, throat tight and stomach flipping. Nico’s eyes widened a fraction and his hands tightened around his coffee mug, but he nodded nonetheless. Snow turned away without another word, legs carrying him on autopilot past the mansion’s central four-way intersection as Pan’s words swirled in his head.

“We have a wish, Snow. A very special wish from a very special girl.”

His Destruction. His love. This time, no matter what came to pass, he would not let her go.

Thank you for reading Prince of Gods! If you’re familiar with the Age of Magic universe, or just stepping into it, I hope you enjoyed this story.

When hacker Josephina Espinosa is gunned down in a government raid she saves herself with a dying wish—only to be reborn as a witch. But there’re more secrets than she imagined woven into the very fabric of her being. As she’s forced to grant wishes outside of time, she’ll confront the true nature of the world she thought she knew, and of herself.