Slathir sat beneath a weeping willow, and for once found that its attitude was the complete antithesis of his own. He was happy, a bit tired, and more than a little perplexed as to what that first emotion really meant.

He had been happy before. Small moments throughout the centuries of loneliness and aimlessness that had led him here. But they had been just that, small moments. Fleeting and sporadic. He had never experienced an extended tenure of this emotion. He had never had any reason to.

"Uh oh, I know that face."

He looked up as the willow bent a little under new weight. Steraf leaned her head over, indigo hair trailing around her shoulders, and smirked. "You are going to say something philosophical, are you not? Or even worse, it will be something morose and unpleasant. Do you think it can wait?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Strange, it had been getting longer for some time, but he had hardly noticed. He had not put much thought into it ever before.

"Is asking questions not the purest form of engagement? Through the good and the bad, we are left only with stories to tell and opinions to be made."

"See, you just did it. I swear, they should call you the God of Philosophy. Hmm, no, that doesn't work." She spun around, hand scratching her head. "How about the God of Mood Killings?"

"What are you talking about, Steraf?"

"What I mean is that you should be out there, enjoying yourself, instead of retreating to that solitude you so despised to muse over your own feelings. Is it not good enough to have a reason to be happy?" She turned her head and smiled. "See, look, one of them is coming right now."

He glanced around and saw, as she said, a figure approaching them from around the lake, the willow sat beside. He struck a tall figure that might have been gallant and regal, horns of blazing red atop his head, but it was marred by his hands, which were stuck into his pockets, and the slight slouch that he walked with.

"Oh, well, I won't say I was hoping for someone different… how has your day been, Wrathius?"

Slathir's son, Wrathius, glanced up at her with a mixed expression of apprehension and grim acceptance. It was a look he often wore, and one that Slathir felt was warranted in most of those situations. Such as this.

"Aunt Steraf, a pleasure as always." His voice was gruff, but he spoke concisely. "My day has been suitably ordinary. The sun is hot, and the birds are loud. I took issue with the way a rock was positioned, so I removed it. Forcibly and without negotiation."

Yes, he was definitely his son. He'd know that from that insane sentence, even if he couldn't feel his beating heart from metres away, and the slight pull towards him that made him sit up against the trunk of the tree.

One of seven. Seven parts of his Soul that he'd split away to give life on his own terms, by his own hands. A hundred years had passed, and while the cracks still felt raw to the touch, so to speak, he still felt that exhilarating thrill whenever he was near them.

My people. My family.

One hundred years of that happy feeling that he didn't quite understand. Before that, he had barely been able to tell the decades apart and had more often than not lost himself in some idle thought that lasted longer than a Human Kingdom. Now, though, when he looked at Wrathius, he felt that century like a mortal.

Well, not entirely like a mortal. Wrathius and his brothers and sisters had aged in stature at the same rate as Humans, but emotionally and mentally, they were more like his kin, the other gods. If he had to place Wrathius' current age in regard to the mind rather than body… he was in his late adolescence.

"He spends too much time around you, you know," Steraf said, pulling a sour face. "Try not to put too much nonsense behind his ears, okay?"

"Really now, and what about your little talks with Slothir?"

"Purely educational. She has to learn such things, whether she likes it or not. And it gets her up and about more."

Wrathius cleared his throat, and the two of them turned back to look at him. His posture wilted a little under their combined gaze, but he raised a hand.

"Actually, she was asking for your Steraf. She said something about a lecture you promised to give her last month, but never did?"

She stared off into nothing for a second before snapping back with wide eyes. "Oh. Oh. How in the name of me did I forget that? And she did not bother to come and remind me sooner? Honestly, I swear…"

Without another word, she levitated through the leaves and vanished from sight. He felt her presence go.

He leaned back against the willow tree, taking in the silence again with a sigh. He noticed Wrathius was twiddling his feet. For the son with the most imposing figure, he was remarkably awkward with it.

"Something on your mind?"

"Sort of. Do you mind if I…"

Slathir waved a hand. With that reassurance, Wrathius' shoulders dropped and, relieved, he sat down beside him. Except he chose to sit on the far side of the trunk, facing away and towards the lake.

"Did something happen? I heard nothing amiss unless it was discreet, and no Humans have lived in these hills for at least three decades. What's the matter?"

His son sighed. "You remember that rock I mentioned?"

"The one that you found an issue with and removed without opening diplomatic channels? What of it?"

"Well, when I… removed it, I ended up destroying more of the countryside than I intended. I believe we should be expecting a new river between those hills over there in a few weeks."

He leaned over to take a look. "Which hills? Those two tall ones north of here?"

"No, the stouter ones. Over there."

"Right." He lowered himself down again.

"I just… it wasn't my intention. Even removing the rock was a step too far; all it did was reflect the light into my eye at the wrong time. That's all it did; it was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now I've caused a geographic upheaval."

"Is it hardly an upheaval. Lands change, mountains rise, seas fall away, and canyons form. As you get older, it will become second nature to ignore such things. One new river will change things, yes, but in the grand scheme… it is hardly the end of the world."

"Yes, but…" The trunk shook as Wrathius hit his head against it. "In the coming weeks, the land will flood, and the animals will suffer. Those too slow too slow to escape will die, and those who survive will find their hunting grounds changed forever. Fish will have to contend with a new stream, new foes against them. The plants will be drowned, and this lake will be changed. How can I not regret all that will come to pass because of my actions?"

And there it was. The biggest difference, perhaps the only difference, between his children and him. While he sat firmly in his immortality, in being a deity untouched by time and used to it passing him like the wind on a summer's day, they felt every day as it passed. Though they aged as little as he did, their minds were newer, more mortal.

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Less than gods, but greater than Humans. Something new. They straddled the line between the mortal and the immortal.

"Is that all that bothers you?"

There were a few seconds of silence before he answered, "I don't like how out of control I felt. How reflex it was to just… tear it all down, ripping it apart until nought was left but dirt and stone."

So, he's still not used to the powers given to him. It has taken each of them time, at their own paces, to adjust to the powers of godhood.

"Sometimes I wish I were like Prydin. At least he's able to bring something into the world, instead of removing like me. You could have put a little more thought behind it, you know?"

He chuckled, reaching around and flicking him. "I was a bit preoccupied pulling myself apart. Have you given any thought to what he thinks? Doubtless, he sees his gifts to be as much of a pain and burden as you do yours."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I will have to ask him the next time I get a chance."

He went silent again, and Slathir could tell that his mood wasn't going to improve much from this pep talk.

"Alright then." He jumped up and dusted the grass off his legs. "Do you want to practice then?"

He looked up slowly. "Practice?"

"How else are you going to improve? Natural talent will only take you so far, my son. Practice, practice, practice. That was what Melgos taught me. When you fail, you try again. When you succeed, you allow yourself a brief pause to celebrate before you try again. In our lives, there is no end goal in sight, so we must satisfy ourselves with the journey."

He reached out a hand, and Wrathius took it. Once he was up, they walked up and away from the willow tree, onto the rolling and rocky hills that went on and on into the distant horizon. They stopped on top of one that was barren, save for several large boulders embedded in the earth. He flexed his fingers.

"You were right about one thing; it's all about control. Understanding what needs to be ripped apart, what needs to remain, and how far you can go before it all falls to chaos. Observe."

He placed a hand on the nearest boulder and concentrated. It took more effort now, he noticed, than it had before. Steraf had concluded that he was a far weaker god than he had been after splintering a portion of himself. Not that he had ever had cause to regret his choice.

The rock shuddered, then began to break away. A chunk here, a portion there, carefully and intentionally, he cracked away pieces of the rock that either fell away or dissipated into smoke. He kept the heat low, so the rock wouldn't melt, but made sure it wasn't so cold that he shattered the pieces.

After a minute, he stopped and backed away. The cloud of dust revealed an intricate flower, mixed of the grey outer layer and the darker, blackish innards.

"It isn't perfect. If I spent an hour working on the details, it might've turned out a little better, but you get the idea, right? It's about deliberate action and intention. That is what makes control."

He turned back to Wrathius, whose eyes were moving between his creation and his own hand, which he was clenching and unclenching into a fist.

"I don't know how you are so calm while you do it. Is it divine nature, or just centuries of practice?"

"Millennia, you will get there eventually. For now, best put your foot down to take the first step."

He gestured towards another one of the boulders, and Wrathius stepped forward. He placed a hand against it, in much the way he had, and took a deep breath.

CRACK.

That actually made him flinch. The crack echoed through the valleys and doubtless could be heard for miles.

Beneath Wrathius' fingers was a crackling mass of energy. It was easier to describe in feelings than a visual description. It was the power of destruction. It was chaotic. It was a strength. It was as close to the concept of destruction as you could get.

A line ran through the boulder, top to bottom. Then another crossed it, and another. Wrathius' hand was shaking as he tried to limit the force in his palm, but it reacted to that by trying to expand more. The rock beneath his hand was becoming molten, dripping down into a pool below.

"Oh, damn it all."

He threw his hand back, and the boulder exploded. The dirt in front of him exploded. That side of the hill exploded, spraying shards and debris through the air, a massive cloud of dust spiralling above them.

When he turned back, his frown had deepened to a scowl. He bared his teeth. "See what I mean, see what I mean? You can expound as many lectures on control and practice as you want, but that doesn't make me feel any better when I take out a hillside every time I try."

He kicked a patch of dirt, then flicked his fingers. Instantly, that patch was completely eviscerated. The dirt, the grass, everything, gone in a flash, creating a crack that ran down to the stream below.

Hm?

He leaned down and inspected the crack. Initially, he had assumed it was an unintentional byproduct, but when he looked closer, he heard a trickle coming from beneath. Then, a stream of water began to filter out, barely noticeable at first, but it followed the crack perfectly, winding its way down towards the stream below.

"You did that on purpose?" He looked up at his son.

Wrathius saw what he was looking at and shrugged, still glaring at his hand. "I wasn't thinking about it that much."

"Right. Right…" He glanced back at the trickling water then up at his son, who looked just about ready to destroy the other side of the hill, just for good measure.

"I think I might have an idea. Will you humour me?"

"Sure, it cannot be much worse than this."

"I would not count on it. Take me arm."

He stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. Then they were flying, or rather, half-dissipating into gas as the hill became a distant dot beneath them and the clouds drew closer and closer. He was not paying attention to how fast they were going, only where the destination he had in mind was. He'd made a mental note of it years ago and only hoped it hadn't sunk at any point since then.

He smiled when it appeared beneath them, still intact and as he remembered it.

"What is that?"

"It's an island."

Wrathius glanced up at him, scowling. "I figured that out. But what's it for?"

Instead of answering, he lowered them to the ground. Slowly, as he looked around for the spot with the highest vantage point. Eventually, he found a sharp cliff face from which you could see the entire island. He set them down there.

"So, going to tell me what we're doing here?"

He raised a hand and gestured to the land beneath them. "This island has been inhabited for over four hundred years, and no mortals have even landed here within the last two hundred. The wildlife is sparse, full of the usual critters, but other than that, empty."

"Right. And the point you're making is…?"

"I want you to remake it. However you want to do it, do it. I will not interfere. I just want you to remake this island to your heart's content."

"Rema- how exactly am I supposed to do that? You let me handle this place, and you will have a flat land devoid of everything afterwards."

Slathir flicked his fingers, and the stone beneath him rose into a neat stool. He sat down; it wasn't as pleasant as the grass beneath a willow tree, but it would do.

"You were having trouble using your powers on a micro scale, so I decided you just first start with using them on a macro scale. Go on now." He smiled. "No matter what you do, I'll be proud."

He gave him a worried glance but turned to look down at the island below again. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. He took another breath in, then let it out once more.

After the third time, he sighed, and his shoulders slouched back down.

"Yeah, that isn't going to work."

He snapped his fingers, and the second-largest cliff-face exploded. Smoke and rock were sent flying everywhere, almost as if it were a volcano, but he didn't even pause to look at it.

Another snap and a line cut through the centre of the island. A flick of his wrist and a canyon collapsed in on itself. The thin line continued to widen as the earth shook and water rushed in. But he didn't stop moving.

Slathir crossed his legs as the very cliffside beneath them began to shift. It wasn't being ripped apart completely, but a cursory look confirmed that the base of it had been melted down into molten stone and was now being shifted by the sheer force of the explosions on its east side.

"What in the name of Creation are you two doing?"

He looked up as a familiar figure descended towards him. Steraf glanced between him, the island being ripped to shreds, and Wrathius, who hadn't even turned to greet her.

"I am educating my son. I prefer a more hands-on approach to his learning."

"This is learning?" She didn't even entertain the idea of standing on the shaking ground, choosing to hover a few feet above it instead. "Listen, I know he can have a bit of a temper from time to time, but taking it out on an innocent dot of land might be crossing the line."

"Is that all you see? Look again."

She heeded his request and took another look. This time, she paused for longer. She squinted, "His decision to divert the rivers is smart, and if the smoke were not so dense, it would be easier to appreciate what he did with that mountainside… is he reshaping it?"

He nodded. "See. Hands-on approach."

Meanwhile, Wrathius was muttering to himself, having either ignored the fact that he had an audience or remaining unaware of the fact.

"River needs to flow in that way- no, need to pull that bit apart to make it work. Watch for the melting rock there, it could cause a buildup in future. Damn, trying to raise earth is so irritating."

He was far from calm. In fact, he seemed to be in a constant state of annoyance, and he had that irritated look on his face. And yet, when Slathir watched the way he pulled apart rock and stone, split rivers and shifted forests, he concluded that it didn't matter. At least not for him.

And anyway, beneath that, he thought he caught a hint of satisfaction playing on his lips. Perhaps even enjoyment.

Happiness… yes, I could get used to this.

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