The Veil shimmered like dawn breaking through glass.It was neither heaven nor earth but a space between, where time bent, and light obeyed no rule. The gods gathered once more, their forms towering, divine, and restless. The echoes of the Liroid heirs’ awakening still trembled through creation.At the center of the assembly stood Cirax, head of the Old Gods, her expression a mixture of dread and weary awe. “It has begun,” she said softly. “The blood of Evilside stirs again. The Tree of Cellok opens its eyes. And the balance tilts.”A murmur rippled through the divine host: Varun the Judge, Isha of Memory, Koro of Winds, and Dendra of Beauty and Mischief, each uneasy.Then, from the edge of the light, came a voice like laughter carried on morning rain.Day, the Goddess of Love and Mercy, stepped forward. Her skin shimmered like dawnlight; her eyes glowed with warmth that could melt even stone. Around her, flowers bloomed from the air itself.“Perhaps,” she said, “it need not end in wa

The Sons of LightThe moon over Cellok bled silver that night, spilling light across the spires of the Liroid Academy. Below its towers, the air pulsed with a tension older than the world itself. Every shadow was alive with watching eyes; gods, demons, ancestors, all drawn by what was to come.It was the Festival of the Veil, a time when mortal and divine realms brushed fingers. This year, however, it was also something else, a test. A cruel, radiant test conceived by a goddess who loved to play with hearts.From her seat upon a cloud of rose and flame, Day, goddess of love, smiled down upon the Academy courtyard. Her beauty shimmered like morning dew, her laughter the sound of breaking hearts.“Their children think themselves beyond us,” she mused, brushing a blue strand of hair from her face. “But even the blood of Liroids cannot silence love or ruin.”Beside her stood Spin, god of creativity and chaos, his robes shifting with the colors of imagination. He chuckled softly, eyes glin

The moon above the Liroid Academy was split between flame and frost. Every year, when the lilies along Cellok’s river opened black and silver, the students gathered beneath them to test their link to the goddess. It was called the Festival of Veins, for under that light, each Liroid’s mark glowed with the truth of their blood.Game stood at the edge of the courtyard, her white-silver hair catching moonfire like a blade of light in shadow. Around her, chants rose, young Liroids calling the darkness that lived inside them, but she felt only a quiet ache. Her mother’s voice, Scream’s voice, was long gone, yet the veil of power that had hidden her mother’s face seemed to settle now upon her heart.From the western gate came a stranger she had come to find friendship in. He moved like music, light rippling from his hands as though creation itself followed his gesture. Sap, son of Spin of Creativity, came as envoy and spy both, his father’s order whispering in his mind: Charm her. Learn her

The rain over Cellok did not fall; it slithered. It came down in black ribbons that hissed as they struck the cracked ground, soaking the twisted roots of the Tree. The air was poison and perfume, and thunder rolled like the growl of a god trying to wake.Snake moved through it as if born of its venom. Every drop that touched him steamed away. His cloak, stitched from the skin of a shadow worm, dragged across the bones of the earth, whispering with a sound that could drive men mad if they listened too long.He had not left Cellok in a century. The Tree’s will bound him; Evilside’s silence imprisoned him. But tonight, something older than obedience had stirred, an ache in the blood, a whisper from the serpent within.The goddess had gone quiet. Her last command still echoed in him, “Silence the fire.” Yet the fire had returned. It had taken form in children and gods, in hearts that still dared to love. Something she had not foreseen was unraveling her dominion.He needed knowledge olde

Thunder rolled like a wounded beast across the mountains surrounding the Liroid Academy. The towers shuddered beneath the pressure of gathering clouds, and from every mirror and pool of still water, the faint shimmer of eyes could be seen, watching, waiting, remembering.Heartless stood at the highest balcony, her cloak whispering against obsidian stone. The rain slicked down her pale skin, yet she didn’t move. Below her, she could feel every heartbeat in the academy, every flicker of shadow magic, every whispered lie the students told to hide their fears.But it was Game’s heartbeat that disturbed her most.It pulsed wrong in rhythm with something old, older even than Evilside’s curse.And the storm that had arrived with Sky? It hummed in tune with it.“Fate stirs,” she murmured. “And fate never stirs kindly.”Behind her, a shadow moved.Queen Doom stepped from the veil of rain, her presence sharp and regal, her hair dark as a raven, her crown carved from black crystal that pulsed fa