Meanwhile, Seshat was on her way to the Pantheon Palace. It was a magnificent structure, a testament to the gods' power and ego. The palace itself, crafted from white marble and shimmering crystal, was situated on a hilltop overlooking a valley of unnatural beauty. A waterfall, its waters a rainbow of colors, cascaded down a cliff face, feeding a crystal-clear river that wound its way through lush gardens filled with exotic flowers and glowing trees.
She reached the palace gates, a pair of massive, white doors that towered over her, their surfaces etched with intricate carvings depicting scenes of gods. At the door, two figures, tall and imposing, clad in gleaming golden armor, stood guard. They were not just run-of-the-mill guards or angels but they were called the Sentinels. These sentinels were not human or elves or mortals but beings of immense power, forged from the graces of gods. Their sole purpose was to protect the Pantheon and they were the equivalent of Level One gods in power.
Seeing Seshat, the sentinals opened the doors as their gazes fixed on Seshat with an unnerving intensity.
Inside, the throne room was a vast, circular chamber, its high ceiling adorned with a mural depicting the history of the Pantheon and how they heroically united all the domain in the realm of the gods and brought order from chaos with their asses as a beacon of purity. It was all propaganda but everyone in the realm of the gods believed.
Zorian, the God of Sun, sat at a massive, round table, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. He looked tired and older. His usually bright, golden aura seemed dimmed, his eyes weary, his long white hair and beard longer than Seshat remembered. Seshat knew that war would take toll on everyone, even on the gods.
When he saw Seshat, he smiled, a small, weary smile.
"Seshat," he greeted, his voice warm, but laced with a hint of strain. "Thank you for coming."
She took a seat opposite him, the smooth, cool surface of the table a welcome contrast to the heat that seemed to radiate from Zorian's presence since he was the God of the Sun.
"I know you have chosen to remain neutral in this conflict, Seshat," Zorian began, his gaze meeting hers. "But I would ask you to reconsider. We need your wisdom. Your guidance."
He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"Seraphene... she's using unconventional tactics, Seshat. Blackmail. Threats. She's turning the Gods against us."
After hearing Zorian, Seshat just sighed as she wasn't surprised, not even a bit. Seraphene had always been ruthless and with her access to... well, to everything... she had the power to destroy reputations, topple empires, and break even the most powerful of gods.
Gods weren't immune to blackmail. Not really. They might be powerful, and immortal but still relied on their image, worshippers' faith in them, and worship energy. And if their dirty laundry was aired, their secrets revealed, their followers might start to question their divinity and began to worship others instead. And that was a fate worse than death for most gods. It meant a loss of power, a loss of influence, and it would create opportunities for other gods. Gods who were eager to capitalize on the chaos, to absorb the disenfranchised worshippers. It had happened before, and it would undoubtedly happen again.
"Who... is it this time, Zorian?" Seshat asked, her voice calm, steady.
Zorian took a deep breath, his face hardening.
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