. . The world teetered on the brink of collapse, like a child's glass toy left on a staircase. The slightest push and it would fall into chaos and break, spilling its pieces into a dangerous maze of sharp edges and pain for those who might come upon its remains. Looking out over the world, Zaulh'ghev, Overlord of Aurealis, was of two minds as he contemplated the future of his protectorate. His eyes, windows to his thoughts, flashed from lavander to white and back again, sometimes moving so rapidly as to appear like a wagon wheel at high rotation. Snapping closed the tome upon his knee, he closed his eyes, sending out a summons that only the other immortals residing within the world could hear.

. . One by one, they arrived within Zaulh'ghev's darkened study: Cyng, the God of Magic... Aiela, the Goddess of Truth and Light... Dzauron, the Moonlord... Valdar, the God of Justice and Honor... Atlas, the Rainbow God... Chaos, the embodiment of Change itself... Faywhen, the Sensate Goddess... Nikolai, the God of Bards and Song... Rastor, the Lord of Air and Water... all arrived quietly, as if sensing the mood behind the Overlord's flat, emotionless visage. He felt them come in, felt their apprehension and their curiosity, but said nothing. He let them stand there, nervous as virgin brides, for what must have felt like centuries.

. . When Zaulh'ghev spun, his eyes were white, showing his fury, and all but the Pixielord and the Sensate Goddess took an involuntary step backwards. Cyng merely raised an eyebrow and moved his wings slowly, used to the sudden mood shifts that seemed to seize Zaulh'ghev upon occasion, and Faywhen smiled, moving forward a step, as if drawn to the seething tempest before her. For a moment, no sound graced the shrouded library, and then, in a voice like shards of fine crystal grating upon granite peaks, Zaulh'ghev said, "You fools!" He paused to fix each of them with a steely glare for a moment before continuing. "This has gone far enough! You all," he paused, gesturing to Cyng, "except Cyng, have caused me much anxiety. Do you understand what your little games have wrought?" Continuing to glare, he began to pace slowly back and forth before the assembled Gods. "Zhalith's quest to become the Overlord caused many deaths, because you," he growled, pointing in the group's general direction, "led them to believe they could make a difference. Kayleigh's sacrifice. Cauchemar's entrapment. Benadanti's destruction." He continued to tick off the events on ebony fingers, barely pausing at all. "Because of your games, your attempts to mold the beings of this world to your whims, you have brought this world to the brink of destruction! I did not step in front of the former Overlord's blast, sacrificing myself so that this world might come into being so that you children," he paused to let the icy tone of that word sink in, "could destroy it with your petty power squabbles."

. . As suddenly as it had arrived, the whiteness of Zaulh'ghev's eyes disappeared, to be replaced by the flat black that matched the rest of his being. The assembled gods relaxed, all save for Faywhen, who hissed her displeasure under her breath and slowly moved back to stand in a pouty slouch with the rest of her compatriots. "Now," Zaulh'ghev continued in a voice as smooth as polished obsidian, and just as featureless, "As I see it, we have but one choice. This world must continue, and I will not see it destroyed by illogical whimsy. Therefore, I am handing down this edict to you: Our time of direct contact with this world is at an end, and you will depart from it. You will obey it, or..." he lowered his voice, as if hesitant to even voice the finale of his thought, "I will unmake you utterly."

. . Cyng nodded, seemingly pleased by this edict. Aiela, however, gasped at the threat, and Faywhen smiled and licked her lips, a flush coming to her face at the thought of the pain involved in such a discipline. Only Nikolai spoke. "But... what shall we do? How shall we communicate with those who venerate us, those who turn to us for guidance?" he asked, eyes filled with honest and open concern. "It's simple," Rastor said, gliding forward, feet hovering above the floor. "You create a church. I have one, my first temple is almost completed. A wonderful place it is too." Nodding, Cyng said levelly, "It is long past time that we acted like Gods, and not the lapdogs of our worshippers. They yell, we come running to help them. Pffft." he spat. "Let them come to us. Let them sing to us, pray to us, give us the respect we deserve."

. . Nodding, Zaulh'ghev moved forward, eyes shifting to Lavander briefly. "I do know that there is one change remaining to the realms, and that one of you will yet fall before the year is out." Being careful not to look at anyone in particular, Zaulh'ghev said softly, "It will be a noble sacrifice, and yet much good and evil will come of it, and it will wreak the final change to some, begin the final upheaval for others." Shaking his head, he looked up. "But regardless," he said, voice flat again, eyes black as deep still water, "Our time upon the surface of this world is at an end. Create planes for yourselves, and make homes there. Fill them with creatures and people that suit your varied tastes. You know these beings," he paused, looking generally downward and spreading his hands open, "They are ingenious. In time, they will find their way to us. When they do, speak with them, but do not trespass upon the surface of Aurealis unless it is the direst of emergencies, and even then you will be answerable to me for all that you do."

. . "But how are we to communicate with our followers," Valdar asked, voice as steely as the giant axe strapped across his back, "If we aren't allowed down there?" Zaulh'ghev opened his mouth, yet it was Dzauron who spoke first. "In dreams, of course." he said in an ethereal tone. "Dreams under the light of the moon. Speak to them when they sleep." Eyes fully lavander, Zaulh'ghev said "Dreams are acceptable, but you may also send omens and portents. Remember," he said, looking at each God individually as he spoke, "Each of you must appoint a high priest, or some similar position. To this being you will communicate with most often through dreams and portents. It will be their responsibility to spread the word of what you tell them to the rest of the world." Nodding, he turned around to walk back to his desk. "Thus we will be remembered, but no longer a part of the life of the beings that inhabit this world." Flipping open his book, he beckoned to the shadows and Sebastian, his great white own, landed upon his right shoulder. "That is all I had to say," Zaulh'ghev said flatly. "You may go."

. . One by one, the Gods of Aurealis left the room, until only Cyng remained. "You're taking an awful risk, Zaulh'ghev," Cyng said, flitting up to stand upon the desk. "I find your reasoning sound and your solution daring, but you risk the world forgetting about us all. Don't you find that worrysome?" Sighing, Zaulh'ghev turned to look at the Pixielord, and said slowly, "Of course I worry, my old friend. But what can I do? You can feel the instability of the world, can you not? With the wildmagic's entrance into the weave, the instability has grown. And while your teachings of means to channel it have brought a bit of stability back, it is too little too late." Turning a page in his tome, he absently stroked Sebastian's head, causing the owl's eyes to slowly close in relaxation. "We do what we must, for the greater good. In this case, that is the survival of the world. In time, they will find us in our palaces, our libraries, our temples, our forests... wherever we take root." Turning the last page, Zaulh'ghev said nothing, silently scanning it before closing the book before him. "It is the end of an Eon, my old friend." he said, picking up the book and moving towards a nearby shelf. "And just like this book, it must be finished and set aside, so that another may take its place." Placing the book upon the shelf, he turned to listen when Cyng spoke. "I only hope the world will remember, and somehow know what sacrifice we have made for its survival," Cyng said, rising to depart. "It is a significant event when a world loses its Gods." Turning to watch him leave, Zaulh'ghev whispered, "They are not losing us, they are gaining their independance at last, and rest assured, at least one will know what happened, I will see to it."

. . With great weariness in his eyes, Zaulh'ghev moved to allow Sebastian to return to his padded perch. "Rest, my friend," he said to the owl, whose eyes were already closed, "From now on, you will be my eyes, my ears, and through you I will watch my world prosper from afar. And then, while you are gone, perhaps I will build a library for myself, something more airy and sunlit than this darkened room. Perhaps..." As he trailed off, Zaulh'ghev moved to a shelf, took down a book, and opened it to the first page, which was blank. "Let us see how this one goes." he said, and as he watched, words began to fill the page, the words of the first story of a new Eon.