Calista | House of Snake Heir | Female

Indirectly: Queen, Heir, Houses, & Demi-Gods

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Calista crushed herbs and sorted them with practiced precision. The early morning air was cool against her skin, carrying faint scents of dew and earth. Each herb she touched had a purpose. Valerian for focus, feverfew to calm the nerves, aconite for controlled potency, and nightshade for more… delicate persuasion. She weighed, chopped, and measured, arranging them in neat bundles and small vials, the faint aroma of crushed leaves and dried petals mingling into a subtle, intoxicating perfume. Today, she and her father were to attend a meeting at the Grand Hall with the demi-gods. She resented them all - the Queen, the royals, the Houses, the Gods, and their hell-spawn - but a small part of her could not deny respect for the gods and their unique powers. Knowledge and medicine, however, were the true divinities in her eyes.

After a while, Calista washed and dressed, methodical as always. Punctuality was expected; tardiness was a weakness she could not abide. She packed her satchel with vials of tinctures and powders, small bundles of herbs, and meticulously labeled bottles of oils and balms. Some were standard remedies, others potent concoctions meant for subtle persuasion or protection. She ran her fingers along the glass surfaces, noting the way light caught the swirling liquids.

At the stables, she saddled her white mare, stroking the creature’s neck to steady herself. She did not want to attend this meeting. She pressed her forehead to the mare’s mane, inhaling the faintly sweet scent of the morning. Datura snorted softly, a name taken from the poisonous nightshade flower with its pale, delicate blooms.

Calista mounted, nudging Datura forward. The mare surged ahead, racing through the woods and across open fields, swift and sure. They arrived at the castle shortly after, Datura hardly winded. Calista waved off a stable hand, insisting on untacking and grooming the mare herself, checking every muscle and tendon for strain. She finished carefully, brushing the mare’s mane until it gleamed like polished ivory.

Approaching the castle from a side entrance she had discovered during childhood games while her father was in meetings, she brushed past tendrils of wild greenery, her fingers lightly trailing over leaves and vines. Her mind cataloged herbs and plants in her path, noting what could soothe, what could sting, what could heal - or harm - if needed. The Grand Hall awaited, and though she did not welcome it, she would arrive prepared.

The castle halls bustled with activity, allowing her to slip inside unnoticed. The hidden door latched softly behind her as she moved through the chaos. Peeking into the Grand Hall, she spotted a few members of House Lion and House Sheep. The Queen had not yet arrived, nor had the demi-gods. Curiosity tugged at her, and without fully entering, she slipped out again, finding a vantage point by a window facing the courtyard.

Through the glass, she observed a tense standoff. The Queen and her heir were seated, guards surrounding them, while multiple demi-gods stood before, one kneeling. Hell’s shadow had settled over the courtyard, and Calista couldn't deny the growing doom she felt within her chest.

She rubbed the vial that laid against her chest as she moved away from the window. The Queen was coming with the demi-gods hot on her heels. Calista slid into the Grand Hall, keeping to the little shadows before finding her seat. She rested her hands against the table, taking a deep steadying breath, just as the Queen and demi-gods burst into the room.

Viacoyolaur | Primordial Deity | Ambiguous ( will use he/they later on)

Mentions : Ula & Alucard , The Demigods , The Heads Of The Houses

The young god took a deep breath as the scene before them unfolded . The other demigods were arriving in a rather timely manner , and they were rather pleased that most were taking this situation seriously . They gave a trilling giggle at the nod from Sorynthia , they had always admired and respected the Goddess . Their eyes settled on Daxon , a rather meek god, he had a heart of gold that most didn't have . And they appreciated the kindness from the demigod , and it seemed that his mother had sent a gift for the Queen. . That was a very kind gesture, however he kneeled before the Queen and the godling had to blink at the sight. A demi-god, kneeling before a mortal ? That was unheard of ! And they were prepared to intervene when a sharp voice rang out . Their eyes narrowed on the Sea God's spawn as she mocked the young boy and demanded he get up from his kneeling position .

They hadn't even moved to meet the House Heads and they were already giving them a headache with this. The sun and moon began to glitch in the sky, signaling that the young deity was feeling frustrated , and their galaxy hair began to flare - this was the only hint of their irritation as their face remained neutral and impassive . But they then took a deep breath and was prepared to intervene but Sorynthia (bless her ) had swiftly diffused the situation and come to Daxton's aide . And a sigh of relief came from them . And they added with their own chilly voice.

"Yes, we may not approve of his methods but his mother was always a gentle goddess, and kindness goes a long way. " they spoke , their voice eloquent and gentle , " and not to mention , it may be a matter of pride - not being willing to bow before mortals . Afterall you have a mortal parent , do you not ? Would you not kneel before your mortal mother just for her to braid your hair or listen to her words ? Even I , a primordial being, would bow before my mother or father even though I don't have to." They spoke their voice even and calm.

"Sometimes we must humble ourselves to see the qualms of others - humility is a good quality to learn. " they said this calmly, but the slight narrowing of their eyes definitely meant it as warning . And they looked at Daxton kindly, "maybe we should take a lesson from the young demigod. Afterall, we want this to be a peaceable meeting . " and with that they listened to the Queen as she ushered them in, and they hummed slightly as they followed.

They saw the Heads , them sitting high under their banners . And they found themselves a spot .

"Greetings to the Head Of The Houses , And the Queen and Heir , " they began , " I am Viacoyolaur , child to the Mother Goddess - Racoyolva and her husband the Lord Of The Moon , Ailaudius . In a sense , I would be considered the Crown Heir of The Gods - treat that as you will. " they say and stop and look at their audience , " Firstly, Head Of The House Of Lamb, I would like to express my condolences for your daughter . Know that she rests easy and serves my mother as one of her Star Maidens - her faith was well known to my mother and cherished , and she has ascended to something greater an immortal lady who helps my mother and serves her personally . And just know those men that dared to defile her have been reduced to ash, and Mother says that if you wish it, she'll curse their bloodline for being so bold to so what they did to your daughter in her temple . " their voice stern and powerful, but also compassionate towards the older man .

" And now , another reason we are here . There are many temples within this nation , your people are mostly pious ones . However, temples are being disrespected - people dare to loot them, harm the priests & priestess of the gods , deface the temples and besmirch the gods names , even altars to lesser gods are being trampled on . " they spoke , their displeasure evident , " and now , a group of men were brazen enough to assault a priestess in her goddess's temple and she was so ashamed she took her own life ! " they said with a defiant tone , their markings glowing in intensity showing their displeasure , " we come because the Gods aren't receiving their worship and their priests and priestess are being harmed by the people . Temples lay in ruins , extremists are burning temples and killing priests and priestesses and nothing has been done . The Gods hear the peoples muttering of how they've been abandoned and what use is it to worship if they aren't heard . And then the cries of those begging the Gods to intervene and help , and when they do extend grace - they are blamed when something goes wrong . " the deity takes a deep breath before they continue.

"Now you must understand the situation you're in , " they said , their voice dropping into something eerie, their eyes flaring , " the Gods are torn on punishment. My mother wanted to burn this kingdom down with her golden light," the deity said casually , a menacing aura coming from them " only because she respects Tyrfinyssul as the Queen's patron god and his favor for her did she not burn the nation to ashes and because I suggested we talk to you all to see what can be done about his unfortunate situation . " and he gave a dramatic sigh as he walked around slightly.

" Those with me are demigods , the children of the Gods you worship - as am I, but I'm different from them . Both of my parents are divine beings , and while my companions have masterful control over their godly domains . " their aura flared as the made a display of their cosmic power, their body encompassing the room and their hair showing the vast universe within it . Stardust flickered off their lashes and stars hung around their neck .

" I am the living embodiment of mine. " their voice echoed and reverberated off the walls - " I am the embodiment of space , the stars you see at night, the infinite cool of it , and the stunning wonder of it. " They say, a small bright star emitting from their clawed hands , its glow brightening before collapsing it , " however , I can also be the chaotic forces it holds - the destruction of a meteor shower , or the finality of a wormhole . " they let the gravity of the star show before compressing it in their hands and turning back to their more humane form . Their hair covered one eye giving them a half-lidded look, and it trailed behind them as they eyed the guests .

" Make no mistake , there is a reason why I am called the World Eater , because , " they tilt their head eerily , " I could collapse this whole universe if I so wished . " they say with a grin on their face , " however , I don't think it will come to that . But now you must understand, the other demigods will be watching and seeing what you mortals do, but they also will be telling me how they feel and their thoughts on your actions - because in the end, I have the final say , my word is final . It's really me you must please . " they said with a satisfied grin, and they clasped their hands together.

" Now, what are we to do about the precarious situation you find yourself in . Any thoughts or questions ? The floor is yours . " they say breezily as they summon a cloud beneath them and sit you it, and leisurely cross their legs and while eyeing the Council expectantly.

Cresil

Demi-God/Chaos Incarnate | Male | Mentions: Florianus, Llŷr {Dir.}, Via, Other Demi-gods, Heads of the Houses {Ind.}

Few mortals wore the face of innocence and purity in ways that Cresil found devilishly enticing. These exceptionally scarce qualities, though, inspired Cresil to carve corruption into those polished facets. Florianus was one of those rare individuals who possessed that quality in abundance. He was one of only a handful of unfortunate individuals to have caught Cresil’s attention in such a way. Or perhaps Florianus was fortunate after all, if one were to ask the young man pinned against the back wall of the quiet shrine where the pair had first crossed paths some time ago, his lips locked in a heated kiss with the demi-god.

Incense burned strongly in the air of the holy space, while the less-than-holy entity in the room towered over the heir to House Lamb. Cresil’s eerily blue gaze was slitted open enough to devour each minute expression that passed over Florianus’s precious features. One of the demi-gods' cold hands slid up beneath Florianus’s garments, fingertips gliding slowly over the plane of his abdomen with a deliberately teasing and light touch. The other hand was far less gentle as it maintained a tight hold around his throat. Cresil’s fingers tightened with a measured patience, forcing Florianus’s head to tilt back just enough for the demi-god to observe him clearly while their lips continued the dance of their kiss. The rapid flutter of the mortal’s heartbeat against both of his palms accelerated as Cresil swallowed the last puff of breath left in the lamb's lungs as his hand completely restricted Florianus’s airflow.

Only when those blue-grey, doey eyes revealed themselves to Cresil did he relent in the pursuit of the mortal’s asphyxiation, trading the intensity of the kiss for catching Florianus’s bottom lip in his teeth. Releasing the soft flesh from his snare after listening to that first needy gasp of air, the demi-god inclined his head, peppering a few kisses over the beauty marks scattered across the young man's face. Florianus was littered with these perfect imperfections, freckles too, along skin that alone invited temptation. Or at the very least, it did for creatures like Cresil.

The sound of foreign steps and a pair of voices had distracted the young man in his arms, drawing an entertained raise of Cresil’s brow at the discomfort he sensed in the stiffening of the body still at the mercy of his touch. “Afraid someone might think I’ve gotten lucky here with you?” He purred, laughing under his breath to quell his mild annoyance at the inconvenient reminder he had somewhere only semi-important to be.

“I’m afraid it's been strongly suggested for me to attend a trivial matter today, anyway.” Cresil smiled then, just enough to offer a brief flash of teeth before his lips drifted to the side of Florianus’s neck. “You can trust I’ll be back to map the rest of these later, little lamb,” he warned with salacious conviction, solidifying the lust-rooted promise by sinking his teeth over another beauty mark.

Finally withdrawing in full, Cresil allowed the hand around Florianus’s throat to linger just a short time before he allowed the shorter mortal room to breathe comfortably with a languid step back. Unhurriedly, Cresil’s hands smoothed down the lapels of his storm gray long coat with slow precision, allowing his gaze to take final inventory of the young man in front of him. It really was too bad he couldn’t finish what he started in this moment, he had mused with an inward sigh. “Don’t forget to miss me,” the raven-haired demi-god had bid goodbye without any prolonged affection or a look back as he brought himself to set off from the interior of the temple - an ‘or else’ was implied in his departing statement, though he knew he didn’t have to verbalize to Florianus how he would carve his name into that young man’s very soul if he didn’t believe he had been yearned for properly.

The few scampering, human vermin he passed were things he paid no mind to, hands absently finding themselves in the fur-lined pockets of his coat as his posture resumed a lax stance and his expression adopted a familiar set of composure. Everything about Cresil was of sleek taste - from his polished flat shoes, the clasped coat that fell to his knees, and the dark hair swept neatly back that hadn’t lost its shape even amid the intensity of his heated encounter with Florianus. It wasn’t as simple a set of attire as it was straightforward in its expression of reserved formality, though compared to the predictably flashy statements he was confident would come from his fellow demi-gods, he supposed it could be considered underappreciated refinement.

His ego need not be bolstered by grandiose displays to prove his importance or divine heritage, though. It was simply far too predictable. Or rather, too insecure a statement for someone like him to make. No one weighted with real power and in possession of confidence within such power needed to wear it on their sleeve as an announcement. Besides, Cresil found it far more entertaining to blend in more seamlessly with the fleshy parasites that walked the land. People were easily lured into a false sense of security by familiarity, lowering their guard enough to forget the chaos and carnage Cresil was capable of delivering at the most wickedly opportune moment. Any predator worth its weight in the havoc it could wreak was patient enough to remind everyone around it why it was regarded with such terror in the first place. And Cresil, most certainly, was the apex monster at the top of that chain.

One step, a few paces ahead of the shrine’s establishment, bled into his steps being taken just outside the castle entrance. It was easier to travel here not only as a divine-inclined entity, but the residue of hostility from other divinely tainted entities boldly lingered. It was for the best that he had delayed his arrival, although he did feel the slightest sense of disappointment at missing whatever stronger, negative emotions had brewed here. Cresil’s leisurely pace proceeded forward, his appearance misleading to the kind of hostile aura he let poison the atmosphere around him. He navigated the interior of the castle with the ease of someone familiar with the walls, and that was because he had been acquainted with this space before, or more particularly, he had been rather familiar with the queen who had lived three generations before the existence of the current one. These days, his hobbies had led him astray from this dwindlingly favored kingdom in pursuit of indoctrinating distant, isolated tribes and villages to blood sacrifice in his own name. Oh, and schooling the entertainingly explosive younger demi-god, Llŷr. She had been a pet project in his spare time, and perhaps she still was to a degree, but one he hadn’t gotten bored with molding, which was a testament to how valuable he saw her potential in being a convenient card to hold close.

Upon finding he wasn’t far behind the entrance of his lesser, fellow demi-gods, Cresil’s gaze tethered to Viacoyolaur, who reeked with the impending notion of delivering a weighted speech as he entered the space of the gathered individuals. That particular demi-god was easy to look at, a fun time if Cresil devoted enough attention to trying to reap the possibilities, but they came with too many strings for his liking. Not easily disposable, they possessed a long lifespan, and just didn’t excite him in all the ways that made him dangerous to the health of those who did. While he didn’t spare glances toward the other demi-gods, whom he found unnecessary in terms of existence entirely, he did approach Llŷr, patting the top of his little sea snake’s head with a smile that could have been perceived as mirthful if anyone were ignorant enough not to know he was incapable of more genuine affections. He liked Llŷr, but he could never come to like anybody enough to not kill or discard them if it benefited him or he thought it would be entertaining to indulge. His own father would know that best, two times over, in fact.

As Via made their show of force through both moving speech and awe-inspiring sights, Cresil had remained standing with casual grace, arms loosely crossed, his ice blue gaze idly traveling over the mortal faces observing the heir to the gods. While he himself was less enthused by the verbal outpour from Via, he pondered the fact that even if this display from the demi-gods worked and these pitiful individuals showed diverse remorse, how many generations would it last before this cycle repeated? If he had learned anything from these fleshy things, it was that it didn’t take very long for them to test boundaries and repeat the mistakes of the past - it would take one individual a handful of generations from now to feel ambitious, emboldened enough to set the course for disarray and separation from the gods, regardless of whatever was accomplished on the ground now. Humans were interesting like that. They couldn’t help but sway like a broken pendulum back and forth between righteousness and transgression.

Regardless, this one kingdom was a very small speck in the world Cresil had been learning to sink his teeth into and exploit, so their individual fate was of no real consequence to him. He was simply here for the opportunities this little stunt could gift him, in whatever form that may come in.

Florianus Ainsley - Winnifred
Heir To House Of Lamb | Mentions: Cresil & Astrophel

If one were to describe the young heir to the House Of The Lamb, they would describe him as pure . Most know him in public , the crafted facade he plays for the masses - he'd never wanted to be a priest , but it was expected of him (moreso demanded) and so he had become one . He'd rather been an Apothecary, and healed people with herbs and tonics - how he savored the smell of the freshly crushed herbs . He'd rather helped the people in that way, rather than preach from the pulpit .

But he had to follow in the long lineage or else he would've been a disgrace to the family name . Because what son doesn't honor his father ? It didn't matter his sister was taken advantage of and took her life because of it . He had been kidnapped and nearly killed because of it . Would this profession get him killed in the end ? And he couldn't bear to break his father's heart - nor could he bear the thought of his father dealing with the backlash of any scandal he was involved in . He loved the man too much , which is why his current rendezvous was rather dangerous in nature and would definitely ruin his good reputation if it was ever found out . And he couldn't have been that - he had worked too hard for his reputation . He was the refined and gentle son of Astrophel, with kind hands and a warm smile - he helped those in need and was faithfully devout to the gods in everything .

No one needed to know that the sweet little priest was living a lie - that he was fooling himself into thinking he was alright . No one needed to know that his hands were stained with the blood of the men that tried to harm him. That something in him snapped that night . . . and that there was a part of him that enjoyed spilling their worthless blood . He could deal with lying about bodies and blood, but that night he met his biggest temptation. Cresil , the Demi-God of Chaos - an d that his interest in the chaos he had brought would turn into something more.

The young man didn't know when the rule came to be , but it was forbidden for a priest to fall in love and have a romantic partner . He had realized that most of his family had gotten married before they became priests. He had dated and romanced others , yet no one dared to take that final step with him in marriage . It left him crying in his home for days , his family thinking him heartbroken , but he was sad he wouldn't be free from this cage . This obligation to finish what he started without looking like a fool . Maybe it was the longing for the warmth of another ? Or he was a bit starved for the quiet affection of a partner . Either way , when advances were made - he denied and rejected them at first .

However, something in his heart shifted . Why should he reject affection ? Reject the pretty words thrown at him ? Maybe it was a mixture of greed and envy , but he soon fell for the words of that smooth tongued devil . And that's when it began, the stolen moments between the two . He knew he was possibly insane to think the God fancied him more than what he could offer, but he could only dream that his words were sincere . He won't admit it, but he's always waiting for the God to show , it's pathetic really . Somehow he feels like he can breathe around the deity, he doesn't have to be perfect or polished - something on display for the nation. He could be messy and unapologetic, and the demi-god even let him a mortal sink his teeth into his shoulders .

And so they met in secret . The places they met differing each time , but today they met at the shrine they first found themselves at . The incense lingering around the offerings, it was a shrine dedicated to Cresil. He had always found the demigod interesting , and now they were meeting again as usual . He was rather anxious about today, the other demigods were coming - Ailaudius had blessed him with Sight. He was the one who had prophesied that they would be judged by the demigods. When he caught sight of the demigod he perked up . And he went to greet the demigod , however, he had lost all the words on his mouth as the demigod had decided to capture them with his mouth . He could only give a surprised squeak at the sudden contact between him and the God.

He was led inside the shrine by Cresil. The young priest still couldn't find himself use to their escapades , it was rather thrilling and he couldn't get enough of it . And he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered as Cresil had pinned him against the wall , claiming him with a searing kiss . It wasn't chaste or something sweet, more so making a claim on him . He didn't care the way his cheeks horned with embarrassment - he hated being needy, but if the way his hands ran through the demigod's hair spoke for his desire . He didn't care if he was greedy or selfish , he needed and wanted this .

He didn't know why the God found him so endearing, the way his eyes were always on him when they were like this always sent a delighted shiver down his spine . It made him feel wanted , feel desired - and he was a human who had desires and needs . He gave a soft delighted croon at the sensation of Cresil's wondering hands - the touch teasing and light near his abdomen and he huffed at the demi-god unimpressed , but the needy way he clutched the man's shirt and the suppressed whine told otherwise. His eyes practically demanding the demi-god to stop teasing him and actually do something about it.

He didn't mind the hand on his neck. Even if the thought of not being able to breathe frightened him . But the hand was never overly rough with him but just enough to keep him content not make him squirm. He just knew if he saw his past self he would faint at his behavior . But this ? He was just thankful that he wasn't being treated like glass , he could handle a bit of rough treatment . Though he was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, and he could still feel the kiss upon his lips , he least out a breathy sigh once the pressure from his neck was released .

He gave a needy whine at the loss of contact when the male stopped kissing him, but was pleasantly surprised by the sensation Cresil's teeth chewing down his lip . But what he didn't expect was the way the demi-god began kissing his beauty marks and other markings on his skin . " What are you ? " he said breathless, trying to smother a giggle . He usually was teased about his markings , most thinking them flaws even if he adored them. He could feel cheeks flame up in embarrassment as he did that.

That's when he heard footsteps, it must be some other priests coming to either worship or clean the shrine. He did not need to be caught up in a compromising position. But Cresil , the absolute devil he was make fun of him , and he gave a small pout. " Well you do have us in a compromising position , my lord ." He drawled out teasingly as leaned in, nipping on the demigod's neck.

He had to groan his displeasure at the fact the two would have to part . The young priest wanted to be greedy and keep the god to himself- if the pout of displeasure then the sudden clinginess to the man showed his unwillingness to leave the man alone . But he was immediately distracted as the man flashed him a grin and his lips ghosted the skin of his neck and he let out an involuntary shiver at the contact. But the promise of more made his cheeks redden in embarrassment at the sentiment , but it was the way the man solidified the statement by sinking his teeth near a beauty mark that caused him to sink his nails slightly into the man's shoulder . He let out a pleased little hiss, trying to avoid drawing the attention to the roaming priests .

He mourned the loss of contact between them, the warmth slowly fading . He gave a displeased little grumble - even as the demigod was looked over with less than innocent intent . He huffed like a scorned maiden, arms folded in protest and he refused to make eye contact with the demigod. Screw him for leaving him like this , he didn't want to wait until another precious encounter . He gave a slight acknowledgement to his cdawned on him . . . they were going to the same place .

His breath hitched and his eyes widened in realization .

His father was going to kill him.

══════════════════

After sneaking back to his house undetected, the young man realized he was rather unpresentable. He asked his servants to draw him a bath, and they quietly complied . OC they were done, he shed his dirtied clothing and dipped his feet into the warm waters of the bath awaiting him. His hair was pinned up so it wouldn't get wet , and he relaxed in the bath for a good minute, but he realized he was already late, and so he had to hurry. He quickly scrubbed his skin , the scent of the fragrant rose water imprinting on it. Along with the fragrant scents of lavender and honey with the slightest hint of rosemary and mint - as he finished his bath he wrapped a towel around his body and dried it.

Within the inner bath he sat down and took the time to lotion himself down to keep his skin moisturized and soft , and slipped on a silk robe . He elegantly made his way to the vanity set up in his room, and grabbed a brush and began detangling his hair , the curls becoming more evident as he did so. He then noticed his neck, and gave a short huff of annoyance . He had a visible mark , Cresil was lucky it was cooler and he could hide it with a high collared shirt (otherwise he would have a teapot thrown his way the next time he saw him ) . And he grumbled more about it as he finished tossing his hair to the side . And he looked on his bed, and his outfit was prepared .

He placed the silk undergarments on and fastened his delicate lace hosiery, was he being a little imp? Maybe, but the payoff would be nice for later . He then placed on the long delicate robe that was pure white in color with golden stitching . The material made of silk , and it complimented him neatly . The robe was bigger than expected and so he bound the waist with a white leather , and it accentuated his lender form . And he sat down and put on his golden heeled shoes . Golden moons dangled from his ears and he took in his form . And he placed his white leather gloves on - along with mili , it was a white hat with a long white veil that extended to his hip . It prevented people from getting a good look at him and also marked him as a younger priest .

As he one last look at himself , he tucked a stray strand of his hair , and then proceeded to leave his room. The veil flowed with him as he moved, the lace ribbons tightly woven to prevent wind and debris from bothering him along with the sun . He walked with purpose and elegance , and soon he found himself near his father . He was there just to watch and observe , as a younger priest his voice wasn't heard amongst the elders . And he silently sat next to his father , his posture prim and proper and his mask sliding on slowly - the perfect doll on display .

Ula Livius-Fraiser | Queen of Biora | Female

Directly: Demi-gods & Houses

𓇼 ⋆.˚𓇼 ⋆.˚𓇼

The Queen’s eyes traveled over the House Rulers and their heirs as she made her way into the Grand Hall. All Houses were accounted for, seated beneath their banners that hung high above. She ascended and settled into her throne, positioned just slightly higher than the rest. Her throne was a work of art, like all the thrones in the room, meticulously crafted and tailored to reflect the legacy of each House. Crafted from dark, polished mahogany inlaid with pearls, aquamarine and seaglass, her throne featured a high back and gracefully swooping carved armrests. Her fingers traced the carved curves briefly as she seated, grounding herself.

To her left sat her son’s throne, followed by the Houses of Snake and Lamb. To her right, along the line of her gaze, sat the thrones of the Houses of Lion and Dragon. She found the familiar face of her dear friend, Evangeline Margaux-Héloïs Richelieu, Ruler of the House of Dragon, and the only other woman at court, aside from a few heirs. Ula could always rely on Evangeline’s support. She was also the only one who could truly speak against the Queen - privately, of course, never before the others. Both women understood the consequences, such displays would only sow doubt, and doubt was a dangerous thing for a crown to carry.

The Queen smoothed her dress before resting her hands in her lap, fingertips brushing the fabric in a controlled rhythm. Her brows creased at the mention of looted temples, of priests and priestesses harmed beneath sacred roofs. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, her eyes lowering in silent prayer, shoulders stiffening as if bracing against the weight of the injustice. And then - the House of Lamb priestess - no, not just a priestess, but their daughter. Assaulted within her goddess’s temple. Driven to take her own life.

A dangerous stillness settled over the hall. When news of the attack had first reached her, she had been enraged, but hearing it spoken aloud now, before the gods’ own children, something colder took hold. Not just anger but shame, failure. Her fingers curled against her gown as Viacoyolaur’s power pressed in, filling the room. Ula drew in a slow breath, her corset tightening sharply against her ribs. She did not flinch, instead welcoming the pain, steadying herself before she faced the storm.

“Viacoyolaur,” The Queen began, her voice clear and steady, “we thank your mother - Goddess Racoyolva - for her restraint. We understand, fully, the severity of what you have spoken.” Her gaze swept across the Houses, a warning clear on her face, as she spoke for all of them.

“What has occurred within Biora is not only a failure of devotion - it is a failure of order.” She spoke with a new sharpness. “Temples defiled. Priests and priestesses were harmed. A sacred life lost within holy ground.” She locked eyes with each demi-god one by one, ensuring her message was received. “This is not something I excuse. Nor is it something I will allow to continue.” Her hand fisted briefly at the memory, then unclenched, nails pressing into the fabric of her gown. Ula returned Viacoyolaur’s furious gaze, unwavering even beneath the weight of their power.

“You speak of unrest, of faith faltering, of people questioning whether the Gods hear them. That unrest is real. I have seen it grow. But understand this” her voice dropped slightly, hands finding the familiar curved arms of her throne, fingers brushing the inlaid gems, “fear will not restore faith. Ash will not rebuild devotion. If this Kingdom is to be guided back into reverence, it will be done with order, with accountability and with purpose.”

Unrest had stirred the Queen beyond patience, she could no longer remain seated. It was not uncommon for her to pace during such meetings, movement often sharpened her focus and steadied the room. Rising, she descended the throne steps, each movement confident and sure. No shadow of fear crossed her face, only the unmistakable command of a Queen as she approached the floor where the demi-gods stood.

“The desecration of temples, the harm of your priests and priestesses will not go unanswered. I will not see another life lost to such cruelty.” Ula's eyes lingered briefly on the House of Lamb, Astrophel and his son, Florianus, and a wave of sorrow pressed against her chest. She took a slow breath, shoulders tightening, before she turned back to the demi-gods, expression resolute. “We will correct what has been broken. We will restore what has been lost. And we will do so as a Kingdom, not as ashes scattered to the wind.”

Ula turned, regarding the assembly before her. Her hands gestured deliberately, sweeping to encompass each House in the room. “To answer you, Viacoyolaur, the path forward is devotion nurtured through understanding, guidance from those who wield the power of the Gods, and justice tempered with order.” Her dress swished softly as she walked past each House’s chair, her gaze lingering on the smallest reactions, a raised eyebrow, a tightening jaw, a flicker of hesitation. She noted each one.

“The Kingdom of Biora will not be ruled by fear of the Gods, but by understanding and devotion freely given.” She paused before House Dragon, meeting the eyes of her long-time friend and her heir. Of all the Houses, save for House of Snake, they were the ones most prone to doubt. Then she arrived before House Snake, the medicinal House. The Head of House Snake, Koheleth and his daughter, Calista. Calista had spoken openly against the Gods on more than one occasion. This would be her final warning.

The young Snake heir met her gaze, expression carefully blank, though the tension in the air was palpable. Ula continued, “Annual festivals, ceremonies, and open prayers will be held throughout the Kingdom, led by our priests and priestesses, whom will be protected by the Crown.” She shifted slightly, weight settling evenly, addressing the demi-gods as well, “These are not mere displays but invitations for our people to connect with the Gods, to learn, and to honor them willingly. Education will extend from House to village, so that the history and teachings of the Gods are known.” Turning fully to Calista, her voice firm, a subtle inclination of her head, “And the consequences of disrespect are to be fully understood.”