Chapter 770: The Cycle of Divinity
The third painting was a scene of war, yet still set in that same realm of light. The dark gods led their chaotic souls against the light ones and their orderly souls.
Again, a story was told through the motionless picture, with the chaotic mortals changing as the closer they drew closer to the gods. The ones farthest away were essentially the same as the orderly ones, only tinted with darkness instead of light. But as they drew closer, their souls morphed, taking on the attributes and colors of the god they followed. A small pinpoint of power grew like a seed in each of them, starting small and almost indiscernible, yet overgrowing the entire soul of those next to their deities. A different, unique horde followed every dark god, matching the same color and attribute of the light god opposed to them.
"The rise of the Dark Gods," Fate said.
She walked up to the picture, reaching up, but stopped before touching it. Her hand hovered right over the center, where a golden woman stood between the armies, right before they clashed. She wasn’t positioned to stop them; rather stood off to the side, and she alone had no dark god to oppose her.
Her eyes were a lot less bright than in the images before, her face downcast. She looked a lot more like the fate I knew than the one in the Father’s wings.
"The first one? Are those the demon emperors?" I asked, gesturing to the dark gods.
She nodded. "As the Father designed, we created these souls hand in hand. And yet they chose to leave, to take power by force instead of by love."
"Then the mortals following them..."
She shook her head, brushing the image of the souls closest to the demon emperors, then ones that were warped in their image. The painting rippled around her fingers like a disturbed pool.