The light that swallowed Dante and Anarissa faded into something gentler—warm as morning sun, but weightless, like a memory given shape. Wind whispered without sound. The air smelled faintly of starlight and blooming gardens, though Dante couldn't explain how he recognized the scent.
Aethrion, the old Wisdom God, waited beside them as the radiance settled.
"Welcome," he said, "to Gaia Paradise."
The words felt too large, too heavy for Dante's still-fragile understanding. But as he and Anarissa stepped forward, the realm unfolded like a living tapestry.
An expanse of crystalline terrain stretched outward, shimmering with moving patterns of light. Spires and towers grew from the ground as though sculpted by the world itself—smooth, translucent, radiant. Streams of glowing liquid weaved between terraces and bridges, and in the distance, flights of winged spirits drifted through the air like drifting petals.
It was beautiful.
Unreal.
And intimidating.
Anarissa touched Dante's arm, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This is… overwhelming."
"Yeah," Dante murmured. "No kidding."
Aethrion smiled with something that resembled paternal patience.
"Do not fear the vastness," he said. "In time, your senses will adapt. This realm responds to divine essence—it will feel less foreign soon."
But Dante's thoughts kept circling back to the same impossible question.
"What exactly is this place?" he asked. "I mean… I get that it's divine, but what does that even mean?"
Aethrion motioned for them—and the other awakened gods who had gathered—to follow him along a gently curving path of luminescent crystal.
"This realm," he said, "is the sanctuary of ascended souls. A bastion against the darkness that encroaches from the Chaos Void. Every god newly risen will reside here until they understand themselves, their power, and the responsibilities placed upon them."
Dante frowned. "Chaos Void? Responsibilities? You're moving a little fast."
"Good," Aethrion replied. "Divinity should not be met with complacency."
The path widened as they entered a vast courtyard, the structures around them rising even higher.
Aethrion lifted his staff toward the towering complex at the center of everything.
"This is the Radiant Bastion."
The citadel shone like a mountain carved from the dawn. Countless layers of Lightstone refracted the ever-present glow into drifting halos that moved with the breeze. Platforms floated like petals around its upper levels.
Dante swallowed. "People live here?"
"Gods, not people," Aethrion corrected gently. "The eldest among us. The judges of cosmic balance. The keepers of order."
A few newly risen gods exchanged uneasy looks.
Anarissa asked, "Do we… ever go inside?"
"Only when summoned," Aethrion said. "Which may happen sooner than you expect."
That was not comforting.
He guided them eastward.
Their footsteps carried them into a region overflowing with color and life. Plants of crystal bark and glowing petals rustled in a sound like soft music. Spirit-creatures formed from drifting light walked leisurely across the terraces, their shapes shifting like living watercolor.
"This is the Everspring Gardens," Aethrion said. "A sanctuary for all who need rest or healing. Even gods suffer wounds—physical, spiritual, or emotional. Here, creation soothes everything that aches."
A small, trembling girl among the new gods reached out to touch a glowing vine. It wrapped gently around her hand, pulsing softly as if greeting her. She gasped, then smiled through tears.
Dante felt something loosen in his chest.
For the first time since waking… something felt safe.
They moved onward, north toward a towering structure that seemed to shimmer in and out of existence. Shelves upon shelves of floating memory-crystals drifted in open chambers, their inner lights flickering like galaxies trapped in glass.
"This is the Celestial Archives," Aethrion explained. "A repository of all knowledge gathered across eras. Not time-bound texts, but memories, possibilities, and truths yet to arrive."
Dante stared upward. "You mean… the future is written in there?"
"Not written," Aethrion corrected. "Observed. Predicted. Catalogued. The future is fluid—but knowledge helps us guide it."
Anarissa tilted her head. "Can anyone read it?"
"Not anyone. Knowledge is power. Power without wisdom becomes destruction."
Dante wondered briefly what the Archives might hold about them—what a fused soul born from tragedy might become. The thought unsettled him.
Aethrion didn't linger, leading the group westward until the air shimmered with heat—not painful, but vibrant. Rivers of molten starmetal wound through massive forges where artisans shaped artifacts of radiant flame.
"This is the Forge of Luminal Flames. Here, divine craftsmen create relics, weapons, and structures infused with purpose. Starmetal is the essence of collapsed suns. It carries the strength of a universe's ending."
Dante felt a pull toward the forge he couldn't explain—something ancient stirring in him. Heat didn't burn him. It felt almost familiar.
Aethrion noticed.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Your soul remembers something from your… composite origins."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dante asked.
"You will learn soon."
That was becoming an irritating answer.
Next came the southern district, a marketplace of shifting buildings and strange distortions. Stalls hovered in the air, lanterns whispered secrets, and pathways rearranged themselves every few minutes.
"The Veilwalk Market," Aethrion said. "Where gods and higher beings trade. Reality is thin here—travelers from distant dimensions may enter freely."
A fox-eared merchant waved at them with six tails fanned behind her. Her smile was sharp, her eyes amused.
"Fresh gods! Don't wander alone, dearies. The market shifts where it pleases."
Several newly risen gods stepped closer to Dante instinctively.
Aethrion raised his staff, and the ground steadied.
"Fear not," he said, "we will not tarry."
From there, the tour moved to a region of floating plateaus suspended over an endless drift of soft white light.
"This is the Sanctum of Silence," Aethrion said. "Those who seek clarity come here. Meditation made the Creator-Gods who they are. Stillness reveals truth."
Even Dante felt a strange calm seep into him as the silence washed over them.
Finally, Aethrion guided them to a vast plain bathed in perpetual dawn—rose-gold light stretching endlessly over crystalline fields where warriors trained with flickering echoes of cosmic beasts.
"And here," he said, "is the Dawnrise Expanse. A field for battle, training, and celebration. Many gods refine their power here before joining the Eternal War."
Dante froze.
"The what?"
Aethrion sighed, not unkindly.
"The Eternal War. Beyond Gaia Paradise lies the Chaos Void—a place where unraveling forces and corrupted beings attempt to breach creation. The gods stand between them and everything that exists."
Anarissa's fingers tightened on Dante's sleeve.
"Are you saying we're supposed to… fight?"
Aethrion met her gaze.
"In time, yes. All gods must choose a purpose. Some defend creation. Some heal it. Some guide it. Some observe. No role is forced upon you… but none of you were ascended by accident."
The words felt heavy.
Dante swallowed hard.
"So what are we supposed to do now?"
Aethrion pointed toward a rising stairway of floating light leading to a shimmering hall suspended above the Expanse.
"For now, you rest. You learn. You meet the others who rose beside you. And after that… you will attend the Assembly, where the divine council evaluates your potential and assigns your first paths."
Anarissa's voice trembled slightly. "Will they judge us?"
"All new gods are judged," Aethrion said. "But judgment is not condemnation. It is guidance."
He rested a warm hand on Dante's shoulder.
"Come. Your journey has barely begun."
Together, the twins ascended the luminous steps, aware for the first time just how vast their new existence truly was.