Divine Observation

In their chamber of eternal flames, the gods gathered with growing unease. The blind period was ending, divine observation finding new pathways into the mortal realm. But what they saw brought no comfort.

"The transformation failed," the God of Magic stated, his form shifting rapidly between aspects of arcane mastery. Golden calculations spiraled around him, each one attempting to understand what had gone wrong. "The divine energy wasn't just rejected—it was consumed completely."

"Not rejected," Xenith corrected, her shadows extending further than usual. "Consumed. Devoured. Look closer."

They did.

Through diminished divine sight, they observed Kael standing in the protected chamber, surrounded by his commanders. But something was different about him now. The void-marks covering his flesh had deepened, their darkness more absolute, their patterns more intricate and powerful. Where divine energy had touched him, it had been completely consumed, leaving only void in its wake—but void of a depth and potency they had never witnessed before.

"Impossible," Oris growled, titan-bone armor rattling with his agitation. "Divine power cannot be consumed this way. It is absolute."

"The void within him is consuming divine energy, growing stronger with each fragment it devours," Vestra observed, fingers pausing above her game board where continents shifted at her whim. Her voice carried unusual concern. "But that's not all—there's something else there too. Something we've never seen in him before."

The implications hung in the sacred air like a blade. Divine power had always been their exclusive domain—absolute, unchangeable, perfect. That someone could not only resist it but actively consume it while regaining traits they had deliberately suppressed challenged the very foundation of their existence.

"And Icarion?" Oris demanded, though the answer was already written in the spaces between divine observation. "My son?"

"Gone," the God of Magic confirmed. "The void reached his core. He is... unmade."

Silence fell, heavier than celestial judgment. Their perfect weapon, their evolved champion, their answer to Kael's defiance—erased in the clash of powers never meant to merge. But more disturbing than Icarion's fall was what had risen in Kael's place.

"He sees us," Xenith said suddenly, shadows coiling tighter around her form. "Even now, through our own observation—he watches back. And he's... amused. I can feel it."

The divine chamber trembled as reality itself adjusted to this unprecedented development. The eternal flames flickered, dimming momentarily before blazing higher. The stars embedded in the ceiling shifted in their courses, responding to patterns neither divine nor void but something new.

"What do we do?" Vestra asked, and the question itself was telling—gods did not ask for guidance.

The God of Magic's form solidified into something almost human, his expression carrying genuine fascination beneath obvious concern. "We adapt," he said simply. "We evolve—as he has evolved."

"You still think of this as an experiment?" Oris's rage sent divine lightning crackling through the chamber. "After everything, after Icarion, you still see him as a test case?"

"Not a test case," the God of Magic corrected. "A catalyst. Something that forces change—even in us."

The implications of that statement hung in sacred air like judgment deferred. Gods were not meant to face threats that grew stronger from their own power. They were absolute, eternal, perfect. But now...

"He must be stopped," Oris declared, gathering divine energy that made reality itself groan under its weight. "Before this transformation spreads. Before others learn what he has discovered."

"And how do you propose to stop him?" Xenith asked, ancient amusement coloring her voice. "Send another champion? Another perfect weapon for him to break and transform?"

Before Oris could answer, divine observation shifted. Something new was happening in that protected chamber below. Kael was... waiting for them. Watching them watch him. Understanding their observation in ways no mortal should.

And he was smiling.

Not with triumph or defiance or rage. But with certainty. With purpose. With a knowledge that transcended even divine understanding.