Eternal Fire

The grand hall fell into a heavy silence as the soft luminescence of the palace bathed everything in a gentle glow. At the centre of this celestial sanctuary, the Goddess stood with a sorrowful expression.

Her delicate features were illuminated by the pale light, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. With a trembling voice, she finally broke the silence.

"How is it possible that a crack has appeared in the barrier when there are still thousands of years left for the required sacrifices to take place?" she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and deep sorrow.

As she spoke, her gaze shifted tenderly to her baby—a cherubic child whose laughter filled the room with an innocent melody. The child's giggles and radiant smile momentarily softened the gravity of her words.

Before anyone could respond, the Heaven God stepped forward. His presence was as commanding as it was reassuring, his voice steady and resolute.

"There is no prophecy that declares today as the day when the barrier will break," he proclaimed.

"But since the crack has appeared now, we must hasten our journey to the prison of the multiverse and strengthen the barrier. This is our sacred duty, and it is one we must fulfill without delay."

The words fell like a somber decree over the assembly. The Goddess's eyes welled up with tears as she looked at her laughing child. "Are we truly going to leave our baby all alone in this world?" she cried, her voice breaking with emotion.

"How can we abandon him here, knowing that he might suffer and perish without our protection?"

With a trembling step, she moved toward the Heaven King, seeking solace in his steadfast presence. The Heaven King regarded her with a solemn expression before answering in a deep, measured tone.

"My dear, this decision is not made lightly. It is for the safety of all life in the multiverse. Only by taking these measures can we hope to protect every living soul."

He paused, his eyes darkening with the weight of his responsibility, then continued, "If we do not act today, the eternal fire will grow uncontrollable and could ultimately consume everything we hold dear."

At that moment, the Heaven God turned his attention toward the waiting Messenger. His eyes, filled with a mix of urgency and command, fixed upon the celestial herald.

"Messenger," he called out, "please instruct every god and goddess to gather at the barrier of the prison immediately." His tone left no room for hesitation, and the urgency in his voice rippled through the room like a clarion call.

The Messenger, a being whose silent gaze spoke volumes, hesitated for a brief second before nodding in acknowledgement. He was the type who rarely needed to speak to be understood, yet the gravity of the situation seemed to weigh on him as he observed the weeping Goddess. His eyes softened at the sight of her distress.

Stepping closer, the Heaven God addressed the Goddess directly, his voice gentle yet imbued with the authority of one who carries the burden of destiny.

"Goddess, sometimes we are not the masters of our fate. Instead, fate itself decides our course. We must accept that there are forces beyond our control."

With tender care, he reached out and gathered her in his arms, gently wiping away the tears that glistened on her cheeks. His comforting embrace offered a fleeting respite from the impending storm of events.

Turning his gaze back to the Messenger, he inquired, "Have you not departed with your message yet?" The Messenger remained silent for a long moment, his eyes lingering on the baby god. In that silence, his heart seemed to speak volumes—a mixture of hope and determination as he watched the small child laughing and playing in the quiet hall.

Finally, he moved toward the infant and whispered, "May you, one day, become the king who inspires courage and hope in every god and goddess of these heavens." His voice was soft yet filled with an unyielding conviction.

The Messenger then looked back toward the Heaven King and announced, "I have already sent word to all the Heaven Kings, as well as to every god and goddess in our realms. They have been invited to join us as soon as they receive my message." His words were delivered with calm certainty, a promise of unity in the face of impending peril.

Across the hall, the God of Time listened intently. His ageless eyes held a deep, knowing sadness as he finally spoke.

"I believe we must proceed without delay. Every moment wasted could allow this breach in the barrier to widen further. It is not wise to postpone our departure any longer." His voice, though soft, resonated with the inevitability of destiny.

As the urgency in the room grew, the Goddess's gaze drifted back to her child. With a bittersweet tone, she said, "Since we are leaving him behind in this uncertain world, why don't we at least give him a name before we depart?" Her voice carried the weight of maternal love and the bitter sting of sacrifice.

Her request did not go unnoticed. The sound of her gentle plea reached the Heaven King, who had been surrounded by the collective concerns of the assembly. At that moment, an old god—respected and wise—stepped forward from the shadows of the hall.

His voice, though ancient and weathered, carried a clear message. "From the moment he was born, abnormal events have accompanied his arrival. He embodies both joy and sorrow in equal measure."

The God of Time, ever the bearer of omens, added gravely, "Indeed, he was born against the natural flow of time itself." His words sent a ripple of astonishment through the gathered deities, underscoring the profound anomaly of the child's existence.

The Heaven King absorbed every word, his mind racing with the implications of such a portent. After a long, measured pause, he finally spoke with the certainty of destiny fulfilled, "Henceforth, he shall be known as Lioren." His voice was both a decree and a benediction, sealing the fate of the child with a name that carried the weight of hope and renewal.

At that moment, a profound and touching ceremony unfolded. The Goddess and the Heaven God leaned in tenderly and kissed the sleeping child, as if to transfer their love and blessing onto him.

"Lioren," they murmured in unison, their voices filled with both joy and sorrow. With that, they passed the infant into the care of an elderly Fairy, who had arrived at their summons. Her presence was a comfort—a symbol of ancient wisdom and nurturing care.

"You must raise Lioren properly," the Fairy instructed in a gentle but firm tone. Her words were laden with responsibility, a solemn reminder that the child's future held the promise of a new beginning.

As the ceremony drew to a close, the gods and goddesses began to file out of the grand hall. With heartfelt farewells and murmurs of hope echoing in the sacred space, a portal shimmered into existence and then slowly closed, leaving behind an overwhelming silence.

The hall, once filled with lively chatter and tender declarations, now held only the quiet weight of destiny. In that silence, the legacy of the divine was both honoured and challenged. Each deity present knew that the events unfolding was but a prelude to the trials that lay ahead.

The barrier's unexpected crack, the urgent summons to fortify it, and the extraordinary birth of Lioren had set in motion a chain of events that would test the very foundations of their celestial realm.