When the Gods Took Notice

The heavens stirred.

Not with wind.

Not with rain.

But with silence.

The gods of each pantheon—those that ruled from golden thrones and crystal palaces, those that whispered from fire and water—watched.

They had sent their chosen.

They had awakened their warriors.

They had given blessings, power, weapons, and fate.

But none of them expected this.

They watched Zion's warriors cleave through the Hive like flaming rivers.

They saw the priestesses, glowing with wrath and divine authority, rip through Hive commanders with elegance and brutality.

And then they saw warriors from their own ranks—the forgotten, the overlooked, the outcasts—rise and stand tall beside Ginen's fiercest.

And the gods felt something ancient stir in their chests.

Not pride.

Not fear.

But accountability.

The Ginen Pantheon – Watching Their Flame Become a Wildfire

Papa Legba stood atop the gates of Ginen with a wide grin.

Bosou crossed his arms, chewing on dry peanuts.

Twaile said nothing. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the other pantheons' warriors. She was studying them—not as equals, but as variables.

Behind them, Baron Samedi tapped his skull cane on the ground.

"They were meant to hold the front," he said. "Not lead the world."

"But look," whispered Erzulie Freda, smiling. "The world followed."

Maman Brigitte laughed.

"We gave them matches. They made an inferno."

The Other Pantheons – A Stirring of Ego and Awe

The Shinto gods bowed their heads in quiet acceptance.

"We thought our shadows ran deepest," murmured Amaterasu. "But Ginen's reach further."

The Norse gods tightened their fists. Odin watched, eye burning.

"They have their Ragnarok," he growled. "Now we must ensure it is not ours."

In the high halls of the Hindu gods, Vishnu paused his meditation.

"Balance was disrupted long ago. But these flames… may burn toward rebirth."

The Kemetic gods stirred within their tomb-palaces.

Ra whispered:

"The sun rises again. And it does not rise for the Hive."