Maim the Sky, Slay the Sun Hub
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Everyone agrees, fire was stolen from the gods. Symbolically, literally, something in between? It doesn't matter. Did humans do it? One of their own? Just as unimportant. It was stolen, and the gods wanted it back. They lashed out in the way gods always do, with spiteful light and ferocious dark. Their ultimatums promised destruction, and their faithful's pleas went unanswered.

This isn't a story about them.

Of course, humans readied themselves for war. Clad in iron beliefs, armed with terrible symbols, they stormed the high places and buried the low places. The divine kingdoms were razed, and the divinities themselves drawn and quartered. The gods were buried under salt flats, cast into seas, and lost in great forests. In the future, these fragments would come to cause no end of suffering to mankind.

This isn't a story about any of them either.

Far beyond that time, the Foundation has won a second war against the gods. It has unearthed, dredged, and scoured for their lost pieces, then locked them all away. It has gorged and grown vast, strong, and unyielding. It has made clear to its enemies that a reckoning will soon be had for them as well. Most of all, it has wrought new thrones for its masters.

This is a story about one of those masters, almost.

Even when you have the power to call down vicious lights and raise vast darknesses, it turns out that a pair of minions can be awfully useful to have around.


Tales:

Forgetting the Number of Dead Stars

Thirty Pieces of Silver, Plus Inflationary Costs

Under a Baleful Sky

Quarterly Performance Review

In the Manner of a Bad Apple

Thousand-Tooth Rat Trap

Salt the Slug, Sheepdog

Abject Blue Insomnia




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