5

Bedtimes were easier from then on when Silas told stories, so he continued with the next myth fairly soon after he’d left off with the last one.

“The Young Gods chose their domains and created a Pantheon where each member was equal,” He said as Adaline and Milo snuggled into their beds. “The members of the Pantheon were Feidlimid, God of Charisma and Beauty, Esid, God of Wine, Renja, Goddess of Diplomacy, and Palla, Goddess of Kindness.”

“That’s her!” Adaline said, shaking Milo’s shoulder. “It’s the one Mrs. Iddonea told us about!”

“Feidlimid, when surveying his new domain, found an injured baby fox. He nurtured that fox back to health and imbued it with power. It became Feidlimid’s son Cymis, the God of Healing, whom Feidlimid raised. Cymis was the first God to never know The Demon King, and he was a beacon of light and hope for the Gods’ future. But...for every beacon of light there is also shadow, and that came in the form of Set, the God of Blood. Set was alike and unlike to Cymis; he wasn’t born normally either, but he wasn’t created by any God. He formed from the Demon King’s blood, spilt by Feidlimid himself. Nobody could best Set in combat, not from the day he crawled out of that blood pool. The Gods feared him greatly, but only in secret. They all knew, in the backs of their minds, that Cymis would one day be a hero of the Gods--and that Set would one day be their downfall.

“In order to gain as much of Set’s favor as possible, Feidlimid granted him a spot in the Pantheon. Set was not a benevolent ruler, but when he was in the Pantheon, he was guided and watched by the other Gods. Feidlimid feared what Set may do if left to his own devices, so Set remained.

“In the meantime, Feidlimid took a wife: Palla. They had twin children: the God of Curiosity and the Goddess of Courage.”

“A boy and a girl,” Adaline said sleepily. “Just like us.”

Silas smiled. “I think that’s the end of the story for now.”

“It’s okay, keep going. I’m not sleepy at all,” Adaline mumbled, her eyelids drooping.

Silas kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Adaline.”

“Silas?” Milo whispered. “What about the God of Agriculture? Do you have any stories about him?”

“No, sorry Milo. Goodnight, sleep tight.” He kissed Milo’s forehead and extinguished the candle.

In the darkness, Silas frowned. He’d never heard of the God of Agriculture.