The old man stood at the window stroking his gray beard with one hand. Outside, the skies had parted, and people cried out in terror.

  He did not blame them. Life on Earth had gotten incredibly difficult for humanity. Five years of ever-increasing monster incursions where horrible, malevolent monsters appeared from swirling, hellish vortexes to wreak havoc on the world, ransacking everything they could. People had learned that most unexplained phenomena brought pain and loss.

  This time, he expected it would be much the same but wrapped in a prettier bow.

  The old man had grown pessimistic in his old age. Maybe he was jealous of the accolades that had long since grown silent for him. Or maybe that feeling within his gut was more right than he knew.

  There were so many unknowns, and Earth’s future was clouded in uncertainty. It was easy to see why people rejoiced when the first gods stepped through. Well, they weren’t technically the first gods. Others had lived among mankind for centuries, teaching, nurturing and helping. All this had been done covertly though.

  Now, in revealing themselves, he knew the Pantheon of Gods was bringing their system of magic and power—and servitude—to the people of Earth.

  “This is wrong,” Heba growled from beside him, her young, normally pleasant face twisted into a scowl. “They’ve all been in their own afterlives since time started. Why come here now?”

  The woman was an unlikely companion. Her life’s focus was death and the afterlife while he had dedicated his life to healing. Most would consider her his antithesis. He didn’t see it that way though. They were more like two sides of the same coin.

  “I do not know why they chose now to reveal themselves,” the old man answered, watching from the window of his classroom. The room was empty, understandably, as most of the students were likely hiding or fleeing for their lives, the same as everyone else. Or perhaps they were even staring in wonder at the glowing, majestic figures descending from the sky.

  He had to admit, even in his trepidation, the gods knew how to make an entrance. Some flew on resplendent wings that seemed to generate their own sunlight. Some rode in on chariots with blazing horses or even a sled pulled by large, fluffy cats. There were more cracks of lightning, more booms of thunder, and yet somehow, there was also music playing over that.

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  “What is that? Did one of those pompous fools bring a celestial boom box?” the woman groused, her blasphemy more than enough to cost her life in other company. The old man couldn’t help but chuckle. Heba had always been a witty one, even when she was new to things and still wet behind the ears.

  “Spectacle has always been an easy thing for deities,” he remarked before drawing the curtain. “Naturally, they’d want to put on a bit of a show. I imagine that a majority of humans will devote themselves quite willingly to worshiping one or even several gods. It seems the worship drought is over. Their bellies and afterlives will be filled with adoration.”

  “I can’t believe they’ve broken the seal between worlds. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”

  The old man moved to his desk and sat down, dozens of thoughts running through his head, all jumbled on top of each other. He’d spent countless years studying a myriad of things, and yet, he’d never felt so out of his depth.

  “Perhaps they have a benevolent reason for doing this. Perhaps the monster threat could no longer be contained from their side.”

  “You do so love that word,” Heba muttered.

  He got the distinct impression he hadn’t been meant to hear her.

  “Pardon?”

  Her eyebrows went up as if she was surprised, but they quickly settled into a grimly determined expression. “Perhaps. Maybe. Could. Potentially. They all mean the same thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That you’ve lost your edge and your daring in your old age. You’re so often concerned with being wrong or right that you never put your foot down solidly on anything.”

  Heba was young, so incredibly young, and yet her words touched on something vulnerable inside of him.

  “My dear, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were calling me a coward.”

  She drew herself up, back straight, as she crackled with a sort of self-righteousness that the old man had long since lost. When he was younger, it had been so easy to see things in fields of black and white. Now, however? So much was gray. Layered with half-truths and concentric, conflicting realities.

  “Maybe I am. I don’t trust this, and I’m going to make sure this is the right course for humanity before I just roll over and show my belly like a dog.” Already, she was storming toward the door, so full of conviction.

  “Heba,” he called, uncertain if he was impressed with her drive or if he found it foolish. Perhaps both.

  Huh. I really do use that word quite often, don’t I? he thought.

  The young woman looked back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “How do you plan to do that? You are but a single soul.”

  “Simple,” the young woman said, the slightest cocky grin spreading across her features. “I’ll do what I do best.”

  “And what is that, exactly?”

  “I will take care of these poor souls—living and dead—and none of these gods can stop me.” Her smile grew bigger. Toothier. “After all, if they really are here to help, what could possibly go wrong?”