The Guardian gods-Chapter 453

The palpable heat in the room was undeniable. The goddesses’ dance had stirred something deep within the male gods, a primal instinct that transcended their divine nature. They were creatures of desire, and the spectacle before them had awakened that desire with a fierce intensity.

Tide, however, was a figure of quiet contemplation amidst the rising tide of passion. He observed the dance, his gaze lingering on Siren, the architect of this sensual masterpiece. Unlike the other gods, he was unburdened by the ties of companionship. He had no wife, no consort, no one to share the burgeoning desire that pulsed through his veins.

He was a solitary figure, a god of the depths, accustomed to the quiet solitude of the ocean’s abyss. But the dance, and Siren’s presence, had stirred something within him, a longing for connection, a desire to break free from his isolation.

With a newfound sense of resolve, he stepped off the observation platform and walked towards Siren. His movements were deliberate, his gaze unwavering. He moved with a quiet confidence, a silent declaration of his intentions. The other gods watched him, their expressions a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Tide’s approach was a stark contrast to the swirling energy of the dance. He moved with a quiet purpose, his presence a calming counterpoint to the rising heat. He stopped before Siren, his gaze meeting hers, a silent question in his eyes.

The music pulsed around them before coming to a halt, the air thick with unspoken desires. Siren, ever the master of her domain, paused in her movements, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded him. A flicker of surprise, followed by a hint of amusement, crossed her features.

Tide’s voice, when he spoke, was low and resonant, like the rumble of the ocean depths. "Siren," he began, his tone respectful yet firm, "the day is drawing to a close, and I find myself...unoccupied." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Would you...accompany me?"

His request was simple, yet laden with unspoken meaning. It was an invitation to escape the confines of the palace, to explore the vast expanse of the realm, to share the transition from day to night. It was an offer of companionship, a chance to break free from the intoxicating spell of the dance and find solace in the quiet solitude of his presence.

The other gods, still caught in the thrall of the dance, watched with bated breath. They were witnessing a moment of unexpected intimacy, a quiet exchange amidst the swirling chaos of desire.

Siren’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, her eyes searching his, seeking the hidden depths of his intentions. She, the embodiment of lust, was being offered a moment of quiet companionship. The contrast was intriguing.

A slow smile spread across her lips, a smile that held both amusement and a hint of genuine interest. "Accompany you?" she echoed, her voice a low, seductive whisper. "And where, pray tell, would we be going?"

Tide’s gaze remained steady. "To the shores," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "To witness the transition, the quiet beauty of the day’s end." He offered his hand, a silent invitation. "Just for the day."

Björn found himself irritated as he left Ursula’s realm, a rare flicker of displeasure shadowing his otherwise composed demeanor. He had hoped to leave with a female figure beside him, someone to match his presence, to complete the image of his grandeur. Yet, fate had denied him that satisfaction. Still, it had been an eventful day. He had made a strong impression on the new gods—an impression he hoped would endure. Gods were fickle beings, after all, but he had planted the seeds. Now, he would see if they flourished.

Meanwhile, Ikem lingered behind in Ursula’s domain, he wanted her but He had long prepared for this moment, knowing that when the time came, he would step aside—for this was something Ursula had been waiting for her entire life. The same was true for Crepuscular, whose heart longed for nothing more than to remain by Xerosis’s side.

Yet, duty and love sometimes demanded sacrifice.

Crepuscular knew he had to give his daughter this opportunity. And so, father and child departed, bound for his realm—the heart of the sun.

The journey was silent, save for the rhythmic pulse of divine energy that rippled between them. No words were spoken, but Crepuscular could feel the anticipation radiating from Ursula. It was in the set of her shoulders, in the gleam of determination in her eyes.

Soon, the sun loomed before them, a vast, burning expanse of celestial fire. The air grew hotter, shimmering with golden light. Crepuscular cast a glance at his daughter, offering her a single, knowing nod before continuing forward. As he stepped toward the solar gateway, a path of pure light unfolded beneath his feet, granting him passage into his domain.

Ursula, however, did not move.

She remained where she was, her breath hitching as memories surged forth, crashing over her like waves of molten gold. She remembered the heat, the agony, the moment when the sun had once been her enemy, branding her flesh with fire.

And now, it called to her once more.

A blinding flash of golden light burst from within her, raw and untamed. Flames ignited around her form, consuming her body in a brilliant inferno. The fire did not burn this time—it transformed.

With a resounding cry, Ursula became something else—a phoenix wreathed in fire, her wings unfurling in a blaze of untamed beauty.

She launched herself toward the sun, eyes shut tight, surrendering to the pull of destiny.

She did not know how long she soared through the endless brilliance. It could have been seconds. It could have been eternities.

But when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the void between realms.

She was home and then, she saw him.

At the heart of this world, seated upon a throne carved from the very essence of the sun, was her father. His presence was as radiant as the realm itself, his body exuding a golden brilliance that rivaled the flames surrounding him.

He gazed up at her, his expression one of warmth—not the scalding heat of the sun’s wrath, but the embrace of its light. And then, with a smile, he spoke the words she had yearned to hear her entire life:

"Welcome home, daughter."

Across the celestial expanse, the gods from their realms turned their gazes skyward. The sun, ever-burning, now bore an unusual spectacle—two figures, ablaze with celestial fire, their wings spread wide as they circled the radiant sphere.

The first, vast and commanding, radiated an ancient brilliance, his golden plumage streaked with molten threads of white-hot energy. His presence was undeniable—Crepuscular, Lord of the Solar Realm, moving through the heavens as if he were an extension of the sun itself.

Beside him flew another, smaller yet no less magnificent. Ursula, her form reborn as a phoenix of resplendent fire, danced through the skies with newfound freedom. The flames that once tormented her now cradled her, their heat no longer pain but power.

The two celestial birds spiraled around the sun, their movements fluid, effortless—a silent symphony of light and heat. Then, in perfect unison, they dove.

The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Two divine beings, plunging into the heart of the sun, swallowed whole by its searing radiance. Even gods, with their vast and boundless lifespans, rarely beheld such a sight.

For a moment, the heavens seemed to shudder. The sun flared brilliantly, as if devouring the two figures... and then, as swiftly as the flare had come, the surface of the sun stilled once more, its golden light burning as it always had.

Ursula was not burning.

She felt the heat, but it did not harm her—it welcomed her, wrapped around her like a second skin. As she emerged from the descent, she found herself once again in her father’s domain.

The sky was gold and crimson, streaked with embers that floated like fireflies. Below, the land itself was alive with flame, shifting and breathing like a living thing.

Mountains of molten rock stretched across the horizon, their peaks weeping rivers of gold and orange lava. Trees, their trunks composed of smoldering charcoal, bore leaves of flickering flame, casting brilliant light with each rustling movement. Even the creatures—beasts of flickering embers, great winged raptors of burning wind—moved as if they had been sculpted from the very sun itself.

Ursula hovered in the air, her wings outstretched, the sheer grandeur of it all stealing her breath away.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?"

Crepuscular’s voice was warm, like the sun on one’s skin at dawn. He glided beside her, his wings shifting effortlessly through the heated currents of the realm.

Ursula turned to him, her eyes wide, ablaze with emotions she had yet to put into words.

"It’s alive," she breathed.

Crepuscular smiled. "Yes. The sun is not just a thing that burns—it is a world, a force, a heartbeat in the fabric of existence. And now, daughter, it is yours to experience."