At the heart of the Heavenly Realm stood a sight so magnificent that even the gods who'd dwelled here for eons still found themselves gazing upward in awe each time they approached it.
It was the Elyndra Arbour, the Tree of Origin, an ancient, sacred being said to have existed since the dawn of the cosmos itself.
Its roots wove through the heavens, threading into every divine domain, while its colossal trunk, broad enough to fit entire counties within, reached more than dozens of miles high into the clouds.
The bark shimmered faintly with streaks of silver and emerald, pulsing with gentle divine energy, and its countless branches spread like wings across the horizon, draped in glowing leaves that looked like crystallized emerald light.
Legend held that the Tree of Origin was not merely a tree but the cradle of creation, the place where the first sparks of godhood were tested and refined.
Every demigod born to the true gods was brought here to have their potential measured. The tree's roots would sense their essence and reveal the depth of their divine lineage, judging whether they were destined for greatness or fated to fade into mediocrity.
And now, beneath that great, ancient being, the Festival of Birthright was in full bloom.
A wide circular space had been arranged beneath tree canopy, surrounded by shimmering gardens where streams of liquid light flowed gently through channels, joining into pools that reflected the radiance above.
Elegant tables crafted from angelstone were placed throughout, covered with silken white cloths and laden with glimmering trays of treats, glazed fruits, honeyed nectar, and golden pastries that glowed faintly with divine warmth.
Dozens of True Gods and demi-gods drifted among the scene, conversing lightly while music echoed in the air, soft, melodic tones played by unseen instruments that resonated with the rhythm of heaven itself.
Each of the Gods themselves were a living masterpiece.
Their beauty defied mortal imagination, features sculpted to perfection, their very presence exuding an aura of majesty and power.
Yet their appearances were as varied as their domains:
One goddess with hair like flowing fire moved gracefully between tables, her body wreathed in gentle flame that emitted warmth but never burned.
Another had great butterfly wings behind her, each wing dusted in starlight that left a faint shimmer wherever she walked.
One carried a flock of white doves that circled her affectionately; another's form was semi-transparent, her skin made of shimmering crystal through which divine energy pulsed like rivers of light.
And there was one darker figure, a goddess of dusk, whose form was wreathed in mist, shadows rolling softly around her feet like a black fog, yet even she was breathtaking in her ethereal grace.
Laughter rippled through the gathering as they mingled, drinking from cups of glowing wine and delicately nibbling at divine confections.
"It's been ages since we've gathered like this." One goddess said, her tone wistful yet content as she sipped her golden drink. "The last time was what, a 100 cycles ago?"
"Eighty." Another corrected, chuckling softly. "You always exaggerate, Lyrielle. But yes...it's good to see everyone again. It's not often we get to relax without some catastrophe looming over us."
"Or some god declaring another 'divine reform.' Honestly, this is far better." A third leaned in with a playful grin.
"Indeed." Said the fire-haired goddess, fanning her flame lazily with a flick of her wrist. "Besides, these events are the only chance we get to brag properly about our daughters. Speaking of which..."
She turned to the demi-god beside her with a proud smile.
"My Leica just mastered celestial transmutation last month! At only 234 cycles. Can you imagine? A prodigy!"
The other goddess clapped politely.
"How delightful. My own daughter, Nemyra, has been composing hymns for the Choir of Dawn. Her voice resonates with the sun's light itself, literally."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Another chimed in, eyes twinkling. "My little Lumea was chosen to oversee the next constellation cycle! The starlings have already begun shaping her first design."
Compliments, praise, and motherly boasting filled the air, creating a lively hum of divine conversation.
Every word carried both affection and pride—though beneath it all lingered a faint undercurrent of rivalry, gentle but unmistakable.
It was, after all, as Vanitas had said: this was a mother-and-daughter gathering, a celebration of lineage and divine legacy.
The true gods brought their daughters not merely to socialize but to show them off, to display their beauty, their power, their talents, as living proof of their divine superiority.
And so, the event glowed with a strange blend of elegance and quiet competition.
Each goddess smiled sweetly, her laughter light and melodic, yet in her eyes burned the subtle fire of pride, each one silently thinking the same thing:
"My daughter will outshine them all."
Meanwhile, at one end of the radiant celebration, three goddesses stood together beside a fountain that shimmered with water.
Their presence alone drew subtle attention, for these were not ordinary deities, they were Amora, the Goddess of Love, Wisteria, the Goddess of Radiance, and Ivanova, the Goddess of Harvest—three among the earliest to have taken notice of Kafka when he first descended into the trial.
In fact, they had been one of the first to test him, each giving him one of his earliest divine requests.
At the moment, however, their attention was captured by the banquet table beside them.
Amora swirled her glass delicately, her long hair glinting with faint rose hues.
"Mm, this nectar is divine." She sighed in satisfaction. "It's been eons since I've tasted something this exquisite. Who prepared the feast this time?"
Ivanova, who was always fond of culinary delights, chuckled softly while breaking a pastry in her hands.
"One of Lady Fenti's kitchen spirits, I think. They've outdone themselves with the blend of dew and honeylight. Even the bread here is amazing."
Wisteria, whose eyes glowed faintly under the canopy of Elyndra's branches, smiled faintly as she took a sip from her goblet.
"They have to. After all, this isn't just any gathering. The birth of a demigod isn't something that happens every other day."
Amora nodded thoughtfully. "True...and I must admit, it's nice to see everyone gathered again. It's been so many cycles since we've had a proper celebration like this?"
"You make it sound like an eternity, Amora." Ivanova gave a small laugh. "You're the goddess of love; surely time flows differently for you."
Amora smirked. "Oh, don't tease me, Ivanova. Love is timeless, but boredom certainly isn't. It's refreshing to see new faces, new births, and new stories."
"It's not just refreshing, it's necessary." Wisteria tilted her head, gazing out at the bustling crowd. "These gatherings remind us that even divine existence can change, that life keeps weaving itself into new forms."
Hearing this thoughtful line, for a moment, they stood in companionable silence, watching as other gods mingled and mothers proudly showed off their daughters—daughters born of stars, flame, sea, and song.
The air was alive with laughter and subtle rivalries masked by polite smiles.
Then Amora spoke again, her tone thoughtful.
"Still, this time's celebration feels...grander than usual, doesn't it? The decorations, the guests, even Elyndra's aura feels stronger. It's like all the heavens are watching."
"Of course." Ivanova replied while sipping her drink. "It's only natural. It's been quite a while since a demigod was born. Something like this deserves every bit of attention."
Wisteria, ever the calm one, gave a small hum of agreement.
"Hmm...though not that long, technically. If I remember correctly..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "...it's only been nineteen human years since the last one."
Amora arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. "Nineteen years ago...? Wait, you don't mean—"
"Yes." Wisteria said softly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "I'm talking about him. The son of Lady Vanitas. The incarnation of Lust..."
"...Kafka."
The moment Wisteria uttered the name Kafka, a ripple of recognition passed between the three goddesses.
Both Amora and Ivanova's eyes lit up instantly, that kind of sparkle reserved for the mention of someone fondly remembered.
"Wait—Kafka? As in, Lady Vanitas's son Kafka?" Amora gasped, her voice brimming with excitement. "Is he coming? Tell me he's coming! If Lady Vanitas is attending, surely he must be here too, right?"
Ivanova leaned forward eagerly, her curls bouncing as she did.
"Yes! He has to be coming. It's been so long since I last saw that boy! Oh, what a delight it would be if he showed up today."