The Power of Creation
Copyright© 2026 by Vasantrutu
Chapter 14: Gifts
The moment I entered Faith’s domain, my heart sank.
The sky was still there—vast and endless—but it felt hollow. Pale clouds drifted without purpose, as if even the wind had forgotten why it moved. Broken temples floated at uneven heights, their once-sacred arches cracked and crumbling. Everywhere I looked stood dragon statues, shattered, eroded, or split clean through the chest. Some had lost their heads. Others had missing wings or tails, their forms frozen in eternal ruin.
But the most heart-wrenching sight lay at the center.
A circular platform, once magnificent, now hovered barely intact—its surface fractured, its edges crumbling into nothingness. Pillars surrounded it, each carved with dragon figures, but every one of them was cracked, barely holding together. They looked as if a single breath might cause them to collapse.
And there—at the very center of it all—lay Faith.
She looked broken.
Her body was battered and bruised, her form dim and fragile. Deep wounds ran across her arms, torso, and neck, and from those wounds leaked light, not blood—golden, trembling streams of fading radiance. It hurt just to look at her.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.
I rushed forward, dropping to my knees beside her, and gently lifted her head into my arms. She was cold—far too cold. I sat down and pulled her closer, settling into a cross-legged position, resting her head in my lap.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, though my voice shook. “I’m here now. Everything will be okay.”
I stroked her hair slowly, carefully, afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt her more.
After a long moment, her eyelids fluttered.
She opened her eyes weakly and turned them toward MANA, who stood nearby. Their gazes met. He said nothing—only nodded once. From his open palm, a steady flow of mana poured outward, gentle yet vast.
Slowly, painstakingly, Faith’s form shifted.
The broken divine shell dissolved, and she transformed into a human form—frail, pale, but whole enough to breathe.
When she was done, she turned her gaze toward me.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“What ... is your name?”
I swallowed.
“Well met, sister,” I said softly. “My name is Creation.”
The moment the words left my mouth, something inside me moved.
A warmth surged from my chest, flowed through my arms, and into her.
Light spread.
Before my eyes, Faith’s wounds began to close—slowly at first, then faster. The bleeding light receded, her fractured essence knitting itself back together.
I heard two sharp gasps.
I looked up.
MANA and Light stood frozen, tears streaming freely down their faces.
Confused, I followed their gaze.
One of the broken statues behind us—cracked and lifeless just moments ago—was repairing itself. Stone sealed. Fractures vanished. Light returned to its eyes.
I looked back at them, my expression questioning.
They didn’t answer.
Instead, they rushed forward, unable to stop their sobs. MANA threw his head back—and in a flash, his human form shattered into dragon form.
He roared.
The roar was ancient. It shook the sky itself.
As the sound faded, his dragon head dissolved back into human form—but the echo of that roar did not end there.
Thousands of portals tore open across the domain.
Dragons emerged.
Wingless serpentine dragons. Massive winged colossi. Astral dragons whose bodies shimmered with stars. Hybrid forms I couldn’t even name. As they descended, each transformed into a humanoid form the moment their feet touched the ground.
Some knelt.
Some bowed.
Some prayed.
All of them were crying.
Golden light poured from their bodies—streams of faith, reverence, devotion—flowing like rivers toward Faith. Pillars began to restore themselves. Temples reformed. Statues rose whole once more.
And as the domain healed, so did Faith.
She inhaled deeply.
Then exhaled.
When she finally sat upright, the entire domain erupted.
Every dragon roared in unison.
The sound was overwhelming—so powerful that I had to cover my ears, pressing my hands against my head with all my strength. The roar shook reality itself.
And then—
She arrived.
The roar died instantly.
The God Mother appeared.
Her presence crushed the air. Every dragon dropped to one knee the moment she manifested.
“Well met, Mother,” they spoke as one.
She inclined her head slightly.
“Well met, my children.”
Then her gaze turned toward us.
When her eyes met Faith—alive, seated, whole—she was beside us in an instant. She pulled Faith into her arms, holding her tightly.
Tears of joy fell freely from her eyes.
She looked at me.
Her voice was calm—but carried the weight of extinction.
“You had better succeed, Creation.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
We sat there in silence.
After a long moment, she spoke again, her tone firm.
“Return to your domains. I must speak with these four alone.”
One by one, the dragons vanished through portals, leaving only us behind.
And in that silence, I understood something fundamental.
This was no longer just my story.
It was the fate of gods
Nothing of great importance was spoken after that.
The God Mother did not lecture me, nor did she test me further. We exchanged only simple words—formal, measured, almost ordinary. Yet when she finally turned to leave, she paused and looked back at me.
Her eyes met mine.
No words were spoken, but the meaning was unmistakable.
Succeed ... or face my wrath.
Then she was gone.
After her departure, the atmosphere lightened slightly. We spoke quietly—about trivial things, about the changes Faith was already feeling within herself, about the state of the domains. Before parting, I promised Faith that I would visit her regularly.
She smiled faintly, and for the first time, her smile felt stable.
Light then took me on a journey.
One by one, she guided me through the twelve domains—the sacred realms of the Sanctum of the Twelve Dragons. Each domain was unique, shaped by its dragon’s essence, philosophy, and history. Some were harsh and overwhelming, others serene and contemplative.
She saved her own domain for last.
When we arrived there, no words were needed.
We simply sat together, holding one another, drifting in silence. Time lost all meaning. It felt like an eternity, yet also like a fleeting moment. Within a dragon’s domain, hunger did not exist. Fatigue did not accumulate. Age did not advance.
Only presence mattered.
When Light was satisfied—when her restlessness finally eased—we talked. She shared with me knowledge that few beings outside the dragon race had ever received. Not just stories or legends, but truths—about dragon anatomy, internal mana circulation, evolutionary divergence, and the subtle differences between manifestation forms.
By the end of it, I understood.
Not memorized—understood.
I knew dragons.
Then, one day, a portal opened within her domain.
From it stepped MANA.
He looked at us, sighed softly, and shook his head.
“God Mother has requested your presence in the Main Council Chamber.”
I stood immediately.
As I walked toward MANA, I glanced back. Light did not follow. She only shook her head slightly—an unspoken rule, already known.
I nodded in understanding and stepped through the portal with him.
The chamber we entered was vast—circular, boundless, its walls etched with ancient symbols that shifted subtly as if alive. At its far end sat the God Mother, her presence filling the space without effort.
I dropped to one knee instantly.
“Well met, God Mother.”
Only then did I notice the others.
To her right sat MANA.
To her left sat Faith.
I turned my head respectfully and greeted them both.
“Well met, brother. Well met, sister.”
When the formalities were complete, silence fell.
Then the God Mother spoke.
Her voice filled the chamber—strict yet gentle, calm yet thunderous. It did not echo; it simply was, pressing into my very existence.
And with that voice, the true purpose of this summons began.
“I summoned you for a ritual.”
The God Mother’s voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that pressed down upon my soul.
“This ritual was meant to be performed after your trial was complete. However, at Faith’s request, I am conducting it now.”
She paused, allowing the words to settle.
“This ritual exists for two purposes. First, it will activate your chair within this hall. Second, it will bind your existence to it.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Once activated, the chair becomes your life. So long as it exists, you cannot be truly killed. Should you fail your trial, I will destroy the chair—and with it, you.”
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