Log in

No account? Create an account
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
The Eleventh Hour
Flower person
I wrote this to [personal profile] aldersprig's Thimbleful Thursday prompt "eleventh hour".

The pieces were in position, and the die was cast. No-one expected the last of the gods to survive the night. The aljur of the lands beyond the chaos fence, numbering in thousands, had them surrounded in the last sacred grove of the divine immortal home. The gods themselves were down to a dozen, half of them injured, and none of them major divinities. They knew their enemies were enjoying this.

They were preparing for the end, when Emuthain, the trickster lost to Akkardy for the last century, strolled out of a tree, flicking a coin around with one hand, and asked, “What’s up, and where is everyone?” This entry was originally posted at http://rix-scaedu.dreamwidth.org/94493.html. There have been comment count unavailable comments there.