Divine Intervention

In this mythology short story competition we were encouraged to create original mythology in 2000 words or less. The judges asked for three things: a false accusation, an event that changed the map, and a conversation without words. Enjoy!

“They really are beautiful creatures, aren’t they,” Death asks, brushing her ethereal

night-swept hair from her eyes and leaning into the looking glass.

Life hums and taps her fingertips together, “They’ve done well. What would you say

about sharing our magic with the humans? I’d love to see how they make the world better.”

The goddesses share conspiratorial smiles and touch the looking glass in tandem. A wave

of golden and obsidian shimmer covers the pathway to Earth, granting the humans extraordinary

mystical abilities. Life and Death look on through the time warped lens. Their wondrous coos

quickly sour when the time strikes twenty years and destruction unfurls before their eyes.

Knock, knock, knock.

Grimm, Death’s assistant, peeks around the chamber door and shuffles to the goddess’s

side. Throwing Life a wary glance, he leans into Death’s ear. Her face blanches before a rolling

fury washes her features.

“You!” Death screeches, shoving a finger towards Life. “You dare to steal souls from my domain? It is our most sacred rule to never interfere with the other’s function.”

Grimm flinches and scurries for the door, covering his head. The sisters fight for much

less than this, and he refuses to be collateral for whatever chaos Death creates.

Life’s eyes widen as the tips of her ears turn crimson under her luminescent tresses.

Curling her lip, she retorts, “How could you accuse me of such a thing? I would never steal souls from your domain.”

“Then explain why I have four hundred souls missing,” Death demands. Parting her lips, Life’s brows press together, “Excuse me? How could–”

Waving off her sister’s words, each movement hissing with Death’s crackling fingers, she

snaps, “No, actually, I don’t want to hear your excuses for treason.”

Lifting the heavy looking glass with a grunt, Death storms from the room and into her

personal quarters. The door slams with a rattling thud. Deafening cracks from the roaring hearth

spit in tune with her barely contained rage. Dark silk sheets and plush pillows beckon Death to

their embrace with a promise of peace. Plopping onto the bed with a huff, the goddess closes her

eyes.

Hours crawl by, the ticking clock mocking Death’s wishes for sleep. The silk sheets cling

to her skin with the too warm fiery air. Death tosses and turns, unable to shake Life’s betrayal.

They are a balanced pair, respectful companions from the beginning of time, but the scales have

irrevocably shifted. The looking glass illuminates. Her eyes shift from the ceiling to the lens,

sighing as she pulls Earth closer to her chest. Chills skitter over her, pebbling gooseflesh along

her skin. Her shaking fingers struggle to hold onto the world. There, in the looking glass, lies an

atrocity unlike any they could have foreseen–a necromancer.

Ripping away the sheets, Death wrenches her bedroom door open and barrels down the

hall, clinging to the lens. Her fists thunder against Life’s door, threatening to draw blood with her ferocity. The door cracks open, only revealing one of her sister’s icy blue eyes. Death shoves into the airy quarters and pushes the looking glass into Life’s hands.

Life’s brows furrow, forming a line between them, and her face pales. Reanimated

corpses stagger with unnatural gaits to their creator. Placing weapons in their hands, a wicked

smile curves his lips as he raises a pointed finger. With his order, the corpses unleash themselves onto the unsuspecting community. Raising her widened eyes from the lens, her shuddering breath reflects Death’s fear–the humans are going to destroy each other.

Death’s eyes soften into a plea for forgiveness, her guilt sitting like a stone in her

stomach. Brushing the dark tresses from Death’s face, Life gives her sister a reassuring,

tight-lipped smile. Both goddesses swallow the heavy lumps in their throats, nodding to one

another, they press their index fingers to the glass; crows and doves, their favorite familiars, flood the skies below their touch. The birds fly to every corner of the mortal realm and watch the

humans closely.

Life grabs her sister’s arm, her nails digging into Death’s flesh, and pulls her into the

hallway. The goddesses race to their meeting chamber, needing to be at the helm. Taking her

palm from the glass and extending it into the air, Life casts the images around the room.

With eyes flicking to and from the scenes, the goddesses stay up well into the night

watching the choices of the mortal realm. Decades tick by, each one bringing more cruelty and

control. Bloodlines fight for dominance–slaughtering one another, claiming themselves as

monarchs, and exerting unnatural laws on those they deem beneath them. Horror curls along

their spines.

“We have to separate them,” Life whispers. “They’re going to destroy each other until

nothing is left except ruin and decay.”

“We didn’t give them magic for this,” Death agrees. “We must separate them into good

and evil, laying a boundary so thick, they can never come in contact with the other.” 

Joining hands, they extend their free palms to the middle and drag them to opposite sides of the room, pulling the golden and obsidian shimmers away from each other. When the warring

energies untangle, a wave erupts from the goddesses, creating a buffer between the two worlds.

One, full of sunshine and blue skies, holds those who wish to make the world a better place. The

other, clouded with gray skies and rain, contains those who use the goddesses gifts for depravity.

The sisters collapse into their chairs, their chests heaving with exertion. Meeting each

other’s purple ringed eyes, regret reflects into their irises; for they loved the humans, they wanted to give them a chance to experience the wonders of magic for a better world.

Slowly, Death’s lids flutter closed and she slips into rest. Life watches the mortal realm in silence. A small seed of hope grows within her while the good realm reminds her of every reason they gave magic to the humans. Children laugh with fantastic curiosity, partners create bouquets from thin air for their lovers, everything sparkles with wonder and allure.

Flicking her eyes back and forth between realms, a knot winds in her stomach with the

changing, all too similar circumstances. The sunshine pales from the good realm as groups of

mortals gather with a plan. Her heart stills as the years pass by and the humans forget the purpose of magic, warping it once more.

While the evil realm outright shows their cruelty and lust for power, the good world hides theirs behind a thin veil of niceties. A gasp shrieks from Life’s lips with the first act of war in the good realm. Death sits upright with the horrifying sound, her wild eyes searching for the threat.

“What? What happened?” Death asks, her shoulders rapidly rising and falling. 

“The humans,” Life’s voice breaks, “They’re…it’s happening again.” A silent tear rolls down her cheek, dripping onto the floor and creating a raging river in each world. Homes and farmland disappear under her current.

Death studies the warring humans and her heart sinks to her stomach with confirmation

of the unlearned lesson. A frustrated scream rips from her throat, streaking lightning into the

mortal skies and shaking the ground beneath their feet. Wisps of smoke curl from the fires

roaring in the aftermath of every strike.

“We must take it all away,” Death grimaces.

Life clasps a hand to her chest, “Their lives? No, that goes against everything I–”

Cutting her off, Death’s voice lowers into something unrecognizable, “The magic.” Her

eyes flicker around the room, narrowing to each display of disrespect. “For as long as power

exists, human hearts will corrupt it with bloodlust for its control. They were once compassionate, building communities with love and respect, but they have proven themselves unworthy.”

Biting her lip, Life looks back and forth between the humans and her sister.

“On second thought, we need a fresh start,” Death says, “This is what they’ve known for

generations, and it won’t disappear with the magic. You can create a new world to let them try

again.”

With a heavy sigh, Life nods her head. While she wishes for the humans to prove the

goddesses incorrect, she knows what must be done. Joining hands, they bow their heads. Their

energies hum, brushing against one another and intertwining around their counterpart in perfect

harmony. The golden and obsidian shimmers form a ball between them and grows larger with every wave of power. Snapping their eyes open, the energy explodes into the room, shattering the buffer between the realms and descending the mortals into a pitch black abyss.

Screams echo under the cover of darkness, leaching power from the rejoined human

world. Life exhales a warm breath onto Earth and iridescent rays flicker across the dark sky.

Little by little, the murky skies lighten, heartbeats thrum, and the first infant cries of the reborn

world begin again.

Year one. Children bask under the sunlight, their laughs tinkling while they play in crystalline blue creeks. Crows and doves watch carefully as the young souls cling to one another, learning to partake in the joys of life.

Year five. Communities flourish under shared goals–they strive to help one another and

do their part to strengthen those around them. Their system of hope relies on honesty, integrity,

and benevolence.

Year ten. Love drifts through the air. With their solidified communities, the mortals are

free to explore the deeper meaning of life. People seek one another out not for what they can

offer in material goods, but for the very things that make each of them unique.

Year fifteen. Exploring their consciousness, their philosophical awareness brings paints to canvases, words to pages, and ideas to life. Their art reflects their existence. In all of the

intricacies of cosmic balance and eternal necessities beyond the scope of their understanding,

they were always supposed to be the simplest display of what matters most.

Their journeys through joy, pain, triumph, growth, and every aspect of human emotion

reminds the sisters to live, a concept forgotten in their immortality. The goddesses look onto the new world with small smiles of hope. Perhaps humans don’t need magic to create their very own.

In every piece of art, in each community built, and in all human hearts falling in love, magic exists.