Matthias watched with bated breath as the new coastline rose from the depths. Water cascaded off the slab of stone that stretched across the entire horizon, sheets of white spray catching the light as if the ocean itself were reluctant to let go. The air tasted of salt and something older—fresh stone, raw and unshaped. Many would have seen only bare black rock, but Matthias saw a canvas ready to be used.

  He felt it in his bones—the subtle shift in pressure as the world adjusted to its new shape. Creation on this scale did not come with trumpets or divine choirs. It came with weight. With responsibility.

  He stood alone at the edge of the rising world, the wind tugging faintly at his robes. For all the power gathered around him, this moment felt strangely solitary. Creation, he was learning, was often like that.

  "What do you think, Tilly?" he asked the Spring Lady, his voice quieter than usual.

  "I think there is much work ahead of us," she admitted. "But there is also nothing holding us back. We will be free to sculpt as we see fit. Despite how bare it all is, there is endless potential."

  Matthias nodded slowly. Endless potential meant endless consequences. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

  "I actually wanted to make a suggestion," Matthias offered. "Seasons rotate, you know. They don’t actually fade. They just move from area to area. So why would the Fey not do that too? My suggestion is moving cities."

  "Moving cities?" Tilly asked, her eyes wide.

  "Since this coast completely encircles the continent where the mortal races live, you could have walking or floating cities that circle the coastline. You carry your season with you," he explained, warming to the idea. "That way, you are each always at the peak of your power, the seasons still rotate, and you get to show off."

  "I like the idea," Mab and Titania both said as they appeared from thin air beside them.

  "It will be a grand statement of power," Mab continued crisply.

  "It feels adventurous," Titania added giddily, already half-turned toward the new land as if imagining it in bloom.

  "I think it fits better with our nature," Vicky added. "The tales from your old life felt artificial."

  Matthias exhaled slowly. "Now that I have lived among you, I agree. Endless war makes so little sense for entities that represent forces that envelop the entire planet. Why would summer grow stronger? It is not as if the whole world ever has summer at the same time. This just feels better."

  He paused, looking out over the rising stone again. "Stronger together. Distinct, but not competing."

  "Not to mention, Fey are far sturdier than mortals," Vicky continued. "Running a Fey knight through is hardly fatal. It is a good way to end a bout, but little more."

  "Combat can be a beautiful thing," Titania added, her eyes gleaming.

  "Or a brutal thing," Mab finished.

  Matthias smiled faintly. "Then let it be chosen, not mandatory."

  He straightened slightly, pushing aside the creeping weight of introspection.

  "So," he began, trying to steer the conversation back on track before it spiraled into philosophical debate, "you like the idea of moving cities?"

  "That Rollumn has given me an idea," Titania announced. "A massive turtle made of plants, with a massive tree sprouting from its shell. That can be my city."

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Adorable," Titania declared before anyone else could respond, clearly pleased with herself.

  "Adorable," Mab repeated flatly, though there was no real bite in it.

  "We are going to need to really compress the ground where it walks and leave warnings," Matthias added, practical instincts surfacing automatically. "People are going to want to settle on the flat land it leaves in its wake. So unless they are warned..."

  He imagined future villages crushed under ignorance and felt a flicker of unease. Power demanded foresight.

  "I think we have plenty of time before the mortal races sort themselves out," Vicky mused.

  "Underestimate them and they will surprise you," Matthias warned. There was no arrogance in his tone—only experience.

  "Some of the nations on the coasts are already looking into making boats," Xalt added as he appeared. "They are little more than rafts for now, but it is only a matter of time."

  Matthias felt something like pride at that. They were trying. They were reaching.

  "But we still need to name everything," the world spirit pouted as she appeared amidst the group.

  The mood lightened instantly.

  "How about we call the land of the mortals Asraya," Matthias offered. "Then the ocean can be called the Vail Sea. It is technically an insubstantial barrier between two things."

  He felt the word settle into the stone beneath them, testing it. Shelter.

  There was some muttering among the assembled. There did not seem to be any real disapproval.

  "Why does Asraya feel so fitting?" the world spirit asked.

  "It is a very old word for shelter from my world," Matthias answered. "And that’s what it should be. A place where people can grow without being crushed by things too large for them."

  Several of the Fey fell quiet at that, the weight of the word settling more deeply than they expected.

  "That is fitting on several levels," Xalt noted. "I like it."

  "Why don’t we name the world spirit Leima?" Lucy suggested as she joined the group more fully, hovering a little higher than usual.

  "Or we could try Arnesha," Chloe offered thoughtfully.

  Matthias hesitated, then smiled. "In my world, there was a goddess of discord named Eris. She started a war because she was not invited to a party."

  "I like the sound of that," the world spirit chimed in immediately. "I am now Eris!"

  Everyone paused.

  The moment of silence stretched uncomfortably long.

  Matthias slowly covered his face with one hand. Lucy began to giggle. Chloe pressed her lips together in a losing battle.

  Then, one by one, they all began laughing.

  Even Xalt.

  The tension broke like a wave, and Matthias felt some invisible weight ease from his shoulders. Maybe a little chaos would keep things from ever growing stagnant again.

  "So, what do we do now?" Lucy asked Matthias once the laughter died down. She drifted closer, hovering at eye level.

  "We just keep expanding the world and having our own little adventures," Matthias offered lightly.

  "I mean besides that," she refuted with a pout, crossing her arms.

  He looked at her—really looked at her—and then at Chloe. They had grown so much. Not just in height or strength, but in certainty. In presence.

  "We are making the world fertile for new stories," Matthias said more quietly. "Our story has reached its zenith, and it is time to let others have their time. We are administrators now. We can have our fun and whatnot, but our job is to make sure the stories of this world have room to grow and bloom."

  He let the words hang in the air. They tasted final—but not sad.

  "That is an odd way of looking at things," Chloe noted as she joined them more fully, folding her wings behind her.

  "As the holder of the domain of narratives," Matthias continued, "I think that should be our goal: to make as many stories as possible, to facilitate great tales of struggle and triumph. What is there to truly challenge us as gods?"

  He glanced toward the horizon again, then back at them.

  "For now, our stories are done. We survived. We changed things. We broke cycles that needed breaking. But if we keep trying to be the heroes forever, we will eventually become the obstacle."

  Lucy’s expression sobered at that.

  "We have to facilitate the stories of others," he finished, "lest we become like the old gods."

  His fairies nodded slowly.

  Chloe reached out this time, resting her hand over his heart. "Then we make sure no one is crushed under the weight of our shadow."

  "I guess that makes more sense now," Lucy admitted. "We get to watch everything unfold without having to be at the center of it."

  "Stifling the growth of others only leads to stagnation," Chloe added.

  The rest of the group began to wander off, already discussing plans for sculpting forests, shaping currents, and drafting the first wandering courts.

  Matthias remained where he was for a moment longer.

  The coastline had finished rising. It stood solid and silent, waiting.

  Responsibility did not vanish just because they laughed.

  But neither did joy.

  He took one last slow breath and let the weight settle properly on his shoulders. Not crushing. Just present.

  "But at least we get the fun part," Matthias said at last, a faint grin returning.

  Lucy tilted her head. "Oh?"

  "We get to design the monsters."