"Hey, wake up."
"Just a few minutes, Titan." Helen groggily shifted in her bed.
"Wake up."
"A few minutes please," She shifted again.
"Cyris grab me a bucket of water."
"Yes, father!" Cyris conjured a bucket of water out of thin air.
"Thank you Cyris, you've gotten good. Helen, wake up."
"In a minute," She shifted again.
"This is three, don't blame me later."
Helen shrieked, jumping up as the bucket of water drenched her. "Titan, what have you done? I told you to give me a few minutes." Then, the pure white, boundless expanse of her surroundings registered.
"Titan. Where are we?" She spun around to face the source of the commotion, but the sight she encountered caused her attitude to do a complete 180.
"Hello Helen, how ya doing?"
"I'm fine Lord Cyrius. It's been three days, right?" Helen said with a nervous voice.
"Nope, it's been four, and just Cyrius for now."
"This might sound weird, but am I the only one hearing it?" Helen's voice began to return to normal.
"Hear wha now?" Cyrius asked.
"Yes, that," pointing at Cyrius. "Your speech pattern is different from the usual."
"Oh, this," pointing at his throat. "I'm on break," he said, slurring dramatically.
"Okay!" Helen said, rolling her eyes, struggling not to burst out laughing. "So where are we? This isn't our usual meeting place."
"This is the dreaming," he continued, slurring heavily, causing Helen to interrupt.
"Please stop." Raising her hand. "I can't listen while you speak like this. I've heard your casual voice before, can you please switch to that?"
Clearing his throat, Cyrius asked, "Is this better?" The shift in his voice was immediate and striking.
"Good." Helen gave a thumbs-up.
"As I was saying, this is the Dreaming, a place of imagination and nightmares. I came here with Cyris to play."
Helen spun around, scanning the white void. "Where's he?"
"I'm here big sister." A child's voice chirped from directly behind Cyrius. But there was nothing—no movement, no shadow, no visible form.
"Where are you Cyris, I can't see you."
"I'm here." The voice repeated, and Cyris began to unfold.
After awakening with a scream, Cyris flattened his body like a sheet of paper and folded himself into an origami figure, retreating immediately behind his father, Cyrius, in fear that Helen would turn on him.
"Wow," Helen was utterly amazed. "What are you doing hiding back there?" She opened her arms wide. "Come here, come give your big sis a hug." Cyris hesitated for just a second before rushing into Helen's warm embrace. She showered him in kisses, murmuring, "I've missed you, Cyris."
"So have I," Cyris replied cheerfully.
"Awwu, you're too cute." She squeezed him into her average bosom. "I wish I could take you with me." Releasing him, she continued, "How did you do that, the flattening thing? I've never seen you do that before."
"Helen, what did I tell..." Cyris cut Cyrius off before he could finish the reprimand.
"This is the Dreaming, sister. A place of dreams and imagination."
"I get it," Helen said, looking thoughtful.
"But sister," Cyris said, looking down. "Why are you still wet?"
"Your father did pour a bucket of water on me," Helen said teasingly.
"But this is the Dreaming. Soo?"
"What do you mean?" Helen asked, playing along.
"Helen, just dry yourself," Cyrius' voice cut short their reunion, stern and impatient. "We have matters to discuss. Dry yourself." He commanded.
"Okay, okay, boss." She placed Cyris down and with just a flare, she was completely dried.
"A change of clothing would be appreciated." Cyrius's words brought a smirk to Helen's face for three distinct reasons, all centering on the attire she was now imagining.
First of all, as the Avatar of Justice and Death, Helen couldn't possibly appear in her usual functional wear, considering the attire she had instantly conjured. It would be a mark against her reputation. Secondly, she knew it would be utterly embarrassing for her to be seen in public wearing the chaotic garment she envisioned. In addition, it was the clothing of a rival faction—though in the Dreaming, where everything and anything goes, her imagination was bursting, and her brain ran at full capacity making modifications to the attire. The excitement of her wish becoming a reality, even if only in a dream, was palpable.
Her nightgown began to disappear gradually as the attire took its place. She now sported a coat and tie, a tightly fitted hose with a gown that swept the ground attached to its back. But the true spectacle was its coloring. On it was a multitude of matching and mismatched colors dancing around, shifting from place to place with ever-changing pigments. She completed the ensemble with really high heels.
"Among everything you chose... that," Cyrius said, just staring.
"What can I say?" She shrugged. "From the very moment I laid my eyes on it, I was enamored by its beauty." The third reason Helen chose this particular attire was for revenge on Cyrius. Among the gods, the one who fashioned the style she now wore was diametrically opposed to Cyrius's tenets of orderliness.
"Whatever," Cyrius rolled his eyes, a flicker of exasperation at her fashion choice passing. "Would you join us for tea?" The scenery began to change instantly. Green grass spread out around them, and a field of flowers appeared on both sides, meticulously arranged according to their shape, size, color, meaning, and significance.
Statues were neatly arranged throughout the area, representing Cyrius, his family, and the gods, each one silently telling a story. The white space surrounding them disappeared, replaced by a beautiful twilight sky. At the center stood a grand baldachin, its porcelain marbles glowing like a thousand descending stars.
Within the baldachin, a table carved with the markings of his children was set for three. Delicate teacups, detailing the incomplete life journey of Cyris, seemed to hum with life. A teapot made of polished obsidian, intricately carved with the history of Telelute, rested on a stand of woven gold that appeared to be alive. Steam, heavy with the scent of a thousand rare spices and the crispness of a mountain dawn, curled up from the spout.
"As meticulous as always, I see," Helen said with a genuine smile, pride evident in her voice at her father's creation.
"Before a god, my family comes first. I even have yours here," Cyrius responded, gesturing towards a set of distinct colors and intricate markings that represented Helen. However, she did not see it clearly, as it was shrouded. She smiled again and bowed.
"Thank you," she replied.
"You're welcome." Stretching out his arm, he continued, "Would you join us for tea?"
"I would love to," she said, placing her hand in his.
Cyrius gently led her toward the table, while Cyris walked ahead.
However, within this orderly space, chaos was beginning to manifest.
With each step Helen took, she left a trail of blooming flowers that shifted in color, mirroring her attire. A chaotic and disordered array of flowers flowed behind her. Chaos and Disorder had made their presence felt within Order.
All three took their seats. However, before Cyrius could speak of the reason for the summon, the flower trail that flowed behind Helen grew into massive shoots and began to coalesce into a form of cocoon. It then opened with a dramatic flourish. Awakening from their slumber, a being described as both man and woman emerged—one who causes chaos wherever they go. Climbing down from the cocoon, the essence of the flowers wrapped around them, creating an androgynous attire similar to Helen's but radiating a stunning divine beauty. Helen's eyes gleamed with stars as she laid eyes on them. They surveyed the setting, their gaze lingering on the meticulously arranged flowers, before landing on the three seated figures. They gave a gentle smile and waved slightly.
All three stood in their presence.
Each step was one of chaos and disorder. Reshaping the very imagination Cyrius had brought forth. The world Cyrius had meticulously created changed its very form to accommodate them. Cyris ran from where he stood into the embrace of the entity, shouting as they went.
"Uncle-anut Ceres, you came," Cyris said while giving them a huge hug.
"Hoi hoi hoi," they crunched to his level. "It was just yesterday. You were born. And now you're grown up."
Cyrius and Helen walked down the steps of the baldachin. Ceres seeing their approach just gave a casual greeting, "Hello, second brother. How far have you?"
"Not far enough Ceres, not far enough." A tinge of annoyance in his voice.
"Then may the far never approach," Cyrius glared at them, his eyebrows twitching. But they just laughed in that annoying tone. "Hoi hoi hoi hoi." Turning to Helen, they took a single gentle step, in an instant they were right before her. "Helen my child," caressing her cheeks, "you look ever more beautiful in that." They tagged at her attire, "Why not leave Balance and Order, and join Chaos and Disorder. A part of you already belongs. Why not make it official? You can be with the sunset you always yearn for."
Helen, all flustered, was about to give an answer before Cyrius cut in. Bringing her back. "What are you doing here, Ceres?"
"I sensed a change in the force," they said while taking a dramatic pose. Cyrius just simply glared at Helen, with a thousand daggers ready to stab.
"Hey, why are you staring at me like that?" Helen said, trying to shield herself from the hostile glare.
"You don't know."
"No, I don't," her voice was small and nervous.
"Seriously," Helen's face spelled out innocent and naive. "You are a being of Justice, within justice is Balance and Order. But in Balance and Order can be found Chaos and Disorder." He rubbed his temples, "You wearing that brought about Disorder. Disorder summoned that," pointing at Ceres.
"Aww, that hurts, second brother." Ceres's theatrics were all over the place, momentarily changing the very landscape into a vision of dread. Cyrius simply shot them another glare before Ceres returned the setting to normal.
Cyrius's glare lingered for a few seconds before he spoke, "Forget it. You're already here. Join us for tea, Ceres."
"Pleasure be mine. Hoi hoi hoi hoi hoi." Cyris jumped in joy. They all walked to the baldachin, as Ceres conjured a wired chair into the Dreaming, placing it right across from where Cyrius sat. It was an unmistakable clash between Balance and Order, and Chaos and Disorder. The entire Dreaming reshaped itself on both sides, representing the conflict.
Even though Cyrius had said, "Forget it," there was deep disappointment in his voice. The very reason Cyrius had summoned Helen into the security of the Dreaming was mainly because of Ceres. Ceres was meant to be the topic of discussion, but now the delicate mission had to be changed, and Helen was entirely at fault.
Every god is born either male or female, neither genderless nor both. No matter how they change form, they fundamentally remain what they were. However, Ceres doesn't fall into this equation. They are seen as both man and woman, male and female, and when asked, they give vague answers. To avoid confusion, everyone started referring to Ceres with 'they/them.' The other siblings of Order, however, were not satisfied and made it their mission to uncover the gender of the oldest.
For millions of years, they'd tried everything, but Ceres remained elusive, laughing at their efforts. Even during their time on the mortal plane, Ceres had fathered multiple children with both men and women. When asked, their loyal lovers and partners gave nothing of an answer—until now.
One of Ceres's descendants had spent through all his fortune and was left bankrupt. He contacted the other five siblings of Order, Cyrius and his four siblings, with information on Ceres's gender, selling it at a high bargain. The descendants of Ceres had kept the gender a family secret, but this loose mouth was about to spill everything. This was the information Cyrius was about to send Helen to buy—until she decided to wear that outfit.
'I should have destroyed those things before they even began to sprout.' Cyrius clenched his fists beneath the table, the frustration of the massive opportunity lost burning through his orderly façade. He knew he had to act now before the descendant sold the secret to a less scrupulous buyer.