The punishment wasn't severe, but it was humiliating.
Every god involved in the Shimmering Chalice brawl was marched into the courtyard of the Radiant Bastion at sunrise. Divine attendants whispered among themselves, clearly entertained by the parade of chastened young gods.
Dante rubbed his face, not because he was hurt, but because someone had elbowed him in the chaos. He still didn't know who.
Anarissa looked radiant, sunlight drifting lazily around her skin.
"Why didn't we walk away sooner?" she muttered.
"The universe hates us," Dante replied. "And you punched that guy who insulted Lysera."
"I regret nothing."
Lysera stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her students with a mix of reprimand and amusement. Varael and Vorun waited beside her—Varael silent as dusk, Vorun calm and unreadable.
Other young gods from the brawl stood in uneven lines. Even the drunk constellation gods looked sheepish now that sobriety and consequences had arrived.
At last, the instructors stepped forward.
Lysera's voice carried effortlessly. "You are not punished for defending yourselves."
She let the statement settle.
"You are reprimanded because your Authorities reacted without control. This cannot happen."
Varael glided to her side, his presence sending a hush across the courtyard. "Authority is not your divinity," he said softly. "It's the echo of your existence pressing upon the world. When you lose emotional composure, your Authority acts for you."
He did not raise his voice, yet every god felt the weight of his words.
Vorun stepped forward next.
"Many gods grow arrogant early," he said. "They believe instinct is mastery. That feeling is enough. But instinct is how worlds crumble."
His eyes fell on Dante and Anarissa.
"Instinct is especially dangerous."
Dante felt a pulse of discomfort. He recalled the bar: irritation, adrenaline, his Authority answering before he consciously did. A phantom moon shimmered overhead, dream-static rippled around him, and oblivion pulsed beneath everything.
Not his intent, choice, just reaction.
Anarissa had her moment: a blow grazed her arm, her aura erupted in sunfire, warmth radiated outward, she choked it down—wings half-formed, halo glowing.
Lysera motioned them forward. "You two require this lesson. Your Authorities are potent, unrestrained."
The instructors led them to a quiet training garden—crystal trees casting refracted light across polished stone.
Lysera stopped. "Authority Modulation begins here."
She raised her palm, a soft sphere of controlled light flickered into being—warm, bright, perfectly shaped.
"Authority is influence, not energy, intent, or anything else," she said.
With a flick, the sphere surged outward, warping the air like heat haze. Young gods stumbled back, she snapped it shut.
"That happens when Authority answers emotion, not direction."
Varael extended his hand, shadows curled into a tight, quiet mass of darkness that existed in perfect, obedient restraint.
"Authority must be disciplined, especially for a god tied to darkness, night, or Oblivion," he said.
His gaze lingered on Dante.
"Close your eyes."
Dante obeyed.
"Breathe."
He inhaled.
Reality tilted. Moonlight bent toward him, dream-static drifted from nowhere, a faint ripple of cosmic darkness brushed his consciousness.
He sharply opened his eyes. "Yeah, that's a problem."
Lysera turned to Anarissa. "Your turn."
Anarissa exhaled, closing her eyes.
Sunlight gathered around her, warming her.
Grass at her feet bloomed and wilted as Oblivion pulsed through her aura.
She opened her eyes. "I didn't mean to!"
Vorun touched her shoulder. "We're here for that."
Lysera gestured for the twins to stand side by side.
"Today's lesson determines whether you can create Divine Kingdoms safely or if your worlds collapse upon formation."
Varael nodded. "Authority follows emotion. Teach it to follow intention."
Vorun stepped behind them. "Begin."
Hours of grueling instruction followed.
Dante learned to breathe without bending moonlight or dream-space.
Anarissa learned to exhale without igniting half the training ground.
Both learned to speak without their Authorities interpreting their tone as orders.
Frustration rose, Dante's aura shimmered with phantom moons until Varael steadied him.
Panic flared in Anarissa, solar fire sparked behind her eyes until Lysera calmed the energy.
The lesson was relentless.
By midday, Dante and Anarissa were sweating despite their divine bodies.
Lysera stepped back, expression softening.
"Better than expected," she said.
Varael regarded them with steady eyes. "You're still dangerous. Awareness is the first chain on instinct."
Vorun smiled faintly. "You learned faster than most."
The twins exchanged exhausted smiles—half misery, half pride.
They were beginning to understand themselves, their power, their limits, and their responsibilities.
As they walked out of the training garden, Dante stretched painfully.
"I guess the next lesson is even harder?"
Lysera smiled. "Undoubtedly."
Anarissa groaned. "I knew."
They continued, neither slowing.
They were gods learning to shape the cosmos.
This was only the beginning.