Destiny now lies in the hands of...

[Anastasia]

A moment. "Nothing. The land's not alive or dead. It's in stasis," she announces, "Like a snapshot of a few moments at a beach." Syala says. "It also only goes about 100 feet or so away from the shore and towards the sand dunes.  My other senses are sure things beyond it are real, but they aren't."

[Ebiris]

"So follow the beach? Or up or down?" Alicia looks up at the sky.

[Anastasia]

"Same problems," Syala says, "I don't see anywhere for us to go. It's like we're being held in a tropical jail cell."

"That," Antenora says, "Or we have all we need here for our next trial." She goes to sit at the beach just at where the waves peter out, water tickling her feet.

"Are you sure you just don't want to build sandcastles," Syala answers with a growing smile, a hand on her hip.

Antenora looks back with her own warm amusement, "No, I seriously think ourselves may be the next trial. A shore is where one realm ends and a new one begin. Land gives way to the sea. A whole new world awaits beneath the waves - do you remember that harvester devil you fought, Alicia?"

[Ebiris]

Shrinking back down, Alicia starts to smile at the mention of sandcastles before her expression twists at the memory of that harvester devil. That was far too close and poorly done by her.

"Yes, but doesn't the sea end a hundred feet out as well?" Or she misunderstood what Syala was saying, but if she did why didn't her lay of the land detect anything under the water? Unless the water's like a portal...

[Anastasia]

"I don't mean it in a literal sense," Antenora says, but metaphorical. "A mortal who makes it this far stands at a beach. A new kingdom awaits them if they obtain the divine seed, a dark ocean of possibilities that they can only glimpse the surface of." She gestures at the waters.

"In other words, you think all of this is a fancy, sea scented metaphor?" Syala asks.

"That or the Guardian wants to see us naked on the beach," Antenora's voice is deadpan, but she smiles a little after it. "No, I think I'm right." She taps her chest before, "Ysgard represents independence and a brave spirit. Shorn of everything we've again proven both of those qualities."

[Ebiris]

"We had to do a lot of swimming to reach the guardian, what's a little more then?" Alicia asks, walking over the sand barefoot and wading into the water.

[Anastasia]

Antenora joins you, the waters warm. Syala is at your other side, "What's a bit more," she agrees, as you go out. Thus you pass into the waves. You have to admit that the waters feel fantastic as you swim on.

A moment of falling when you go far enough out, but only a moment.

...the Beyond?

The three of you float there, nothingness as far as the eye can see. Utter calm and peace as in the air, a tiny marble manifests before the three of you.

[Ebiris]

Is it really the Beyond or a convincing facsimile wrought by the Guardian?

Could she tell the difference if it was?

Well anyway, she has a look at the marble since it's the most pertinent object here.

[Anastasia]

Antenora does the same, as doe Syala.

It is a tiny sphere of pure potential, a tiny seed of what could be. Attached is a simple message, understood as you examine it: Impress me.

[Ebiris]

"Oh... you should have been there when we completed Triel's Furnace," Alicia says with a slight smile. "Well ladies... what should we create?"

[Anastasia]

"That's easy, we can't settle for anything but the best - let's create reality," Syala says, "An entire world, like our divine realm."

Antenora nods slightly, "That's our purpose - to create, not to destroy."

[Ebiris]

"A good answer," Alicia says. "Reminds me of the Fairest Star - something with so much potential can be so much more than a simple weapon. A world then, a prime material?" She holds a hand out as if to cup the marble, but carefully doesn't touch it.

[Anastasia]

"Yes," Syala agrees, as two more hands join yours.

Go ahead, they'll follow off your lead since you're the leader here.

[Ebiris]

Remembering what fate befell Io's efforts outside of Creation, the first and most important thing to do is to link what they're making to Creation. Have it fall under that aegis so it is not simply eroded by the Beyond.

Connect. Like we did with Sylica. We can't forge an eternity on its own but as part of Creation it will endure all.

Similarly the nascant prime connects to Yggdrasil, the well of souls, the stairway of the dead, the origin when they begin and the path they travel to the outer planes when they die. Does Demedais see what's happening now, or will that wait until the tragedy of the first death occurs in this infant world?

Is it less impressive that they're relying on existing work? Perhaps, but they know their limits, and they know the beauty of Creation. Why else would they fight so hard to protect it, to add to it? The Guardian seems to like Ysgard well enough, she hopes he'll understand.

Now grow it, build it into a world.

And what kind of world? A primal one. A young world, untamed. One lit by a hot sun. Can Lathander already tell? Could Latha be its sun? There are stars and a moon in the sky too of course, come night-time. Is Selune aware at the same time as they decide on this? Yet such things Alicia would not make a world without, and so the invitation is made.

Connect.

That's what she said after all. And they have connections to their fellow divinities even outside Sylica. Friends. A community, just as Syala embodies in her portfolio.

But what of the world underneath that sun, moon, and stars? Of course there can be no single defining feature. A world is a totality, not a single forest or desert. The three goddesses pour forth their will into it. Fertile and wild forests and jungles yes, but snowy mountains, deep oceans, blazing deserts. Will Chauntea bless its soils? Will Silvanus guard its wilderness? Will Deep Sashelas watch its depths?

Will Auril lord over those frozen peaks? Will Umberlee spend her fury on the shores? Will Shar conspire in its caverns?

Perhaps. But that is the risk that comes with all things in Creation. Triel or Beelzebub would drive himself mad attempting perfection without such risks. Alicia and her friends will accept the price of vigilance that must be paid to connect with the rest of Creation, and the risks it entails. Because in the end, it's worth it.

Just as the people of this world - and oh yes, it will have people. Humans, the children of Corellon and Moradin, but also those of Gruumsh and Kurtulmak and many more besides, they'll all have a place there. They'll have to risk the dangers of the environment, of the wild animals, and of each other. Perhaps they will fight, but perhaps they will band together and forge connections of their own.

Can they truly make those inhabitants themselves? They made animals for Sylica before when it expanded, but people? With this sheer potential perhaps, but if not? Then they'll reach out to their friends, to the soul-forger and others, and seek their help in populating this new world. Because a world without people isn't any kind of world at all, nothing more than a painting. Alicia likes paintings it's true, but this could be so much more.

A million stories and more would barely scratch the surface of such a world, its future unwritten but its promise glittering as much as that of the Fairest Star.

That is how the goddesses of Sylica would seek to impress the Guardian left by the Incarnation of Balance.

[Anastasia]

Life.

You see life itself. A life of verdant forests, of pine barrens, of scraggy tries atop a mountainside. The deserts of icy cold and burning thirst, of blazing sun and bleached bones. Plains alive with life and farms, plains dead and empty as wastelands. Oceans full of fish, stagnant ponds where nothing grows.

Moon.

Stars.

Life.

Souls.

A human. A second. A third. An elf. A dwarf. A kobold. A dragon.

Shudders.

Before you in one moment is a world, a world complete and full and everything. Yet it slips through your fingers, the marble and images from it gone like a morning ghost. "No!" Antenora calls, a flare of will that momentarily stabilizes it, Syala's wordless grimace betraying her own efforts.

Yet you see it now. A phantasm, a marble of potential and yet not actualization. It is gone as the last vestiges of night fade in the morning sun.

"You would create an entire new world?" The Guardian is heard in the voice of the Jormugandr, "You seek to create even now, in a time where Creation heaves in the throes of death? Where even the World Serpent begins to fear a death that he cannot undo? You create at a moment when creation is pointless?"

"Because fuck you, I'll hit your face in with a hammer if you try and stop us," Syala retorts with fire in her voice, "Try and fucking stop me."

The Guardian's laughter is heard, loud and dominating in the Beyond around you.

"Spoken like a true violent maniac of Ysgard." The Guardian praises.