“Well then. What do we do now?” I asked. “Well-” my sister started, before a blue box appeared before our eyes.

  What is even happening? I, like my siblings, focused on the box. We were then treated to an extended explanation of how the [Deity Trials] is a grace period for the 12 new Origin Deities, to develop their newborn universes, though that it wasn’t a guarantee, so one must be careful. [Stage One] was apparently a test to decide what powers the [Origin Deity] would have, and how their Universe, or ‘Domain’ would form. This test consisted of making 5 objects, which would be analyzed to produce the results.

  The blue boxes were apparently a power of the Multiverse’s Creator Deity, and we were told that the practically infinite power of creation that our maker had during [Stage One] (That he still managed to almost use up, somehow.), would now dissipate and be severely limited from this point.

  Why blue I wonder?

  Okay, okay! Geez, no need to be touchy Mr. All-Powerful. Anyways, the results.

  Well, that’s not good. I’m not sure, but I don’t think there are any defenses in place around the new Realms. We’ll have to fix that soon. But first…

  “Hey, don’t you think we should give ourselves names? It’s a bit annoying referring to you lot as ‘my siblings’ in my head.”

  “Sure,” replied my sister, “I think I like the name Raum.” As she says so, her eyes -the only feature we four share- twinkle like two slowly spinning galaxies. The only difference between our eyes is that she has a dark purple-black starscape orbiting her black hole-like pupils, while mine appear as green intermixed with gray and gold comets. Her long, raven hair reaches halfway down her back, reaching the midway point between her four wings that seem to distort space around them. The wings clearly show her domain as the Goddess born of the Entity of Space, each of her thousands of feathers a portal to a new star system. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she will be able to make that illusion a reality, given enough time and power. She wears a flowing kimono-like robe, the color of which slowy shifts back and forth like that of her eyes, seemingly infinite.

  Seeing us study her, she grins, before curtsying and asking our first brother, “And how about you then?”

  He appears much like a scholar, his eyes a mixture of all the colors that exist, and he thinks for a moment before confidently saying, “I shall be Alma Ressam.” Unlike my sister, he had no wings, and in their stead he possessed a third, closed vertical eye on his forehead, and shimmering hair with much the same qualities as his eyes. His scholar's robe is a base grey, but has a strange mystical quality to it, invoking all sorts of thoughts of vague possibilities. He then turned to our second brother, and asked, much like our sister, “And how about you then?”

  “Don’t parrot me dammit!”

  He chuckles, though I’m not sure how, with his lack of any facial features or orifices excepting the eyes. And what eyes! They put the rest of us to shame, a kaleidoscope of colors and emotion, which seems to have spread to his skin. Said skin is like a starscape, one that is ever changing and distorting much like a dream. He is hairless, with no clothes or sex visible, certainly the most exotic of out of the four of us. He then speaks with that strange voice of his, “I shall take the name Visturas, if that's alright. And how about you, brother? What mantle will you take up?”

  “Hmm…” I cup my chin in my hand, pondering the question. What would be a good name? “Why do I have this insane urge to call myself a doctor?” I muse out loud, before being struck with inspiration. As I am born of the Entity of Time, and this universe is dependant on stories how about this? “I shall be known as Lore. Talespinner Lore.”

  “Ah, lore. The knowledge of ages passed on to the new generation, a fitting name for you brother,” replies Visturas. The others agree, grinning.

  Ah, my appearance? There is nothing special about my hair or robes, no added wings or strange features like my siblings. What is special about me is that I, and all that I am wearing, are going through a constant cycle of time. My hair changes from it’s base forest green to snow white, while I age instantly from child to elder, and my robes turn to dust before reforming without the chance to fall. It gives them impression that I am both unaging and every age at once, which is actually quite close to the truth.

  “So what should we do now?” I ask, before being rudely interrupted by the All-Powerful Bastard again.

  Wait, what? “But we already have natural memories, or at least basic knowledge.”

  “Yea, what gives?” retorts Alma.

  “Old Bastard!!!” Surprisingly, it was Raum who shouted this time. Wow, she’s pissed. Let’s slowly back away…

  *Cough* “Anyway, we still need to decide who’s watching out for each of the Supporting Realms.”

  “I suggest we each take two. I’ll handle the Chthonic Realm and the Underworld.”

  “Sure bro, I’ll claim the Soma and Magica Realms then.”

  So Alma and Raum have chosen already. Well let’s scry the essence of the four that’re left then- “I’ll take the Beastial and Technological Realms, in that case.”

  “Oh come on guys! Now I'm stuck with the Higher and Lower Realms for all eternity. I can already tell the mortals are going to get all religious about them, at least we didn’t call them Heaven and Hell. But sheesh, really guys?”

  “Ha ha, yup! I’m off, see you in a thousand years!” That slippery eel Alma dashes off, followed by the other two. Well, I guess I should go meet my charges.

  *Sigh* This will be a looong millennium.