Dever Palace of Valder was in the southern region of Petrahn Valley. Balor was taken there on a partially Sky Stone-fueled horse carriage. Petrahns were making strides in transportation methods. Farrador knew it best, having witnessed the latest and greatest alongside Valder the sovereign. Balor predicted a decade or two before they figured out source-fueled engines, and a few more decades from there until flight.

  Farrador knew of a little-known group in the Petrahns of magics who had just begun to figure out portals, but Balor knew their grasp of the Source wasn’t good enough to figure that out in the current century.

  A convoy of carriages brought his servants and guards that Valder had assigned to him. They twisted down the mountains of the Petrahn valley to reach the Dever palace situated atop a small hill overlooking a vast river that flowed towards the giant shattered crystal shards in the center of Petrah.

  The river had been formed by Karvok the Shatterer, the great Source wielder who shattered the colossal crystal in the earliest days of Petrah. Balor had been impressed by the feat watching from the outside, but he only grasped the scale of that feat while traveling through the aftermath in the body of Farrador.

  Karvok had been a unique individual who emerged from a tangle of bloodlines, and Balor was thankful that his bloodline was preserved in the Petrahns, who had the potential to perform similar feats in the future.

  The Dever palace looked purpose-built as a retreat for Valder. It didn’t have the polish or the extravagance of the Petrahn castle, but it compensated for that aspect with its peaceful location and beautiful views in every direction.

  Balor disembarked from the carriage and walked up the stone staircase. He excused himself from all the guards and servants, telling them not to interfere him in the wing that was reserved for Farrador.

  He walked the stone hallways with endless water features until he arrived at his quarters. Once there, Balor quickly used his dispersed stellar core to detect if anyone was around.

  Valder had prepared the palace just as he said, and there were no intruders to ruin his plans. Balor climbed onto the soft bed, pointed his hand at the empty sheets, and recreated Farrador from his original soul matter while recreating himself as Farrador with a fraction of his own.

  The man came into existence coughing and wheezing. His eyes were unfocused, and Balor deliberately made sure the man would never be sure if he was awake, asleep, alive, or dead.

  His plan worked only too well, because Farrador’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw himself stoically staring down at him.

  “W-what is happening?” the man asked from no one in particular. “Am I dead?”

  “Doesn’t matter, Farrador. We must talk.”

  “Who are you!” Farrador quickly raised his palm, trying to channel Source energy for some sort of repelling attack. It didn’t do what he wanted to do, because getting hit with his own stellar core soul matter felt like a breeze on the face for Balor.

  Farrador yelled, but his yells came out low and muffled because Balor momentarily restricted his airflow to keep him quiet. “W-who are you! Demon! You’re a demon!”

  “I’m you, and I’m God,” Balor said, truthfully. “I’ve chosen you to carry out my will.”

  Farrador gulped hard, blowing air like a fish. He closed his eyes, uttering prayers in high Petrahn, something that he hadn’t done in decades as an academically inclined man.

  Balor waited patiently for the man to calm himself. Farrador breathed, prayed, and then opened his eyes only to see himself yet again. This time, he started running, but Balor hadn’t recreated his limbs properly on purpose. The man flopped on the bed like a fish at the shore and fell on his face.

  Balor grabbed him and placed him back where he was. “Any time now, you’ll be ready to talk.”

  It took about an hour. He could almost see the cogs turning in Farrador’s head as he reasoned through all possibilities. They always crashed, and Farrador looked more and more scared each time. Finally, he cleared his voice.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “The future. I want you to change Petrah. Keep in mind, I’ll be pleased with any and all outcomes. Whether you do what I want, or whether you don’t,” Balor said, sitting down on the floor.

  “H-how can I change Petrah?!”

  “You’re the only one that Valder listens to besides himself. As I said, you’ll change Petrah regardless. If you do it my way, you will be remembered.”

  “W-what is your way?”

  “I need you to create a program to preserve bloodlines. I need all the direct descendants of Karovak, and I need you to combine Valder’s bloodline with it. I want you to set in motion the mechanism for a Petrahn emperor who may one day reign supreme.”

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  “That is ghastly! I will not manufacture emperors!”

  “You can’t. You just have to implement the program. The emperor will emerge at some point in the future,” Balor stared at the man. “Without a supreme bloodline, your civilization is as doomed as others that came before you. Only this time, your people have mastered the Source and hold nearly all the Sky Stone in the world. Do you need further assistance to picture what collapse of Petrah looks like?”

  Farrador blinked as if he’d never thought about it. Balor knew he hadn’t, because he’d seen the man’s memories. Farrador had a pragmatic hope for the future. Petrah, governed by his friend Valder, had always felt rock solid under him. He had no reason to ask the question Balor was asking of him now.

  “You said you’re God. You made the world this way!”

  “Precisely. I did say I would be fine with any outcome. But the one I’m giving you guarantees Petrah survives longer than it is supposed to be.”

  “W-why do you want this?!”

  “I enjoyed what I saw. I would prefer it continue.”

  I want to make someone powerful fast. A great ruler for the history books.

  Balor wanted to show the first real empire to the world and the benefits of unification. He wanted to give rise to a set of individuals that performed feats as impressive as Karovak, ones that could efficiently explore and exploit the resources of Veilthorn.

  “You talk as if we’ll collapse tomorrow without you! Petrah has been around for a hundred years!”

  “All empires have an end sooner or later. When it comes to Petrah, it will be sooner rather than later. Either you do what it takes to rule the world, or you let the world eat pieces out of you until you don’t exist anymore.”

  “We don’t rule—”

  “Call it what you will, Farrador. A kingdom that controls the flow of Sky Stone cannot afford to be mining hermits and academics forever. You’re only as safe as long as more resourceful kingdoms don’t contest your ways. They’ve been scared for a hundred years because of Karovak’s shattering. Valder knows all about this doesn’t he?”

  “I’m not Valder,” Farrador said, huffing indignantly.

  “The cost of not taking up the mantle to lead the world is that you’ll be led by those beneath you, and it will be significantly worse for everyone involved.”

  Farrador stared, breathing hard. He had never been pushed to do something so important or have such thoughts. Petrahns divided themselves into roles too firmly. In a way, this is what gave rise to someone like Karovak, who made it his singular purpose to shatter the crystal. It was highly likely what made Valder such an effective ruler so far. The downside of this single-mindedness was perpetual stagnation of roles like Farrador, who only focused on nothing else.

  Balor needed to bridge the gap with Farrador. He needed a man with Farrador’s wit to implement the bloodline solution. The plan had come about spontaneously after accidentally assimilating Farrador, but Balor knew the opportunity was there as soon as he did.

  Not going to beat a Seedmaker without drastic solutions.

  Farrador was hyperventilating. Balor continued, standing up from the ground. “Petrah stands at a crossroads, and only you have met God himself,” Balor pointed his palm at Farrador, finishing up the joints of his limbs that he left half-made. “Know that whatever you choose, your choice will change the world.”

  The man slid out of the bed as soon as feeling returned to his limbs. He looked ready to run. Balor knew Farrador would sit down and think about this much later, when he wasn’t sure if he was delirious or not. He needed to perform one last act to make this interaction real.

  Balor gathered all his soul matter and penetrated through the palace high above the rooftop. He transformed into a new shape, for which he didn’t need a lot of reference. He had to look divine, incomprehensible.

  Hovering like a second sun above Dever palace, he bent light to create distortions that would be seen from miles away. He saw the palace guards and servants freeze where they were, everyone seeing this miracle with their own eyes.

  He saw Farrador looking at him, bewildered through the hole in the palace, his mouth quivering in shock.

  His miracle performed, Balor made him invisible in the next split second, leaving behind the world’s most unwilling prophet to make a choice that could change Veilthorn.

  Balor dashed back into his serpent forest to sleep for the next hundred years. He wanted to be surprised by his own manipulation.

  This was one of the most exciting parts of world-making after all.

  A hundred years later, Balor awoke in the serpent forest to a new set of problems. It wasn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but he knew a lot could’ve changed. He passed through the barrier membrane that isolated the forest, infiltrating Veilthorn yet again.

  His first destination was Petrah, and he was pleased to see it had grown ten times as large. New cities had been established in each of the fallen shards, and some smaller shattering events had occurred during his sleep.

  He hovered over the capital city, taking in all the details. It hadn’t been this complex when he was here the last time. In fact, it was his first time seeing the dynamics of a proper city at this level of advancement.

  Sky Stone-powered carts, carriages, and caravans filled the streets, billowing steam out of their exhaust pipes. Airships and winged gliders circled the city, carrying goods and people. It was just as he predicted, both advancements hadn’t been too far from reach.

  Petrahns themselves were more diverse, suggesting they spread their reach to lower strata and distant lands. The academy of magics stood as large as the castle itself, full of activity.

  Balor hovered above a giant statue of Valder, which people were still offering flowers to a hundred years later. There were two others in the same row, each depicting a key figure that Petrahns reverently celebrated.

  Farrador was right next to Valder, together in death as they were in life.

  He made the right choice then.

  Balor hovered at the castle's high terrace, where Valder’s chambers used to be. Inside was the current ruler of Petrah, a young man with vibrant orange-yellow hair with a strange sheen. His eyes were as vibrant as his hair, and he was talking with a fully armored man who couldn’t bow enough at his every word.

  He hadn’t found the young king’s name yet, but their introduction happened right there and then. The king of Petrah turned at the window from which Balor was gazing. His golden eyes seemed to recognize something.

  Balor dashed away almost immediately, spreading his stellar core as thin as possible. He saw King of Petrah rush to the window, shouting at his servants and guards, who stumbled over to him as if he pulled them with his gravity.

  That thing in the Petrahn castle had a hundred times the pull that Valder had. The King seemed to bend the wills of anyone around him without even trying.

  Actually, Farrador might have done too good a job, that madman.