Time was ticking, yet there was no way to tell in the midst of the endless ocean, with only a scrap of land to stand on. The sun had kissed the edge of the seamless sea, and night was just around the corner.

Clythia paced back and forth, the set of her anklets and bangles swishing with every movement, waiting for the other rulers to arrive. Of course, there was no telling when they would arrive, as each would want to make an impression on the others by arriving late, as if they had more important matters to attend to than this urgent meeting. Clythia was certain that nothing good would come out of this meeting for any of them, but a decision had to be made.

The sound of approaching boots snapped her attention back to the present. The Vampire King, the ruler of vampires and the Cravax kingdom, Morven, had arrived. Dressed in full red with a crown glinting with rubies, he sauntered over to her. The wind blowing from the ocean struggled to ruffle his immaculate hair; unfortunately, hers was bent to follow the whims of the wind, veiling her face. She tilted her head, inviting the wind to sweep her strands back. The same breeze brought with it the salty aroma of the sea, searing her nostrils.

King Morven was as stern as she remembered him from their last encounter, which was the last Tithe. He stopped in his tracks and gazed at her for a fraction of a moment before masking his expression in coldness. He gave a ghost of a nod in a manner of greeting, which she wasn’t inclined to reciprocate. His corpse-like complexion would unnerve many, like death’s welcoming embrace before you’re ready. But for Clythia, he was just an animated carcass.

“I see you are alive and well, Queen Clythia,” he said in a deep voice.

“Did you expect otherwise?” Clythia grimaced.

“My, my, already rude before the meeting starts?” The vampire quirked his lip.

She huffed but remained silent, resuming her pacing back and forth, acutely aware of Morven’s ruby eyes on her.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“What a stupid question,” Clythia muttered, turning to face him.

The King of Vampires raised a brow with disdain, unaccustomed to people flaunting their attitudes at him. She eyed him with similar distaste.

“It’s clear you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Morven said with a sigh. “But my question pertains to other concerns besides the obvious.” He gestured toward the monoliths surrounding them.

Clythia crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Do you take me for a fool, Morven? You think I don’t know you let your vermin sneak into the darker corners of my continent, unleashing them for whatever devious purpose you intend? And you expect me to welcome you with open arms?”

Morven regarded her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clythia smirked. “Good.”

Their subjects aren’t meant to mingle; that was why each of the seven species in Zyvern lived on separate continents. Crossing into another species’ territory was like volunteering a neck for guillotine. But in the brothels and taverns, it was whispered that vampires had slithered into her lands to quench the lust of pig witches and wizards who loved to hide in filth. Clythia will slaughter each and every one of them, hunt them down, and purge her land. Morven wanted to play dumb, well, the prick would get what he deserved.

“Are you concocting an evil plan in your cauldron, witch?” he said, tapping his temple.

Clythia shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply, a woman’s laughter filled the air. They both looked toward the sound. Queen Hypaxia of the gods and the human King Kay were giggling as if they were invited to a ball and not a meeting that could reforge or break the planet, Zyvern.

Hypaxia was the epitome of beauty, with her skin kissed by moonlight and dark hair falling to her waist, her lips luscious, and her body curved in all the right places, her deep violet low neckline dress complimenting her skin... Clythia’s breath hitched; she looked away.

The human king was swelling with pride, whatever he was saying making the Hypaxia laugh hysterically. Clythia admired his confidence in the midst of the goddess. Kay was handsome, but his swelling belly showed his carefree indulgence. It had been carefree for them all until recent developments.

The goddess regarded the vampire, her smile fading. The human followed her gaze.

Morven clasped his hands behind his back and offered a grin. “My Queen,” he bowed deeply, not even glancing towards the human king.

“Morven,” Hypaxia pursed her lips. “You can kiss the ground while you bend, but your debt is due by the winter solstice.”

“How could I forget, my lady? I deeply apologize for the delay. As you know, the lands are-”

“That’s exactly why we are here, and that’s no excuse, Morven,” Hypaxia interrupted. “The gods are impatient.”

Then her eyes met Clythia’s with a soft gaze. “Queen Clythia,” she bowed, and Clythia reciprocated, “Goddess.”

“It is good to see you,” Hypaxia said.

Fuck you! Clythia forced a smile. The betrayal by the goddess, the only woman she had loved, still hurt. Over the years, Hypaxia seemed unfazed by their separation; perhaps it was all a game to her, but for Clythia, it took all her power not to break right then and there. The sweet scent of jasmine and lavender radiating from the goddess wasn’t helping either.

Clythia gave a quick nod. “Likewise.”

King Kay gave her a broad smile.

“I honestly don’t know what we hope to achieve with this meeting,” Hypaxia said, inspecting her surroundings. Her gaze lingered on the Well, which shimmered with a faint blue light, nestled among the timeless monoliths.

“Me and you both,” a deep growl turned the head of the goddess.

The Prime, Glythia, the ruler of the werewolves and the Makefort continent, climbed the steps with the remaining two rulers trailing behind him.

The werewolf was clad in a white fur cloak, matching his blonde hair, contrasting his dark skin. As he stood before them, his enormous muscular body came into view, towering over them all.

Behind him, Queen Zahar of the elves and Elfive continent, gave him a wide berth, glaring at him as if he was a dumped mound of debris before her. The elf was an inch taller than the werewolf's waist. After she finished climbing the steps, she hesitated to stand beside him. Instead, she swiftly positioned herself next to Clythia with a speed that seemed supernatural.

The King of Fairies and the Nadir Continent, Modyr, wasn’t bothered by the foreboding size of the werewolf. By his own rights, he was well-honed and muscular, clad in an ebony coat with spiked collars, and his hands gloved. He took his place beside the werewolf. The faerie was ridiculously handsome. The slant of his heavily-lidded brows, the edge of his jaw, and the hue of his deep crimson lips were mesmerizing against his honey-complexioned skin and dark hair.

Prime Glythia assessed the rulers before him, lingering long when he met Clythia’s eyes. She couldn’t help but raise her brow. Unfazed by her reaction, he didn’t look away, but she did.

From her peripheral vision, the pearl earrings and chokers covering more skin than garment on Zahar, made Clythia amused. The elf queen reminded her of a dragon who hoarded jewels as sustenance, plundering the treasure of the rich and slaying them in the process. Zahar, in her own right, would have been a treasure trove. The dragon wouldn’t have needed to distinguish her from the jewels as he devoured her whole. Clythia smirked at the thought.

“Sorry for the tardiness,” Zahar said in a sweet lullaby voice. Hypaxia’s gaze swept over the elf from head to toe with scrutiny.

“That’s not surprising,” Clythia said, gaining a grimace from Zahar. “Now that we’re all here, let’s decide.”

The night had now crept in, the moon was absent but in her stead, the stars glittered the inky sky. The scarce wave of the ocean brought a calming presence to her, washing away her uneasiness a bit in the midst of the deadliest rulers of Zyvern.

“Queen Clythia, would you do us the honor of providing a comfortable place to sit at least?” Zahar cocked her head at her.

The monoliths were set in a circular setting, casting a faint ominous shadow on a well in between, the only source of a faint glowing blue light. The ground was sandy and elevated with seven steps. Hundred feet from all direction, the ocean Neut roared occasionally against the shore before receding and quite fell.

Clythia stretched her palm, wiggling her fingers.

“You can’t be serious,” The vampire said. “As I recall, you are responsible for calling this meeting. Wouldn’t you provide the courtesy of a sitting arrangement at least?”

She shot him a nasty look. “I don’t remember sponsoring this meeting. If you are so drowned in debt that you can’t provide a single pearl, I suggest you leave the meeting.”

The goddess smiled at Clythia. Morven’s lips thinned; his cheeks would be flushed if he was anything but what he was.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Glythia said and placed a pearl in her outstretched palm. The others followed suit; the elf queen, plucking one out of her garment.

With a wave of her hand, scarlet royal seats, gold embroidered at the edges, appeared before the seven monoliths. The rulers settled themselves.

Clythia cleared her throat. “As you all know, a blight is crawling its way into our lands.”

What was she about to say next that they didn’t know? Nothing. Besides, she wasn’t a person of speech. She always let her right hand, Arkansov, handle such matters. But he wasn’t here. She stood before the other rulers of Zyvern as required by law for such meetings. So she simply said, “We need to contact the Sovereign.”

The elf huffed in disbelief, the goddess' jaw ticked. The faerie and the human regarded her with a stern face. The vampire and the werewolf glared at her in apprehension.

“Consequences be damned then?” Glythia asked.

“We have to risk it,” Clythia replied.

“Risking the wrath of the Sovereign?” Zahar inquired.

“Do you have a better solution?”

“Yes, wait it out five more years, and when the Tithe comes, we will present our concern,” Zahar said.

Clythia leaned forward, squaring off with the Queen of the Elves. “‘Wait’ is a luxurious option. There will be nothing to ‘wait’ for if the blight continues at this pace. Besides, this isn’t supposed to happen. The prosperity of our lands is due to the binding Tithe to the Sovereign. I say, the Sovereign isn’t respecting their end of the bargain. That is reason enough for me to barge into their territory.”

“But Stormia is hostile unless the Sovereign deems us to pass,” the werewolf shook his head. “And surprising her with our presence is wrath enough.” Seeing the look on Clythia’s face, Glythia added, “But as Clythia said, I do not see any way around this. Magic is seeping from our land. Though I still believe we should wait it out.”

Glythia referred to the sovereign as ‘her,’ claiming the Sovereign used to visit his ancestors as a woman. But none of the rulers bought the story, including Clythia.

The werewolf king was the first ruler she contacted about the meeting and what it entailed. He disclosed to her that despite his skepticism about confronting the Sovereign, magic was seeping away from his continent. The werewolves were having difficulty shape-shifting. Some were even locked in their wolf bodies to no avail, and even with her knowledge of witchcraft, she wasn’t able to provide a cure. But he wouldn’t be revealing this before the other rulers. Neither would any of them disclose the details of the setbacks in their lands, but the presence of them all here spoke volumes.

“I do not believe this concerns the gods. Surial is blessed eternally. My people and I are living exquisitely. No problem has befallen us,” Hypaxia shrugged.

Clythia wasn’t sure if the goddess was telling the truth or if admitting weakness in the face of a being more powerful than her, the Sovereign, was a blow to her image. Hypaxia would rather wither away than admit weakness. Once, Clythia laughed at this side of her, but her heart was the victim of its edges.

Modyr smirked. “You dare lie in the presence of a Fae?”

“I beg your pardon?” Hypaxia gaze snapped to Modyr, as if recognizing his presence for the first time.

“The seven continents are touched by the blight. That’s a known fact. No need to act as if Zyvern is as much a paradise as it always was. I do not like facing the Sovereign,” King Kay said, sparing them all a back and forth snide from the goddess and the faerie. “But sometimes leaders need to make sacrifices for their land and their people to maintain peace and prosperity.”

The vampire licked his lips. Whether it was because he wanted to suck the blood out of a meal or because he agreed, or both, Clythia had no clue.

Then Kay yawned. “But it is too late to be having this conversation? If I don’t get enough sleep, I won’t function properly.”

“It’s only the first hour of the night,” Zahar snapped.

“So?”

“Look,” Clythia said, “You are all preoccupied with your sleeps or whatever it is you do in your pits,” she earned a glowering face from most of them. “But,” she continued, “if you want to bask in the paradise of life you built, this should be dealt with.”

Two hundred millennia of peace and prosperity led the rulers and the people of Zyvern vain. Their problems have stooped so low that now the height of a squabble between two kingdoms was over love, and the lowest was imitating fashion. The reason to create drama was getting pettier by the day that now some rulers here were executing servants for walking too loud or for interruption despite the importance.

“Let’s vote then,” the king of the faeries said, his voice carrying the weight of the moment.

“We understand what’s happening, the consequences of facing the sovereign, and what awaits us if we do nothing.” He eyed each ruler in turn. “I vote to confront the Sovereign.”

“I second that,” Clythia murmured.

“So will I,” Kay nodded in her direction.

A heavy silence ensued. No one else voiced their agreement. Clythia released a sigh of frustration. Three against four; they lacked the majority needed to consult the well that sat between them, glowing faintly, dormant, matching the ruins etched on the monoliths. Tonight, it seemed, it would not be used—no consultation, no decision. Everything would continue as it was.

But for how long?