There was beauty in the way the sunlight laid in just the perfect oblique angle over the valley, the way it illuminated each detail as if it was a precious treasure. Nature’s color palette coming to life, almost glowing, under the precious light in such ephemeral days. Splashes of red, yellow and rust orange added to the infinite display of shades of green; words seemed too simple to convey such splendor. The perfect season was upon them.

Sitting on the base of the huge oak tree, he could feel the transition in the wind itself, Aeolus was surely busy, probably enjoying the last final months in his functions. He must be having fun, considering how the leaves danced around him at the will of their assailant as he danced with them throughout their fall.

Thesis and Zeus had agreed to lock in each one of their duties, making them flow in a yearly circle. But it would not be the same, there was no way it could be. Yet it was the best solution.

Humans had long forgotten the old ways. Not long ago, a council had been held and the cult of one god was spreading. The rich saw profit and the poor thought of hope. He had met the prophet they were turning into a son of God, a very humble and idealistic man, yes, but not the god they were painting him to be. Funny enough, his killers were the ones not only turning him into a god but also profiting from his death.

The Nazarene man had certainly been inspirational, and he had several long conversations with him, the man had never known who he was talking to, of course, but some humans are more interesting than others. Constantin, for example, was a great emperor but a bit too self-centered for his taste.

He felt her approach long before her steps could even be heard. Truth was, part of him always kept track of her, always in contact with her. Her soft and chilly hand touched his neck, making him face her, her beautiful dark blue eyes peered into his as she put her forehead to his “What are you thinking there, heart of mine?”

He shrugged “Just admiring.”

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