Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Though the flame deity hadn't voiced out loud, he was actually very shocked about the amount of time he took to absorb the flame. Not even a god could careless touch the black flame. Even if he did help, Jaegar was mortal after all, but that didn't stop him from getting burnt by the black flames.

Inside Jaegar's mind space, the flame deity's ethereal flame was now hovering before the earth flame and the newly joined black flame. He sighed visibly, stopping himself from thinking too much into the boy. Now that he has obtained the black flame, he needs to restore it in himself, going into a trance like state again.

***

Far beyond the reach of mortal men, in a realm where the very air shimmered with divine essence, there stood a palace of such magnificence that even the gods themselves marvelled at its splendour. The crown jewel of the gods' heaven and home to the most powerful immortals in all of creation.

In this place stood a palace, and it was not merely a structure; it was a living, breathing entity unto itself. Its walls, fashioned from gleaming marble shot through with veins of pure starlight, pulsed with an otherworldly energy. Intricate patterns of gold and platinum adorned every surface, telling the stories of a thousand divine victories and cosmic events in their delicate filigree.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

But what truly set the palace apart were the vines. Thick, verdant tendrils of the sacred Elysian ivy wound their way around columns, across archways, and through windows. These were no ordinary plants, but rather the physical manifestation of life itself, birthed from the primordial essence of creation.

Each leaf sparkled with dew that never dried, and each tendril moved with a serpentine grace even in the absence of wind. The vines seemed to whisper ancient secrets as they grew, entwining themselves ever more tightly with the structure of the palace.

The golden decorations caught the light of a thousand distant stars, reflecting and refracting until the entire palace shone like a beacon in the heavens. It was said that on particularly clear nights, the keen-eyed among the mortals could catch a fleeting glimpse of this celestial wonder, though such sightings were quickly dismissed as fever dreams or flights of fancy.

Within the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, each room held wonders beyond mortal comprehension. There were chambers where time flowed backwards, halls filled with the laughter of long-dead heroes, and gardens where the fruits of life grew in abundance. But on this particular evening, the private quarters of a goddess.

As one approached the ornate double doors leading to her chambers, the very air seemed to thicken. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and moonflowers wafted through the corridor, growing stronger with each step. It was an intoxicating aroma, one that could bewitch the senses and cloud the mind if one were not prepared for its potency.

Pushing open the doors, one would find oneself in a room that defied the laws of physics. The chamber seemed to stretch on into infinity, its walls lost in shadow and starlight. The floor was a perfect mirror, reflecting the night sky above in such detail that it was impossible to tell where the room ended and the celestial expanse began.

Constellations danced across the ceiling, rearranging themselves into new patterns with each passing moment.

In the centre of this cosmological marvel stood an enormous bed, its frame crafted from the bones of long-extinct primordial beasts. The mattress was stuffed with downy feathers, guaranteed to provide the most restful sleep in all of creation. Countless pillows and cushions in various shades of midnight blue, deep purple, and shimmering silver were artfully arranged across its surface.

And there, reclining amidst this sea of plushness, was the goddess Eomoriel herself.

The Goddess Eomoriel was a sight to behold, her form both alluring and terrifying in equal measure. She stood nearly nine feet tall when upright, her skin the deep, rich black of the space between stars. Her hair, a cascade of soft darkness, seemed to merge with the shadows around her. Her eyes, when she decided to open them fully, contained entire galaxies within their depths.

Her figure was the stuff of legends, with curves in all the right places that seemed to defy the laws of proportion given her immense height. She wore a gown that appeared to be woven from the very fabric of the night sky, constellations and nebulae shifting across its surface with her every movement.

Opposite to her, lounging in a chair, with his head backwards, sat Kamlham, a god himself. His form was like a sculpted beauty, glistening in the nightlight. Though he looked like a handsome young man with tousled hair, he was really old. His only constant feature was his eyes: heavy-lidded and dreamy, they held within them the power to plunge thousands of women into a trance with just a glance.

His presence exuded an aura of mystery and allure, drawing all who gazed upon him into his captivating gaze.

In his hand was what appeared, at first glance, to be a simple dried leaf rolled into a tube. But this was no ordinary smoke. The smoke made from the cacca leaves was a very intoxicating flavour of smoke, and not everybody could handle it.

The sweet, heavy scent of the burning leaf mingled with the natural perfume of her chamber, creating an atmosphere thick with magic and possibility. Tendrils of iridescent smoke curled and twisted in the air, forming shapes of women and men, coupled before dissipating into nothingness.

They were not alone in the vast chamber. Silent and attentive, a group of beings moved about the room, their very presence a testament to the complex hierarchy of the divine realm.

These were the Laikgars, a race of beings straddled the line between mortal and divine.

Standing at an imposing height of seven feet, they bore a striking resemblance to humans at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, their otherworldly nature became apparent.

The Laikgars possessed broad, sloping foreheads that housed minds capable of comprehending the intricate whims of the gods they served. Their ears were small and close-set; all the better to hear the whispered commands of their divine masters. But their skin truly set them apart—a pallid, almost bloodless hue that spoke of their separation from the mortal realm.