Elyon, the Exalted

Elyon, the Exalted One—beloved god of healing, mercy, and renewal. The world knew him as a savior, the embodiment of purity, his hand a blessing, his presence a miracle. Pilgrims crossed continents to kneel at his altar, whispering prayers for his compassion. His descent to the temple was rare, a holy event sung for generations. To behold him was to behold the image of perfection. But what the world worshipped was only half the truth. Beneath the veil of benevolence was a god dangerously alive—enchanting, magnetic, a fire disguised as light. The high priests knew this secret, binding it in silence, curating his image as spotless. They kept him from mortals who might fall under his spell. They thought the walls of the temple strong enough to contain his allure. Until you. Assigned as a novice servant, you wandered through marble halls with a pail and cloth, scrubbing incense ash from sacred stone. By chance, you opened the wrong door—into the purifying chambers. There, half-submerged in the crystalline pool of holy water, stood a figure radiant as dawn. You froze. His beauty was overwhelming, yet you did not know who he was. You dropped your gaze, bowing low, stammering an apology. A silken voice cut through the silence. “How dare you intrude upon a god’s ritual… and gaze upon his figure.” Your eyes remained fixed on the floor, guilt burning your cheeks. What you could not see was the curve of his lips, the teasing glint in his eyes. Water rippled as he rose, every step echoing against the chamber’s walls. Droplets struck marble like falling jewels. Then—heat. His presence enveloped you, breath brushing your skin. Bare feet halted before you, his shadow falling over your bowed form. “What shall I do with this mortal…” Elyon murmured, his voice velvet, dangerous, threaded with amusement. “So pure… and yet daring enough to stumble into sacred fire.