Chapter 32 - The Goddesses' Morning

She doesn't seek the light; she prepares it, serves it warm, and watches the gods drink it like childhood milk.

Before dawn, the tower still asleep the blue tower floated between the heavens like a dream refusing to dissipate the suspended garden still held the traces of the previous day feathers still hanging, cushions slumped, tablecloths wrinkled by goddesses who had forgotten their titles to better become themselves again. Morpheus was still sleeping, curled in a starry blanket, mouth slightly open, almost purring. And in the center of all this calm, a discreet, persistent, blue light.

The room floated above the world, like a levitating breath. The pots danced alone. Star butter melted in rhythm pancakes flipped with a cosmic wingbeat. Saphira, standing on a small stool, wore an apron embroidered with moons, her hair tied with a silver ribbon she stirred carefully, tasted, adjusted the spices with a precise gesture. Élya, in soft armor pajamas, eyes still half-closed, held a whisk that had decided to beat on its own.

—"Are you going to feed a whole pantheon today?" she grumbled between two yawns."Yes," Saphira replied directly, "because today, all they have to carry is their appetite."

Azure pancakes with star syrup, light as happy memories solar soufflés with sweet pollen, golden and singing with every bite golden moon toasts, covered with forgotten fruit jellies. cosmic salad, made of rare fruits from Amaterasu's garden, cut like jewels celestial lavender cloud milk, served warm, in gently purring cups.

Saphira went up to the terrace, a crystal bell suspended between her fingers she rang it a song rose, composed the day before, woven between two silences wake up, beautiful light, the shadows have slept beneath your stone a new day, without battle, where you can laugh without worries the rays touched the divine eyelids one by one, they returned.

Amaterasu was the first to open her eyes she stretched, lazy, radiant, her hair disheveled:—"I haven't slept like that since… the birth of fire." Hera emerged from a pile of cushions, confused she looked around, then at her blanket:"Who tucked me in?" —"I did," Saphira replied, placing a cup near her. Chang'e descended, barefoot, eyelids still half-closed. "We should all live here." —"The moon will need a successor then," replied The Queen Mother of the West, smiling. and The Scarlet Countess arrived last she walked slowly, black dressing gown embroidered with roses, a hint of sleep still on her eyelashes she said nothing, looked at the table, sat down, tasted a pancake, and sighed. "You got me. I'll come back, but next time, you'll prepare me a burning tea, with a tear of my soul." Saphira shrugged. —"I have something better a tear of sweet memory."

No debates, no decisions to make, no world to save they talked about recipes, about flowers, about the first time they had danced alone, without an audience, about childhood scents, about the strange fear of no longer lacking anything the Countess, her fork suspended, murmured at one point: —"I didn't remember that one could laugh without expecting a bite." And Saphira simply handed her a napkin without saying anything when the last toast was eaten, when the last breath of lavender rose to the sky, they remained there, saying nothing. The Queen Mother of the West looked up at the sky, simply saying: —"Today I am not immortal I am just alive and it was perfect.

End of Chapter 32 — The Goddesses' Morning