Edicts were curious powers. They manifested in different forms and could be used in a plethora of ways, depending on their wielder. An Edict was limited only by its user. Imagination to form them, and Insenium to manifest them.

Both depended on a person, and both fluctuated from person to person. Leonidas used his [Gleam And Glow] Edict to make roses, while someone else could use it to potentially use the roots of the flowers themselves. There was no restriction other than the Source Element itself.

Bloom spread across many areas of life, from birth and pregnancy, to flowers and nature, to the vaguest of things, like patience and abundance. Life bloomed as such; it was under the domain of bloom. Blooming took time; as such, patience was under Bloom.

Still, there were strict rules Edicts could not break, and one of them was the vision that came with them. The first time an Edict was used, a person would see its past and the way it came to be. [Gleam And Glow] had once been a seed Bloom had planted, and it grew to a towering forest, from where his Edict originated.

But what of peace?

The world around Leonidas lost its light, dissolving into specks of black until he was in a vastly different place. The world around him was bright and lively. Myriad people moved and ran, and a myriad more took refuge in their homes and inns.

But it was not torches that lit the night, nor was it darkness that they took refuge from. Instead, it was the progenitor of all invention, the mother of innovation, and the father of necessity, war.

The world was awash in flames, seething columns of blazing fire burning everything in sight. It spared no one; families were devoured, children turned to ash, while grown men and desperate fathers fought against the humongous inferno.

A single man stood behind the fiery winds, hands raised in solemn prayer. A gleeful smile graced his lips, as if the slaughter of burning men was nothing to him.

Words kept leaving his mouth, repeating themselves like a broken record player.

"Oh Great Lord of Peace, forgive these insolent lambs. Oh, Peace, I ask you to bring them solace. Oh, Peace, bring wisdom to the lambs."

He prayed and prayed, and prayed his heart out for the unfortunate inhabitants, yet did nothing to stop the inferno, one that had come from his own being, from a power the gods themselves had bestowed upon him.

The man spread his hands out once more, and this time Peace answered. No. Peace had been answering all the time; it was just that the man couldn’t see him, but now he could.

A formless being stood before the crazed man, only its eyes visible. They were deep and dark, darker than the blackest abyss and deeper than the most boundless of oceans. If there were a God of Depth, it would be Peace.

Peace stared at the man, who now prostrated before him, and spoke without a hint of emotion in his voice.

"Peace does not forgive, and neither do I. You ask for solace, yet you do nothing to deliver it. You ask for wisdom, yet you do nothing to achieve it. Maybe we have spoiled you too much, maybe it was our fault."

The god spoke to himself more than to the man. It was as if he didn’t exist in Peace’s eyes.

Peace looked down at the man once more and spoke in an impartial tone.

"Look me in the eye."

The man hesitated for a second before giving in to the God’s hypnotic voice. It was almost as if he had no will of his own, a puppet strung on invisible strings.

The man’s dull crimson eyes locked onto Peace’s abyss, and at that moment, it seemed like the light within him had been snuffed out.

"Brad Brisk, for the crimes you have committed, in the name of peace, you are hereby sentenced to peace."

The man’s lifeless body twitched before it shook its head.

Peace stared at the spectacle for a moment before a sad smile appeared on his face. It was sorrowful, etched with unshed tears and the weight of judgment.

"So you have rejected peace even when it is handed to you. Peace is for everyone, yet not everyone accepts it. Why must you do this? Are you not aware that peace loves all equally? Yet you still run from its embrace."

Peace raised his formless hands, and the world seemed to come to a stop; the incinerating inferno paused in place, as if time around it had stopped. Half-burned men stopped writhing in pain, dying mothers stopped crying, ashen kids stopped screaming.

Even the rain had stopped, lightning frozen mid-air, suspended like a stage prop. Peace walked forward to Brad and placed his hand atop his. His eyes glowed a deep black, and the fanatic collapsed inwards, like a balloon popping. His ribs crunched, his eyes exploded, and his legs cracked and splintered, bending in every direction.

"You did not choose peace, but peace still chose you. Rest in peace, for your pain is over."

Peace didn’t spare the man another glance and started walking towards the charred remains of the humble village. Many had lived there happily. The day was supposed to be a joyous occasion, the festival of a thousand stars, commemorating the gods and their birth, but a single man had ruined it. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Peace hovered high in the sky, gazing at the sorry sight. The same smile was on his face, sad and depressed, but this one held faint traces of hope.

"Peace accepts all, and you have accepted peace."

He paused for a moment, melancholy creeping into his voice.

"You deserved better, my children. Rest in peace...rest in me."

He raised his hands, and a thousand pyres came into existence.

Who had said that matter could not be created or destroyed? An utter fool.

They were large enough to fit a grown man, some big enough to accommodate entire families. One by one, Peace gently placed each body in its pyre, wrapped them in soft white cloth. He did the entire process by hand, even if it could have been done by a single snap of his fingers.

Peace was impartial....that was a lie. Peace preferred some over others. Peace was biased yet uncorrupted. Those who had turned into ash...Peace picked each particle and reattached it until the body was formed again, even if it was made of ash.

It took a long time, years, or perhaps months. Peace did not know, and he did not care. When he was finally done, he ignited the pyres, plumes of smoke and acrid fire rising high in the sky.

The fire raged and raged, nonstop for hours on end, but when it finally stopped, Peace was nowhere to be found. Suffering was eternal, and so was peace; it was his job to be present when peace was needed.

The land that remained was only white ash, a place that would be known as the Ashes of Peace.