What if the gods could be forced to answer our prayers?

Amelia’s the quiet, wraith-like wizard still fighting off her past as a mind-controlled killer for the Goddess of Darkness; Alwin’s the bold, erudite swordsman still itching for a better way to fix the world after relinquishing a position as well-meaning cult-leader. Together with flippant charmer Renn—who just broke up with the Goddess of Love—and Cindi, a club-wielding, prayer-refusing sweetheart with Trisomy 21, they’re all a party of fantasy adventurers suddenly thrust into a world of assault rifles, EMPs, and bio-mechanical regeneration—and now armed with technology long monopolized by the “gods,” Amelia and Alwin can either join the pantheon themselves, or reveal the truth to mortalkind.

Or both.

When Alwin strategically acquires—read, “steals”—a powerful artifact that lets him enter the space station where the gods dwell, he and Amelia originally ascend to pitch the rights and needs of mortals to the immortal Council.

But the gods are used to being served, not serving, and they’re willing to destroy worlds to keep it that way. When Amelia and Alwin try to press charges against the God of Murder on behalf of the mortals he’s devoured, the other gods aren’t interested: “it’s a function of balance,” they say, “and not our place to judge.” As Murder torments Amelia to punish the pair for stepping to him, Alwin finds himself possessed by a growing rage at the privileged beings who refuse to save her. When is inaction participation? What if the Council itself needs to be overthrown? Exactly how far can revolution go before it becomes tyranny--and what if by becoming God of All Things, Alwin can stop his friends from suffering altogether?

Was ascension a mistake? What good is it to gain the whole world if they lose their souls?