First Impressions: What The Gods Left Behind by Zephyr Trillian

“The gods left their toys behind. The mortals are still figuring out which end goes boom.”

Core Premise & Initial Impressions:

What The Gods Left Behind bills itself as an epic fantasy novel. “Epic” is about as accurate as it gets. Right from the prologue, the author serves up a sweeping creation myth—presented as the weathered retelling of an old, half-forgotten tale—that hints at a world big enough to get lost in.

Here’s the short version:

The sea’s a cruel mistress. The land’s a lad. They do the deed—get it on. And out you pop: all ten fingers, all ten toes, lungs full of air, and mouth full of complaints.

Some cosmic mad-dad peers down, sees humanity floundering in its crib, and decides to intervene. Like a boss, he hires (read: creates) nine nannies (read: gods) to grant humanity’s wishes and guide them, kicking and screaming, into maturity.

By the start of the novel, the gods have taken off. Said they were going for milk. Somewhere along the way, they must have realised they’d forgotten the cigs. Halfway back, it hit them—they were missing the paper. Might as well grab a few other things while they’re out: groceries, new shoes, a watch. Busy week; best to get more off their plate. Didn’t they need a new mortgage? New school district? New life?

Yeah…

They’re not coming back.

But they didn’t leave the kiddies with nothing.

Oh no.

Before splitting town with all the urgency of a frat bro handed a positive pregnancy test, they passed their powers to a chosen few. We’ll get into that later—but as you can guess, it goes about as well as giving a toddler a broadsword, tossing them into the sandbox, and telling them to make nice.

I’ve got to tell you—I was hooked from the start. Hooked by the scale. Hooked by the lived-in, mythic feel of the world, and by the way it’s conveyed through a descriptive, almost lyrical flow of prose.

Yet, for all the enormity of the author’s creation, what struck me most was how deeply intimate it feels. The cosmic breadth of the story is refracted through the prism of its characters, becoming a personal tale of torment and trauma—of bravery and bravado.

We follow the tale of Wisterly and Mhordredd. Wisterly is an Acolyte—beset by divinely contracted OCD, she serves as a Hearthkeeper: one who channels the powers of the Hearthkeeper god.

Mhordredd’s a noble-turned-thief with a heart of gold… presumably slipped from your pocket while you weren’t looking.

Acolytes in this world are tightly regulated. Each wears a magically forged collar to keep their powers in check, and each serves a commission based on the abilities they’re bestowed. For Wisterly, that means working in a noble household under the thumb of a moustache-twirling baddie who abuses her because—well—it’s Tuesday.

After an incident involving Lord Moustache-EvilMcBadguy’s daughter—spoiled as a fortnight-old salmon left in the sun—Wisterly flees her commission and is swiftly taken in by our gentleman thief, Mhordredd.

From there, it’s all secret plots, seething tension, and murder and theft in pursuit of a powerful artefact — all vividly rendered in the story’s descriptive prose.

Hand to heart—the golden one Mhordredd would no doubt pinch—this novel is excellent. It’s beautifully crafted and packed with intrigue, bursting at the seams with thematic depth, yet stitched tight by its fully realised, fully believable dual protagonists.

And yet…

What The Gods Left Behind won’t be for everyone. We’ll get into that later.

First, let’s talk about:

What Works?

Depth of Worldbuilding:

It’s alright, innit?

(Phantom editor who lives in my brain — a.k.a. Pete): You can’t leave the worldbuilding segment like that!

(Me): I’m the Bard-In-Friggin-Chief. I can do what I want.

(Pete): Really? You’re not going to gush about how intricately the lore is woven into the narrative without bogging it down in exposition dumps?

Or how lived-in the world feels? How the story reads like the author’s exploring it more than creating it—as if it’s always been there, just waiting to be uncovered?

(Bard-In-Friggin-Chief): …Nah.

I stand by my analysis.

…Yeah.

It’s alright.

(Pete): Fine. I guess you covered this already up top… But I’m watching you.

Compelling Protagonists:

Wisterly and Mhordredd come alive on the page. Their fears feel earned, and their bravado—if not outright courage—in facing them feels just as real. Across the twenty-one chapters released at the time of this review, they never act in a way that doesn’t fit both their characters and the circumstances they face.

The novel uses their perspectives through a tight third-person limited lens. I’ve mentioned that the prose is descriptive. This could easily come off as overwrought, but it doesn’t—because every detail is filtered through the characters’ senses.

They both have rich inner lives, and both have story-bound reasons for noticing so much. Wisterly is a Hearthkeeper; her powers centre on comfort and warmth. With eyes trained—and divinely compelled—to notice and set things right, she isn’t going to miss a beat.

Similarly, Mhordredd’s a thief—a well-practised, well-polished one to boot. (Supple leather with stitching so fine as to be invisible—as the novel itself might put it—boot.)

Beyond that, the pair have the sort of chemistry you couldn’t cook up in a lab. The law won’t let you. I’ve asked. You could go it alone, but the cartels have the market cornered. And let’s face it, you ain’t the one who knocks.

The one who knocks over… maybe? Like tea, piping hot—all across your keyboard. But as for selling meth, you ain’t got it in you.

(Pete): Pull it together, man. And stop telling people you’ve “asked.”

Right. Right.

I’m saying they work well together. Bound by mutual need, decency, obligation, and genuine fondness—quickly forged, but believable all the same, they’re as distinct as two people can be. Yet despite their differences—or possibly because of them—their interactions never feel forced or unnatural. On the contrary, they’re electric together.

Love to see it.

Professional Prose:

I’ve already touched on the prose, so I won’t say much here. That said, it’s worth noting that for a web fiction, the writing would not be out of place on any bookshelf.

The prose is steeped in simile and metaphor, yet it never loses clarity. The novel oozes emotion. I’ve not come across many web fictions written this evocatively and effectively.

With a slight polish to smooth out a few typographical errors I noticed, What The Gods Left Behind could stand proudly on any shelf. In fact, I can picture it on mine—tucked between my copy of Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson and the detailed instructions for cooking crystal meth.

(Pete): Alright, I’m pulling the plug on this segment. I’m not letting you get arrested mid-review.

Story momentum and intrigue:

The narrative is steady, but it never loses momentum. At no point does the plot feel stalled. There’s no filler. No fluff. The story moves with purpose.

And it’s a good story too…

You take a magical priestess, all modest and refined. Slap her together with an outwardly daring—inwardly scarred—rapscallion thief, and set them to work stealing a powerful, divinely possessed, mischievous thingamabob. Throw in some divine orders, spiteful nobles, and shadily sprightful mystical performers, and you’re on the edge of your centrifuge—mind turning, desperate to see what happens next.

You know… while you wait for the meth to cook.

(Pete): NO! Absolutely not!

What Might Hold It Back?

Steady pacing and Professional Prose:

Don’t get me wrong—for me, this is a feature, not a bug. What The Gods Left Behind is marked by professionalism. The author is either very talented, very practised, or very well-read. In all likelihood, it’s all three.

But…it’s their polished, professional style that could put some readers off.

A lot of web fiction readers come looking for clean dopamine hits, rapid progression, and constant, action-packed scenes.

This story—it ain’t it.

There’s action, sure, and I assume there’ll be more as the story progresses. But it comes in measured beats, and only when the crescendo peaks.

Once again: that’s not a bad thing. But it does bear mentioning. This story deserves to be read. I’m hopeful—but equally sceptical—that it will find enough of its readership on sites like Royal Road.

Closing Thoughts

If you’ve read this review closely, it should come as no surprise that this novel gets ZERO STARS! I mean, it’s a mess—total and unmitigated.

Unless you actually read it.

Yeah…turns out reading flips the script. This story is, in fact, amazing.

I won’t tell you it’s for you—you know your tastes better than I ever could. But I can tell you, you’ll be hard-pressed to find such polished prose, mythically deep, character-driven writing on any web fiction platform.

It’s flagship material. The kind of story that launches an author’s career. While it might not have found its audience yet, there are always readers for quality work.

That’s what this is. Quality.

And when it takes off, Bardic Planet will be privileged to have played even a tiny role. Even if that role is simply encouragement for the author, and a message:

Keep going.

You’re on to something big.

I’ll keep watching this one—circle back—there’s so much more to say. A Full Verse Review, or even a Bardic Feature, might just be the most appropriate way to say it.

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