I'm a well read grad student who's bluntly honest about all things, although I try to be most honest about myself.
Every ninety years, twelve gods return, although the Pantheons - and there are multiple Pantheons in this universe - are much, much larger. It's kind of a crapshoot of who will return and when.
There's this old lady who's given up everything to take care of them, and she soothes them, and even takes them down when they go too far. She's got powers of her own. And the gods, well, they come in bright and hard and they burn out fast: within two years, they die, but they're all super famous performers. The general world knows about the twelve of the Pantheon's returning.
This is kind of a mystery, and kind of not. It's kind of just about living. It's kind of a fantastic fantasy, it's kind of a horror story, and it's kind of more. It's hard for me to put into words, because I devoured this, and then asked myself what the fuck I'd just read.
I don't know. I still don't know, but I do know this. It was perfect and I want more.