As promised, here is an excerpt about the Archons and how they interact with each other.
The Celestial Halls
Six human-like figures wrapped in silver robes sat facing each other, three on each side, from opposite sides of a rectangular chamber lit only by torches. They sat on marble thrones with a number ranging from two to seven engraved over their heads on the back. The seventh figure sat at the front of the hall, facing the other six.
Tension sizzled between the seven archons, the guardians and acting gods of the world they had created. Silence permeated the room as the Time Archon, the figure sitting with the numeral one engraved over his head, contemplated the issue facing each of them.
For centuries, the archons had sat like that, considering how they could bring their world back into order. After the druids and sliders had driven the ruling faerae from the seat of power, Meridian, nothing had been the same. A section of the world had closed itself off, the faerae had gone into hiding, races had been either wiped out or nearly wiped out, and the druids were spreading a dark power across the world.
“This has gotten far out of hand,” the Time Archon said in a soft, silvery voice. He looked at each of them intently. As the ruler of time and infinity, he ruled over each of them, and often regretted who he was. The six archons before him each had very volatile tempers and conflicts constantly arose among them. “Balance must be restored, wouldn’t you say so, Harmony?”
The fourth archon turned her silvered head to him and regarded him with silver eyes. As the guardian of equality, she was always calm and fair and gave each their fair share. “Do not ask that of me, Time. I can do nothing. Balance must be restored, of course, however the time has not yet come for it.”
“You speak true, Harmony,” the Time Archon acknowledged.
“Well, something must be done,” the White Archon burst out. The patron of goodness, she despised the Dark Archon and plotted to bring the faerae back to Meridian. “The faerae were faithful worshippers and good rulers. Their place in Meridian must be restored. The world cannot go on unless they take their rightful place.”
“Perhaps now is the time for the druids to take their turn,” the Dark Archon said darkly from his seat beside her.
The White Archon turned to the sixth archon with a glare. “I will not tolerate that, Dark. The faerae are the rightful rulers. We chose so collectively when we created the world and the races.”
“That is true,” the Nature Archon murmured in their strange, collective male and female voice.
“But now we enter a new time and age,” the Dark Archon argued. “It is time for change, revolution. The druids will help that along.”
“Do you forget, Dark, that we decided the faerae would be the perpetual rulers?” the White Archon replied, seething, her pale hands fisted atop the armrests of her throne.
“It is time for change, White.”
As the two argued, the third archon, the Gray Archon, and the seventh archon, the Spirit Archon turned to look at each other with matching silver eyes that were heavy with discomfort. The guardians of peace and the Life Stream, respectively, they tended to stay out of conflicts and the affairs of the other archons. Both shifted their eyes to the Time Archon, who turned to nod to each of them gravely. Together, with the Time Archon, they were the three oldest guardians.
“Peace, Archons,” the Time Archon said softly, effectively silencing the White and Dark Archons. “What do you have to say, Gray Archon?”
“Only this: peace must be restored among us.”
“That’s it?” the Dark archon angrily burst out. “Centuries of this very argument and that’s all you can say now?”
“Peace, Dark Archon,” the Nature Archon said softly, it’s strangely toned voice echoing in the sudden silence.
“What say you, Spirit Archon?” the Time Archon asked, turning to the guardian of the Life Stream.
The Spirit Archon looked at the Gray Archon and she nodded her silvered head with a small smile on her lips. The Spirit Archon returned the bow and turned his eyes upward.
“I think it is time to ascend and leave the creatures to their own devices.”
“Abandon them, you mean,” the White Archon said, slitting her eyes at the older archon. “We cannot do that.”
“Why?” the Harmony Archon asked.
“Do you have any idea of what might happen if we cannot intervene?”
“I doubt it could be any worse than it is now,” the Nature Archon said humorously.
“That is entirely not what I meant, Nature!”
“White,” the Time Archon said serenely. “If we intervene, we run the risk of making things worse. If we do not intervene, but instead ascend, the pull between good and evil will be lessened and peace will descend much faster.”
“What do you mean, the pull between good and evil?” the Dark Archon demanded.
“Dark, you and White are the two newest archons, created out of the need for balance that could not have otherwise arisen. That newness alone has created an incredible power, a tug of war that grows ever more powerful as each sunrise comes. The only way to lessen that pull, which will in turn lessen the tension on the world and promote peace, is for both of you to ascend, but we all must either ascend or not ascend. Gray is right. We must ascend.”
“Not I,” the Dark Archon said, standing from his throne and moving to the center of the hall.
The Time Archon rose. “What is the meaning of this, Dark?”
“It means I leave your fold. The Dark Archon will do this his own way!”
A darkness settled over the hall and when it cleared away, the sixth archon was missing and the remaining six archons were on their feet.
“So be it,” the Time Archon said softly. “From this moment forth, the Dark Archon is a fallen guardian and it is up to us to restore order both among ourselves and our world. At any and all costs.”