The air in the room crackled with power as each god targeted half of those gathered and directly spoke to their mind, streaming a complex strand of images and calculations into each. Inspiration hit those gathered, as well as small bursts of anger or hope. "This spell would kill us, every one! And both of you as well, even gods are able to die. What you propose is suicide!" The outburst, from a young human, who would have spent decades gathering the power he now held in another age, held both disbelief and a note of fear that was mirrored in most of the others. Hope had long since left those present, and all wished to go out with a fight.
Both gods nodded, the brother speaking after a moment. "Yes, you will all die, and even if my sister and I were to survive, our time would be even more limited; we barely exist now with as few worshipers as we have, and many of our kin have already fallen. What we offer is a chance that some shall live, some to remember this sacrifice, and some to begin anew." A rain of fire began outside, the land itself was beginning to resemble the hells and abyss that its conquerors had crawled out of. "We have searched far, and one greater than us guided our search. The conditions are right, this world will support a number of races, is young, and will seal itself shortly. Our people may yet be safe there."
Several of those gathered began to nod, fey and ogres, orc shamans, human and elven wizards, and even an ancient lillend. All gathered were among the most potent channels of magic their world had seen in ages, and all tired from long years of fighting an endless enemy. The lillend spoke, a haunting voice etched with a tiredness few deities would have known. "I will support the spell. Better a few with a chance, than none at all." Others began to voice their support, among them, finally, the young man who had initially voiced disbelief.
The goddess took them all in and nodded. "I will keep the memory of this event and our world alive, I promise you this. Our people have a fighting chance there. Thank you all for this sacrifice." And so, over the next day, the great ritual was begun. A few groups of beings would be saved from the damned planet, not many, not even most, but a remnant. The blood of twin gods would be spilled, their power mingled with mortals and then expired in a single moment to shunt the fortunate few into a world unknown. A slender birch tree in the room twitched. The world ended as a red sun rose from the dawn.