“…all over now,” the soft words gradually began to resolve in my mind. “You’re safe now, Daughter.”
I felt Nentai’s hand gently stroking my brow as she spoke to me, and my vision finally began to coalesce, revealing the Goddess as she sat beside me. The deep look of concern etched on her face washed away, replaced by a warm smile of relief as my sense of awareness slowly returned.
“What… h-happened?”
“You survived, Dreya,” Nentai’s voice caught in her throat as she replied. “That’s all that matters.”
“What happened to Veroiá,” I hesitated. “What about… your mother?”
Although she’d told me the tale of Veroiá’s perceived passing, Nentai had never revealed to me how she felt about her mother. I could only imagine the renewed sense of loss she was feeling at that moment, made even more difficult to bear knowing that I’d been the one who’d truly killed the mother she’d never known. But Nentai didn’t answer my question, she only shook her head slowly in response as she glanced across the chamber.
Following the path of her gaze revealed to me that we were not alone. Huddled closely together on the far side of the room was the rest of the Pantheon, with Uthalan himself kneeling on the ground at their center. On the floor next to him lay a crumpled body, Veroiá’s body, or at least what was left of her.
Leaning heavily on Nentai’s shoulder, I forced myself up, and once I was on my feet, I walked slowly and somewhat unsteadily towards the All-Father. I was unsure of how he’d receive me, but I knew that I had to face the consequences of my actions at some point—to face Uthalan’s judgment for killing his wife.
The other Gods parted as I made my way towards him, recognizing the significance of the moment clearly as I approached. But Uthalan seemed to take no notice of me as I stood by patiently waiting for him to unleash his wrath, only staring silently at the unmoving figure on the ground beside him.
There wasn’t much left of her, even before I’d taken her life. All the damage I’d done to Veroiá had been internal, but the ravages of time and the toll of the bitter resentment she’d clung to over the many centuries left her little more than a withered husk of what she’d once been. Yet even in her decrepit state, I could see the beauty that she’d once possessed, recognizing some of the features she’d passed on to her children. Finally, after one last gentle brush of his fingers across her hollow cheek, Uthalan rose to face me, and with tears still streaming down his face, the All-Father pronounced my fate.
“The… thing you slew here was not Veroiá,” his voice was firm and resolute, despite the obviously difficult struggle Uthalan was waging with his emotions. “It was an abomination that had been holding her captive for far too long. We failed her—I failed her when she needed me most.”
The All-Father paused briefly, gathering himself for a moment before continuing again.
“You have put Veroiá’s troubled soul to rest, and for that, I thank you,” he stopped again before proceeding. “There is far more I should say to you now, but I cannot bring myself to do so. Your mother will stay with you to tell you the rest. I must go now and tend to Veroiá’s remains.”
With that, Uthalan knelt beside her body once more and gently lifted it from the floor where it had lain. Together, almost as one, Uthalan and his children shimmered and vanished before my eyes, all save Nentai, who remained beside me as Uthalan had promised.
“We can talk later, Mother,” I realized the significance of the event she was missing in order to stay behind with me. “You should be with your family.”
“I am with my family, Daughter,” Nentai reminded me with a smile.
“Although we were able to observe your confrontation with… her,” Nentai continued. “The restrictions we placed upon ourselves prevented any of us from aiding you. And you should know that I was not the only one who tried to break through those limitations. Set and several others, including my father, attempted to help you when we realized what was happening.”
That certainly came as a surprise to me—I would never have imagined that any of the Gods besides Nentai would have even considered fighting by my side, especially in a battle against Veroiá. Least of all Uthalan, who’d always seemed quite ambivalent towards me—to put it mildly.
“You mean far more to many of them than they let on, Dreya,” Nentai read my expression clearly. “Even more so now, considering what you’ve achieved.”
Despite the necessity of my actions, I didn’t consider killing my own Grandmother as any sort of achievement, and definitely not one that would bring me closer to the Pantheon.
“You didn’t tell me that you’d unlocked so much of the Godheart’s powers,” Nentai seemed to abruptly alter the course of our discussion.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I replied, confused by the sudden twist.
“During your fight, you unlocked its final aspect, Dreya,” Nentai explained. “That was what gave you the strength to defeat her.”
I guess that was the sudden surge of energy I’d felt at the end, right before Veroiá’s death.
“I can still feel it,” I rubbed my aching chest, feeling the deep pain that was still throbbing inside me.
“Yes, I imagine that it will take some time before the effects of absorbing Veroiá’s Essence will wear off,” she replied.
I stared at Nentai blankly for a moment at first, unsure that I’d heard her correctly. She only arched her brow back at me in return, waiting for me to respond in some meaningful way.
“What exactly happened to me, Mother?”
“You completely unlocked the Godheart, Dreya, and now we finally understand its true purpose,” she took my hands in hers as she spoke again. “When you defeated Veroiá, it allowed you to take on her Essence, the Essence of a Goddess. You’re no longer the child of the Pantheon, Dreya—you’re one of us.”
I felt my jaw moving, but not a single sound escaped me as the full meaning of Nentai’s words slowly penetrated my mind. As with so many profound revelations I’d had before, I immediately recognized the truth behind her words, yet I simply could not bring myself to accept it. Human, Sintári, Empress, and now… Goddess? The path of my existence in this world was suddenly laid bare before my soul. I had not simply been brought to life arbitrarily, nor had the Gods’ magic been the only force that had been guiding my actions. This world itself had played a part in making me who I was; in shepherding me down the path that I’d walked. Taking my place in the Pantheon was only the final step in that long journey; a voyage I’d been destined to make, but whose ultimate conclusion had been in my hands.
“I don’t know how to be… one of you,” I responded when my thoughts finally cleared.
“No, I imagine that you don’t,” Nentai replied, still gently gripping my hands. “That’s why I’m here with you.”
Epilogue
As I stepped out onto the wide balcony outside my chambers atop the Imperial Palace, I took in the expansive view of my Realm and the silhouette of Líann’s graceful figure standing beside the railing, outlined by the cool rays of the slowly dimming sun. Bane lay nearby as well, sprawled out across the smooth stone with his head perched atop the low wall, the light of his golden eyes intensified by the fading orange glow of the late afternoon.
Beyond them, the verdant fields and pastures of the valley stretched out far below, while the spires and towers of the vast Imperial City rose into the sky above. Although work was still being done there, after over a century of non-stop construction, it was finally nearing an end. In contrast, beneath that city, the valley was still much as it had always been—lush, green, and full of life; nurtured with care by the Dryad.
So much had happened since I’d returned from my confrontation with Veroiá—since the first time Nentai had shown me how to travel in the manner of the Gods. My people had thought I’d been lost when the mists cleared and they were unable to find me again, only for me to suddenly reemerge, shrouded in shimmering light.
T
hat was not the only thing Mother taught me—she remained with me for quite some time after my sudden ascension. My inclusion in the Pantheon removed many of the limitations that had previously restricted what she could teach me, and I learned a great deal from her over the next few decades. The ‘God magic’ she’d once spoken of was revealed to me during that time, and with its secrets came great power and even greater responsibility.
Mother also granted me my domain—the province of my power. While she was the Goddess of Vengeance, I was named Goddess of Justice, answering the calls of my people for righteous retribution. I couldn’t have asked for anything better than that.
Nentai was not the only member of the Pantheon to aid me in my transition. Although I’d become immortal, Líann was still quite vulnerable to any number of things, and I sought any aid I could find to protect her. Melía was the first to respond, teaching me how to craft armor that would shield my Táriel from harm. It wasn’t a simple process, and my first few attempts ended in utter failure, but I eventually created a set of armor worthy of her. Fashioned from supple leather tinted in Líann’s own forest-green color, it was far more powerful than even the armor Melía had given me. That was no slight on the Goddess’ skill, however. Melía work had suffered from the restrictions the Gods had placed on themselves; restrictions that did not apply to me. Having played no part in their ritual, I alone among the Pantheon was able to walk this Earth unfettered by those onerous limitations.
Being unrestrained by the Gods’ rituals, I’d established four new Realms within the Dark Lands’ former boundaries, including the first halfling Realm to exist on the mainland since The Forgotten Times. I had a special place in my heart for the halfling people, in no small part due to my love for Tási, so I took great pride in restoring them to a portion of their former glory.
My status as the newest member of the Pantheon had also paved the way for the revelation of my Tári. I wasn’t sure how it would have gone otherwise, but being a Goddess certainly seemed to smooth over any objections that might have been raised when we declared ourselves. Since then, my Tári had only gained more respect as their true role in all that had transpired became more widely understood.
The soft sound of children laughing echoed from somewhere below, breaking me from my reverie. I felt the corners of my mouth curling upwards as I recognized the playful sounds of Venna’s grandchildren on the balcony a few stories beneath us.
Stel and Venna still helped me administer my Empire, serving in the same roles they’d always had. But once the wars had finally ended, the two of them focused on starting a family, and Venna had given birth to three beautiful children; a son, Aereth, and twin daughters, Tháli and Raelle. All three had gone off adventuring for a time but eventually returned to the Imperial Palace to settle down and start families of their own. Raelle had given birth to twins of her own a few short years ago, and it was their laughter that had reached my ears.
Stel was reaching his late middle years and beginning to show his age. Streaks of stark white shot through his silver hair, and his handsome face bore creases that spoke of his many years. In contrast, Venna was still as beautiful as ever, unmarred by over a century of passing time. The bond between us had not only extended her life but preserved her youth as well.
Insleí too showed no indication of the passing years, although she was not unchanged. Her guarded demeanor had almost complete vanished, and I almost never caught a glimpse of the steely-gray color in her eyes. Only the warm blue tint ever stared back at me when we were together; occasions that still remained quite frequent.
Although Insleí and Venna remained with me, the ravages of time had finally caught up to Ella, taking her from me nearly twenty years ago. Her passing had not only wounded me deeply but also gave me insight into how I was affecting my Tári’s lifespan.
Ella had remained youthful and vibrant almost until the very end before aging rapidly. Although she’d lived well beyond the normal human lifespan, the years seemed to catch up with her in a matter of months. I could only watch helplessly as time finally took its toll on her, and sat by Ella’s bedside as she faded away, feeding her a gentle tendril of our shared V’Ríel while the light slowly faded from her eyes. Ella was the first friend I’d made in this world, and the pain of her loss struck me with every bit of force that Tási’s had, tempered only by the fact that I’d at least had some warning—a few precious months to both say farewell and prepare myself for the inevitable.
Ella hadn’t been the only loss I’d been forced to endure—Marli, Dalona, Georl, Travis, Annia, Jessah, and Irisse were among the countless others that had passed beyond this world and into the next over the many years. The pain of loss never seemed to lessen, but I’d learned to come to terms with it, at least to a certain extent.
Despite ascending to the Pantheon, I was still a Sintári, and it wasn’t long after Ella’s death that I met the Tári who would replace her by my side. Though I had no idea what to expect, I’d felt her approach—the pull of the V’Ríel that we would share called out to me like a beacon in the darkness. Honestly, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to meeting the woman—the pain of Ella’s loss still weighed heavily on my heart, but my hesitation melted away the moment I laid eyes on her.
The caravan she arrived with had traveled all the way from her homeland of Isouri. When the young woman was introduced to me for the first time, I almost didn’t need to hear her name. I’d met her before it seemed, or at least she was a near-perfect duplicate of the woman I’d once known, and I was struck once again by the way this world tied me to so many of its people.
“Princess Nadiel, Goddess,” Venna announced her to me. “Sister to the current Queen of Isouri, and great-granddaughter to her namesake, who you will remember, of course.”
My reservations vanished the instant I saw her, and I welcomed Nadiel wholeheartedly into my circle of Tári. Like her great-grandmother before her, Nadiel was an accomplished Evoker, and as my love for her grew, I did something I would have once thought inconceivable; I gifted her with the Robes of the Evoker—Tási’s Robes.
They’d been sitting in one of the pockets of The Forest Cloak for over a century, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to bestow them upon anyone else; the heavy burden of the memories they carried was too much for me to bear. But something about Nadiel cried out for me to finally yield. I cannot say whether it was because she too was a halfling, or if it was the passage of time that had worn down my resolve, but when Nadiel put those Robes on for the first time, I knew that I’d made the right decision.
I’d felt less and less of Tási as the decades passed, and during the rare occasions that I still found her, I had the impression that she’d begun to move on, just as I had. We’d never truly forget each other, but each of us had new lives that drew our attention. I knew that if I ever truly needed her, she’d be there for me, just as I would for her; until then, we both had other, more pressing concerns. I only hoped that Tási’s brought her as much joy as most of mine did.
So much had happened since I’d ascended to the Pantheon, yet in my mind, the most momentous event of all still lay ahead of me—directly ahead of me, in fact. Crossing the space between us, I banished my thoughts of the past and considered the future instead. As I walked up behind Líann, I wrapped my arms around her, taking in the setting sun as I let my hands rest across the gentle swell of her belly.
“She’s been kicking a lot today, Dreya,” Líann smiled, kissing my cheek as I rested my head on her shoulder.
It had taken me decades to unravel the mysteries of having a child with Líann, something both of us had come to want almost desperately. Watching Venna’s children and then grandchildren, along with so many others grow up all around us had only strengthened that desire. Líann loved me more than anything, yet even as a Goddess, it seemed I was unable to grant her that one simple wish. Nothing I tried seemed to work; every tendril and thread I sent her failed to take root. I began to wonder if it was simply impossible�
��if I lacked the power to accomplish the task. Then something within me had spoken, telling me what it was that I needed to do.
Although I’d never heard the voice before, I recognized it instantly. It was Veroiá herself reaching out to me, the small part of her that still remained within the Essence I’d captured from her dying form. But this wasn’t the voice of the twisted woman I’d slain—it was Veroiá’s true self, restored to her former glory when I’d banished the darkness from her soul. Tears fell from my face as I heard my grandmother’s soft words telling me how I could give Líann the one thing we both wanted more than anything else, and then she was gone, banishing herself from my mind once her task was complete.
I found comfort in knowing that I hadn’t actually destroyed her completely. I still held some small part of Veroiá deep within me—the good part of her; the part of Veroiá that had sacrificed everything she had for the sake of her children. The part that had told me how Líann and I could have children of our own. That very night I’d sent a simple, unadorned thread of my Essence into Líann, just as Veroiá had instructed. I’d felt the spark of life ignite within her as we lay together, and its light had only grown brighter with each passing week.
Our daughter would know a world without war, where people were free from tyranny and senseless violence. I hadn’t been able to banish all the evils from Arrika; there were still the wild lands between the Realms where bandits and foul creatures lurked in the shadows, but for most, this world had become a much safer place. Although I continued to try and make things even better, it was a world I was proud of; one that I was happy to bring our daughter into.
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