Maryal stood quietly in the garden, her eyes resting on the patch of overturned earth where Raiking had once waged his memorable battle against the turnips.
This small square of soil was enveloped in a profound silence that seemed to press against her ears. Here, she had laughed the most, watching a deity struggle with the basics of farming. Yet, it was also where the quiet had reclaimed its stronghold on her life.
Her thoughts drifted back to that evening, a year ago.
Raiking had been toiling in the field, his sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on his brow. Suddenly, he paused. He didn't turn to look at her; instead, his gaze shifted skyward, his eyes tracking something beyond mortal comprehension.
"I must return to the Sect," he said, his voice starkly devoid of its usual lightheartedness.
"Why?" she asked, feeling her heart sink.
"The organization is in turmoil. If I am gone too long, the monsters in my Guild will run rampant, and who knows what chaos they might unleash upon this world."
She found herself at a loss for words until he made the proposition she had been dreading.
"Come with me."
She yearned to say yes. Oh, how she yearned to say yes. But as she looked at him—a being of immense power trying to fit into her peaceful, pacifist world—she realized a harsh truth. Her way of life was at odds with his reality.
Could I really ask a Guild of Monsters not to cultivate? she pondered. Could I ask a dragon to tread softly on the grass? Could I compel a demon to sip tea in silence?
She glanced at her own delicate hands.
Am I selfish enough to drag him down to my level? Would his subordinates scorn him for yielding to a mortal so fragile she could shatter in the wind? Would his enemies use me as leverage against him?
These questions tormented her mind in that fleeting moment. She looked deeply into his dark eyes, searching for a reason to be selfish, but finding only duty.
Finally, she gathered the strength to lie.
"No."
He frowned, his pride wounded by her refusal. He stepped forward. "I can assign guards. The Storm Dragon—"
"I do not want guards, Raiking. I cherish the quiet."
He was naturally assertive, a man accustomed to seizing what he desired from the universe. But confronted with her gentle, unwavering refusal, he was left speechless.
"I will be fine," she reassured him.
It was a lie. They both knew it. But what choice did he have? He couldn't compel her, and she couldn't follow him.
"That was the last time I saw him," Maryal whispered to the empty field.
The cold night air finally penetrated her clothes, pulling her back to the present. She turned away from the memory of his retreating figure and stepped inside the cottage. The house was empty. The chair across from her table stood vacant, and dust was already beginning to settle.
She walked to the bedroom, prepared to wrestle with her thoughts until the mercy of sleep took her.
---
[11 Hours Later]
When Maryal awoke, the morning sun was just beginning to bleed through the cracks in the shutters. She walked into the living room to find the Goddess already sitting exactly where she had been the night before.
Her divine radiance made the chipped wood of the table and the worn furs on the floor look even more desolate.
"Have you made your decision?" the Goddess inquired, her voice gentle yet resonating with the timelessness of eternity.
"I will do it," Maryal replied, taking a seat across from the deity.
Their gazes locked, eliminating the need for lengthy explanations or justifications. The Goddess did not need to probe Maryal's thoughts to understand her motive; they both cherished the same man. One adored him for his power, the other for his humanity. Why squander words when the heart had already surrendered?
The Goddess lifted her hand.
A pill materialized in midair, hovering between them. She then released the seals on the Soul Lamps. The golden light of Creation and the inky darkness of Destruction emerged, twining around the small sphere.
"Law of Maternity," commanded the Goddess.
The very fabric of space twisted. A stone slab, inscribed with luminous ancient runes, appeared above the table. The force emanating from the Law sent a shiver down Maryal's spine, a primal instinct warning her of the formidable force she was about to invite into her womb.
What she anticipated would be a lengthy process concluded in mere moments. The slab dissolved into light, imbuing the pill with a volatile, crackling energy.
"Take it," the Goddess instructed as the pill drifted toward Maryal.
She cradled it in her palm. It bore the weight of a thousand galaxies, resonating with immense potential.
"Before I take it, I have one condition."
"Speak."
"The child," Maryal said, her grip firming around the pill. "I want to name her."
"What name do you propose?"
"Faye."
The Goddess tilted her head. "After the Fae spirits?"
"After the responsibility of light their species carries," Maryal clarified, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "Because even the smallest light can guide a wanderer home."
The Goddess nodded solemnly. "Very well. Her name shall be Faye."
Maryal did not waver further. She raised her hand and swallowed the pill.
---
[Present Day - The Divine Realm]
As Maryal ingested the pill in the vision, the fragments of reality surrounding Raiking began to dissipate. The memory evaporated like mist, swept away by the high-altitude winds of the capital.
Raiking hovered, unmoving, in the sky.
The anger he once harbored toward the Goddess had transformed into a profound, hollow ache. He finally comprehended the complete truth. Maryal hadn't just died; she had offered herself as a vessel to bridge the gap between a creator and a destroyer, all to give him a reason to stop running.
"Faye," Raiking whispered, the name tasting different now that he knew its origin. The light to guide a wanderer.
"Master."
Ezmelral materialized from the air next to him. She didn't appear as the terrifying Sword Spirit, but in her human form, looking at him with deep concern. She had felt the turbulence in his soul through their bond.
"You are troubled by the Goddess's truth," she stated softly.
"I am troubled by the manipulation," Raiking corrected, his voice low. "To think my life... my choices... were merely threads in a loom I did not weave."
Ezmelral shook her head. "Does the origin of the thread matter more than the tapestry it creates?"
Raiking looked at her.
"Even if destiny brought you to the cottage," Ezmelral continued, "it was not destiny that made you stay. It was not destiny that made you pick up the shovel. And it is not destiny that makes you worry about the baby right now." She placed a hand on his arm. "What matters is not how we met, but what we do with the time we have."
Raiking let out a long breath. The Sword Spirit was right. Maryal had played her part, but the pen was now in his hand.
"You are becoming wise, Ezmelral."
"I learned from the best."
"Come," Raiking said, his demeanor hardening back into the Guild Master. "Let us collect Libinea and leave this place. I have had enough of gods today."
He turned to descend, but the air around them suddenly grew heavy. It wasn't the gentle starlight of the Goddess; it was the crushing, authoritarian weight of a Ruler.
The clouds parted in a circle of gold.
"Going so soon?" a voice boomed.
Descending from the golden halo was a figure clad in armor so bright it hurt to look at. He sat upon a floating throne of swords, his presence demanding absolute submission.
The Divine Emperor had arrived.