Maridah watched Liam sleep through the eyes of her avatar, watching his aura flicker and waver, revealing the inner turmoil that was developing within the mortal. It was not unlike what she’d seen within him the first time they’d met, and what had led to her initial suspicion of his intentions. It’d been that sliver of guilt when he’d called her name that first time, a feeling that had now blossomed within the span of just one conversation.

It did not make sense that he felt this way, but it wasn’t like she could get more out of him. The mortal had buried those answers under his otherworldly past. The nature of the burial had been a rite with Maridah herself being the enforcer, meaning she was also unable to break through that protection. At first, she’d thought this coincidental convenience to have been a fluke, but now it was clear it had been by design.

It might not have been the Weaver’s plan, but a deity was clearly involved. How else could a mortal have worked around Maridah like this?

She waited until his aura had calmed and the telltale signs of dreaming began to flicker into existence.

The Liam she’d observed these past few days had been an earnest human if perhaps a bit too obsessive. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a threat to Maridah. The human could’ve been instructed in how to get the significant pieces of his memory erased so as to ensure Maridah couldn’t arouse suspicion. His otherworldly origin could be equally falsified through some convoluted mental manipulation.

It was a long shot, but live long enough and you’d see a crazier assassination plot sooner rather than later.

Not like the alternative was easy to believe.

Maridah mulled on this as she moved closer. The distance wasn’t necessary; he was properly sleeping. She could begin creating and looking into his dreams if she so chose. It could wait a little though; she took her feline form and curled against his chest, trying to figure out what the best angle of approach would be.

Typically, she’d create a half-nightmare for him to wander through, one of fog and whispers, attempting to pull at the deeper recesses of his mind to fill in the blanks. Maybe… Yes, this merited a more serious consideration.

Maridah spread her attention to the aspects of herself that she’d planted throughout the jungle. With a thought, she connected to each of them, gathering them within a singular telepathic group-link. Each of the hundreds of aspects contained only fragments of her knowledge and experience, and though that made each individual aspect less capable than the original, it also presented the possibility for a broader spectrum of opinions to choose from. It was one of three councils of aspects she'd set up, each group created intentionally in such a way that they wouldn't be aware of the other's existence (because the last time she hadn't taken that precaution, they'd started sabotaging every meeting).

The Goddess sent out a clump of information to update them on the situation, and on the purpose of their presence within this council of thoughts.

“We should push him out of the nest he’s created, change the domain’s location, and have him venture out to find it. The threats he’ll face will force him to grow in the ways of the wild,” Hunter-Wolf-Maridah declared first among the voices. Her opinion didn’t receive any dissent, but there was also a lack of support.

“The barrier presented by his buried memories is double-edged,” Plotter-Spider-Maridah added in agreement. “The mortal clearly doesn’t know why he kept it buried; it shouldn’t be hard to push him to dig it back up.”

The gathered aspects agreed with Plotter's thoughts.

“He does not wish for you to take sapient form; there was a strong emotional reaction. We can create an implied deadline for him to confront that,” Social-Monkey-Maridah claimed. “If you start showing up in different animal forms, never repeating form twice, then we can make it clear we will eventually take a human one.”

“Too convoluted. Too wasteful,” Survival-Fly-Maridah buzzed in complaint. “We burned through too much energy with those tools. It will take us at least forty thousand years to regain it.”

“It will only take a decade to recoup the cost if his prophecy of war proves true,” Battle-Stag-Maridah stated, trying to impose her voice above the others. “If the aether-meteor is of the size he was imagining when giving that rumor wings…”

“We’re already training him under the assumption that his word was true,” Apathetic-Sloth-Maridah waved her off. “If he’s wrong, then it will be his own hand that’ll be burned. We have no need to do anything but observe.”

The words were met with an uproar, every other aspect lashing out with mixed emotions of fury and frustration.

“We’ve been hiding here under a rock, barely scraping by for two Ages!”

“Idle survival will get us nothing but a slow death!”

“Consuming Volkanar has given us a chance we cannot waste!”

Maridah sighed, not entirely surprised at how quickly things had devolved into bickering. With a push of her will, the aspects quieted, calming down and regaining their composure.

And in that silence, one voice dared to speak. “I want him to hug us more.”

It was… Maridah frowned as she realized it had not been an aspect but her own avatar who’d spoken out of turn. Unlike aspects, the consciousness avatars possessed were entirely dependent on whether the divinity was currently inhabiting them or not. Without Maridah to control her, the avatar was little more than a barely rudimentary mind capable of only enough thought and emotion to fulfill basic purposes.

The other aspects were equally surprised, and observed more carefully as the avatar presented no more words but rather opened herself for everyone to peer through her senses.

The cougar-shaped avatar was currently curled against the mortal’s chest, his arm draped over its furred form, fingers idly scratching her neck and ears. A strange warmth suffused through her, of basking under sunlight and sitting next to her sanctum’s altar at the same time. It was such an odd thing, stirring memories so old Maridah had not delved into them to keep from the sting they brought to her heart.

What was this strange sense of familiarity and comfort? Of safety?

The avatar was purring.

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“I… cannot sense divine intervention. The avatar is not under the influence of outside powers,” Paranoid-Cheetah-Maridah called out, her voice warbling with chirps and slight huffs, trying to remain tense and failing. Her worried call was corroborated by a few other aspects.

Maridah herself had pulled back to keep her own emotions as neutral as possible. Yet despite herself, there was a flushness within her.

“What if… he is what he claims to be?” Thoughtful-Turtle-Maridah posed the question openly for all to ponder.

“Do none of you recognize what the Avatar is experiencing right now?” Selfless-Seahorse-Maridah posed, her voice weak. Out of all aspects, hers had been the ones who’d remained more of a token presence meant for contrast and the odd outlier opinion. “What do you call when a young babe is-?”

“You cannot seriously be suggesting this is some kind of emotion born out of seeing him as a parental figure,” Stag spoke up. “We are older and more powerful than him by orders of magnitude. He is mortal. If anything, it should be the other way around.”

The Goddess nodded to the assessment, quietly allowing the counterpoints to be brought up and watching as the other aspects derided the opinion in its entirety. Yet she noticed Wolf, Cheetah, and Turtle had remained silent, their attention focused on the Avatar. Neither of them voiced an opinion, nor joined in the mild needling Seahorse went through, but instead privately shared twinges of concern amongst themselves.

It was time to reign things back in. “Anyway, about the dream-”

“We should reconsider our approach and leave the Twilight jungle,” Hesitant-Bat-Maridah proclaimed.

Maridah herself had been halfway through rolling her eyes when Wolf spoke up. “I agree.”

Every other voice in the gathering went deathly silent. Wolf had been amongst the stronger voices ever since the aspects had been made. It had been Wolf who’d pushed for the eradication of Vulkanar when the opportunity presented itself, and it had been her who’d designed the broad aspects of the assault as well.

So to hear her agree with Bat had come as a shock to them all.

“Elaborate,” Maridah commanded.

“My reasons are not founded in logic,” Wolf stated firmly.

“I wish to hear your thoughts anyway,” the Goddess declared.

It was a sentiment shared by all gathered there, though Turtle seemed to be nodding in apparent amusement.

“I… have come to trust Liam.” This earned her frowns and mild dissent from all around, something Wolf only shrugged at. “I trust he is not lying to us. Built from this, I trust his prophecy, and I trust that his capacity to disrupt fate is not a divine trick put there by someone else. With these two combined, the idea of leaving the Twilight jungle is reasonable. An aether-meteor like none before will breach the mortal realm and throw the world into disarray. Under the cloak of disturbed fates, we have an opportunity to hunt, to grow.”

“I-I second this.” Everyone collectively did a double-take as Cheetah threw her approval into the pool.

“There’s trusting, and then there’s this insanity. You’ve placed too much in a single mortal’s word!” Stag’s words were mirrored by the majority of the other aspects.

Yet Maridah could tell there were a fair share of others that remained quiet, contemplating Wolf’s words. She waited for them to quiet down, contemplating what had just transpired. She’d definitely go through a reintegration of all aspects before making any major decisions.

“The Weaver didn’t kill him,” the Stag brayed out. “Entangled fates or not, the death of a single mortal should not have been a cost she couldn’t have easily paid a thousandfold. This should be at least worth hesitating over such a move.”

“Are we sure it was a price she could’ve paid?” Turtle posited. “Main, have you been able to peer into the fates of those mortals who’d been in contact with him?”

Maridah answered with a negative. “I’ve kept a distance for obvious reasons, but when he got thrown overboard I had not been able to detect a shred of fate among the three of them. And other mortals on the boat showed similar… degradation.”

“We might not have the senses to peer into fates as well as She Who Weaves, but does an absolute lack of a fate not strike you as… terrifying?” Turtle spoke to every aspect gathered. “Would we not hesitate to interact with a mortal who can seemingly erase secrets? What if the mere act of sharing the same space could nullify our powers?”

There was a collective shudder at the concept. The thought of this being even a possibility was such a deviation that Maridah still couldn’t explain it.

“Is that why you’ve chosen to join Wolf in this?” Stag challenged.

Turtle shot the thought-equivalent of a half-nod. “I will have to ponder on the plan, but for now, I tentatively agree to it.”

“We know the Weaver is a coward,” Wolf sneered. “She does not act without being fairly certain of the outcome. Clearly, she wished for Liam to either die from the fall, or die at the hands of the jungle itself.”

“Or for us to take him in,” Stag countered with the exact same sneer.

“Either she can predict our actions so perfectly we might as well already put the noose around our necks and save ourselves the effort, or she cannot and this is our opportunity,” Wolf threw a fistful of will and intent around towards every other aspect. “I’d rather take the chance of success than the certainty of failure.”

Maridah wanted to sigh; it wasn’t much of a surprise that the whole thing had been derailed from its original goal. But dismissing the opinions of these aspects would be disingenuous and dangerous in equal parts. They were her, in the end, even if limited parts of herself with narrower views. To outright deny the origin of a thought when it came from yourself was a quick recipe towards insanity.

“And the matter of entering his dreams?” She threw out the question, trying to fish for any novel approach.

“Just go in there and fuck him,” Randy-Bunny-Maridah declared. “We might as well wrap him around our finger, nothing like a nice good-”

“I’m proposing the removal of Bunny from the meeting, all in agreement?” Stag immediately called out.

“Can’t a Goddess get some action over here!?” Bunny cried out in indignation. “Does anyone here even remember when the last time was that we-”

She was cut off by a unanimous vote to kick her out by the rest of the aspects, as well as Maridah herself. Okay, maybe not all thoughts were worth taking seriously. The Goddess left Bunny to stew and pout on her lonesome corner of the jungle while she sent a wave of will to the others.

“The question remains,” Maridah put forward.

“It appears the issue at hand is trust,” Turtle declared. “Under such a perspective, then this could be approached not as an attempt to extract information but to test him.”

“Good luck with that,” Stag rolled her eyes. “Every time we test him, he takes options we hadn’t considered he’d take.”

“And that in itself is a sign we understand him poorly,” Turtle nodded. “Or, perhaps, that he knows us better than we wish to admit,” She added with a glint of amusement in her voice. “That is a point he’s stressed a few times.”

“One born from bravado or ignorance.”

Turtle didn’t answer, seeming entertained by Stag’s frustration. Maridah knew the aspect wasn’t entirely wrong; Liam’s ability to seemingly predict where she’d place threats and secrets was… concerning. Whenever he learned something new, his uncanny ability to predict these things only appeared to become sharper.

In a way, it was exhilarating; it meant Maridah could create and hide more complex secrets. It meant that, given enough information and time, Liam could potentially be able to unearth not just Maridah’s secrets, but potentially those of any other divinity.

Yet at the same time, it made her hesitate, to think of the very words Turtle had voiced: how afraid would they be if he could unmake secrets rather than merely discover them?

Maridah reached a decision. She left the aspects to bicker amongst one another and potentially discover some possible new ideas.

Reintegrating into the avatar as well as the memories she’d gained while Maridah had been in the conference, the Goddess noted a small simple request had popped into the avatar as an absent thought.

One to not give the human a nightmare.

“Can’t make any promises,” she muttered, pooling her power and discreetly preparing herself. “Whether it’s a pleasant dream or not will be entirely up to him.”