“You know…” Liam clambered forward, feet sinking into hot sand as he nearly toppled over for the tenth time since trying to move up the dune. “I appreciate that you threw me here with gear on, but you could’ve at least given me a chance to say goodbye. Or at least to have breakfast.”

“I am certain the Amil is ever so distraught at your absence, but there was a short window of opportunity.” Maridah replied through a voice only he could hear.

Waking up in the middle of the desert under the blazing hot sun was not a fun experience. It was almost a flashback to the missjump he’d done back in the Caliphate’s capital, but this time he knew exactly where he was: the edge of the Three Deserts.

As with many other places, the name probably had a far more fantasy-sounding name when translated to the local language.

“And what…” He covered his mouth with the sash, fighting to move slowly and avoid sliding off. “Was that window of opportunity?”

“The storm stalled earlier than expected.” She answered. “If I didn’t bring you in, then we’d risk you getting caught up in it once it reached full force once more.” Maridah sighed. “At this pace, we just might make it without trouble, but you shouldn’t delay.”

The Three Deserts were known for two things aside from its sheer size occupying a third of the continent, splitting it in half. One was the hot sand, which though might seem nothing out of the ordinary, in some places it got hot enough it glowed red-hot. It was a phenomenon that occurred thanks to an indiscriminate amount of fire-based monsters in the area, with their dens being the worst offenders in terms of high temperatures. The second were the storms. The extreme hot-spots helped create massive and often unpredictable sandstorms the size of a medium country. They could rage anywhere between a few days to months. The storms would remain fixed near the monster dens during summer, and as winter approached, the weather patterns would grow and roam all over the desert and its surroundings.

“What does it look like I’m doing here? Dancing?” Despite the supposedly specialized gear, his boots still sank into the sand up to his knees with every step. And it wasn’t as if he’d intentionally picked the worst route available, there just weren’t any alternatives. “I swear you dropped me off here because you want to see me suffer.”

“If I’d wanted you to suffer, I would’ve dropped you at the toe-eater ants. They are not that far from here.”

“What are… you know what? I’ll throw in a bone and say I appreciate having all my toes.” Liam still grumbled as he kept climbing up the sand-dune, mostly certain he had an idea of what bug she meant, but preferring to keep a healthy distance from them.

He would’ve preferred if the Goddess dropped him off next or in the nearest corner of civilization, but that would’ve proven impossible without some deity or another noticing.

Fortunately, their destination was very far off from the nearest temple of the Weaver. Still, the Goddess of Fate would likely detect his presence sooner rather than later, at which point the question would be whether she’d be willing for them to have another confrontation or not. Liam was betting on the latter. The Weaver was extremely risk-averse, it’s how she got this far in life, and it’s what allowed her to set up the empire of control she now boasted.

Meaning that, without a “cure” for Liam’s fatelessness, she was unlikely to try something this soon. Though all of this was just guesswork on his part. For all he knew, Thalgrim just might snap and deploy a tactical divine nuke on him, consequences be damned. It was for that express purpose that Liam had a flea-sized aspect hiding within his hair. To be more precise, the aspect that’d been exploring this far out. The tiny thing had just enough power in it that it could sacrifice itself to teleport Liam back to Doeta.

However, their goal was to jump back with “Khalid al-Ashtar” on the passenger list.

Another convenience was that Maridah could project herself through the aspect.

“Head a little further to the left.” The GPS Goddess proclaimed.

“You know, you could just cast a small illusion to point me in the right direction.”

“I… had not thought of that.” She commented, and a moment later he saw a red dot blot out a bit of the horizon.

“You haven’t fully integrated with your memories have you?” he frowned slightly as he adjusted his heading, now that he was on top of the dune, he just needed to worry about the scorching sun.

“It’s been two whole Ages since this world has last seen a computer, Liam.” She chided. “The Triumvirate throne has poked its fair share of holes. It isn’t the most comfortable of experiences to sift through what’s left.”

He nodded along. It was part of the monumental process that would start when a pantheon of Gods lay claim to the Triumvirate Throne. A whole lot of knowledge would be eradicated, with very few things falling through the cracks. It was why ancient ruins of previous Ages were so coveted, as they could sometimes hold bits and pieces of things that had been long since forgotten.

“I know how computers work, by the way.” He chirped up. “I’m no expert in technologies, but I’d be happy to share what I’ve got in that department.”

“How generous of you.” Maridah’s voice carried with it an impression of someone poking his head. “Especially when you know electronics and high ambient mana don’t mix well.”

“It’s not insurmountable. Maybe one day I’ll get to experience the internet again,” he said, hopeful.

The following silence had Liam wondering whether the Goddess was seriously considering it or not. He had no doubt in his mind that someone like her would absolutely be able to figure out a way to put together a budding industrial revolution. There was, however, one budding question that lingered.

“Would the world survive the attempt?”

Liam chuckled awkwardly. “I guess it wouldn’t.”

To go through an industrial revolution, even a magical one, the civilization and deities in question would need to fight through a LOT of monsters. The continent-killing kind of monsters. Out of all the current deities in this world, Maridah was one of few Gods that knew just how hard that was.

“Do you care about our success?” The question was abrupt, left lingering in the air as he sensed Maridah’s gaze sharply on him.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I get the distinct impression that you wish for me to win, but not by too much.”

He flinched at the accusation, scratching the back of his head. “You’re not exactly wrong. I don’t want to see you dead, but at the same time I don’t want to see you become the God Empress of the world.”

“You’re saying it’s possible.” Her tone darkened. “And that you alone decide who sits on the throne.”

“I’m saying that it’s best if you kill me rather than risk any deity getting me into their sanctum.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Oh.” Though Maridah was nothing more than an illusory voice in his ear, he got the distinct impression of sheepish awkwardness. “I’m sorry for pushing that.”

Taking a deep breath through cloth while feeling the blistering heat biting at his skin, Liam stopped. With a sigh, he turned his back to the sun, if just to keep himself from being blinded. “Look.” He knew Maridah was technically on his head, but it felt better to just assume she’d been behind him all along. “You ruled mortals, even you should know the importance of making sure no one individual gets too powerful. And I know you’re a Goddess, but it’s the same principle.”

“Yet you advocated I turn my following into one that saw no alternatives but myself.”

“Sure, but mostly to protect yourself. There are going to be deities that can and will hijack the faithful of other Gods for their own.” He sighed. “Actually, there are going to be a LOT of things coming out that’ll make being a God a very dangerous prospect.”

“Wh-” Maridah had been about to speak the question before coming to a stop. “It is the only way the Weaver can die.”

“Not the ONLY way, just that I saw it fit to make extra sure she and the rest of the pantheon had no way of surviving in the long term.” Liam uncorked the waterskin and took several long refreshing gulps. “The best way to kill someone like the Weaver is to do a Kobayashi Maru and ensure there’s no way to win. At least that was my general line of thought at the time.”

“I see.” She spoke with an irritated edge. She was not one to particularly enjoy when he spoke of events to come as if they’d been propped by his hand. “And would that have put my life at risk?”

“Kind of. In the original version, you would’ve been made to leave the jungle, but you would’ve kept to yourself until you-” He clamped his mouth shut. “Until you died.”

“This is that thing you mentioned.”

“Yes, the one I can’t tell you about.” Liam turned back towards the red dot on the horizon. “Anyway, better get moving. I don’t want to get caught in the storm.”

Even in her silence, Maridah didn’t seem too convinced by his attempt to disengage, but she didn’t press further.

And thus Liam’s sand-walking torture continued.

----------------------------------------

The sandstorm reached them before Liam could get to the destination. Hurricane like winds constantly threatened to knock Liam over as he pushed forward. The sand blasted into his face, not an ounce of refreshment to be found as the air only became drier and hotter, as if he’d been trapped into an oven. If not because Maridah could point him in the right direction, he would’ve been forced to bunker down and wait however many days were left before the storm took another break.

Days he didn’t have, because he’d only brought enough to last until he made it to the oasis. Because when moving through the Three Deserts, you either moved with speed, or a caravan. It was part of the reason why, in the end, no one else had been brought over.

The other part was that if shit hit the fan, Maridah would not be able to guarantee the safety of anyone other than Liam.

And there were many things that could hit many fans.

“This way!” A voice called out, screaming into the howling winds. The relative position it occupied was marked by the blinking red dot the Goddess had helpfully provided.

In the hours since arriving, Maridah had gone out of her way to play around with her illusions, creating a down and proper “hud” that let Liam see his way forward even when he’d covered his eyes entirely. It’d been a very helpful gesture to at least slightly reduce the amount of sand and heat he had to swallow.

“You should consider adding subtitles.” He mumbled as he stumbled his way forward.

“The gal of asking alone would’ve gotten other mortals turned to paste.”

“Is a city-crushing helping hand too much to ask?” He tried to laugh, but it only came out as a cough, dragging his feet through the sand, fighting to keep himself upright. “You get paid vacations, extra sick days, and dental.” Maybe the heat was getting to him, but he’d felt a little happy to finally be able to share that kind of comments and not need to attach an explanation of what he meant. “Also, thanks for… this.”

“This?”

“Banter.”

“Your face might be strikingly similar to the God I once called friend, but it is not I who brings that burden into our interactions, Liam.” She blatantly lied, holding a haughty tone of self-imposed superiority. “You lifted some of your burden during our brief spat. I hope one day you will be rid of it entirely. I do miss how we interacted back in the jungle.”

“Back then you saw me as a prospective pet project.”

“I do so still.” The Goddess declared, then laughed, a sound not unlike murmuring streams and shifting soft silks. “My burdens are in your mortality. I am certain that will pass once I’ve known you for longer than one of my naps.”

Liam didn’t answer, pensive as he glanced off into the distance. The Goddess didn’t interrupt his pensiveness, though he could feel her attention upon him like

The Goddess did not answer his little joke, the judgemental stare was felt through the silence.

“Over here!” The voice rang through the whirlwind once more.

Liam stumbled through a tent, breathing his first breath of cool air in the day, body slumping down in exhaustion as he started to remove the layers of protection. Sand pooled at his feet and Liam finally let out a gasp, sitting down and looking around the tent.

There were a dozen draxani in the tent, scaled muzzles staring at him with slit pupils and wide blinking eyes. A soft pale blue light illuminated the cramped dark space from above, the sound of the storm muffled as it howled from the outside.

“Thanks.” Liam managed between coughs, bringing out his waterskin and taking liberal gulps to quench his parched throat. “So… who’re you?”

“Helpers.” Maridah spoke, and this time her voice echoed within the tent. Instantly, all the draxani present bowed their heads. “They’ll aid in whatever is needed of them.”

“It is as the Whisperer says.” One of the lizard-folk spoke, raising their head enough to meet Liam’s eyes. “We are but humble folk, our lives would’ve been forfeit if not for her Divine Intervention. We owe her everything, even-”

“No dying on the job.” Liam cut off, making a mental note to ask for their names properly after Maridah was done being all ‘God’ about this encounter. “Care to elaborate on what they meant?”

“One can always find mortals that have slipped through the cracks of society and are down in their last legs.” Maridah’s voice did the equivalent of a shrug. “Gods could’ve fixed that, but this pantheon is too off-hands about things. I’ve just chosen to gather that which the others have not put to use.”

“That’s a cult alright.” He sighed, shaking his head, turning to look at the gathered draxani. It was a gathering of what looked like both men and women. No children, but a few had graying scales. “The help’s appreciated either way. First thing’s first, we need to get to the city. After that, I’ll have to figure things out as we go.”

“Do you not know the path already, oh Messiah?” Maridah mocked in his ear, a taunt that earned wide eyes from the others gathered in the tent.

“Khalid’s a character I fleshed out quite well, but that doesn’t have any historically important events in his life until two or three years from now.”

“Like that elf hero?”

Liam visibly shuddered. “No. This one’s different. It’s someone I’d actually bothered to properly build up. His character is well established by this point of the timeline.” He furrowed his brows. “I know what I’m walking into this time.”

“Would he happen to be under the Weaver’s touch?”

“More like he ran his usefulness for her. He was a tool to get what she wanted, and seeing how much of a pain he’d be to keep around, she just threw a metaphorical wrench and metaphorically tucked him somewhere he couldn’t be a bother.” A small wave of his hand followed as he sat up, taking another long gulp of water and shaking off some sand he’d missed. “So with that in mind, we’re going to need information. And more importantly, a way for us to meet him.” Reaching into his sack, he pulled out four six-sided dice. “Anyway, it seems we’ll be waiting here for a bit. Who wants to play some bone-rattlers?”

Presented with one of the traditional Trovan game of chance, the draxani glanced at each other in hesitation.

“We’ll bet stories,” Liam said without missing a beat nor waiting for confirmation. “And I invite Maridah to play, too.”

“You must be kidding.” She spoke in his ear. “I’m a Goddess.”

“Fine, be boring.”

No sooner had he spoken the taunt that Maridah formed a collective illusion of her “materializing” into the room. She’d taken the form of a draxani, with ebony scales and blazing eyes, taller than everyone else in the room, and dressed in the finest silk robes.

The instant she did, every draxani in the room bowed deeply, foreheads meeting the ground as they all wailed, whimpered, and yelped.

“You’ve challenged a Goddess.” She spoke, voice rumbling through the air. “Be ready to-”

Liam poked her snout, finger passing through the space it occupied, only empty air meeting his touch.

“This is just something to spend the time.” He crossed his legs. “Let’s have some fun.”