Before we’ve even turned the last corner in the hedge maze, my wife is already quietly growling. And I let her as I keep pulling us along.

…

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but they don’t look intimidating at all. They’re just some humanlike in a red dress with black lace, a parasol set to one side and a wine flute in their hand.

…And that is definitely not wine. I recognize it from that… vision or whatever I’d had years ago, of that dark pantheon gala Astraea once attended.

Especially from how it’s gradually clotting. I wonder how long it’s been in open air.

I absentmindedly lick my lips.

And they look up as if expecting us. Because I’m sure they were.

“Well!” they say in a rich trill with a lilt I feel like I can almost place, on the edge of my mind. “I wasn’t sure if you would visit. Your guard dog certainly seems against it, I’d say.”

“Don’t call her that,” I snap.

The unidentified god…dess raises her hands defensively. “Oh be still, child. I meant no harm.”

Artemis certainly doesn’t feel like she believes her.

“Why did you call me here?” I ask flatly. “To talk?”

“Of course,” she matter-of-factly replies, and takes a sip from her glass after giving it a gentle swirl.

And then she smirks.

I can’t help but feel a little impatient. “What?”

“You think I can’t tell. You probably aren’t even aware of it yourself, are you?”

I blink and glance at my wife, but her eyes are absolutely locked on our… host, I guess?

“Here,” she half growls. “How?”

“Oh, the same way I always do, through the front door,” our host starts, but then catches herself. “Right, yes, you haven’t been here in… what is it now, eleven hundred years give or take? You’ve truly let your reputation go, haven’t you? No matter though. I’m not here for you, not today.”

“Why?” my wife continues.

With a soft chuckle, the red-clad goddess answers. “For her.”

“Me?” I ask confusedly. “Why? What do you want from me?”

She stares flatly stares at me for a moment, before huffing a short breath through her nose. “You truly don’t know.”

I stare back just as flatly.

“No. You don’t. You really don’t. Color me surprised,” she mutters before absentmindedly glancing at her glass.

And my eyes follow hers toward it.

“Yes, that. That is certainly part, yes? I know you can’t resist it. You never could, child.”

“Resist what?”

She snaps her fingers and another flute materializes from nowhere on the edge of the table closer to us. “Come closer, I won’t bite. Not you, anyway.”

Artemis still hasn’t taken her eyes off the other goddess, but I genuinely don’t feel any hostility.

So I step forward.

“There, that’s a good girl. Take it. You’ll feel better.”

I blink, and then realize I’m already holding the flute… and it’s half empty. The metal tingle of its contents dance on my tongue.

I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Exquisite, no?”

…

“Yes, actually,” I say absentmindedly.

…

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

…

And I blink.

What…

What is this?

“The blood of a god,” she quietly intones.

…

A rush of memories washes through my mind… mostly disjointed, but some decidedly clear.

Maybe too clear.

My wife tugs at my arm, radiating a tinge of panic and more fear than before.

“It’s… it’s fine,” I lightly say. “It’s fine.”

“Well of course it is,” Lamashtu answers.

Oh.

Do I… know her? I think I know her.

She offers a knowing smile, a much kinder look than I’d been expecting considering how Artemis had been reacting earlier…

“Why don’t I feel your Aura?” I ask.

“Why would you?” she shrugs.

…

Wait.

No. I already know the answer.

I already knew.

…

…

She leaves me to my thoughts for the moment, instead idly sipping from her glass before swirling it in the air, more blood mysteriously appearing in it.

But I think I understand.

My wife is growing more frantic inside by the minute so I should probably act already, to put her at ease if nothing else.

“She’s not going to hurt us,” I say quietly. “She’s eaten children before, sure, but not her own.”

“Child?” the foxkin hisses quietly in confusion.

I smile weakly at her. “Grandchild, to be specific. Astraea. She never told you, did she?”

“Why are you still denying it, child?” the ancient goddess interjects. “There’s really no point, you know.”

Turning back to her, I catch myself on the edge of scowling. “No point to denying what?”

“What makes up a person? Body? Anima? No, window dressing, child. A person is Ego and Akashic Self. And both of hers are inside you.”

I find myself blinking again, but…

“I’m not her though. I’m me. Sure, her memories keep… leaking through, or something?”

“No,” my grandmother says firmly. “You’re her. Yes, there is more to you than just her – whatever that half-formed freespawn was supposed to be is inside you too.”

Somehow I can tell that word is a slur of some kind, a particularly hostile one.

“…Along with the shreds of your latest incarnation’s Ego Erebus left behind while tearing the rest free.”

“You know about it,” I say flatly.

“Of course.”

This is a lot to take in.

I absentmindedly form a chair of ash, then glancing at my wife, form a second.

And then I sit at the table and take another small sip from my glass.

“I don’t doubt you expected to simply spend the evening deflecting the fools in the main clearing,” Lamashtu says in what I can tell is her attempt at a comforting tone. “And instead, I’ve set this weight on you, but you need to know who you are, and who your enemies are.”

…

“Why do I keep feeling her memories if her ego is separate?” I ask.

“You’re merging, most likely.”

“Wonderful.”

“The Ego is the most malleable, you know. It is what memory magic targets, after all.”

I can feel that my wife is wound to escape at any moment, but I… just don’t feel that. So I put my free hand on top of hers.

“I have no idea what to do with any of this…”

Grandmother doesn’t respond. I get the impression she’s leaving me to think again.

“But I’m still me. Regardless whether I… merge with Astraea or whatever. I’m still myself.”

“Nemesis, yes?”

“Yes.”

She reaches across the table, her arm stretching in a way that confirms what I’ve expected, and rests it on my head to muss my hair. “For what it’s worth, it’s good to see you again. At least you made it to godhood… unlike your mother.”

A few flashes of memory confirm that I barely knew the woman she’s speaking of, which is why she raised me herself, albeit from a distance.

…

“If I’m… her, why am I like this? She wasn’t like this.”

I dematerialize part of my body to show the ash that constitutes my physical form.

“Hm.” She pauses for a moment, studying me. “It looks like the remains of your Body and Anima were fused to create a Vessel, and the rest of you was rebound to it. Why exactly it took the form of your killer though, I couldn’t say. Perhaps it was closer to Body or Anima in form.”

“This is just a Vessel?” I say incredulously.

“Most likely. Your Status shows it.”

***

I have to admit, if nothing else it’s a relief that I didn’t have to deal with the other gods and goddesses. I can tell it wouldn’t have been a good experience, not for me anyway.

Those three gossips didn’t even tell me their names.

We’d bid grandmother goodbye not long ago and have been slowly making our way back to the main clearing though, so there’s still time in the night.

I probably can’t avoid it.

Artemis for her part feels a thousand times less stressed now. I can’t really blame her considering what she’s quietly told me on the return walk, but I know grandmother wouldn’t harm her either.

Because of me.

It’s strange to think that my own grandmother, scattered through what memories I can recall as a near-saintly figure, is a more terrifying planar calamity than I’ve been.

Plus, I’ve only killed one god. Myself, if I understand correctly.

I sigh, nearly coinciding with our exit from the pathway.

…And they’re all avoiding us again.

It’s just as well. I don’t even feel like searching for Dolos right now.

Silently pulling my wife closer, I gently rub her lower back not far above where her tails meet. She reacts by leaning into me, producing what almost sounds like a quiet purr.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I quietly say in her ear. “Do we have to stay?”

Artemis huffs lightly before answering. “Yes. Soon? Soon.”

I open my mouth to ask what’s happening soon before I’m interrupted by the sound of a metal utensil on a glass.