As the decades slowly trickled by, D’Argen watched Olde turn his mathematical formulas into true wonder. He did not remember this from his other set of memories, so seeing it now was wonderous. He was in awe of Olde. As an artificer, the weakest of the five aspects of the mahee, D’Argen was truly surprised by the other man. Even so, it was also boring to watch sometimes.

And as the decades slowly started piling up, it started nearing the third millennium since the gods fell to the mortal realm. The most dangerous one, according to his other memories. He could do nothing but sit and wait and hope that Olde reached his spells faster than his other memories so that he could look forward and see the destruction that would come about.

But before that. There was a moment of life.

Darania was due to be ready with her own spells soon. Spells that D’Argen did not know of in his other memories until she shared them with him at the same time as the others. The only ones who knew about them, as far as D’Argen was aware, were the first five. Them. And Lilian.

“You have not come with me in decades. Why the change of heart now?” Lilian asked as they packed a small bag, getting ready for the last leg of their annual trip – down to the southern peninsula to help the flowers spread their seeds.

“I miss it,” D’Argen lied with a shrug. In his other memories, he had missed them all until a specific event that tickled at his memories but did not reveal itself in full. All he knew was that something very big and important would happen barely a few centuries after Darania’s spells.

So far, most of his second memories were proven true. When a star had fallen, impacting the earth and creating chaos, D’Argen had conveniently prompted Vain to be in the area to watch it all and record it. When one of them left to explore the lands without their mahee, D’Argen had spent the night before drinking with them for a final goodbye he did not get in his other memories.

It was the small things that did not always align.

Those, and anything that involved Thar. Some of the memories he had of Thar came about anyway with Vah’mor taking Thar’s place, but other events did not occur at all. And most of the memories that involved Vah’mor were different too.

When D’Argen and Lilian arrived at Lilian’s usual spot to change the winds, D’Argen left them there and started wandering. Darania should not be too far. A day’s walk if he did not open his mahee.

Lilian ignored his wanderings and opened their mahee, scattering the flowers and their seeds to help them grow in the coming years.

D’Argen came across Darania well into the night.

Her bright white curls were like a cloud around her head, free from the braids she would start wearing in a few millennia when even she got touched by insecurities under the mortals’ scrutiny. Her eyes were the darkest black, an endless nothing that made him feel like all of the universe was focused on him when she looked at him, yet there was also every single colour in existence in them.

She smiled, unsurprised to see him.

“Good night, Darania,” D’Argen greeted her with a raised chin.

“And to you, D’Argen,” she greeted back and raised her own chin in respect. Unlike the other four of her rank, she always bared her throat to the other gods.

And for the first time in three millennia, D’Argen was alone with her. Never before. Always in a crowd. And yes, he had heard her speak before, but this was the first time her voice was clear and surrounded only by Lilian’s distant winds.

“It was you,” D’Argen could not help but say, in awe, as he stared down her small form.

Darania looked confused even though she was still smiling.

“It was me, what?” she asked.

“You’re the one who told us to forget.”

Darania still looked confused, but D’Argen was sure. He had spent so much time scouring through his memories, trying to find the differences between the two sets, and then thinking back to their fall and what caused it. He clearly remembered hearing a single word as he fell from the mortal realm. A command. An order that could not be denied.

“Forget what?” Darania asked.

D’Argen stared at her in wonder.

If she was strong enough to make every single one of them forget what came before the fall, what caused the fall, and then convinced them all to not question it at all… it was possible she had caused the fall to begin with. And, more importantly for him at this moment, it was possible that she was able to do it again.

“Do you… uh…” she was still the most powerful of them all, he knew that even before her voice triggered the revelation, and he knew he had always respected her, in both sets of memories. Speaking to her one-on-one was a terrifying thought as soon as he had it a few years ago, waiting for this moment. Now, standing in front of her where she still sat in a field of flowers and looked up at him with such an innocent face, he was afraid to ask yet still finished his question. “Do you remember what happened before the fall?”

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“None of us do, D’Argen. Is that why you sought me out?” she asked as soon as he opened his mouth to say something. Her question caught him off guard.

“I… I didn’t exactly…”

“You have been dancing around me for decades. Centuries even. This is the first time you have spoken directly to me.”

“It is,” D’Argen agreed in the silence.

“And it is because you are questioning the past?”

“I am. And I also seem to be the only one. I don’t understand why or—”

“Do you not think Acela would be better to speak to about this? Or Zetha? Their aspects of the soul and mind directly affect our will and memories.”

“But you are the most powerful,” D’Argen argued back even though no, that was not why he had sought her out to begin with.

“I am not all-powerful. They call me the Creator, but I did not create everything. I cannot control everything.”

“Not even us?”

“Not us. Not at all. Nature—” she turned away and her hand hovered over the flowers with their petals closed and heads turned down since there was no sun out. As her fingers brushed the flowers, they opened and turned to her as if she was the sun itself “—nature, I control. We are not of this nature. We are not of this realm.”

“And you have never questioned why? Why we don’t remember? Why we fell?”

Darania shrugged her tiny shoulders and then let the flowers sleep again.

“I remember—” he cut himself off when she looked up at him sharply. “Not—no, not before. Not the fall. I just… I have…” he hesitated and looked to the sky to help. The moon had not laughed with him in a long time, and now she looked so mean with her curved edges. Finally, he decided to just blurt it out and said, “I remember you creating the Life Crops.”

There was only the wind to answer him. He stared at the moon’s sharp corners for so long that they blurred. When he finally had the courage, he looked down at Darania. She was not looking at him. Instead, she was playing with the flowers once more and her small face was scrunched up in concentration.

“I like the name,” she finally said.

D’Argen did not know what else to say himself and nodded even though she was not looking at him.

“Do they work?” she asked.

“Not in the way you intended,” he answered, though it was partially a lie. The only thing he knew about Darania’s intentions for the crops was that she had wanted to use them to give the mortals longer lives. In that sense, they worked. But not—

“Are you here to tell me not to do it, then?” she interrupted his thoughts.

“No! No, no. It’s not dangerous. Nothing… I mean… I don’t remember everything, it sometimes comes to me in flashes and—” he cut himself off, knowing he sounded sick in the head. After a moment though, his entire body relaxed, and he dropped down to sit in the flowers so he could look at Darania without looking down at her and she did not have to bare her neck to look at him. “I have two sets of memories and one of them is longer than the other.”

“Have you spoken to Vain about this? Or Olde, if you believe time magic is involved?”

“Yes and no, to both,” D’Argen replied. “I still think I’m crazy, so I only… skipped about and…”

“Ah… you were worried they would say something.”

“Yes.”

“But you are not worried I would?”

“Who is more powerful than you?” D’Argen asked with a shrug. “If you were to deem me crazy, then that may as well be the truth. But if Acela or Zetha were to hear of this, they would—”

“Listen,” Darania interrupted him with a firm voice. “We would all listen. Clearly, something has happened to you that is outside the norm. Your health is paramount.”

“And not the fact that I knew that meteorite would hit before it did?” D’Argen asked, skeptical. Darania looked surprised for a moment and D’Argen scoffed. “You think if Acela knew of my double memories, and the fact that some of them are a few centuries ahead of the others, she would let me be?”

“Do you want to just… be?”

“I want to know what’s happening. And I want to stop what has already happened.”

“Like what?”

D’Argen swallowed hard and looked away, his shoulders rising to his ears. “I know Acela came to you, asking for help after her mortal daughter died.”

“She did.”

“And I know she did not come only to you,” D’Argen added. “She also asked Upates for help.”

“She did. I know of this too.”

“You failed,” D’Argen said with a cringe. “Upates… failed even worse.”

“How so?” Darania asked and shifted closer to him.

“What you created, became known as the Life Crops. No bad came of it, not much anyway. But what Upates created? It became known as demons. Mindless beasts with rage and anger and fury under their skin. They killed many of us. Too many. And then they killed more.”

Darania’s face was completely expressionless as D’Argen spoke. He silenced and waited for her, searching for anything at all on her person that would give him a hint as to her thoughts.

“Impossible,” she finally muttered. “Upates would never.”

“It was not intentional,” D’Argen quickly corrected. “Not what he meant to do. You looked to give the mortals our years, he looked to create something completely new. That was all.”

“He is not a creator, he cannot—”

“He did,” D’Argen interrupted and then immediately raised his chin in apology. “He will,” D’Argen corrected.

“I do not believe you,” Darania finally said.

D’Argen knew that would be the hardest to understand. Hopefully, Olde would complete his spells before the truth came to be and show them all what would happen if Upates continued his research. But that was a distant hope. Darania was a better one.

“You already created the spells, didn’t you?” D’Argen asked and Darania nodded. “And Lilian is currently seeding them? You’ve already told them, right?” Once more, Darania nodded.

“And… and how much exactly of your mahee did you give up?” D’Argen asked and Darania’s face paled.

“How did you know?” she asked on a gasp.

He smiled, bitter and slow. “You never told Acela how you’d create the spell. How you’d tear yourself up in order to get it done. How you’ll take the one part of you that you have the most of and turn it into splinters to create this. But you do tell her… eventually. You tell all of us. Just… not how much.”

“Impossible,” Darania muttered.

“That’s why I thought I was crazy for so long. Still do, sometimes. But I know that even if it was you that told us to forget, even if you were the reason we fell, you are no longer strong enough to do that. In fact, I know you are not the strongest creator among us anymore.”

Darania looked shocked at his words.

D’Argen turned to face the white shadow sitting beside him and though Thar was not participating in the conversation, his face was still pained from D’Argen’s words. Darania may have once been strong enough to change the face of the world, but now only Thar could do that.

When D’Argen looked back at Darania, she was staring at the spot where Thar sat. It was too obvious though that she did not see him, her eyes scanning the air quickly as if trying to find a shimmer in the air or whatever it was that had made D’Argen smile.

Even more obvious was the anger turning her face so dark and ugly. D’Argen had never seen her angry before. When she lashed out at him, he was surprised only because he expected it.