Hartley's journey to The Sea as a boy had been an oddly arduous process.

Where most gods had power they could feel on the tips of their fingers or see with their own two eyes, his was abstract. It came in the form of ideals: visions of a world without war or chaos, and a desperate dream to make it so. He had felt more, well, at peace with himself. The change had been so innate that he almost walked himself to the Isle of the Barren before realizing.

It was as good a power as any, one that came naturally to Hartley. It tipped the edges of his words with warmth and helped him envision a better world. Yet, for some reason, he was always discontent with the godlands and their exclusion of the human world. Even though it was technically safer for humans, it didn't sit right with him.

Seeing Maruble on the stand had sparked a new hope in him. There he was-- a godchild barely old enough to set out on his own, and yet he was fighting tooth and nail for his ridiculous ideas. Even if the boy had a tendency for violence, he admired his tenacity to see it through. If only he could hone that energy and nudge the boy in the right direction... Well, he was sure Maruble could become a great god one day. Perhaps just the one Alta needed.

Hartley straightened his scarf and then, for good measure, straightened the mirror too. When he was satisfied, he left his chambers in the Court of Balance and walked briskly through the stretch of hallways. He walked until he reached Belthore's door. Arguably, the largest door in the building. The God of Peace cleared his throat and raised his hand to knock. Before he could so much as tap the wooden door, it swung open.

Balance stood before him, still wearing his robes from the proceedings. He waved him inside and said, "Don't wait out there all day, boy. Come in, come in."

"You were expecting me, sir?" Hartley stepped in and scratched his head awkwardly. "I only just decided to come."

"After that trial? Of course, I was expecting you." The old man sighed and the lines on his face seemed to droop down even further.

Hartley frowned.

When he had first returned home from Nira's Path, his parents had chided him about having such a useless and uninteresting power. The self-doubt had eaten away at him until Belthore appeared on their doorstep. He had asked to take him on as his apprentice, to his parents' bitter delight, and had whisked him away to live at the high court. The God of Balance had seen something in him that no one else could and for that, he would always be grateful.

"Don't just stand there, take a seat," Balance fussed. He pulled a chair for himself and it scraped across the marble floor. "Tell me your thoughts about the proceedings. It was quite a nasty thing, wasn't it? I would like to hear your opinion."

Hartley plopped down in the chair. "Maruble's original sentencing was meant to be temporary, right?"

"That's right."

"He would be stripped of his power and relocated to the Isle of the Barren, where his mother could keep an eye on him. When his attitude improved, his power would be returned to him and all would be well."

"Precisely," said Belthore, gazing out of his window. The light reflected from his long robe in a symphony of colors. "But alas, it seems fate has other plans for the boy."

Hartley nodded slowly. He knew Athema would never lead the court astray, even if it pertained to her son, but this sentencing troubled him. Being forced to live as a human was such a foreign concept to a god that the idea of it seemed too isolating. Too lonely. "You don't agree with the ruling either?"

"Who's to say? It seems Maruble's fate is already set in stone, and all we can do is watch." Balance blew a long breath. "Though, I feel terrible. The boy needs disciplining, it's true, but this feels heavy-handed even for the court. I'm worried this ruling will fuel his bitterness even further."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"It was his mother's choice."

"Ah, but we carried it out. The boy will blame us regardless." He removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. He continued, "It seems I am getting too old for court matters."

Hartley pursed his lips and grabbed the old man's hands. They felt rough as leather. As tough as the god had been on him as a boy, he was as sensitive as they come. When the tears came, he was not surprised. "Belthore, the court would be lost without you. You acted out of your best judgment. If Athema asked for this ruling, it must be important for the future of both Alta and the human lands. She would not lead us astray, you know that." He handed him the handkerchief in his pocket. "Maruble will learn, and he will be back in the godlands before we know it."

"Thank you," he said, dabbing his eyes with the tissue. "It's not The Goddess of Sight I worry about."

"You think Noctavius has a plan?"

"There is no doubt in my mind," he said. "Death has grown bitter and isolated since Gemma died. His domain used to be a warm and welcoming place, but no more. We are partially to blame. At the time, we did not know the specifics of her death or we would have helped. He made no effort to tell us. Instead, we gave him space to mourn in his own time. That was a bad decision."

"How did she die?"

"It's.. complicated." Balance shook his head. "A human had never come to live in the godlands before and we didn't know if it was possible. As it turns out, the human body cannot handle it. She grew ill very quickly, and before Noctavius realized the cause, she passed away in her sleep."

"I'm sorry," whispered Hartley.

The God of Peace imagined Noctavius with a family, laughing with his wife and children. A future he would never have. If they had only known that Atla meant death for humans, she would have lived. Perhaps, in a way, Noctavius felt like her blood was on his hands.

Belthore waved him off. "It was a long time ago. Noctavius is too far gone. After her death, his aura spread for miles and we had to banish him to Frost Holm. Originally, it was on the assumption he would get better with time. But as you know..."

"He never did."

"Correct."

"We saw him at Theon's party, so he must get out occasionally."

"Rarely," corrected Balance. "I am afraid of what Noctavius will do if given the chance. He only spoke with Maruble briefly before whispering in his ear and encouraging the boy to rebel. Somehow, we must stay two steps ahead of him." Belthore rubbed his temples and paused for a long time before he continued. "I'm afraid that we are on the brink of war, Hartley. We're going to need as many on our side as we can. As hard-headed as Maruble may be, he could be the difference between victory and destruction."

"One god? Barely more than a child?"

"You saw the damage he dealt to that mountain. Even his father doesn't have that sort of power. This last volcano, it took him a week to keep it from erupting."

Hartley nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have something in mind?"

Belthore leaned closer to the window. Outside, gods and godchildren wandered the markets without a care in the world. They did not know that war was knocking at their doorstep and Hartley hoped they never would. Balance smiled. "I was going to ask you the same thing. After all, you're the one who knocked on my door."

Hartley shrugged sheepishly. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"I'm listening."

"If Maruble will be staying in the godlands, learning to empathize with humans, I believe he should have a real human experience." He tapped his fingers on the table. "If we abandon him completely, he will be no different than Death. We will gain nothing but an enemy."

The old man nodded. "I'm giving you the power to do whatever you think is necessary."

"Anything?"

"I trust you like a son." Belthore turned his back to Hartley and walked to the window. He lingered for a moment and said, "You have grown into a fine young god. I hope that you will one day take my place in the Court of Balance, as the Judge of All Gods."

Hartley huffed. "There is no need to talk about such a thing. You have plenty of years left."

"There is no one else that would fit the part. Justice is too headstrong. Though he means well, he would be too harsh of a ruler."

"Why are you saying all of this?"

"There is no telling what the future holds for Alta," he said with a sigh. "Consider my offer. It doesn't have to be now, but give me an answer as soon as you can." Hartley only managed a curt nod. Even with Belthore's back turned, he had to look away. "Whatever you have planned, you have my permission to go ahead with it. I will not keep you any longer."

"What about Athema? "

"Pass your plans to her first and get her judgment. We don't want to interfere with fate."

"You want me to go see her," Hartley said slowly, "in the Isle of the Barren?"

"It's not a problem, is it?" Belthore's eyes sparkled. "Consider it research for your work in the human lands."

Hartley huffed a laugh, but it felt forced. He had never been to Athema's temple or the barren isle. The powerless, bound to their poverty-stricken lands, usually felt contempt towards any outsiders. Being in their presence was unsettling, but he would push through it. He would do anything to ensure the boy would have a future. It would be easy enough.

As long as Death didn't reach him first.