Hartley spent the next week in Derut, wandering the temple of Athema, Goddess of Sight. A week on that torrid isle, waiting for word that he could visit Maruble again in the human lands. He leaned against the stone wall, looking down. His shoes were covered in red sand, but he had long given up wiping them off—more would just take its place.

With nothing to distract him, the God of Peace was left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of Death.

It was only a matter of time before Noctavius wormed his way into the boy's head again—if he hadn't already. Tapping his foot, Hartley glanced at Athema's seeing room, but the goddess had yet to come out. It had been three excruciating hours. Even though the God of Peace knew fate was a tedious thing, he could not help but wonder if they were wasting precious time.

Suddenly, the runes on the door sprang to life. Athema, flanked by two servants, stepped out. She tilted her head at him curiously. Even with her face covered, Hartley could feel the exhaustion seeping from her. "I'm surprised you're still here, Hartley."

"Are you?" he asked, straightening up. "I told you I'd be waiting."

There was amusement in her voice as she said, "I mean that I'm surprised by your perseverance. Most gods would have moved on to other, more interesting things by now. I commend your dedication."

"I'm worried about Maruble," he admitted.

She dismissed her servants and removed the face covering. "My son needed more time to adjust, but you may go and see him now if you wish."

Hartley shifted, studying the dark circles under her eyes. “Why the sudden change?”

“Things are complicated,” she admitted. “The orb was old when it was passed down to me, and lately, it has become harder and harder to unravel the numerous fates. I worry it's not much longer for this world.”

“Ah.” He had heard stories about the orb. Truthfully, much of The Goddess of Sight’s history seemed more like myth and hearsay at first, and it wasn’t until he stood next to her that Hartley felt her power's weight. The intensity and importance of it.

Athema paused. “I wanted to thank you for looking after Maruble.”

“I worry it won’t be enough." He nodded, watching as the glowing runes on the door finally flickered out, and murmured, "Perhaps Noctavius will get to him first"

Athema smiled at him-- a real smile. The sight was so unexpected that it took him off guard. "For someone who enjoys peace, you work yourself up more than anyone else I know."

He shrugged, eyeing the goddess. Even though he had spent the past week in her temple, he was not sure how much she could be trusted. "Peace is different than most people think. Sometimes, it can be the difference between a handshake and war." He pursed his lips. "I'll go visit Maruble now. The sooner, the better."

"See you soon, Hartley," she said, eyes twinkling. "God of Heavy Burdens."

With that, he flickered away.

As he traveled through that in between—the very fabric of the universe rippling around him—Hartley felt relieved to go. Even though he had kept to himself, Hartley had been treated like an outcast among her people, and they had often stared at him with distaste. It seemed they only had room in their hearts for the Goddess of Sight. Which was expected, but he had noticed the way they doted on her and attended to her home, making her temple feel... Well, like a temple.

And the boy's father... Well, Maruble was right about one thing: Theon certainly enjoyed being celebrated for his work in the barelands. The God of Volcanics was still doing something good at the end of the day. That was more than most gods on Alta. Still, something about it didn't sit right with him.

Heroes and saviors. Hartley pondered that thought as his feet landed on the hardwood floor. A heavy rain swept over the hill and painted the home's windows in a gray mist, offering little light to the already dark house.

“Hello?”

Silence.

His feet creaked over the boards as he padded up the stairs. The door to Maurble’s room was shut, and he knocked twice. “Maruble, are you in there? It’s Hartley.”

“Don't care.”

The God of Peace blinked. Slowly, he pushed open the door and peered inside. Maruble was sprawled on the bed and staring at the ceiling. His hair and clothes were soaked from what he could only assume was the downpour outside. He looked cold, but the God of Fire made no point of changing or pulling the blankets over himself. He hesitated and asked, “Is… everything okay?”

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Maruble didn’t move. “No.”

“What happened?”

“My bike got stolen.”

Hartley stared, then suppressed a laugh. All this time, Maruble had been so confident and outspoken about his ideals that it was hard to remember that he was barely more than a godling—barely more than a teenager in human years. He stammered, “I'm sure we can get you another one.”

“I have somewhere I needed to be tonight,” he said, waving him off. “I doubt you could procure one on such short notice.”

He raised his brows. “You have plans?”

"A party.”

“A… a party?” Hartley opened his mouth to speak— closed it— then tried again. “Don’t you hate parties?”

Maruble’s head finally turned to him, finally, but the look in his gaze was seething. “I’m sick of being asked that, but yes. I hate parties, but this one seemed important.”

Was Maruble... disappointed? Hartley felt like there was more to it than the go was letting on, but he didn’t push. “How long until it starts?”

“An hour.”

Hartley straightened up. “Then you have an hour to get ready. And for the sake of Alta, wash your hair and clean up in here. It’s starting to smell.”

“It’s too far to walk.”

“Ah.” He tapped his head. “Don’t worry about that. I have a plan.”

With that, he closed the door and made his way back downstairs. Hartley walked into the kitchen and looked around. Yes, the entire house was beginning to reek. The food that the Court of Balance started him with was going bad, and he would be expected to fend for himself soon. After putting water in the kettle, the God of Peace started on the heaping pile of dishes.

Perhaps one day, if the fates allowed, Maruble would learn something from this place. He would make friends and memories and return to Alta with a fresh perspective. It was the best Hartley could hope for. A little idealistic, perhaps, but he could hope.

When the kettle went off, Hartley wiped his hands and poured two generous mugs of jasmine tea. The smell wafted through the room, and as he waited for it to steep, his thoughts drifted to Athema.

The exhaustion in her eyes and her worries about the orb. The curve of her mouth…He blinked. No, he needed to stay focused. Hartley batted away the steam rising from the mugs and set them on the table.

Maruble walked in. “How do I look?”

The God of Peace clapped his hands together. “Positively human!”

Maruble rolled his eyes but took the mug of tea gratefully. He already seemed in better spirits, even if his scowl lingered. “And how am I getting to this party?”

“A car.”

“A car?”

“Driving.”

Maruble blinked and set down his mug. “You can’t be serious.”

“Finish your tea-- quickly now-- and we’ll get on our way.”

The god eyed him suspiciously, but Hartley didn’t budge. Maruble finished his tea and took a hesitating glance at the empty sink before rinsing out his own mug. He set it aside slowly and asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Hartley took another sip of his tea. “Did you know that I spent time in the barelands as a boy, just like your father?”

“Explain.”

“It was an effort by the Court to raise a new generation of gods with a… more worldly perspective. Our parents were the only ones willing to volunteer their children for a good cause. We were young godlings who hadn't yet walked Nira's Path, but we were given even fewer resources than you have now."

“Balance,” he spat. “The old god would do such a thing.”

Hartley paused. “You think it's wrong that we were forced to live here?”

“Of course.”

“With no means of taking care of ourselves?”

“Obviously," he scoffed.

“Then, if your ideals come to pass, hopefully, those without power can manage better.” Hartley stood from the table and narrowed his gaze. “Pick one, Maruble. You can't be horrified at powerless children being whisked off in the night when you fight for the same thing. You can't ridicule Balance for taking children from their parents if that is also your end goal.”

Maruble pursed his lips and said nothing for a long time. Finally, he asked, “Did you ever visit those who helped you? The humans, I mean— during your time here.”

“No.” When the god titled his head, Hartley continued, “The Court did not want us interfering in human lives; they only wanted to teach us a lesson. Dalla, Goddess of Memory, wiped our memories when we returned. I can remember everything clearly-- everything but the faces of those who aided me. Your father is the same.”

Hartley hadn't thought about those memories in a long time. Before they could take hold of him, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ah, looks like time got away from us. We should get going.”

He led Maruble out the door and over to the garage, but the door was jammed. The god grabbed the door handle and yanked. Nothing. He pulled again, this time putting his foot on the wall to get a better grip. Finally, the door swung open, nearly sending Hartley off the ledge. He dusted off his hands proudly and said, “Here we are!”

He flicked on a light. The bulb buzzed as he moved toward the gray bundle in the center of the room. It was coated in dust and Hartley held his breath as he pulled the sheet off. Immediately, a gray cloud rushed into the air and sent them both into a sneezing frenzy. Maruble waved away the dust and scrunched his face. “Gods, Hartley. Does this thing still work?”

“Certainly,” he said, not feeling certain at all. “Of course it works. Why wouldn’t it work?”

“It's... old.”

“Nonsense! Human cars are built to last forever. Haven’t you ever heard that?” He opened the door, pulling apart an array of cobwebs. “Hop in, and be sure to buckle up.” Frowning, Maruble climbed into the passenger seat. Hartley turned the key, and the engine rolled over. “Ah, just needs a little time to warm up.”

“Hopeless,” Maruble muttered.

He turned the key again—once, twice, and finally, the engine roared to life. Well, it rumbled, coughed, and spat out smoke, but it was working. “Hah! What did I tell you?”

“This monstrosity is going to get us killed.”

“Right,” he said, putting the car into drive. "Let’s get you to that party.”

Suddenly, Maruble smiled. It was the damndest thing, but the boy actually smiled. The God of Fire hesitated and said quietly, “Thanks, Hartley.”

And the God of Peace dared to hope.