Many gods believed in destiny. They believed that, no matter what decisions were made, they were headed towards a predetermined fate that had been etched in the stars time long ago.

To Athema, Goddess of Sight, there was no single path but an accumulation of threads being pulled in all directions. There were forks in the road, dead ends, and strenuous uphill climbs. Surely, some threads were easier to follow than others, but they did not force any living being to their will.

Athema had seen futures of a peaceful Florum goddess who discretely used her weeds to confuse travelers. She had seen Drugan gods banding together to fight for peace in their lands, only to kill each other out of jealousy. Each time, their choices spread before them like a map, leading them to any place of their choosing.

The futures she saw most of all were of those living in Derut. With a sigh, Athema adjusted her face covering. No matter what she did, their paths were narrow and suffocating—like prisoners. Oftentimes, a mere step away from darkness.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" Nile asked, steadying her arm. "Perhaps you should rest."

On her other side, Ethera murmured, "I worry you've been spending too much time with that orb."

"Don't worry, my children." Athema touched their hands softly. "I sense that Maruble has finally made a choice, and we will wait and see what happens."

Nile bowed his head slightly, but Ethera crossed her arms and asked, "What if he chooses Death?"

"Then we will stop him accordingly."

"You mean—"

"Whatever it takes," confirmed Athema quietly, "but I hope it will not come to that."

Nile and Ethera shared a look, shrouded by their face coverings.

A long time ago, the two godlings wandered up the steps to her temple, barely old enough to have completed Nira's Path. They claimed The Sea had given them a vision of Derut, of serving the goddess in her temple. At first, she had doubted them—not many gods received visions from The Sea that were unrelated to their power—but that changed when she learned their godship.

The God of Light and the Goddess of Shadow.

Ethera paused and said slowly, "You're worried."

"No time for that now." Athema straightened up. "Let us welcome our guests."

As they walked to the temple's entrance, people hurried back and forth, carrying goblets of water. Hunkering in the shade, her people accepted them with calloused hands, their bodies covered in blisters. It seemed Derut's sun was especially vicious today. Many wells had dried up in recent months, and they barely had enough water to go around. Even the young children looked near collapsing.

An older woman reached out her hand from the floor. When Athema grasped it, she grinned toothily and rasped, "Goddess, I am so thirsty."

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"Ethera, bring us a goblet." As she hurried off, Athema knelt down next to her. "Tell me your name."

"I am Grinadell," she said with a sandpaper voice. "My mother was the Goddess of Sand."

"Sand? Is that so?"

She nodded and continued, "When I walked Nira's path as a girl, I dreamed of being a sky goddess. Every night, I would pray to the moon above, and my journey was not so frightening." Grinadell paused. "I often wonder why The Sea takes from some and gives to others."

"I do not know," she admitted.

"I guess there's no worrying about it now." Grinadell accepted the goblet from Ethera and drank gratefully. "All I know is that I cannot bear to look up at the stars anymore. And when I see the moon, I wonder why it left me behind. It's like I have been betrayed."

Athema smiled softly. "I have seen your future, Grinadell, daughter of Sand. Your family will be getting larger soon."

"Is my daughter finally with child?"

Nodding, Athema placed the empty goblet on the floor. "She will have a son, a bright and happy boy." Grinadell pursed her lips, and Athema continued, "He will walk Nira's Path and become the God of Clouds"

"A god of the skies," she whispered in disbelief. A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. "I have to get home and tell my daughter. Thank you, goddess. Thank you."

Watching her go, Nile gripped her arm tightly. "Something isn't right. Dark forces move through my light."

Athema stood slowly and whispered, "Ready yourselves."

In a fluid motion, the three of them moved closer together, facing doors in different directions. Athema was sure they were being watched—but from where? She searched over the room carefully, her people drinking and laughing, others chatting quietly in dark corners, then she glimpsed two people headed for the hall.

Athema opened her mouth to speak, but her servants moved first.

"You there," called Ethera, racing for the hall. "Stay where you are."

Nile followed close behind. "Please, we just need to speak with you."

A sound filtered into the room. Athema froze, trying to place her finger on what it could be. Hissing? Rumbling? As the realization hit her, she sprinted forward to Ethera and Nile—but too late.

The right wing of the temple exploded.

Athema shielded her face with her arms—sand and dust whipping past her— and sharp rocks sliced into her uncovered hands. She staggered, ears ringing. Disoriented, she barely registered the sound of screaming and people running for their lives, mere shapes in the dust.

Athema grabbed hold of a pillar and staggered forward. Ahead, she found Ethera leaning over Nile, her clothes covered in the blood pooling from his side. She cupped his hand into her own, trembling.

Athema touched his temple and murmured, "Nile, speak to me, dear. Don't leave us yet."

Nile searched her face, but his gaze was already far away. He smiled weakly and said, "Don't cry over me, Eth."

"You idiot," she coughed out. Ethera stifled a sob. "Why did you push me aside? Why?"

"You were always looking out for me," he winced, and blood trickled down his lip. "I thought it was my turn." Turning to Athema slowly, he stammered, "I'm sorry I must leave so soon."

Athema softened her gaze, even as her heart shattered. "You have done enough, God of Light. Rest peacefully."

"Nile," said Ethera, her bottom lip trembling. "Don't leave me. We were supposed to do this together, remember?"

"Ethera," he said her name, barely a whisper, like a prayer, and then his eyes went still. Nile stared up at the ceiling, at those stained glass stars reflecting a melody of colors on his face. The Goddess of Shadow cried his name again and again, but he was already gone.

Leaning down, she laid her head on his chest and sobbed, "Thank you. Thank you."

Athema reached out her hand in comfort, then hesitated. The two of them had been together since arriving in Derut—since they were mere godlings. She folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. All the futures she had seen in the orb, and she could not prevent this. The Goddess of Sight, indeed.

Athema wiped the dust from her eyes and thought about her son, her Lelo. There had been so many paths that might lead them to victory in this war, perhaps even more so than defeat, but he had turned against them. He had renounced the Court of Balance and followed in Death's shadow. As Nile's blood pooled closer to her, she knew the future she feared had finally come to pass.

Maruble had chosen darkness.