Athema's domain was a lively place. Often, Derutons mingled in various parts of the temple, lounging and enjoying meals. Some chose to leave The Sands altogether in favor of inhabiting one of the temple's many rooms, and in exchange, they kept the marble halls immaculate.

Admittedly, she enjoyed their presence. They could have done nothing, and she would have allowed them to stay forever. It was the noise she preferred—the feeling that life was happening outside of the enclosed walls of her seeing room. When their laughter reached her, it made the cumbersome weight of those futures feel worth it.

Now, all was silent. The rumbling had grown more and more infrequent since the explosion, and even Ethera's sobs were hushed in Nile's chest. Her people were nowhere to be seen, presumably having run back to their villages, and their empty goblets were left stranded on the floor.

Athema was almost grateful for the ringing in her ears, but even that was fading. Soon, there would be nothing—no clink of plates, no shuffle of movement, and no sound of distant laughter echoing through the halls.

"Ethera," she said softly, "the people who did this are still here."

Ethera's voice was muffled as she spat, "I'll kill them, every last one."

"That's not what Nile would have wanted."

"Who are you to say that?" she hissed, jerking her head up. Half of it was still covered in his blood. "He's dead—he can't decide!"

Athema touched her shoulder gently, and the Goddess of Shadow slumped. Ethera was young—her tenacious presence made that easy to forget—but this was the first time that she looked her age. That hardened expression was gone, replaced with something fragile. Covering her tears with both hands, Ethera whimpered, "I'm sorry. I don't mean it."

"Stay with Nile's body until I return." The Goddess of Sight let go of her shoulder and added, "I'll deal with the intruders."

"I can't let you go alone."

"You have done enough," she whispered, tucking a strand of the girl's hair behind her ears. "If I don't come back, take news about what has happened to the Court of Balance."

Ethera bowed, tears still rolling down her cheek, and Athema left her in the hall. Stepping over chunks of marble, the Goddess of Sight exhaled sharply. If she allowed herself to think about what happened, nothing would stop her from falling to her knees. Already, tears threatened to take hold, but she shoved them down. She needed to be strong—both for her and the girl. There would be time for mourning later. Athema followed the disquiet in her domain until she reached the throne room.

A large group of people waited for her. Two leaders—a man and a woman—took up the front, and about thirty followed behind. All of them looked like they had grown up in The Sands, with their red-stained clothes and faces tanned from the sun, but she only recognized a handful. She studied them silently as they approached, wondering at the strange weapons they carried on their shoulders. It took a moment for the realization to wash over her.

Guns. She blinked, masking the surprise. Never before had she seen such weapons in Alta, not in all her years. Why now?

"I hope you have a good reason for destroying the right wing of my temple," said the Goddess of Sight.

Noticing her, the woman at the front of the group yawned, and the other man smirked. The woman said, "We already have what we came for, right Petir?"

"Tell us how to use your orb," he growled, "and we'll consider not turning the place to rubble."

"My temple has been a safe haven for your people," said Athema gently. "Why do you wish to destroy it?"

"Safe haven?" An older man spat on the floor and stepped forward. "Excuse me, goddess, but while you live in luxury, we climb the many steps of your temple day by day, begging for food and water." A murmur of agreement broke out, and Athema stepped back. "You have done nothing since you arrived but treat us like pets."

"How dare you," muttered someone from behind. Athema whipped around. Ethera staggered into the room, her face and clothes still covered with blood and hands trembling violently. "The Goddess of Sight has dedicated her life to taking care of her people—taking care of you. Without her, you would have nothing."

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"That's right!" shouted someone from the group. "We have nothing without her because she has made it so!"

A young girl, standing close to the front, shook her head and said, "You made us climb those steps for water when you could have helped us build a well."

"Why didn't you help us create a food source of our own?"

"You didn't want us to be self-sufficient." The older man frowned deeply. "We beg and starve because of your greed!"

It felt as if the breath had been stolen from her. All this time, her people had held such disdain in their hearts, and she had never known. She had been naive.

Her mind drifted back to when Maruble stormed out of her domain as a boy. They had a terrible argument, and he had set off to live on his own. He had been so young—perhaps more full of fire and fury than he was now—but he had felt the same way as her people did. Suffocated. She took a deep breath and said, "I will help you find a reliable food source and search for wells in The Sands, if that is what you wish."

"It's too late for that," said the one called Petir. "Another god has welcomed us into his home. He plans to save us from Derut once and for all—he has welcomed us into his home without binding us there."

"You ungrateful little—"

Athema stepped in front of Ethera, holding her back with a hand. She glanced at the bundle in Petir's arms and said. "The orb won't help you."

"The goddess likes to lie," hissed the woman next to Petir.

The man snorted. "Don't listen to her, Petra. She's trying to instill doubt."

"It's true," shouted Ethera from behind. "It's not possible to manipulate the future. You can't manipulate something with no clear path."

"Silence," roared Petir. He raised his gun and fired it into the air. Suddenly, the stained glass stars shattered and showered glass into the room. "You're whoring husband told us everything we need to know."

Athema remained still as the glass shards fell around her feet. Of course, it had been Theon. Their paths had led them apart in recent years, and even though she had her suspicions, she had hoped they would come together again when their lives slowed down. Gods lived long lives, and there had been no need to rush. She never thought...

Petra squeaked sympathetically. "Oh, the goddess doesn't know."

"Truly the Goddess of Sight," snorted Petir.

Suddenly, Ethera's shadows slammed forward. The group raised their guns, but before anything could happen, Athema pulled her back again and hissed, "Get ahold of yourself. I will not let them take you too. Do you understand?"

Before she could respond, Petir patted the orb in his hands. "Thanks for the entertainment, but we'll be going now."

"Without this, it doesn't look like you'll be much use to us," murmured Petra. "Much use to anyone, really."

Without another word, the group walked out. Many who passed did not look her in the eyes. For those who did, hatred simmered there—perhaps it had simmered there for a long time. They kept their hands on their weapons as they left, headed for the heart of Derut. To recruit more for their cause.

When they were gone, Athema let Ethera go and trailed towards her seeing room without a word. The Goddess of Shadow called out to her, but she ignored it. She kept walking towards her seeing room as if in a dream, until she reached the open door.

It was true, then. They had used the password to get in—they had not used force. Brushing her fingers along the symbols, her hand trembled.

Only one person in Alta could have known the password. She had called him that name as a boy, knowing the many troubles that surrounded his future. It was her little harbinger—her Lelo—and her own son, the God of Fire.

Athema approached the empty pedestal and whispered, almost to herself, "I don't know what will happen next."

"We can't let them leave," said Ethera, more gently than before. "If they leave, they will win this war, and Nile would have died for nothing."

"If they win this war, time will continue on as intended. That is the way of things."

"How could you say that?" breathed Ethera. "The Derutons were your people, and they betrayed you in your own house. Aren't you furious?"

Athema frowned. "Of course, I'm furious."

"Then why are we doing nothing?"

"Because there is still hope," she said simply. "No matter what happens, there will still be people in The Sands who believe in us."

Walking over to the torches, Athema touched the small embers that resided. Even though the flames had been sick, even though they were no longer powered by the orb, they were still warm. They still held on.

Ethera asked quietly, "What will happen to you now that the orb is gone?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Only time will tell if I'm strong enough to live without it."

Studying the door, Ethera suddenly cured. "That brat did this, didn't he? He's the one that gave them the password."

"I have no doubt that Maruble aided them, but I will not lose hope in my son yet." Athema watched as smoke rose from the fading torchlight. "Unfortunately, I believe that this is my fault, Ethera. I am the one who pushed Maruble to this dark path."

"That's not true."

Suddenly, Athema turned to her. "Tell me, why did you and Maruble not play together as children?"

"He was full of himself, even as a boy." She scrunched her face into a frown.

"Harsh words for a mere godling, don't you think?" Athema raised her eyebrows and continued, "But you were not the only one who thought so—many Derutons felt the same. In his own home, he was despised so much that he felt forced to run away—to create his own home at such a young age." She sighed and turned to the girl. "I raised Maruble in The Sands, Ethera, don't you see it? The one place that was not made for him. The one place where the God of Fire had nothing to burn."

Ethera hesitated. "Even still, he is Death's accomplice."

"The war has not started yet," she reminded her. "Regardless, this is no time for regret. We must do what needs to be done."

"What comes first?"

"We will give Nile a proper burial," she said gently.

After a soft intake of breath, Ethera asked, "And then?"

Athema removed her face covering. "Then, will go to the Court of Balance and prepare for war."