She landed on her back. The air was knocked out of her lungs so thoroughly that it took a while to remember how to breathe. When she did, she was forced to contend with the pain in her back and in her skull. The world blurred dangerously, but it soon cleared and the only damage done was to her pride - as a person, but mostly as a supposed goddess.

“Stand up.” The tall attendant was standing in front of her. Above the lady’s head, Aria saw a white coffered ceiling. In each square depression was a relief, though the images were difficult to decode from so far below. She estimated that ten men standing on each other’s shoulders would still struggle to touch the artwork.

“Stand up.” The woman was more forceful. Arrogance filled her words. And why would it not? Aria was sprawled on the ground like a drunk at dawn.

She rose to her feet and pinned the woman with her best glare before surreptitiously surveying the scene. It was white in all directions. Two archways stood relatively closeby, one leading to a larger room and the other leading to yellow sunlight and a lush flower field. Reliefs on both sides of the archways presented an instantly recognizable form: Evera, goddess of love and beauty.

She could even hear Evera’s voice.

“I am sorry that you have suffered so.” The goddess was saying. And she sounded sorry. In fact, it was possible that no one had ever been so sorry in the history of the world. “Your wife betrayed you, took your children, and your wealth, and said such harsh words to you. Her actions are indefensible.” She paused. “However, and I hesitate to say this though I must, I wish you to consider how you treated her in the years before this. Love is that rare magic. It breeds reciprocity. Had she been thoroughly satisfied in your company, thoughts of betrayal may never have entered her mind. I do not accuse you. I only speak this because my blessing must be different if you betrayed her first.”

There was a pause. Aria suspected the petitioner was speaking. She stepped up to the archway and saw a man kneeling before Evera, his head bowed to the ground. On the ceiling above them was a forest of flowers of every shape and color. Along the walls, those same flowers crept down to the ground, layered over each other like a living waterfall and running along the bottom of the wall.

Evera spoke again. “It is good that you recognize your wrong. So many do not, and that is often so heart-breaking. As love requires two, so does reconciliation. When a petitioner cannot reflect upon his actions, even I am powerless to help him.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

There was another pause. This time, Aria caught some of the man’s words, but they did not resolve into a sentence.

“Of course, I can help.” Evera laughed. She waved a hand, and a trail of light followed her fingers. It resolved into a rainbow, sank onto the man’s head, and dissipated in a rain of petals. Those petals, in turn, melted into nothingness as they struck the ground. “Go to your wife now. Tell her of your sorrow at how you hurt her. She will see you as she did when you first confessed your love and feel what she did on the day you were wed. If there is still room in her heart, your words will reach her. But, be careful. I can only grant this blessing once. If you do not care for her and she leaves again, a twice-torn heart is not easily mended.”

The man bowed, pressing his head to the floor. Then he rose to his feet and bowed again.

“Your devotion is welcome,” Evera said. “Go now, and remember to share my joy with all you meet.”

The man almost ran from the room then. He stopped at intervals to turn back to Evera and bow. She, for her part, remained standing and nodding gracefully to each of his bows. When he came past Aria, his face was lined with tears, but also thick with joy and hope. Evera’s words had not given him that; it was her voice, her beauty, everything she was. Aria knew that Evera could have told the man that his wife was dead and still left him hope and the longing for a new day. She knew it because she felt that every time she heard Evera’s voice.

As the man went past her, she longed to stop him and ask how he had gained this audience. It could not have been easy. They were clearly in the middle realm, the second of the three realms. From the lower realm where mortals lived, buying a trip to the middle realm cost the life’s savings and an entire prosperous village. Even then, admission into a deity’s temple could not be bought for any price. And, of course, reaching the upper realm, where the Black God lived, was beyond most mortal dreams. Only unfortunates like herself and the most trusted attendants would ever have that honor.

“We’re next.” The tall priestess poked her back. “Move along.”

“Really, Shemula?” Evera was suddenly at the door, fixing her attendant with a disappointed glare. “I asked you to fetch her, not insult her. If she killed you, how would I have the heart to demand the fine?” She turned her gaze to Aria and gave an indulgent nod. “Please, forgive her child, she is recently promoted” She glared at Shemula, “and now demoted. I hope this does not color your view of my hospitality.”

Aria opened her mouth slightly, but no words came. Did Evera not recognize her? Or was she being hospitable?

Evera was waiting for a reply. “Uh,” Aria said, “good servants are hard to find.”

Evera laughed her musical laugh. “They are, indeed.” She waved Shemula off and then waved Aria ahead. “Please, come with me. I apologize for the wait. Sometimes, those audiences run long. My supplicants are in need and it can be difficult to ration the time I can spare them.”