“So you lied to me. About who you were,” I said. “You lied about being a goddess.”

“I never said I wasn’t a goddess. Just like how you’ve never said you were human. I just didn’t go out of my way to tell you I was one, either,” Hallow Zaya said. “I like my privacy. I like living far, far away from people. It’s quieter. Smells better, usually.”

“Except for when you go out of your way to save two strangers and bring them into your home,” I said.

“That was a favor. For a friend. I don’t usually do that,” Hallow Zaya said, quietly.

I raised a brow. “You have...friends? Your flowers don’t count.”

“Plants are alive. They do count as friends. Most humans are respectful and polite to the gods, you know,” Hallow Zaya said, more than a little huffy. “Maybe I’ll turn you into a plant for your rudeness.”

“You would’ve done that already if you were going to. You don’t appreciate your efforts being wasted,” I returned, in my best imitation of her deadpan tone.

She huffed again. “Next time I find you bleeding to death on my doorstep, I’m leaving you there,” Hallow Zaya said, as she made no effort to not lead me back to her house.

While Hallow Zaya was an important goddess to Gresha, she was less significant to the Angrans, who lived in a harsh environment which did not boast many plants. We didn’t rely on her good grace to survive, usually. Only the aunties who knew medicine passed on Hallow Zaya’s teachings, and I hadn’t bothered with them since Asha’s death. That was why it took me so long to realize who Hallow Zaya really was, despite how obvious it should have been. But in retrospect, she did remind me a little of Asha. There were many differences, of course. Hallow Zaya was far older and more cagey and stoic. But neither was afraid to bluntly state what they saw as fact, especially when it came to their plants. Being the Goddess of Flowers, however, Hallow Zaya was clearly even more authoritative and knowledgeable. All at once I was suddenly much less willing to argue with her about what was poison and what was medicine.

Asha had told me a few stories about Hallow Zaya, once. Many, many generations ago, the goddess had gone on a trip around the world, compiling and distributing knowledge about medicines, plants, and agriculture. Then she disappeared, apparently content to let humans continue making their own discoveries. A virtue that, according to old legends, she likely inherited from her mother, Crown Naruune. Human innovation and learning for oneself was a virtue that the Angrans, and even I myself, could respect. It wasn’t surprising that she’d chosen to hide out in the Deep Woods, but it was a little strange to meet her in person.

Stars above and below. To meet two legendary figures in less than the span of the week. What next? Would the Sun Falcon descend from the sky and proclaim me some legendary hero? I would punch him on the spot if he did so, I decided. These gods were exhausting to deal with, and I’d rather the Sun Falcon take responsibility for his own tasks.

Hallow Zaya suddenly stopped before actually entering her house, and I nearly walked into her. “Wait here. Have a seat,” she said, gesturing at a small table and two chairs that had been set up on the balcony. Dubiously I sat, and immediately her phoenix plopped into my lap, keeping me thoroughly pinned to my seat as it honked for attention. Did she get you to do this so I wouldn’t leave early? I wondered, uneasily running a hand through the Phoenix’s feathers. It was soft. And very, very warm. Soon, Hallow Zaya arrived with a steaming mug, which the Phoenix immediately decided was for it. I quickly locked one arm around the squirming bird of prey, juggling the hot mug with my other hand.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I am going to make a series of educated guesses. And then you are going to tell me how accurate they are,” she said. I gave her a look. I didn’t have time for her to play these guessing games with me, not when I had a mug of boiling liquid in one hand and a bird prone to spontaneous combustion in the other. I may play with fire when fighting, but not to this extent!

“For some years now, prolonged periods of physical activity have resulted in you experiencing symptoms such as dizziness, shortness of breath, coughing, and occasional fainting,” she speculated.

Perhaps in shock, but mostly because the damn bird made a particularly lively lunge, the Phoenix jostled me and a little tea fell on the table. My expression must have given me away as well, because Hallow Zaya looked far more smug than I really liked. “I don’t cough,” I weakly rebutted. She only snorted. “...Often. I don’t cough often. Fine then. I’ll ask. How did you know all that. A Goddess’ powers?” I asked.

She waved a hand non-committedly. “No. Well. Sort of,” she said. “Mother never granted me a magical sight to sense what ails people. But my incredibly long lifespan has allowed me to learn a lot of things. Such as, the long-term symptoms of smoke inhalation. By the way, the mug contains honey and other herbs that should help your throat and lungs.”

Fine then. Before the Phoenix could make me spill the whole mug on my lap, I swiftly downed all of it in a continuous gulp, then sighed. A tasty floral tea. Sweet, but not cloying. Bitter, but not enough to make me gag. All the flavors were in perfect balance. Being the Goddess of flowers and plants, it occurred to me that one reason for why all of Hallow Zaya’s dishes were so phenomenal was because she could create ingredients far better than any mortal could get their hands on. I slammed the mug back onto the table and resumed petting the Phoenix, which had calmed down significantly. It...didn’t feel so bad now. Warm inside and out, between the tea and the bird.

“So...about...the Sun Fiend…” Hallow Zaya said, hesitantly and halting.

I stewed in my seat, thinking back on my encounter with the Fiend. Then I straightened up in my seat as a thought suddenly occurred to me, jostling the Phoenix slightly. “What do you know of the Sun Fiend?” I asked.

“I know that she’s incredibly dangerous. Mother’s told me a thing or two,” she said, her tone hesitant.

I leaned forward, over the bird. “Have you...fought her before? Crown Naruune and the Sun Falcon both have, in stories. If they told you some weakness, or—”

“I’m not giving you any more painkillers,” Hallow Zaya said abruptly. I blinked.

“...Huh?”

She sighed, then explained her point a little clearer. “You are going to kill yourself if I give you more painkillers,” she said. “Pain is your body telling you not to do something. That it is bad and harmful. Sometimes pain is less helpful, and that’s when painkillers are useful. But if I stifle your pain, you’ll throw your body at the Fiend. Again and again, until…” She shook her head. “Go home. Go home and rest. I won’t help you anymore with your fight with the Fiend. So you should go home.”

I sat, taking in the goddess’ tirade. “How… Are you completely heartless? You said she’s dangerous. You know she’s dangerous, yet you’re fine just letting her run around and destroy everything because it doesn’t affect y—”

Zaya slammed her mug down again on the table, the liquid inside splashing. “I am going to pretend,” she said, her tone frigid, “that you did not just horribly insult my very real feelings. Just because I don’t show emotions normally doesn’t mean… That was rude. I saved your life and that was rude,” She took a few moments, eyes shut and rubbing her temple, as I waited for her to continue. “I...I am not a warrior goddess. I cannot help you, except by… telling you to go home.”

“But—surely there must be something,” I asked. “Some...some special alchemical mixture, or magic plant, or some weakness you know of—”

“I am a goddess of flowers,” she interrupted. “I can’t even create plants out of nothing. That’s exclusively a Crown’s domain. There’s…” She chewed her lip. “...Do you feel well enough to return home? Perhaps you should wait until both you and your friend can walk—”

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“I can’t. I can’t just go home. That would be letting her win,” I said.

“You can’t do anything else, you need to heal,” Hallow Zaya said, her voice soft and yet insistent. Almost pleading. Not for the first time, I wondered why she went out of her way to save our lives if she was as private as she claimed to be. Surely she must have known her identity as a goddess was not so easily hidden.

I kicked my feet under the table, pressing my fingers amidst the Phoenix’s soft feathers. “...There is no healing if she’s still out there, aggravating everyone’s wounds.”

“You should meet me friend,” she said, suddenly

I tilted my head slightly. “Is your friend...someone who can actually help me?”

“Yes,” she said, in a way that didn’t at all impress me, then stood up, walked a few paces away from the table, and crouched down on the ground. “Over here.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“They’re a friend. They can help.”

“Again. Plants don’t count as—”

“They’re the only reason you’re alive right now. Show some appreciation,” Hallow Zaya interrupted. Quietly I joined her, crouching on the ground.

“I...well. You may have a certain misconception. I did not go out looking to save you two,” Hallow Zaya explained. “I really did only find you on my doorstep. But I know who put you there. Two friends of mine. My friends’ judgment and feelings...mean a great deal to me. So. I saved your lives. For them.” She paused. “...Not to say I’d let two people on my doorstep die but—my friends are vested in your survival and...er...channel.”

“Channel?” I asked, confused by the sudden switch in topics.

Hallow Zaya nodded, slowly becoming more awkward as the conversation went on. Instead of speaking more, she tapped on the ground of moss and branches. Confused, I mimicked her gesture.

A bit tired by all the mystique and crypticism, I copied her motions and laid a hand upon the ground. Small branches wrapped around my hand, and a foreign emotion touched my mind. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years, seeing how tall they had grown and wondering where the time went. It was an emotion I had never felt myself, it wasn’t mine. But somehow, wordlessly yet simultaneously clear as day, it was there in my mind. A soft greeting of Hello.

It’s so good to see you again.

I ripped my hand away from the branches, severing the connection, and brushed away the small, alien tears in the corners of my eyes. The branches curled inwards, as though hurt. “What was that!?” I yelled at the goddess.

“Did you assume humans and gods were the only intelligent life on this world?” she asked, then shook her head dismissively. “Hallows and Humans. We’re far from even being the oldest.”

For a moment I pondered her words, then slowly lowered my hand. The connection returned. Blinking in my mind were little spots of foreign emotion again, twinkling like stars. Joy and excitement and concern.

“What is this?” I asked, not liking how my voice cracked. It was just my sore throat, I told myself.

“My ‘curse’. Or, its inspiration. Really, there is no curse, I just like my privacy so they keep people from finding me. Or in your case, sometimes help people intrude on my privacy.” Some of the branches squeezed her wrist, and I had an impression of playful teasing. She gently swatted them away, then continued, “They’re a race called the Rootkin. They begin as seedlings, very tiny. My people thought they were something like fairies. But once they find a place to put down their roots and grow, they can become much, much, much larger. Large enough to mistake for large portions of landscape. They’re...my second family. They’ve helped me a lot. And I try to help them a lot too…. With something.”

Rootkin… I’d never heard of them. No legends, no stories, beyond Hallow Zaya’s so-called ‘curse’. Could it really be possible that their existence was so alien to me, that I could only perceive them as some vague curse? A fool’s superstition? Unless…

A vague stirred at the back of my mind.

Asha, slow down for me! Don’t run off so confidently, you don’t know if you’ll get lost!

I won’t get lost, brother. I can just ask for directions from…

Directions from who? There’s no one around. Don’t talk nonsense.

It couldn’t be...could it? There was no way. But...the goddess said they knew me. Could it be…?

“How are they...doing that? How are they talking to me?” I demanded.

“It’s just channeling.”

“What do you mean, just channeling? I thought channeling had to include some form of artistry or prayer.”

Hallow Zaya tilted her head. A smile ghosted across her face. “What I am doing is just the most basic possible form of channeling. Channeling is just connecting with another entity and communing with them. Try entering the sort of headspace you use when you channel Mother. Uh. Who you call ‘Crown Naruune’.”

Her explanation was simple enough, but...what to even say. So many questions burned within me, but I didn’t want to communicate so much right away. Not when I knew so little, not when I felt so...disorganized. This form of communication was frustrating. Rather than words I could withhold or control, it seemed to be reliant on feelings. Messy, complicated, unreliable feelings. Before I even attempted communication, I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Then, I tried to force the feelings back at them.

Calmness. Acknowledgement. Recognition.

A rush of emotions were returned almost immediately. Their suddenness, and the overwhelming positivity of them all, nearly caused me to fall over. This tree, no, this...being. It cared a lot for me.

It was strange, to slowly realize how much it cared, despite how I never even knew it existed before now. Doubt and suspicion littered my thoughts, as I clumsily tried to send back a question. How do you know me? Why do you care? Almost immediately after responding, I cringed. Had I sent over too much emotion? Too little? How did this tree—no, this Rootkin—really perceive me? As much as I hated to speak with my family, at least I could control what they saw of me, but how good was I really at doing that with this new form of communication?

The Rootkin’s answer arrived. At first I thought that the bundle of sentiments it had sent to me had stirred some old memories I had locked away, but upon closer examination, this image couldn’t have been mine. It was...me.

Me and Asha. From an outside perspective, when we were much younger. Was there really a time when I looked that small and weak? Irritated, I pushed the image away, but the Rootkin sent more images, snatches of memory and conversation.

Asha alone in the forest, even smaller. Calling for help.

(“Avenge me, brother. Why didn’t you protect me, brother,” echoed in my mind.)

Help coming from an unexpected source. Keeping her calm and entertained until her family found her again.

(Brother, where are you? Keep up. You’re late.)

She came back. With me, with others. She wasn’t the first the Rootkin had grown fond of, but they were never certain if this one would be the last. Those who didn’t listen, who were too proud to listen, might become lost for good, but when it was a young child who cared to listen they had to—

(”You’re too late. You’re too late—”)

“S-stop it,” I muttered.

Concern flooded across the connection. Concern, and apologies, and regrets, and too-late comforts. She didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve that. Are you okay? All the emotions it was sending my way, it was all too much. How could it, how could it care when I hadn’t known, when it had surely seen, when I didn’t deserve—

Smoke. Hard to breathe. Gasping for air. I ripped my hand away again, so hard I fell on my ass. The Phoenix, now fully sated, took this opportunity to waddle back towards me, dropping a tree rodent’s corpse next to me like some sort of offering.

“Are you...alright? Do you need more tea?” Hallow Zaya asked, carefully. Before, she had presented everything she spoke with absolute confidence. Not arrogance or haughtiness, but the certainty of an expert reciting the basics. As if anything that came out of her mouth should be a concept the one she was speaking to was already familiar with. “I...thought it would help you. To meet—”

A snarled tore from my throat, “I’m fi—” My voice gave out. Why was it so hard to breathe? Cautiously I touched my face, and found it wet with tears. So I jerked my hand away, shaking the liquid off. Tears? No, I was mistaken. I hadn’t cried, not since—

Since—

I turned away from the goddess as I continued to cry like a pathetic infant. She was still there, still watching me, but at least she didn’t try to speak with me again. Didn’t say anything to humiliate me further as I bawled my eyes out like a damn child. The Phoenix cooed in apparent concern, and tried to gently nibble at my pants and shirt. Some small part of me was glad of its ministrations.

Stars above and below. I was pathetic.