A moment passed, and Iona’s heart beat, beat with a beating of a hundred hearts, beat with a thump, and a thump. The Goddess rose from her grave, each movement took an agonizing amount of seconds, each second an agonizing amount of movement. She moved like a statue, which she seemed to be.

“He has returned I suppose.” Iona looked around. A voice spoke into her head, no, it didn’t speak into her head. She saw as the God's lips moved, she saw as they made the words. But the sound didn’t come from her, instead it came from all around, it came from the grass, the trees, the very Earth moved and created words.

“You smelled it too? She has the stench of a God on her but I couldn’t place it. Is it one of the Greeks?” The statue smiled.

“No, it isn’t.” The old woman looked confused.

“Maybe one of your Roman brothers? One of the native Gods up north?” The God didn’t say anything. She only looked at Iona. The half stone, half human, flesh seemed to judge Iona. In the corner of Iona’s eyes she saw as the trees stooped down to her, the grass pointed at her, even a bird stared at Iona.

“Not one of those. He is an untrustworthy sort. And not someone you can know about my servant.” Adara did not speak anymore. Iona tried to speak but her throat tightened up. Something was preventing her from talking, something very large.

“You will work for me girl. Your God cannot do anything about it. I will have you.” Iona flexed her throat muscles, she tried to snap her fingers, she tried to do anything, but the pressure built and built and built some more.

“Oh, I really didn’t mean to sound so evil, young girl. He would be fine with it I assure you. He doesn’t really care about that sort of thing and if he did, well I couldn’t have you anyways. Work for Adara, she is a good if stupid sort of woman.” The God nodded towards the older women. The pressure around Iona’s throat lessened, she coughed.

“I don’t think I should work for a God. Isn’t that illegal? Won’t the government send like, you know, an anti-Divine squad?” The God snorted.

“And how would they find out? You are already working for a God but you may not know it I suppose. This is actually the best situation for yourself, you are entering a world you know nothing about, it is best to have a mentor and a protector.” Iona nodded and thought about it. She hadn’t seen anything particularly dangerous but it still existed. She knew it, there were still people who could kill her, still people who could mar her face.

“I’ll do it. Fuck, I’ll do it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Adara laughed and the God smiled. They’d got her in a deal she couldn’t escape from.

“Now it’s best that I go back to sleep. It hurts so much to talk now. I miss the old days. Be a dear Adara and find me some new worshippers, just a small cult would do a world of good.” The God smiled with stone teeth and her eyelids drooped.

“The one I created in San Diego is doing fine. Are you not getting enough worship?” The trees shook, the grass shook, the Earth thrummed.

“Duh, obviously not. That idiotic man you put in charge has his priorities all wrong. Just get me some more and I’ll grant you something new, I was thinking a fruit that tastes just like hot chocolate sounds good?”

“It will be done, fair lady.” Adara said.

“Sounds good, goodnight, don’t let the bedbugs bite. And Mrs. Ionescu… I could kill you with a toe nail so don’t fuck with me.” At that the God dusted herself off, put one hand on the side of her head, and laid to rest on the tomb, as if she was a child sleeping on a pleasant rock.

Adara arranged for them to meet the following weekend. The same driver that picked her up drove her back in silence, leaving Iona alone with thoughts. So many thoughts that she couldn’t even notice what was happening around her. So many thoughts that she walked into her house without noticing a thing. So many thoughts that she sat on her bed and just pondered. She’d seen Gods.

She opened up the deck of cards and several new cards appeared in front of her, but one drew her attention. It looked like a rule card you’d find in any standard Bicycle deck but the contents were more of a message.

“Hey! Sorry for leaving you alone so long. I probably should have communicated something but I’m a little bit busy on my end. So sorry. I see you’ve met one of the nymphs, she’s a doozy ain’t she? I never liked her but she should treat you well enough. You have my blessing to talk to her some more and also it’ll let me siphon off a bit of her divine signature, win-win! Do be careful not to get turned into a tree though, she does have a nasty habit of doing that. You’ve done well.”

Stolen story; please report.

So there was another being at work with the deck. She should’ve known. It was so typical. What to do? What to do! Everything had become infinitely more complex, infinitely more divine.

Nothing came for free in this world. She’d need to research whatever creature she’d come in contact with and she’d need to tread carefully around Adara. Learn but never be taught.

But the message wasn’t the only new card she’d obtained. Two new cards greeted her in the deck. The first looked unlike any other card she received previously, it shone with a green tint. It was a queen, but not of any suit Iona had seen before. It was a Queen of Flowers, a Queen of Nymphs. The card God had definitely siphoned off some of her divine signature. What would a Queen of Nymphs do? Would she grow elfen ears? Would she become a God if she used it on herself?

The second new card was much more standard. Trees and flowers decorated the card, on the bottom half, a thick bed of dirt lay. A 2 of Nature. Running around the garden and taking in all of that pollen must have given her the card. What could she even do with nature? Including the 2 of Nature, that left her with two 2 of Pain’s, a Two of Water and the Queen of Nymphs. The two cards that described natural phenomena were the obvious combination. She thrust them together and a new card appeared.

Brown muddy water swirled on the card, the threes of the card colored in a muddy brown, she’d created a 3 of Swamp. What an appetizing card. She should’ve known. But that still left her with the two 2 of Pain cards. She thrust them into each other, the resulting card was the obvious 3 of Pain. What would pain and swamp create? Should she even combine them? The cards seemed so diametrically opposed to each other. Would it make some sort of evil swamp card? A 4 of awfulness card?

No it was best not to combine them yet. She needed more cards and more reasons for more cards. The world wasn’t pressing on her yet.

She went downstairs to make herself a sandwich. Two pieces of bread, sliced turkey from the store, two dill pickles and a dash of mustard. It was a good sandwich. Why had she never gotten a cooking card? She did it frequently enough, she made herself eggs, sandwiches, and pasta.

But also why had she never got a walking card, or a seeing card. Or even a sleeping card. There had to be a fundamental reason. The cards seemed to work based off extremity. Beginning a new thing purposely also granted a card, the mechanism behind it seemed to be about purpose. But how would someone begin something like sleeping with purpose?

Cooking seemed the most logical, she’d have to follow a recipe or attempt something new. She could do that. But as these thoughts swarmed and bounded in her head, she knew she needed a greater plan. She didn’t want some nymph controlling her. She definitely didn’t want her mom to control her either. So many worries, each glistened like a little star in her head.

She sat on her bed eating her sandwich and took out the book she’d been given. As it rested in her palm, light pulsated softly from it. It followed a rhythm. One, two, three, pulse, one, two, three. Soft golden light filled the room. She opened the book and as she touched the first pages, images swarmed into her thoughts. It was like someone decided to switch the movie on her eyes.

Her eyes sat in the same living room she’d just been in. The same ornaments on the table, the same plants strewn around the house. She even spied Prasino making a cup of coffee in the background.

“Hello Miss. You’re probably wondering how I am recording this message in good health and good standing. It’s funny because I’m not actually recording this message at all.” Mr. Boucher laughed and the wrinkles on his face jumped.

“This is a little sliver of my soul that I detached from myself years back, the last memory I have is you trying to save me from the Crown. Thank you for that but an untimely and unprofessional outburst. Anywho, I assume you’ve met Adara and Prasino and maybe even that Goddess fucker. Did you like them?” He paused, she tried to respond but her mouth wouldn’t budge in the dream.

“Oh right you can’t talk, I really forget stuff like that sometimes. Anywho, they’re my lovely life and my lovely houseplant. Prasino don’t make the coffee too hot please I’m begging you. I know this isn’t real but please don’t.” The house plant paused, turned over towards the man, and raised the heat on the burner.

“Annnnyyyywho, you’re the same type as me. There’s something deep in your little soul that says ‘I suck’. Oh don’t try and deny it, I can read it on your aura. If you could read my aura you’d see just a little bit of yourself. But for you, what is a little nugget of self-loathing for me, is a pile of self-loathing for you. We’ve all been teenagers. Anywho, there is a way to fix this, or at least to channel it.” An earthy limb extended from the kitchen holding a coffee mug, Mr. Boucher took a sip, then took another sip.

“If this was reality I’d have burned my face off. Prasino just has such a bad awareness of heat. Anywho, we can fix this. The way I did it was unflinching, unforgiving, horrible, devotion to my craft. At sixteen, I’d already made over six-hundred pairs of shoes. At eighteen, I was already a Master. At forty, I could make a man fly with my shoes. This self-loathing you have is the easiest way of becoming a Master. I know what you’re thinking. ‘I’m a girl, waahhhh, wahhhh, being a Master is hard’” His voice got very high-pitched to imitate her, which didn’t quite fit with the rest of his narrative.

“Being” and he put special emphasis on the word being, “a master is hard. But becoming a Master is easy, at least for you. I know you have some sort of magic or something or another because of that smell of glamor on your body, don’t need any of that shit for becoming a Master. Pick something. Anything. Actually not anything, I don’t think you’d be a great combat Master. Let’s say you pick being a carpenter. On your first day, you make a little wooden sculpture, on your second day you make a table, on your third day you make a bigger sculpture. Just pick anything and work on it so hard and for so long and with such thought, that you can’t possibly think the bad thoughts.” He took another sip of the coffee. He definitely knew when to pause his speech for maximum effect, a practiced public speaker.

“By your tenth day of full devotion, you will not think a single thing bad about yourself, except about how terrible your work was today. You will cover up every little mental acne, with a sheen of beautiful psychological Accutane. Ok, that’s about it, is there anything else? Oh remember to research magic before you become a full-blown Master. That was my big mistake, I didn’t fuse magic with my understanding of creation that well and so it made advancing as a Master too easy. Don’t do that. Anywho, good-luck, don’t let the bedbugs bite, and don’t make deals with the Devil or anyone who seems like it.” The spirit took a sip of the coffee and spat it out on her, the image faded.

Iona sat on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. Night-birds squawked outside. The smell of faint night-blooming jasmine filled the room. She thought back on all her days, and everything she’d done in all of those days.

She remembered studying the book, studying all those languages, writing all those words. She remembered how she felt, and realized she didn’t feel anything while she was doing that. Devotion. That was the key to all this. That was the key to everything.