Derzina watched as Xanathel walked to the end of the dark alley ahead and withdrew a pole from beneath a pile of decaying sheets. Hoisting it high, he revealed a rust brown flag depicting a leering face formed of darkness.

“What is that for?” Derzina asked, unfamiliar with the symbol.

“Our cause needs something to rally around, why not my own flag? While I may have little use for it under normal circumstances, our city is entering a new stage in its history and this seemed a perfect occasion to display it.”

It wasn’t exactly an inspiring design compared to Ortesia’s wave of light, but Derzina supposed they weren’t trying to inspire people. While she didn’t much care for it herself, its dark austerity did serve as an effective counterpoint to the gaudy ornaments with which Inea was so enamoured.

“Is that all you need?” Derzina asked.

“It should be, so long as everything goes to plan. And thus, it’s time for us to go to work.”

Leaving the alley behind, they made their way toward the city’s centre not far from the palace. Not long after suns dipped below the horizon, they entered the largely deserted square. Those few townspeople who lingered quickly made themselves scarce at Xanathel’s approach.

The only notable feature in the cobblestone square, Inea’s colossal statue immediately drew the eye toward it. Its stone visage seemed to look back at Derzina, and she faltered before it’s stern gaze.

“I assume you can destroy it on your own,” she said, “Lady Atasimon is still resting.”

“Of course.”

Xanathel approached the statue alone, while Derzina watched. From the back, there was little to distinguish him from the mortals he dwelt among. She thought it was no wonder he seemed to have few followers, he was sorely lacking in both presence and majesty compared to Inea.

Pausing for a moment before his target, Xanathel raised his hand and a jet of darkness erupted from it. The statue’s legs vanished beneath it until it seemed to seep into the very stone, turning it from white to grey. His magic continued to discolour the image of Inea, until there wasn’t a speck of white left.

Derzina was wondering if that was all he intended to do, when the statue collapsed in on itself. In a matter of seconds, it was reduced to a soft grey mound atop its pedestal with nothing of its former nature left. Vaulting atop it with one hand, Xanathel plunged his flag into the small newly-formed hill in the same motion.

That done, he hopped down and walked back toward Derzina.

“And thus,” he said, “the first blow is struck.”

“Will this make much of a difference?” Derzina asked. Ruining a statue was far from the grandest of gestures; especially when Inea had so many.

“One way or another. Symbols are terribly important after all. Destroying one of the largest of hers and replacing it with my own ought to get the message across. Besides, destruction of Inea’s monuments is punishable by death. Regardless of how this ends, the city shall see true change for the first time since it was established.”

“It’s punishable by death?” Derzina asked. “Has she truly killed people over something like that?”

Harsh and inflexible as Inea had seemed, that was far beyond what Derzina had imagined. Only murderers, rapists and traitors had been executed under Ortesia’s rule, and destroying a statue was nowhere close to any of those crimes.

“Indeed. Her executing one of my followers for just such a charge is precisely what instigated our current feud, though the true problem goes back much further than that. It likely began when we were forced into this prison together in the first place.”

“How did anyone force you into it?” She struggled to imagine how one could dictate to another god in such a fashion, even if they were one themselves.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“It was not Inea or anyone else who forced me, but rather the circumstances in which we found ourselves after the merging. This was the only location sufficiently free of corruption that my followers could easily reach. There were many more who followed me in those days, many of them died even during that short journey and most of those that remained deserted me eventually. Or if not them, then their children or their children’s children.”

He sounded rather melancholic by the end of it, though Derzina hardly blamed him for losing faith in people who had lost faith in him. It only made his cause all the more appealing, she was sure Ortesia would have been devasted if most of her followers had turned their back on her.

From what Xanathel had said about Atasimon, it didn’t seem like he’d had a good relationship with his mother, but surely she’d still want him to be happy. And how happy could a god be when everyone had deserted him? If he was anything like Ortesia, then he lived for his people; their joy was his joy and their sorrow was his sorrow.

“I’m sorry to hear that, it sounds awful. All the more reason why we must bring change to this city, I suppose.” If they were able to change that, then a little destruction seemed a small price to pay. It’s not as if breaking a few statues would hurt anyone.

“Indeed,” Xanathel said, admiring his handiwork.

“What now? Do we just wait here?”

Xanathel turned to her, looking mildly befuddled.

“I suppose we do; I hadn’t quite thought that part through. I intend to deliver a speech to the crowd once they gather but,” he looked up at the night sky,” it seems it will be quite some time before that happens. My apologies, I feel a bit of a fool for dragging you all the way out here so pre-emptively.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not as if Derzina had anything else to do, and she was happy to forgive such a minor error in planning. She’d wait around far longer than a few hours if it meant freeing the city from Inea’s tyranny.

While she waited, Derzina spoke of small things and trivial matters until she hesitantly raised the subject of Atasimon. It seemed treacherous ground to tread, but she also needed to know. If there was bad blood between the two gods, then it could only serve to harm their cause.

“What was it like growing up under Atasimon’s care?”

“Under her care?” Xanathel echoed, his lip curling in irritation. “That’s not quite how I would describe it. She was never much of a carer by any means, not when she had her own interests to pursue out in the wide world. I don’t know how such things play out amongst your mortal families, but we never forget. My early memories, most of which she was absent from, forever stained our relationship. Not that either of us ever had much desire for one.”

Derzina was relieved to hear that it was merely a matter of neglect, she had worried it might be something far more serious. “I take it you have no problem working with her then.”

“Indeed. I would never have suggested any of this were that not the case, our personal misgivings are of little significance next to freeing the city from Inea’s iron grip.”

“Excellent,” Derzina said. “We have more than enough obstacles in our path without dissent amongst us creating any more. If we are to show Inea the error of her ways, then we must be both resolute and united in our efforts.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and frankly I’m relieved to hear you say that. As important as freeing the city is to me, I would not have expected the same level of commitment from a new arrival such as yourself.”

Derzina smiled with a touch of true delight, she realised now how she’d misjudged him. Though they may not be alike in character, their purpose and intent in this matter aligned almost perfectly.

“You’re right that I have little personal stake in the city’s wellbeing, but I simply cannot abide such injustice. Not while I have any ability to correct it.”

“I see that you possess a noble heart, a rare thing in this troubled world. My mother was most fortunate to have ended up with a woman of your quality.”

“It’s kind of you to say so.” She knew Xanathel was just flattering her, but there was no harm in being praised for doing what was right. “I’m sure your mother will be proud to hear all that we have done when once she has recovered.”

“Perhaps. That a little optimistic in my view, though I hope to be proven wrong. Do you believe her recovery will take much longer? We shall likely need to call upon her aid sooner rather than later.”

“I’m unsure how long it will take; she expended much of her power to lure Meztraxia. All we can do is hope that we shall see her again soon.”

She could sense little of the goddess’ presence within her, which did not speak favourably to the speed of her recovery. Without what Meztraxia had stolen from Atasimon, she’d never be whole again. Or at least as whole as she ever was upon her return to this world in Derzina’s paltry vessel.

“That is most troubling. If we are to do this without her, our chances of success shall suffer greatly. Helpful as you have been thus far, and I’m sure you will continue to do, there is only so much mortal support can do for our cause.”

Troubling as it was, Derzina was all too aware of how little mortals could do in a conflict involving beings of such power. “Of course, Lord Xanathel. Though if we do manage to win over the people, will that not be enough to stay Inea’s hand?”

“It would be enough for some gods,” Xanathal said, nodding, “perhaps even most. I watched Inea rule this city for more than a century, and in that time, she has never allowed anyone to defy her. If the whole city turned against her, she will likely see sense. I would not put much faith in anything less.”