Moonlight spilled through a large circular window on the ceiling, coalescing into a small basin on the floor and lighting the room an eerie silver. The basin sat in the middle of a medium sized spherical room, decorated with silver gilding and depicting various cycles of the moon. Around the basin, six hooded woman prayed, beautiful in the moonlight. It was a sacred place, a holy place, one Dere wasn’t supposed to be, not that that had ever stopped him.

He sat at the edge of the room, covered in shadows, watching. He had been standing there for half an hour, waiting for something to change, for anybody to move. Yet, the women maintained their prayer, engrossed in the words and in the power, however slight. Dere sighed. “Just once, once, I’d like it to be easy.” He thought, bitter at the world and everything else.

There were any number of things he could do to make them leave, all of which required more effort than he wanted to expend. Then, a thought struck his mind. “Why not make her do something for a change?” He nodded, pleased with the idea, and stepped from the shadows into the view of the women.

“Apologies ladies, I’ll be needing the room.”

At once, six women heard the voice of a man infringing upon their sanctuary. Robes swung around as each woman turned to glare at him, rage contorting their lovely young faces.

“Who are you? You need to leave this place at once!” The figure furthest away from Dere spoke up, outrage lacing the edges of her words. Her face, older and wiser than the rest, simmered with the kind of indignation only a devout of a God could muster.

“Relax, relax,” Dere gave her his easiest smile. “I know her.” He gestured towards the basin, still reflecting silver moonlight. 

They all turned to look at the basin, searching for a seventh figure who they knew wasn’t there. The eldest turned once again to Dere, indignation almost pouring from her face. “You couldn’t possibly mean…”

“Glemoa, yes.” Dere appeared unfazed by the woman’s fury. He knew this kind of anger well. Without paying her much heed, he scratched his nose.

“Mistress, this is an outrage.” A younger girl broke into the conversation, eyes bristling with perhaps even more fury than her older companion. “A man, in Glenmoa’s sanctuary, demanding that we leave?”

“You need not inform me why this is a transgression. I know well.” The elder mistress glared at the younger one. Their eyes met with the kind of bickering intensity only years of rivalry could form. Dere eyed the scene with amusement.

“This isn’t the first transgression of this kind to take place underneath your watch. Were Mistress Blanc still in charge…” The moonlight, shining in the bowl had been intensifying as the exchange roared on. An image of the moon, full and beautiful, took shape in the shallow basin.

“Don’t you dare discuss Mistress Blanc in front of me. I’ve inherited the mess she has…” A sudden surge of incorporeal silver power washed over the room. Its touch felt light and gentle, but it had a slight chill in it, warning of far greater power. The women all stumbled back and the argument ended. Dere stood still, eyeing the light with a slight grin while they rushed towards the bowl, now showing a crystal clear image of a shining moon. At once, they whipped their heads around towards Dere.

“As I said, I know her.” Amusement and casual arrogance dripped from his every word. “You’ll need to be leaving now. I don’t suggest discussing this with anyone else.” Their eyes darted between the bowl and Dere, confused as to which baffled them more. Dere started tapping his right foot, impatient. One of them, the youngest, opened her mouth to speak again. Before she could, however, another surge of light lashed out from the bowl, filling the room with incredible power.

Together, they looked at him and then at each other before fleeing the room, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and Dere as they could. And, just like that, the room was now empty, with the exception of Dere and the bowl of moonlight. Filled with smug satisfaction, he looked away from the bowl and began studying the moon cycle designs on the walls. “Hello, dear sister. Happy to see me?” He spoke in the same lighthearted tone he always used.

“I’m almost never happy to see you, especially when you make trouble for me.” A voice reverberated from the bowl and flowed through and between the glowing light, echoing in and out. Dere laughed but offered no other response, seemingly intent on the odd patterns decorating the wall. There was a pause before she spoke again. “Did you do it?” Even the voice's strange echoing couldn’t hide the emotion in the tone.

“Straight to the point, as usual.” Dere moved away from the wall and walked a few feet towards the bowl. The facade slipped away for a moment and a grave look flashed across his face.“I did not kill Ko. I swear to you.” His voice wavered with desperate resolve. He needed her to believe him.

“The God of Order is dead, Dere. You hated him more than any other, and you’re one of the few capable of such an act. There is a compelling case against you.”

“Mo, you know me better than any other. I wouldn’t do it. And, if I did do it, I certainly wouldn’t be caught so easily.”

The air thrummed with her power, rocking the room ever so slightly as she considered. “If not you, then who?”

“I don’t know.” He breathed a sigh of relief, a tension he didn’t know he had unfurled from around his chest. One person believed him. He only needed one right now.

“Ko had few enemies. Perhaps it was aimed at you, knowing you would be the only suspect?”

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“There would be more direct ways to get to me. No, if it was aimed at me, at all, it was aimed at us both.” His boots clacked against the stone floor as he paced the room. “It does make sense that it might be an enemy of mine as well, but who?”

The air thronged with an odd noise that Dere had trouble placing. It almost sounded like laughter. “Well, Dere, just think, which gods hate you? That should narrow it down.”

The odd sound kept bouncing around the air and Dere looked towards the basin with a mild grin. “Was that a joke? From you? Oh, dear, I really have fallen far.” He paused and looked upwards through the window, at the brilliant night sky. “Though, I suppose you have a fair point. There’s a large list of suspects.”

Shaking his head and chuckling a little, Dere resumed walking, consumed in deep thought. Options flickered through his mind, one after the other. None lined up. “Mo, I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

Dere kept pacing around, searching for anything beyond mere guesswork. He could find nothing.

“How are things back there, anyway?” He thought of home, of the immortal palaces, demigods spilling in and out of the festivities, minor gods and goddesses flirting, divine beasts soaring through the sky. He saw the brilliant beauty of the fauna, the strength of the buildings, the power of the people. He saw Ilu looking down at him in scorn. He saw himself falling.

“Bad. Ko’s death and your punishment have everyone panicking. The old dividing lines are forming again. Ilu’s handling of the situation has not been looked upon favorably. ”Even through the odd reverberations of the light, he could make out the distaste in her voice.

“What do you mean?” Dere’s brow furrowed in worry. He looked down at his feet, going through the ramifications of her news, none of it good.

“Your punishment Dere, it is viewed as a step too far.”

Dere almost snorted, breaking him out of his worried contemplation. “I’m assuming that has little to do with me.”

“No, but you are still a god. Many don’t like the precedent of Ilu stripping away a god’s divinity. They believe he’s overstepping his authority.”

“They and I agree on something. That’s rare.”

“Dere, this is bad. It’s chaos up here. The situation worsens every day.” The ephemeral voice paused, on the edge of another sentence. Dere struggled to make out emotions through the light, but he still felt her apprehension. “I fear war.” Dere didn’t speak. He knew what war between the gods meant. The last one embedded itself so deep into his memory he could never shake it. “Reyn, Duru, Mora, myself, and Sem play peacekeeper for now. Even Ante Retara, the ever distant God of Time urges peace, and he just lost his son.” Glemoa paused and then continued. “But I fear we can only construct a dam, one that will break. Horon already calls for war, Afre and Iota take his side, and Banto Re keeps rising to his challenges.”

“When has Horon not called for war? He’s the God of War, and Banto Re being a literal hothead is nothing new.” Dere sounded annoyed. The politics of Gods frustrated him almost as much as the politics of man. He just had to pay more attention to the former.

“Dere, tensions are rising fast. We may not be at the precipice of war yet, but we are approaching.” Her cold calculations whirred almost audibly to Dere’s mind, as she pieced together the way of things. “Listen to me Dere, you must not die. To the gods, your mortality represents the threat of death, should actual death befall you the consequences would be...”

“And here I thought you were actually worried about me.” His voice seemed weighed down by exhaustion and annoyance. He took a long breath. “Relax sister, I won’t die.”

Glenmoa paused, unsure of what to say to him. “You must not do anything to endanger yourself.”

Dere waved his hand dismissively in the direction of the light. “Yes, yes, as soon as I figure out what’s happening down here, I’ll remove myself from danger.”

It didn’t convey through the light, but Dere knew her voice dripped with annoyance. “What are you doing?”

“Well, sister, it’s the most curious thing.” Dere paced back and forth around the circular room. “The Puppet Men, here, serving underneath a mortal master.”

A surge of silver light flashed through the room. The news unbalanced even his sister, it seemed. “Dere that’s impossible."

He shrugged. “I’d tend to agree, but the description matches.”

The power ebbed and flowed around the room. “Dere, if she’s back…”

“She is not back!” He snarled the phrase out.

Glenmoa paused, taken aback by the sudden rage. “Even if she isn’t back, something’s going on. You’re mortal Dere. It’s dangerous for you to get involved.”

Dere shook his head, still pacing at a rapid clip. “Do you think it's a coincidence that I landed in the exact spot to sniff out what’s going on? Of course not, this is him. Something’s going on, and, if I figure it out, this could get me back home.”

He knew her well enough to know she was conflicted. All the options would be swirling through her mind, thinking, considering. “I won’t stop you Dere, but you are vulnerable now. There are those among the gods who will see this as an opportunity to shut you up forever. They will send servants after you. Your reputation may protect you for a time not forever. Regardless of the last thousand or so years wasted to debauchery and depravity, there are many who still fear you. They don’t know you are helpless.”

Dere looked up at the night sky, where the moon shone bright upon the earth, and smiled. “Vulnerable I may be, but helpless I am not.”

“Are you so certain?” Dere let silence fill the air between them. He thought he heard her sigh. “I can’t leave you like this, weaponless.”

He looked into the silver light and then looked skyward. From the heavens an aberration in the sky formed. A formless dark shape whirled around and soaked up the nearby light. It kept falling and falling until it landed in the basin almost soundlessly, plunging straight to the hilt. A sword, his sword, quivered in the basin. A simple weapon with a black hilt and a flickering, semi-transluscent grey blade. “Goodbye Dere.” The light drifted away and the moon in the basin disappeared. Only Dere and the sword remained in the room.

He went over to pick it up and grasped the hilt. A shiver of power ran through his body as the shred of his divinity inside the sword reacted to him. The sword's power paled in comparison to the recent past, but there was a shard left, a small almost insignificant shard of himself, of his power. Despite its size, it filled a gaping hole he hadn’t even recognized inside himself. He fought back tears.

Sword in hand, he lifted it to the sky and looked upon his weapon, wreathed in shadow. With a flicker of focus, he warped the shadows around it and it took on the appearance of a regular steel sidesword. An elegant twirl of his wrist, sent the blade down the same scabbard as the weapon he had looted earlier. With that, he exited the room, leaving the temple behind him. With silent steps he walked through the streets of the prostitutes’ district, moonlight shining upon him from above and a million questions buzzing around his skull.