‘What.’ Iseult wasn’t even sure how to respond to that. There was no possible way for it to be true. The only way that Orikka could cross the soul barrier was that they had a pure soul, unperturbed by committing a kin-killing. Which was a requirement for all other gods. Well, she supposed demi-gods were excluded, hypothetically. But it still required quite an intensive transformation, one that often drove a being half mad. Maybe a demi-god that had somehow broken free of their god. Perhaps a god that had died? Was that even a possibility?

Orikka had gone very still, presumably reeling from the revelation as well. She wondered what conclusions they might have drawn, if they might have another hypothesis as to why a god could have the same capability. ‘You’re sure they’re a god, not a demi-god?’ She asked Novem, still hesitant to believe. ‘Very.’ He answered, certain. Well then. She mentally recentered herself, she didn’t necessarily need to know the logistics, though she was sure Orikka would make inquiries after this. The focus of this meeting was to ask about the rabbit souls that had gone missing, best not to get side tracked. Time to redirect back to the issue.

‘And do you think they might have a fixation on rabbit souls?’ Novem started, his eyes widening slightly, ‘rabbits?’ He repeated his voice wary. That was a promising reaction. She nodded. He elaborated, ‘the god I was referring to was a rabbit, called Yanus, capable of teleporting, tesseracting through the soul dimension. I was,’ he paused, searching for the word, ‘caught in her jump, once, and was able to briefly see the dimension, see time unfolding between one place and the next, though I didn’t actually see any souls.’ Hm. It reassured her a little that he couldn’t see the pure souls, couldn’t really interact with the dimension, only move through it. ‘Do you think that she could?’ the thought suddenly occurred to her. He looked a little guilty. ‘I received an eye from a friend, one that could look into time, though I never saw any souls with it. It's possible that Yanus may have been able to, after she stole it. And in addition she should also have her own original eye, capable of looking into the future. I think the way it works is with a third eyelid from a being caught in the moribund, capable of seeing part way into the fourth dimension, forward in her case. She gave me in exchange for the time-eye, one of her own future eyes, and one from her deceased daughter Yuno, that could look into the past,’ he indicated to his milky eye. Well, that explained his eyes at least. She would have to update his file. And add a new file about this mysterious teleporting spacetime god Yanus and her daughter Yuno. ‘She killed her daughter, absorbing her soul, perhaps she got a taste for rabbit souls? And could perhaps hunt them with the capabilities of my lost eye?’ He speculated. That would explain a lot, actually. But it was also disturbing news. She had not expected for another god to be able to perceive, let alone have access, even teleport through the soul world. And to have a gateway through the moribund. Yikes. This was going to be so much bigger an endeavor than she expected. She sighed deeply, flicking a curl out of her eyes before tucking it back in a twist, holding the whole mass in place with her pen, to pompom poking out from the bun cutely.

‘So having her eye, and one from her daughter, you have moribund eyelids?’ She asked, intrigued. Maybe it will be worth bringing him into the operation after all. Novem nodded, a proud, smug look crossing his face. ‘Well, we’re just going to have to track this god down and get some answers,’ she segued. She was excited to have another lead in finding insight into crossing the moribund as a god, a step closer to finding a solution to purifying the god’s souls. But finding out that the lead liked snacking on the souls of the pure, even if they were a different species, was not reassuring. Yanus did not sound like the sort of being that would be interested in purifying the corruption in their soul, she sounded dangerous, in fact. But that was Orikka’s problem, she was just there to help them remain organized and drive the research closer. Orikka was the muscle.

Novem was looking at her with a curious expression. Wariness, she realized. ‘What are you going to do when you find her?’ he asked. She hadn’t quite worked out what they would do, just that they needed to talk to the god, figure out how they were making it through the moribund, if she had managed to purify her soul, heal the corruption, eventually disperse and reconstitute as a new soul. ‘We just have some questions,’ she said, trying to remain vague and obscure the fact that she had no real plan. Novem’s tail flicked in annoyance. ‘Yes,’ he drew out the word, ‘but she is a very erratic god, unstable. I doubt she’ll be willing to help you.’ That was disappointing but expected. ‘Would you have any suggestions for making her more amenable?’ she asked politely. Novem shrugged, the limit to his assistance apparently reached.

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After Novem had left, uninterested in their quest once he realized they had no clear plan for dealing with Yanus, they decided to approach Tva, the former rabbit god, in hopes that he might help them narrow down where Yanus might be hunting. Iseult got the impression that if they had been planning a more confrontational approach Novem would have been interested in accompanying them, he seemed to have some unresolved grief with the god. But she supposed she could understand that, if someone stole an eye from her she might also have some grievance with them. They may yet have a conflict with the spacetime god, in which case it wouldn’t be a bad idea to call on Novem, the godeater for assistance. It all depended first on finding the god.

Tva, previous god of rabbits, who had lost their faith after the attack by his wolf-rabbit shifter acolytes on their warrens, could frequently be found lounging drunk by his half-moon pool, lolling among the lupus flowers. Noctua, the blue moon god, was deeply infatuated with the other god, keeping him well stocked with dream-wine. Iseult privately disapproved of the relationship, in her opinion, caring for someone shouldn’t involve enabling their partner’s grief-driven addictions.

Noctua himself was an interesting character among gods. His body was actually entirely composed of godseed, contributed by an eversleep god called Columba, a dying sun. In their final moments they split off a part of themselves, the self-murder sufficient to fulfill the godhood requirements and bring Noctua to life. His parasitic nature continued past his conception, apparently. He came to orbit their ringed planet, fascinated by the dreams of the beings therein. He began to collect the dreams, manipulate the souls of the living in their dreamscapes, creating from them a wine that gods delighted in, as they were ignorantly partaking in soul energy without realizing it. His fascination with humans’ dreams led him to select a gender, an unusual choice for an astronomical god. ‘Do most astronomical gods choose a gender when they arrive on the planet?’ Iseult had asked, curious. Orikka shrugged, ‘it is a mortal construct, not applicable to those of us who came before.’ Though Orikka had not explicitly said so, Iseult felt a little judged.

‘Tva,’ Orikka said gently, taking the lead and approaching the massive six legged blue wolf. Tva looked up at them with mournful gold eyes, a double set on each side of his snout. He was beautiful even in his grief, with lupus flowers woven into his thick soft fur, shades of sky blue and aurora borealis greens and reds. She could see why Noctua would be so entranced. Orikka cradled Tva’s chin, gauging how far gone the other god was, peering into his watery eyes. They were red rimmed, it seemed the god was well into his cups. It would be unkind to bring up the rabbits now, but they had few options to track down the missing rabbit souls and find Yanus. ‘Do you know where your rabbits might be?’ They said, stroking Tva’s cheek. ‘Rabbits?’ Tva slurred, his tongue loose with the soulwine. ‘they left.’ He pushed out of Orikka’s hands, reaching for his moonstone flask, the surface carved with queen of the night cacti blooms, the mouthpiece adjusted for Tva’s muzzle. Noctua was an attentive lover, just not in the ways that mattered.

‘I know, beloved, but I need to know where they might have gone.’ A good amount of the wine dripped down Tva’s chin, not making it past his lips. Probably for the best, Iseult thought, dispassionate about the wasted drink. Orikka took the flask from his paws, pouring out the remainder, the wine shimmering with dreams, and refilling it from the waters, moon beam reflections disturbed by the movement. ‘Here you go,’ they said gently as they tipped the flask, trickling water down Tva’s throat. A bit of clarity returned to his eyes, seeking out Orikka’s gaze. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m the god of moribund,’ Orikka replied. Iseult rolled her eyes a little. That would clarify nothing to Tva. His eyes widened, ‘have I died! Am I dying!?’ He seemed unafraid, a little excited, even. ‘Oh Tva,’ Orikka sighed, ‘not just yet.’ Iseult supposed that in a way, Orikka was looking for a way for the gods to die. If they could purify their souls and pass into the soul world, they could diffuse and be recombined to form new souls, effectively dying as the being they currently were. She hadn’t really thought about it like that. It made death seem more peaceful, not like the harsh ending to a life, but a new beginning. A natural cycling of energy. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

‘They left me,’ the lucidity seemed to leave him, mourning returning to his tone. ‘and, and they went,’ his face scrunched up cutely, little wrinkles on his snout as he tried to think, ‘they went south, to the woodlands,’ he lay back bonelessly in the flower soft grass. The woodlands. Where Novem had said he had last seen Yanus.