Interlude
That night Roden slept in his own bed. It was still strange to him to be somewhere so familiar and yet so foreign. He was getting used to the memories that were not his own, it was the emotions that he had a hard time managing.
His companions had requested he set up his treehouse so Errrkkkk could have his nest to sleep in. Thus Roden was not terribly surprised when his mother paid him a visit later that night as everyone readied for bed. She appeared in his doorway dressed in her all black nightshirt and matching silk pants.
“Hey Roden, do your companions have everything they need?”
“Oh yeah those guys are good. The treehouse is plenty for those two.”
“That is good then. How about you? You seem a little different since you came back home.”
This was what Roden was worried about. This was supposed to be his mother, of course she would notice a difference in his behavior.
“I’m good mom, it's just been a bit since I left home and I’ve been through a lot.”
“I’ll say! You’ve been in some real fights out there.”
“Yeah I suppose it comes with the job.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, “There is no doubt about that.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“You know, your father was a prodigious adventurer in his day.”
“I knew he was one, but I never heard too many stories.”
“Those are his stories to tell, but I wanted to remind you that adventuring is in your blood. If you put your mind to being an adventurer then there is nothing that can stop you from being great.”
Roden was deeply warmed by Miriana’s kind regard. She truly was a great mother to Roden, which made her existence as Zamira all the more confusing. Then Roden had a thought.
“Hey mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“We never really talked about it before I left, but are you upset I didn’t choose Zamira as my Goddess?”
The question seem to catch Miriana off guard, she stood thoughtful in the doorway, before answering,
“Upset, no son. I am perhaps a little disappointed because our worship is something we could share if you had chosen the correct Goddess.” She said the last bit with a strong touch of sarcasm. “But, at the same time. I know that being a cleric of Era is a much safer choice while out on the road. People are more likely to help members of Era’s church. I love my lady, but the masses haven’t grown to see her as I see her just yet, but one day they will.”
She had a look of determination in her eyes unlike any he could remember seeing on her face. Roden knew the Goddess was ambitious. She had played a pivotal role in the real life version of this game. It was then Roden realized he had made a huge mistake.
He had written his mother as a priestess of Zamira as a way to explain his decision to become a cleric. The problem was he had made her an important priestess. What he had forgotten at the time was that there was only one such person who fit that description in Coastall, and that was the woman who went on to become Zamira’s vessel or as he suspected was already Zamira in the flesh.
He feared his mental lapse had rewritten the story of a major player in the upcoming conflict. He had so many questions. All of the possibilities surrounding his unintended rewrite soared through his mind. He had originally written Zamira and this woman to be bold and brash. She was to be full of passion and angst.
The woman who stood before him longing to tuck her little boy into bed after he returned home from a dangerous journey was not the same woman. He cursed himself for being so careless. If he was being honest with himself, it actually made a strange sort of sense.
In order to hang with Errrkkkk and Riakon, he needed to be special. He needed to be someone who was capable of changing the fate of the world. The lowly son of a priestess and retired adventurer turned monk didn’t bring to mind thoughts of a valiant hero, but he had to admit being the son of Rolen the Archlich’s right hand man during the Dark Times and the Goddess of Death had a nice ring to it, except he wasn’t supposed to know either of those things. His final thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of the mess he had made of his world.