“Not only does god play dice, but he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen.”

Stephen Hawking, English Physicist

The rusted iron cage swung gently above the abyss, suspended from the rocky ceiling by an unbreakable chain forged long ago by means long since lost to time. The abyss and the cage had existed long before the gods had appeared in God Home, though few gods remembered those days. To speak of a time before the gods was sacrilege, and none dare raise the ire of The Authority over such trivial matters.

Rocked by a breeze that did not exist, the high-pitched, rusty squeak of the chain was faint accompaniment for the cavern’s sole prisoner’s guests – one seen, and one who waited in the shadows for the first to leave.

“You must understand The Authority’s plight,” Omoikane said sympathetically as he stared up at the ancient cage and the woman within. “We’ve heard rumors of rebellion within the gods – rebellion against He who protects us. Against He whom we all owe our lives. It is not a rumor that He can afford to ignore.”

The slender woman, her flawless pale skin gowned in a flowing white robe, said nothing. She dangled her legs through the bars and stared through thick, rounded spectacles into the abyss below, as if the right hand of The Authority – he who counsels the light – were not there.

Omoikane did not let the prisoner’s silence deter him. “They call themselves The New Order, but we know little else. No doubt a handful of discontent gods playing with forces beyond their comprehension. They attempt to suckle life directly from the teat of the God Contest, selfishly dissatisfied with the share they receive from The Authority.”

He paused, searching for recognition on the prisoner’s face, but she remained an empty vessel. Omoikane sighed.

“The Authority believes you to be one of them,” Omoikane admitted. “You were interfering in the God Contest even before it began, were you not? Your actions are what landed you in this predicament. Though you covered your tracks so well that we could find no trace of what you actually accomplished. Perhaps you failed, and this imprisonment is all for naught?”

From the darkest depths of the abyss, a deep, painful cry emerged. It echoed off the sheer walls and irregular cavernous ceiling. A desperate plea for mercy.

The woman shifted uncomfortably, as if she could feel the being’s agony in her soul.

Omoikane waited until the last of the cry had fled from their senses, as to interrupt its cry would be the epitome of callousness.

“Eternity,” whispered Omoikane with genuine pity as he stared down into the abyss. “We can never repay it for the gift it has given us.”

“Gift?” spoke the woman bitterly. “It is not a gift if it stolen. It is not a gift if the cost is its eternal suffering. We are but parasites, feeding off a host.”

“She speaks,” Omoikane replied. “I understand your grief for what lay in the abyss, my dear friend, but what other choice do we have? I have researched since the first God Contest, trying to find an alternative to its suffering, yet here I am, with ages come and gone, without a solution to our plight.”

The spectacled woman looked up at Omoikane for the first time, sorrow and anger at war in her eyes. “We can die,” she said simply. “We should have died long ago, instead of surviving off the lives of mortals and the suffering of Eternity.”

Omoikane wanted to explain – to admit he held his own private doubts on the morality of Authority’s decision – but held himself back. He had not come to the abyss to engage in an ethical debate.

“I don’t believe you are a member of this New Order,” Omoikane reassured her. “But you must give me something – anything – that I can take back to our Lord, if I am to convince Him to free you from imprisonment.

The woman returned her gaze to the abyss, silent as the darkness.

“Damn it, Oracle,” Omoikane shouted, momentarily losing his composure. “He’ll drop you into the abyss if you don’t cooperate. He is not a patient deity.”

Oracle, Goddess of Foresight and Prophecy, gave Omoikane a sad smile. “Then I shall be consumed by Eternity, and we’ll have finally given something back to it after taking so very much.”

“Impossible woman. You always were the most stubborn amongst us,” Omoikane muttered, as he turned from the prison and stalked out the cavern. “Foresight is not certainty, Oracle. Remember that, lest your self-righteousness take you down roads you don’t want to travel.”

The guest hidden in the shadows waited until long after the Counsel of Authority’s footsteps had faded into nothingness. When he was certain they were alone, he stepped from the shadows.

Oracle smiled at the kind, bespeckled man with the green ibis head.

“Hello, my friend,” Oracle whispered weakly, as the false strength she had projected towards Omoikane faded away. “I take it you have news?”

Thoth hesitated, trying to mask his frustration at the path set by the woman in the cage.

“When we five banded together long ago,” he started, choosing his words carefully to keep his emotions in check. “Brought together by a shared commitment to Eternity, you set us down a path that would change the very nature of who we are. Yet you have kept much of that path hidden from all but yourself for centuries, including the identity of our fifth member, as we prepared. The twins might be satisfied following you blindly, but I am a God of Knowledge. It is… immensely frustrating to be kept in the dark, Oracle.”

“I know, my dear Thoth. I know,” Oracle comforted the god, as she had so many times before. “Yet you know the consequences of knowledge better than any. The revelation would unravel all that we have worked towards.”

Thoth chirped reluctantly. “Still, your choices baffle me. This human you selected, for instance. This Bethany Fox. Abused by her father. Betrayed by her grandmother. Friendless. Unloved. Damaged long before she was pulled into the God Contest. A broken girl.”

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“Damaged, yes, but hardly broken,” Oracle corrected him, as a teacher might instruct a student. “She is a survivor, Thoth. Thoughtful, resourceful, and with emotions and instincts tempered by lifelong tragedy. A broken woman would not have had the strength to flee her father’s home and travel to a strange city with nothing more than a faint hope for a better life.”

“And instead of a better life, she became fodder for the God Contest, along with the other two hundred and thirty thousand mortals that called that city home,” Thoth sighed. Despite his misgivings about Bethany, he did feel sympathy for the mortal. After all, Oracle was not the only god to put herself at risk for the girl.

“This is not the first God Contest and, if our plan does not succeed, it will not be the last. How many mortals have perished over the millennia to fuel our selfish needs?”

Thoth grew silent, guilt weighing heavy on his heart. He knew the price of his own immortality.

“I tested thousands of players, and Bethany was the only one that proved worthy of my gift. My Oracle Eye. The power to see what should remain unseen by mortal eyes. A gift she has, wisely, kept hidden from prying eyes, both mortal and god. Believe in her, Thoth. She deserves that much after what she will go through in the months to come.”

“A faint hope is a small shield to keep the horrors of the God Contest at bay. That hope was nearly extinguished in her first God Arena,” reminded Thoth. “She chose the wrong allies. Becka and Daniel. They betrayed her. Used her as a sacrifice for their own survival.”

“Yet it was she that survived,” Oracle responded, the God of Knowledge proving her point. “A broken woman would have crumbled on the floor of that washroom, her light extinguished. But what did Bethany do? She fought through the pain and terror. She got to her feet, and in the face of it all, she solved Dolos’ riddle. She chose correctly. They did not. And for her victory, she received the Hammer of Light – a talent reserved for those few with pure hearts and indominable spirits. It is a talent that will serve her well.”

“Daniel died that day, but Becka did not,” Thoth informed her. “Al Puch offered Becka a deal. She accepted, at a cost of her fiancé’s life, and has become his pawn in his schemes.”

“The god of death,” muttered Oracle thoughtfully. “The New Order begins to recruit mortals to their cause, but to what end?”

“Their actions are as shadowed as our own,” admitted Thoth. “They prepare their arsenal, as we prepare ours. It is only a matter of time before our intentions collide, and they are far stronger.”

“At least Bethany is no longer alone,” Oracle added with a note of motherly relief. “Emily Desjarlais and Rocky MacMillian. Two friends, now lovers. You assessed them, Thoth, in your God Arena. Do you believe they will help or harm?”

“They are as damaged as she,” Thoth replied, remembering the challenge he had put them through. He had forced each to decide the fate of a soul who had altered the course of their lives. Emily’s twin sister, who died from her addictions. Rocky’s bully, who had found his way to a better life. Bethany’s grandmother, whose overriding need to protect her son had caused Bethany a lifetime of suffering. “But I believe they have bonded and shall remain loyal to each other.”

“And their gifts?” Oracle asked curiously.

“Rocky, the protector, gained the talent of healing, so they may fight on. Emily was granted the gift of Infinite Recall, that she may never forget the life of her sister. And I provided Bethany the Gift of Insight, as you instructed, that she may seek to avoid the swing of death’s scythe.”

“Infinite Recall?” Oracle asked, concerned. “It is a talent that has brought on madness in most players upon which it has been bestowed. To never again be able to forget? It is more a curse than a gift.”

“It was a necessity,” Thoth countered. “Knowledge is power in the God Contest. Players that forget are players that die. It was a calculated risk.”

“And you gave them the first riddle upon completion of your Arena?” Oracle prompted. “Their first clue on the path to victory?”

“Of course I did,” Thoth answered with a dissatisfied huff. “The Gods of Knowledge are tasked with providing the riddles to players when they conquer their God Arenas. Not that it mattered. Bethany and her friends haven’t focused their time digesting its mysteries. They’ve spent the past week scavenging for supplies and fighting monsters to earn silver coins for Mercury’s Emporium. My scroll is probably sitting in a drawer somewhere, forgotten, and useless.”

“Can you blame them, Thoth?” Oracle soothed. “They had to survive Ares’ Arena. An all-out battle against undead Spartans in a supermarket. They watched a hundred people die, and nearly died themselves. It was a lesson they took to heart. They needed to be strong to survive. We need her to be strong.”

“Blood-thirsty war god,” Thoth muttered beneath his breath. “War god arenas may be entertaining for some of the gods, but they lack the grace and elegance that the gods of knowledge bring to ours.”

“At least Bethany found more allies after that ordeal,” Oracle said. “Elias the farmer, and the children Harmony and Brandon, who earned some very powerful talents in that Arena. Priyanka and Anjali, and the baby Jaya. For a girl who grew up alone, she’s become adept at surrounding herself with those she can trust.”

“Perhaps not all can be trusted,” remarked Thoth. “Don’t forget about the other two survivors of Ares’ Arena that she allied with. Zachary Choi – the Illustrious Mr. Zee – and Abigail “The Bloodied Widow” Harrison, who have spent much of the past week tearing a path of chaos across the city. I’m just thankful they’ve gone their separate way… for now.”

“What are the odds on those two?” Oracle asked curiously.

“Depends on the bookie,” Thoth offered. “Lakshmi is offering three to one odds that they don’t last the week, but Pappa Legba is offering one to twenty that at least one of them emerges as a victor. The remainder of the gambling gods fall somewhere between.”

“And bets on our girl?” Oracle asked cautiously.

“Thankfully, there are none,” replied Thoth. “She’s stayed under the Gods’ radars for now. They watch her exploits, of course, but the twins have managed to deflect those who have shown more interest in her. Hopefully, we can keep it that way, but once the playing field is thinned out, she won’t be so easy to hide.”

“We can only do what we can,” Oracle sighed. “We knew she would not remain unnoticed forever. We’ve charted the path, but it is hers to walk.”

“Of course, it would have been easier to keep her hidden if you hadn’t gifted her the Spiritual Bridge,” added Thoth with irritation. “She projected herself straight into God Home. I had to skewer the poor girl through the heart, just so she’d wake up before The Authority and Omoikane saw her outside the Great Hall.”

Oracle’s eyes grew wide with shock. Thoth winced. He’d known Oracle for countless ages, and surprise was not something the Goddess of Foresight let people easily see. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t know?” Thoth prompted, anxiety growing within him. “Talk to me, Oracle.”

Oracle paused, reluctant to show her vulnerability, yet she owed him an answer. Her oldest friend had already placed himself at great risk for their cause, and now she needed him to go one step further.

“The Spiritual Bridge narrows the gap between Bethany’s dream state and her conscious mind,” Oracle explained, her mind whirling. “It gives her access to Diana, her guide, so she may learn to see hidden meaning in dreams that are not dreams. The talent should not give her access to God Home. I… I don’t know how she found her way here.”

If Oracle's surprise made Thoth wince, the words ‘I don’t know’ from the woman in the cage sent a chill down his spine.

“Then how do we stop her from reaching us again?” Thoth asked, as a touch of desperation squeaked into his voice.

“We can’t,” Oracle admitted. “The die has been cast. I can no more control Bethany than I can my own fate. We must place our trust in her and pray she will become who we need her to be.”

Thoth reluctantly nodded and turned to leave, wishing he could free his friend from the ancient prison.

“Thoth?” Oracle called as he eased open the thick cavern door.

Thoth turned towards his friend.

“If she finds herself in God Home again, protect her. Teach her. Her world has become one of nightmares and death. She’ll need all the help she can get if she is to survive what is to come.”

“I will, Oracle,” Thoth pledged. “To the end of Eternity.”

“To the end of Eternity, my friend.”

Thoth left the cavern, and the door closed tightly behind him. Oracle was left in alone, dangling above the abyss, with only the creak of the rusted chain and the screams of Eternity to keep the darkness at bay.