“You overstep.” They both looked up as a cold, decidedly feminine voice joined the fray in time to see Kas̆dael appear on the cliff overlooking the narrow rope bridge.. The chasm’s roaring wind tore at her dress, whipping it to and fro, but she paid it no mind as she focused on the floating man. “He is mine. This place is mine. And you are not welcome here.”

There was a menace in her tone Jasper hadn’t heard before, and the man, much to his surprise, quickly bowed his head. “I meant no disrespect, Lady-” He paused, waiting for her to give him her name, but she didn’t, so after an awkward silence, he continued. “I came here, despite my own desires, to aid him. You see how weak he is - the ghosts that haunt him. He can barely cross this bridge of judgment-”

“And yet he has already done so once before,” Kas̆dael interrupted him, her face still wreathed with cold fury. “Could you survive this crossing?”

“I’ve faced my demons,” he replied curtly, and the goddess barked with mirthless laughter.

“Have you now?” Her right hand rose and twisted in an idle circle, so slowly Jasper didn’t realize immediately that she was casting a spell. But then the cold winds that had been buffeting the bridge fell completely silent, coupled with a chill so extreme that rivers of frost began to wind their way across Jasper’s body.

Jasper couldn’t see or hear whatever Kas̆dael had summoned to haunt the man, but his face paled and his jaw clenched tight as he stared it down. After several long minutes, he turned his head to the side in defeat. “Enough,” he rasped out. “You’ve made your point.”

“You do not get to tell me when it is enough,” Kas̆dael replied, “But for his sake, I will let you live. I will not be so gracious a second time.”

“My thanks, lady goddess,” he replied through gritted teeth. She ignored him and, with a flick of her wrist, summoned a torrent of wind from the bowels of the chasm that carried him off, vanishing him into the darkness.

Relieved, Jasper quickly turned and headed toward the end of the bridge, but he made it only one step before the wind brushed against him again. “It’s your fault,” it whispered in his ear.

“Jasper, stop.” His foot paused as Kas̆dael called down to him.

“What?”

“Your father was right about one thing - you cannot run from your doubts forever,” she continued. “Turn and face them before joining me.”

Though a touch of betrayal flickered in his heart when he realized she agreed with his father, Jasper bowed his head respectfully. She’d given him no reason to doubt her, so if she thought it was necessary…

Clenching his teeth, he slowly turned to face the voices haunting him. A man and a woman, dressed in the coarse tunics of a farmer, floated in the air a few dozen feet from their bridge. A pair of children peeked shyly from behind their legs, their eyes wide and dripping with tears. He didn’t recognize the farmers - indeed, he doubted any could recognize them, as their face was flayed and their eyes scooped out, leaving nothing behind but a pulsing, meaty mass of muscles and tendons. “You should have come as soon as you saw the smoke,” the faceless man spoke. “If you hadn’t waited-”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, I really am, but I’d do it again.” The anger and guilt broiling in Jasper’s gut melted away as he spoke those words. Yeah, what happened to the villagers had sucked and he wished he’d been there to prevent it. But while Jasper made an effort to help others when he could, his first responsibility was to his team and friends, and getting himself killed by diving head-first into an ambush would have been an abrogation of that cause.

He straightened up as he stared at the flayed ghost, offering it a sad smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, but I did avenge you. That will have to do.” As the whispers ceased, he turned on his heel and crossed the final stretch of the bridge, walking rather than running.

Kas̆dael extended her hand to him as he crossed the threshold of the bridge, and he accepted it, enjoying the warmth of her palm as she pulled him onto the other side. “Do you feel better now?”

“I guess. I didn’t want to admit that I’d do the same thing, even if I knew what was going to happen, you know? I mean, it seems so callous but…”

“Your life has value too,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he said, flashing her a small smile. “And thanks for having my back. Speaking of - what the hell happened back there? How did he even get here? And-?”

He stopped speaking as Kas̆dael placed her finger on his lips. “There will be time for all those questions and more, but come, let us speak inside.” She cast a dark look at the yawning chasm behind them. “The spirits of the chasm have heeded my command for the time, but they chafe under our presence.”

Jasper followed her through the winding garden path that led to the entrance of Suhruru. As always, the ancient lived up to its name as a solemn, almost physical silence hung over it but the changes he’d noted in the city were also spreading here. New life bloomed in the withered garden beds, small snippets of colors that popped against the otherwise dead underbrush. None of the plants were ones he recognized though, save for a handful of small saplings that resembled a palm - though how the warm weather plant could possibly survive in the void was a mystery.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But Kas̆dael didn’t tarry in the gardens; sweeping past the budding plants, she led him through the monolithic gates of the temple and into the grand basilica. The hall was awash with the warm light of a thousand candles, and even the bitter cold of the void seemed to retreat a bit in their presence. Her golden statue, which stood at the center of the domed hall, seemed larger than before, and at its base sat a throne that had not been there before.

Taking her seat beneath the idol, the goddess raised a smaller chair beside her and gestured for him to sit. “So tell me, Jasper, did you finally decide to stop ignoring me?”

“I, uh,” Jasper’s blush was hidden by his ruddy skin, but it couldn’t hide the awkwardness in his voice. “I’m actually not sure how I got here,” he admitted.

Her eyes tightened with annoyance. “So you admit you’re ignoring me?”

“No!” he protested. “I’m not ignoring you, just, you know, the other stuff…” He didn’t need to mention the unpleasant means by which he departed the void.

She sighed but didn’t scold him further. “Yes, I know. And if you’re wondering how you got here, I suspect my sister had a hand in that. I may have vented to her about it a few days ago.”

Unsure how to respond to the news that the goddess had been complaining about him to other deities, Jasper decided to change the subject. “And my father - how did he get here?”

Kas̆dael’s mood lightened at the question. “Ah yes, your father’s appearance was quite fortunate.”

“Fortunate?” Jasper scoffed. “He threatened to kill me!”

“A threat to motivate you, I assume. He’s certainly not powerful enough to destroy that bridge, no matter how flimsy it may look, and I’d wager he knows that. But his presence here, brief as it was, allowed me to tear much from his mind.”

“You mean,” Jasper’s head jerked up, hope gleaming in his eyes, and Kasdael raised a hand to forestall him.

“I cannot answer all your questions - his mental defenses were impressive and he wasn’t here long enough to breach all of them,” she explained, “but I did learn a great deal about him.”

“Did you learn why he hates me,” Jasper asked wryly. He half-expected her to deny the accusation, but Kas̆dael side-stepped it instead.

“Perhaps we should start with what he is.”

Jasper’s brow scrunched together as he tried to remember the name of his father’s race. “Su…kallu, right? I think you said the word usually refers to a noble or courtier.”

“Yes, Sukkallu,” she agreed. “And with what I saw, the name makes sense now. Tell me, Jasper, what do you know of the hierarchy of the gods.”

He frowned, wishing she’d just tell him the answer, but thought through it. “Well, it seems like there’s different levels of them. There are major ones like you and Selene, smaller ones like Lady Hurbas̆a, but there’s also groups like the Mwyranni or the Spectral Spider and I’m not really sure how they fit into the picture.”

“That’s mostly right,” Kas̆dael replied. “While there are technically four tiers of divinity, usually only three are talked about. At the top are my sisters and brothers - Selene, S̆ams̆a, Tsiāhu, Ummadamah, myself, and a handful of others. Below them are the second tier, deities like Ayallu and, as you mentioned, Hurbasa. The third tier is the largest and the weakest of them all. The spark of the divine still lingers in them - immortality and the shreds of creative power - but they are barely above a demigod in strength. Usually, they are either our children or our servants,” she added.

“A servant - like a courtier,” Jasper made the connection.

“Yes, I believe your father’s race must have once been something quite similar to our own Mwyranni, servants and warriors for the gods of Arallû.”

“Must have been?” he questioned, picking up on her use of past tense. “Did something change?”

“There was something…diminished about him,” she replied slowly. “I believe the sukkallu were once divine but are no longer.”

“That can happen?”

She nodded. “Usually, the servants die before the masters, but something like this can occur if a god should die before their courtiers. I know little of the gods of Arallû and Adammû, but I know of the war that ravaged their realms and how many of them perished in it. I suspect that the god they served - perhaps the Nergal that your father swore by - was one of those who fell, and in his absence, they have become something less.”

“Then how did he get here?”

“While the mantle of the divine may no longer rest on their shoulders, shreds of that strength still remain. I believe your father’s powers are closely linked to the dead, which allowed him a tenuous connection to the spirits of the void, but I doubt, despite his threats, that he was actually manifesting any real power here.”

“I guess he fooled me,” Jasper sighed. “I’m sure it’s just another failing of mine he’s added to the list.”

Kas̆dael’s lips thinned, and she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Self-pity is not a good look, Jasper.”

“Maybe,” he grimaced. “But can you blame me? My father dislikes me so much that he literally trespassed in a goddess’ realm just to scold me. And I don’t even know why.”

Kas̆dael didn’t reply, but Jasper noticed a small tick in her eye. “Wait. You saw something else, didn’t you?” he demanded.

The goddess sighed, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. “I was hoping you wouldn’t pick up on that,” she admitted. “Mostly because I’m not sure.”

“Not sure about what?”

Lifting her head, she looked him in the eye. “I already told you, your father’s mental defenses were impressive. I wasn’t able to see everything.”

“Just tell me,” he begged. “Even if you’re not sure.”

“You may not want to know,” she warned, “because there is nothing I can do to help.”

“Not knowing will be worse.”

Kas̆dael pondered his words a moment before nodding her head. “Then I shall tell you. I think your sister may be alive.”