Iendis gently caressed the blossom in her fingers. Her mind played the images of some man’s future, showcasing a happy life in which he retired and lived on a farm. He would have a family of five, all of whom loved him. This fate bore her. The deity sighed in frustration, her index flicking the blossom away.
“Going through fates again?” Thien spoke up. The boatman was sitting nearby, his spindly hands counting the gold he had collected that week.
“As if I have anything better to do.” Iendis pointed at her body and arms, which were bound by golden chains. They were a courtesy from that golden bitch and that false god, their work enough to imprison the goddess for at least a couple more millennia,
“Hm, good point,” Thien rubbed at his beard in thought. The boatman’s eyes darted to his pile of loot, his fingers sorting the gold and valdora pieces apart. “What about Holter? I thought he already kept you interested?” Thien asked.
“He does,” Iendis admitted. “I just don’t want to bore myself by looking through everything that awaits him. It ruins the fun a bit,” the goddess sighed as she rested her back against the tree, her gaze turning up at the canopy. She focused on the branch that held James’ fates. It was the one that stood out the most, the wood itself even differing in color compared to other branches. Unnatural twigs branched and twisted into multiple paths, half of them either going black or blossoming into more fates. Not even Naomi’s branch was as chaotic as his.
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“Thien, where did you find Holter?” Iendis asked her brother, who simply lifted his head in confusion.
“I believe it was you or father who brought him?” Thien sounded confused, his beady eyes looking back at Iendis with expectation.
“I didn’t summon him. Neither did father,” Iendis revealed in a murmur. The goddess had lost her ability to bring in Outlanders long ago, the last one she summoned being a useless mortal that had died not even a week into being summoned. That cursed God of Fate was the reason her chains were reinforced. Myr also was out of the question. Her father was strict when it came to involving himself in matters. He was a bystander before all things, not a god who would simply tip the scales out of spite.
“Someone else is responsible,” Iendis realized. It was a trifling matter, one that meant someone else was involving themselves into Myr’s and Delphine’s cold war. Yet, the goddess couldn’t help but grin, her mind racing with realization. Someone else summoned Holter to Azura. Whoever it was, the goddess wasn’t sure. Few people were capable, let alone motivated enough, of bringing an Outlander here. It was something truly mind racking.
“You don’t believe…?” Thien started.
“He’s the only one that comes to mind,” Iendis turned up at the tree’s canopy, her focus on an older branch, one that had been around for centuries. It was the longest one, its wood withered and bordering on black. Just looking at it, anyone would assume that this branch was dead and its fates useless.
“I believed him to be dead, but it looks like he might be returning,” Iendis focused on the single pink blossom that had formed on its tip.
“Dead men do not make new fates.”