In his attempts, Solaris placed the flower in a bowl and set that bowl on his altar. He had tried everything, from offering water to incense to gold. othing seemed to strike the same connection as before.

“What am I not doing?” He growled, staring at the flower as it remained quiet. The gold glinted around it. The space was filled with incense smoke. Soon, the entire area was saturated with his growing frustration at the deity’s refusal of his offerings. He brought gold from his personal treasury. Noctifer didn’t accept that, nor did the flower move or sing to him as it did before. The flower, it seems, was satisfied with watching him accusingly. He took a break, relenting to the flower’s temperament. He stormed through the halls and into the garden. The first thing he looked too was the pomegranate tree in bloom. He watched a flower slip from its branch to the ground. It felt as though the entire was watching him too, judging silently since that night. He scoffed to himself and went to sit near a pond. He watched tiredly as the waters caught the sun above him.

His frustration only grew, and he picked up a rock and threw it into the water with a shrill cry. He fell, grabbing his hair as he tried to regain himself, but his chest burned and his fingers buzzed with obsessive fear. Solaris looked up, bleary-eyed, at the water’s ripples. He caught it as it began; the drop rising from the water before returning. The ripples caught the sun as they moved and echoed back to their original point. They caught the light of the setting sun as they moved and transported it almost thoughtlessly to each point of the pond until they returned to their respective centers. He hated himself for realizing such a simple lesson from such a cliche example. He thought of the sages down on earth who would use metaphors to explain divine interaction.

Standing up, he reached down into the water with a cupped hand. His first attempt was shaky. Most of the water spilled, but he demanded perfection. He tried again, somehow maintaining a smaller amount in his hand. Growling, he threw his hand into the water again, grabbing at the flowing pool.

“Breathe,” he reminded himself harshly, taking in a deep breath. He slowly readjusted his hand and pulled it out, carrying some of the water. It still spilled, much to his chagrin, but there was a small amount that remained in the cup of his palm. He nodded to himself, trudging to the pomegranate tree. His eyes kept darting as if the water would disappear, but he was soon at the base of the tree. He took a deep breath, and dripped the water onto the roots of the tree, focusing on the image of Noctifer.

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Noctifer sat in front of Ava, playing a game of Rota. He moved the pieces, smiling when Ava frowned. They rested their head on their palm, staring at the pieces with a growing annoyance. The bird spirit was preening her feathers. Ava, looking up, raised their eyebrow as water dripped down Noctifer’s face. The deity reached up and touched the water, looking at it oddly before smiling to himself.

“He’s learning,” whispered Noctifer, pressing the water-covered fingers to his lips as a subtle show of affection. Ava’s expression only grew as light glimmered under Noctifer’s skin. He didn’t seem to mind, only moving his piece after Ava’s turn. He got three and won with a grin. Looking up, he held out his hand in a sign of peace to Ava, who gawked at the game before them.

“We’re getting there,” he mumbled. Ava nodded uncertainly, shaking Noctifer’s hand with a concerned gaze.

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In his focus, Solaris had failed to notice that the water continued dripping endlessly from his palm. He had forgotten the world around him, solely focused on the image of the lunar god, whom he had hoped to find through this connection. He allowed himself, for once, to be swept away by the waves of chance. He felt the air rush as he fell through the airts in the vision.

Then he found himself in a temple where he saw two deities sitting across from each other. When he looked closer, he saw the shining face of Noctifer in that trademark smile. He reached out, attempting to call to the deity, but stopped just short. He felt his chest burn, and his heart beat faster. His chest clenched, seeing the deity’s unaware smile. He called out to Noctifer, but the other did not respond.

His heart only quickened at the realization that the deity did not see him, or even know his presence. He felt the cold thoughts settle over him. A sound marked the presence of a fourth in the space. He turned around and saw the figure. It was like him, but distinctly not like him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. The skin was too pale, or the eyes were too large or too far apart. Everything about it was like him, but wrong.

“Hello, Deus ex machina,” it whispered, sounding too loud in the corners of Solaris’ head. Its robes were as his but garbed in circles and snakes, which repeated themselves infinitely.

“Who the fuck are you?” hissed Solaris darkly, his own feet begging him to run and his hands urging him to fight.

“Deus Ex Nihilo,” the figure responded with that wide smile. Its hand reached out to Solaris in a faux attempt at peace, its smile too wide and its eyes too narrow.

“You are a liar, you are not Deus-Anything,” mocked Solaris with a frantic wave of his hand. “You mean nothing and will be crushed.”

Solaris’s voice hastened until it was a screech of anger and rage. His hands threatened the spirit widely and his eyes were frantic and red.

“Get out, I banish you,” he screamed, and the spirit receded.

When Solaris woke up, he was in the garden, and the root had become dark with the water he had offered. Nothing more came from his hand, and his body was sodden with sweat. He fell to his knees and rested his head against the rough bark of the tree. The cool air of the night whipped past him. The leaves stood as witnesses. Sala herself also stood as a witness. She was standing in the shadows of the garden, choosing flowers to bring some life into Solaris’s bed chamber. When she saw the god slump back down against the earth, his eyes blank, she knew well that he had gone back into that silent state. He had become the half-god once again.

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Noctifer heard a scream on the periphery of his senses. He looked around, looking past Ava, but saw nothing of the sort. His frown only grew when Ava looked at him as though he were a madman.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That scream, Ava,” Noctifer snapped, catching himself almost immediately after. He took a deep breath before trying again:

“I heard a scream. Did you hear anything?”

“No…” Ava said distantly, moving another piece. They smiled when they won the game, looking up at Noctifer, who was still gazing over their shoulder.

“Life carries on, Noctifer. Maybe it’s the darkness of this temple. Have you considered bringing light in?”

“How can it be the darkness that’s making me hear things?”

“When the sun sleeps, everything comes out. You should know this, Noctifer.”

Noctifer’s shoulders slumped. His fingers massaged his knitted brow.

“True, the night always had a way of bringing out the worst fears of people. You want to begin the next round?”

“I’d like to, but we’re making a bet this time.”

“Another meal?”

“Yes, please.”