Orvan ate slowly, as I soon found out, and I felt a kind of… vindictive glee that came along with the drawn out meal. Kind of like refusing to see your boss, knowing they couldn’t fire you.

And, of course, I could still feel imprint going in my chest. Responding to the rebellion. Like it had just been waiting for me to make my own fate.

I knew that I would still see the gods, eventually. But I was still enforcing my terms on them, to some degree. It told me a lot about how imprint functioned, and that there was still a lot to be explored with it. The thought brought a smirk to my face.

Matt pounced on the moment. “So uh, you’re the archmage, huh?” he asked, and Orvan threw him a glance. “You uh, look a lot less dignified than I thought you would.”

The old man scoffed. “You smell a lot worse than I thought you would, plum boy.”

I watched as Matt’s mouth dropped open, then closed again in slow motion. He blinked, painfully slowly, and stared at the wizard. “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard him, Rat,” Emilia interjected, having picked up the nickname during the last couple days. “He’s calling your swordsmanship sloppy.”

As if to confirm her words, Orvan ever so slowly reached for his cup and took a purposely loud sip, ringing out through the mess hall. He didn’t break eye contact with Matt for a moment, and I couldn’t quite hold back a snicker.

The swordsman looked at all of us, grasping his chest in mock betrayal. “I will not forgive this!” he called, throwing a hand to his forehead, and I could hear everyone chuckling, even Reya having a big smile on her face.

After Matt’s noble sacrifice to deal with the awkwardness of having a stranger at the table, banter flowed like water, and our swordsman got to get his revenge on the old wizard as well. The magician took it with slightly less grace than Matt had, but still better than you’d usually expect from an old monster like him.

Eventually, though, after my third cup of tea, produced by the old wizard from some storage spell, he stood up from the table and beckoned me to follow.

I gave Ann a quick peck on the cheek, and squeezed her hand tightly for a moment, then excused myself from the table. I’d been done eating a while ago, and had simply been drawing things out. Which I would still do again, just as I did back then.

“Alright, Fio,” Orvan said, once the doors to the mess hall fell shut behind us. “Normally, a cleric would be accompanying you for this. Communicating with the divines is more their specialty, after all. However, this castle doesn’t have any clerics good enough for that.”

He huffed for a moment. “So, the divines, in all their truly incredible divine wisdom, saw fit to choose me to be your guide for just a bit here. What this means is that I’ll be going to the temple with you, and you’ll get to talk to our favourite friends up in the sky again.”

I nodded. “Thought so. Any advice?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Orvan said. “They’re gonna ask you to become an avatar. Something something they’ll give you extra powers, blabla. Decline it.” I saw the man flinch for a moment as he said so, his teeth grinding against each other. “Apparently, that overstepped my boundaries of being a guide. Truly sorry.”

“What would being an avatar entail?” I asked. If it was advice so worthwhile the gods would risk imposing a penalty on him for it, I needed to know more.

“Nothing they won’t tell you,” he said, facing forwards. “Nothin I get to tell you, either. Instead, I’m supposed to give you a briefing on how this is a great honor and an incredible opportunity, and to be thankful you’ve been chosen for it. So, now you heard it all out of my mouth, and I’m sure you got the picture,” he said, most of the words of praise being layered with venom.

“I think I get it,” I assured him.

“Good,” he grumbled, then pushed open another set of doors, leading to a long room with vaulted ceilings.

It wasn’t the tallest temple I’d ever been in at all, but it still gave that same kind of divine feeling, a warm glow radiating from the chandeliers. There were two more people in the room, standing next to alcoves, tending to incense or flowers, I assumed. I couldn’t quite see it, nor did I care.

The front of the temple had 5 altars, each one small and stylized, without the statues I had gotten so used to. There was a book for Archiva, a rose for Argus, a dagger for Ru, a teardrop gemstone for Lurelia, and a tombstone for Hir.

“Touch the altars and let the divines speak to you,” Orvan said. “Only the one whose altar you’re touching may talk to you now, Fio.”

At that, I got an idea. Slowly, deliberately, I strolled towards the pedestals holding the symbols. Then, I walked along each of them, gazing down at the stones.

I was under no illusion. The divines did not need me. I knew that my decision here mattered little. Yet, I also knew that the divines were prideful, and would more than happily fight over this.

And while the divines didn’t need me, I also didn’t necessarily need them. I could afford just a little… harmless mischief.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

… Perhaps Matt had rubbed off on me too much?

That thought was smothered in my head rather quickly, as, on my second round past the altars, I reached my target.

A dagger on a pedestal, the mark of Ru, of the warrior. A god of fighting, and of anger, and of righteousness and justice. A god who’d proven his short temper to me before. I gingerly reached out to the knife, then hesitated for a moment, before finally laying my hand on the symbol.

The blade was sharp to the touch, but didn’t pierce my skin. There was a long, hanging silence in the air, before the voice sounded in my ears.

‘It is good that you have chosen to hear my words, warrior. Your subjugation of the nest was fabulous indeed. Your next task is-’

I lifted my fingers off the knife.

For a few seconds, I let the silence hang heavy in the room, then I stepped over. I reached out to the rose of Argus, placing my fingers over the stem and a single petal.

‘Sprout! You have changed your mind, I assume? I am quite pleased to have you here. Your growth has been marvelous!’ the god spoke in my mind. I breathed a deep breath, and simply waited for him to continue. ‘I would like to offer you a reward for your outstanding deeds. If it would please you, sprout, become my avatar-’

I lifted my fingers off the rose.

There was a smile on my face. I could practically hear imprint roar in my chest. I hadn’t expected the path to be so mischievous, but I suppose this was one of the few ways to truly make an impression on the gods. Bowing easily hardly made me any different from the dozens of worshippers they already had.

Gingerly, I stepped over to Archiva’s book. I placed my hand on the cover, and the words came faster this time, without delay.

‘Hahahaha, spark, your games are marvellous. You would not believe the face Ru was making, hahaha!’ The goddess laughed heartily, then I felt glee from her. ‘Come, spark, continue this play. We both know you won’t be staying with me long.’

I lifted my fingers off the book.

Despite being a goddess of knowledge, Archiva seemed to at least have a sense of humor. Well, she was also the goddess of games, I supposed. My smile turned into a grin at her encouragement. I didn’t mind listening to one of the divines if it meant pissing off some of the others.

Slowly, I placed my fingertips on Lurelia’s teardrop gemstone. The voice of the goddess was soft in my mind, like a gentle embrace.

‘Hello, child. I am glad to get the opportunity to speak to you again. Would you mind staying a little?’

I lifted my fingers off the gemstone.

Lurelia’s presence was warm, inviting, and felt entirely wrong. A kind of unnatural comfort, one I did not need right now. If she was attempting to lure me, she should at least attempt to know me.

Finally, I took the stroll over to Hir’s altar. I did not think long before placing my fingers on the tombstone.

There was no fanfare or announcement with it. Hir’s presence settled onto me like a cool breeze, a certainty of… something.

But the divine did not speak.

The silence hung in the air, but it didn’t lay heavily. I knew Hir was there, that they were listening. I knew it like I knew that I would inevitably die, something of a distant, constant awareness, suddenly drawn to the forefront.

They seemed willing to give me space to speak.

I didn’t.

They waited.

The resonance with imprint had stopped, by now. But I could feel the path humming in my chest, I knew that it was just waiting for me to close my eyes, tread through, and push past the handful of pebbles that remained of the wall. I had achieved my goal, made an impact, enough of one to have my voice heard.

Clearly, this was Hir’s way of showing they were willing to… hir me out. I really needed to stop, jeez.

‘Alright, Hir, you there?’ I asked.

‘I am, Fio. What would you like to tell me? Or, us, rather.’

I took a deep breath and shook my head a little. ‘Why do you call me that?’

‘What?’

‘Fio. You call me by my name,’ I noted.

‘Ah, that.’ They paused a little. ‘Well. I find it respectful. I suppose if I followed my creed, I would call you a speck. But that would hardly seem fair, would it?’

‘Speck?’

‘A speck of dust, Fio. Because that is all anyone will be at the end of time. Death is an inevitability. A certainty. Few can escape the gnawing tooth of time, and even once that is overcome, decay will always, always set in.’

Their words resonated with a finality of certainty. The fact that Hir was a deity of death was one I’d known. That they were the one who signified the end of things. Yet, despite that, they were also a deity of peace, and respect, and time. Out of all the divines, their patience was the greatest.

‘And thus, I call you Fio,’ they assured me. ‘Because despite all of the inevitability that will befall you, life is precious, and worthy of respect. I should not impose my ideals on you.’

For once, I nodded. ‘I appreciate that.’

‘Of course. Are there any other questions you have?’

‘Explain to me what it means to be an avatar.’

‘Very well,’ Hir said. ‘To be an avatar of a divine means to receive a part of their power, and to have a tie to them. You would spend your points only at altars of that divine, you would spread their word and their glory, and receive powerful boons in exchange.’

‘What’s the catch?’ I asked.

‘There is none. It simply creates a bond between you and one of us. Well, I suppose the divine could take away your avatar powers, too, but it hardly ever comes to that.’

‘Hir. Stop trying to sell me on it, and tell me what it’s about,’ I demanded, my fingers only faintly in contact with the grave.

The presence on me, that felt like a cool breeze, turned warm for a few moments. Like a late summer gust, carrying the faint smell of falling leaves.

‘Fine, Fio, I suppose I was imposing. Being an avatar means you are tied to your divine. If they fall, you fall. Their mental state may influence yours. If you chose Archiva, for example, you may grow to enjoy libraries more. If you chose Argus, perhaps you would feel the need to tend a garden,’ they explained.

That was the catch, then. The reason why Orvan wanted me not to take it. Becoming an avatar was a bond, sure, but it was also a leash. At the end of the day, it would tie my fate to someone else.

Immediately, I felt voyage rebel at the thought. This could cause problems for my cultivation. Essentially, if I accepted, my path forward would mostly be growing the avatar powers.

My face scrunched up at the thought.

‘I won’t be doing that,’ I told Hir decisively.