The trio of Goddesses were forced to take a roundabout method of arriving at Londinium. As Nexus has forbidden the Ancient Gods from walking the Mortal World in order to enforce fate’s will, the three of them travelled to Londinium using the Divine Crossroads.

However, Londinium had long been declared a Neutral City, thus free of overt divine interference. In part due to the sheer number of Pantheons that sort to lay claim to it for various reasons and ancient history. But also, in part, due to the power and symbolism the city had long held and represented. So, Nexus, to forestall the inevitable and entirely pointless back and forth of wars between all parties, divine or otherwise, declared it Neutral and thus untouchable. Unless one wanted to be smote, that is.

Which meant that the three of them were doubly not meant to be there. As in Nexus would smite them into piles of sand and then use their remains to create a lovely set of glass statues as lawn ornaments.

If Nexus had a lawn, that is.

Most likely they would be placed in a museum at an exhibit of what happens when you choose to ignore the rules. Nexus has always promoted educational content.

But the Sideways Paths were not a part of the Mortal World. A part of Earth, yes. Or at least part of the Sideways Paths belongs to Earth’s sphere of influence. But the Mortal World? Never.

Which left the three of them with little choice but to face the hazards of entering the Sideways Paths from the Divine Crossroads.

Which Nexus simply loathes anyone or anything doing. Why, one may ask?

Because it opens a path. One that connects these two nigh infinite and vast network of highways and side roads of sort. One, the Divine Crossroads, is based on order and efficiency. The other, the Sideways Paths, is birthed of chaos and nightmares.

And once connected, they both try to infect/alter the other in order to merge the two highways into one. However, the two of them work almost entirely differently and neither is compatible with the other, beside both sharing a similar function of getting someone from point A to point B.

Sanity vs madness. Squares vs circles. Order vs Chaos.

However, Nexus has never forbidden anyone from doing it.

“Nexus is more relaxed in its control over the world and we Divines than we think. It only intercedes when it can see no or very little benefit of the situation for anyone. When something simply promotes chaos or it weakens the world as a whole, these are the times Nexus acts. Creating a connection between the Crossroads and the Paths is agitating for Nexus, by ultimately it is something of a virus test run. Beneficial in the long run, tedious in practice.”

Athena explained her plan to her two companions. Freya held the reins of her chariot, focusing on controlling her two giant lynxes to keep them from suddenly veering off. She adored them but their lack of discipline, put simply, is horrendous. Glancing at Ishtar, Freya could only stare in longing at the gold, burnished bronze and bejewelled chariot, drawn by eight gold sun-maned fiery lions. Ishtar allowed no disobedience or discord among her lions, if one acted out of line, all were punished. No obstacle or foe, not even certain death, could deter them from following the control of Ishtar’s reins.

Their discipline, unshakable. Their loyalty, unbreakable.

Legends say that Ishtar’s lions were the reincarnations of the greatest soldiers and warriors, granted by Ishtar the honour of being her protectors and servants. Freya had once questioned her on the matter of discipline. Ishtar had responded by handing her black sceptre to Freya and nodding to her disobedient lynxes.

“To rule over others, to command obedience, one must be willing to use the rod as punishment when necessary. Those that only offer a gentle hand to those that follow them may gain their loyalty, but rarely unconditional obedience. Obedience is learned from repetition of both reward and pain. It is a like a muscle. Your cats must learn that you are their master. Beat it into them when they disobey, reward them when they obey. Even the dumbest of creatures avoid pain and seek benefits. You have to be willing to teach yours that obedience to you is the only way they will benefit.”

Freya sighed as she recalled Ishtar’s words of advice and then glanced back to her two preciouses. Ishtar had not taught her anything she didn’t already know. Freya only had two lynxes to draw her chariot, not due to lacking numbers but if she had more, they were fundamentally and increasingly uncontrollable. Freya lacked the will to be cruel to them. They were her babies.

Her Valkyries? She could be as cruel to them as necessary. But her precious little pussy cats? She became soft as a ball of yarn. Cats and yarn were a disastrous combination.

Ishtar called from her chariot to them as Freya and Athena were sharing Freya’s chariot.

“Nexus prefers order because order is predictable. What is predictable can be automated. What is automated can then be left unattended. What can be left unattended can thus be ignored for the most part. But Nexus also understands that without chaos, the world will grow stagnate. Personally, Nexus allowing these demigods to come to our world is just that simple. They are merely a stimulant. A shot of adrenaline, if you wish to use a mortal phrase.

“Whatever war is coming on the horizon . . . it is one that will be the result of their addition to the balance of power within our world. I have seen such decisions by Nexus before in my long time. Nexus may seem beholden to the World/Fate, but ultimately, it is Nexus who rules and decides all. The World/Fate is merely Nexus’ automated creation.”

Athena’s expression became thoughtful and pondering. Freya smiled at the expression. Athena had her moments. Moments when, Freya wished she did not cling quite so tightly to her virginal ideals. She could be quite adorable when she became lost in thought.

Glancing at Ishtar, Freya knew she wasn’t the only one to feel so. Freya suspected if Ishtar actually believed any of her own theory.

Ishtar had done it before.

She proposed a reasonable theory, one that would catch Athena’s attention and get her lost in her own giant brain, just to see that very expression on Athena’s face.

However, Freya had to disturb her from it sooner than see wished as they had reached their destination within the Divine Crossroads. It would take all of their attention from here on out. The Sideways Paths were not nearly as safe as they could sometimes appear. Gods and other Divines had perished in the twisted labyrinth of the Paths before. All that was dark and monstrous which appeared on Earth either came from, retreated or has been banished to the Paths. The Norse had another name for the Paths, just like many Pantheons had their own name for it.

When they had first walked its paths, its many branches and roots, large and small, it appeared as a tree to them. The Norse Pantheon named it Yggdrasil the World Tree. A limitless, boundlessly massive tree that connected multiple worlds together with Midgard being just one of them resting within its branches and roots.

Even now the Norse could only see the Paths as branches and roots.

The Paths were subversive like that. Uses your understanding of it, from what you have been told and from what you believe of it and uses it to help you see it as such.

And if you have no understanding of it? It uses the surroundings around you to help your mind adjust its own nature into something you can understand and use.

Because it wants to be used.

It wants you to walk its paths. It will lure you in with wordless promises of adventures, knowledge of far off worlds and all the power that lay there. One could mistake it for an endless trove of riches, knowledge and source of power and growth.

If it wasn’t for all the monsters and the mind-addling tricks it plays on you.

The goals of which being that you never leave. Gods and Divines were just another type of prey to it, simply a touch bigger and more nutritious, than most.

And Lugh had left her daughter at the very edge of the Paths within Midgard’s territory of influence. Freya’s teeth clenched together as fury billowed up from within her.

Madness. Blatant, uncaring, unforgivable insanity. And on top of everything else he had done.

And she would make him pay for it.

All of it.

Even if she had to rip it out of him. Nothing, not Nexus, not Midgard and certainly not Lugh and his schemes would keep her from her daughter, from her child.

Her little Gersemi. It was the name she had given her daughter, within her heart of hearts, meaning treasure in the old tongue. To Freya, her only daughter and child her greatest treasure. Not gold, not jewels, not fame, not power nor authority.

And today Freya would finally hold her in her arms.

The three of them stepped off the chariots and walked to one of the many walls of the many roads of the Crossroads. Reaching out, the three of them held out their hands and arms to the wall. Below them, the floor transparent, lay Londinium beneath a spattering of clouds. Tiny and distant.

But mere distance meant little to the Paths.

From nowhere an enormous branch, its bark, grey-brown, thick and ancient, its leaves lush, vibrant and emerald green, appeared before Freya and the others. The other two saw it as a branch of a massive tree as well, because Freya led them in calling it, using her connection to their desired destination.

Freya turned to both Athena and Ishtar; one of her brows raised in question.

“We will need all our attention and power focused on forcing the Paths to take us to my daughter and my now quite cute little demigod. Lugh Macnia Lámfada is a scheming bastard and cur, he will have influenced the Paths to make finding the location an increasingly difficult and hazardous task. That also doesn’t count any charms, enchantments and sorcery he has laid to guard against, hinder and kill any others. We are effectively walking into a trap, one birthed from the mind of, who, as Ishtar puts it - is a desperate genius at the very last strands of his sanity.”

A ferocious grin spread across her face as a bloodthirsty madly churning light swirled in her terribly deep and cold fjord blue eyes.

“Shall we put the mad cur out of his misery?”

Athena’s body sparked and glowed, her softness and scholarly philosophical air faded, as she marshalled her Domain of War and Aspects of Battle and Strategy to her in full force. Her armour, golden bronze, became more complete, covering her body in its entirety, a spear appearing in one of her hands, her shield with Medusa’s head of serpents hissing and dripping venom in the other. Her helm appeared over her head to finish the image of a giant golden bronze statue of a warrior come to life.

“I have planned and strategized his torture and death without end. The thought of it, along with the belief I would find my daughter one day, is the only thing that allow me to keep from crumbling. Let this be the day I take one more step in finding my child. Let this be the day I take the first small taste of revenge for the pain and separation he forced on me.”

Athena’s voice held twenty years of patiently gathered, calmly stored and vastly accumulated wrath. It is a fury she refused to allow herself to vent or take the edge off. It now lays on the verge of psychosis.

Ishtar on the other hand, smiled grimly as she calls on her own Domains of War, Justice and Absolute Power. Her ostentatious jewellery and golden finery seemed to melt as her hand closed over her black sceptre. The gold tarnished and became a glossy and polished black as obsidian glass, covering her seductive body in chain and plate armour, long black silk robes and cloak covering them. The emeralds and jewels faded, becoming many and tiny lapis lazuli specks over the armour, like stars upon the dark of night. Ishtar’s head is graced by a black iron crowned helm and mask of her own face in silver. Her pitch-black iron sceptre also transforming, becoming a lapis lazuli rod, a column of measurements, like a ruler, scaled its full length, that seemingly and illusionary extends all the way to beyond the heavens.

“Lugh, because of your pride, because of your arrogance,

Because of your love, because of your beauty,

Because you wore a mask of lies,

Because fate blessed you,

Because you did not cherish what you had when you had it,

Because you did not withdraw your hand from that which you should never have reached for.”

Ishtar’s voice, cold, harsh and full scorn and judgement as she recited a poem. It lacked any of the seductive heat it usually held, the playful teasing and veiled innuendos of lust and games. Frigid and wintery, both in word and intent, Ishtar further declared.

“I will tear you asunder. I will drink your blood and eat your innards. Burn your body and soul and scattering their ashes in a frozen waste. It will lay far from the warmth of the sun and the sight of the moon and only your ghost will know your fate. I will pass my judgement upon you. Know and tremble, simpering cur, Inanna-Ishtar; Queen of Heaven and Earth, Conqueror of a Thousand Cities and Ten-Thousand Miles, Usurper of Thrones and Domains, Destroyer of Mountains and Heroes, comes for your head. TODAY, I TAKE VEGENCE FOR THE DAUGHTER YOU SNATCHED FROM MY ARMS AND STOLE FROM MY BREAST.”

Her voice echoed and boomed. Freya and Athena stared in astonishment as they realized that Ishtar’s announcement travelled down the branch and into the Paths. It shattered the space between them and their destination, revealing a simple wooden door within a dark area of torn and broken space at the end of the branch. Ishtar mounted her chariot, now black with obsidian and blue with lapis lazuli, gathering the reins and lashed them. Her lions, now as if born of black velvet covered iron and shadows, their eyes burning with the fury of stars, roared and bounded forward at her command. An army of chariots rose from her shadow as she passed from the Crossroads to the Paths, drawn by midnight stallions with silver hooves and bearing powerful Jinn warriors.

Freya and Athena quickly leaped onto Freya’s chariot to follow. Both realizing that Ishtar had used them to find Lugh, all the while hiding her army in the darkness of her shadow, waiting silently within the Sideways Paths for her command to go to war.

For twenty years they waited. Neither Freya nor even Athena managing to detect them. While the sting of embarrassment and anger burnt their cheeks, a cold fear seized hold of their guts.

Ishtar seemed to care more for butchering Lugh than finding her own daughter. Freya had seen the terrible mad hate in Ishtar’s eyes as she bellowed to Lugh across the Paths. It was a hate born from despair, of a fear confirmed . . . of a daughter forever gone.

Freya didn’t understand, her own daughter yet lived, why would Ishtar’s have perished.

Athena spotted her confusion and answered it, her tone trembling.

“Our daughters birth stalled, lacking essence. Ishtar seems to fear that Lugh harvested the essence he contributed to two of the children and gave it to the remaining third, to ensure that one of them would live. The rest is obvious. When you discovered your daughter, Ishtar had her answer, and in her mind, Lugh’s as well. She believes that Lugh sacrificed her and my daughter and chose yours.”

Freya felt her form grow cold and stiff. Her mind rebelled against the terrible idea of it. She took a shuddery breath and slowly shook her head.

“Not even Lugh would do such a thing. Whoever he may be, whatever his faults, no one can deny his love and cherishment of his children. He would never be able to choose which to sacrifice and which to save. He is able to be ruthless, but not like that. Not to his own children.”

Athena gripped her spear tight as she whispered to herself.

“I hope you are right. I pray to Gaia you are right. And I hope Lugh lives long enough to tell that to Ishtar, because if not, I doubt your daughter will live much longer past him. Ishtar isn’t in the most stable frame of mind.”

Freya looked ahead at Ishtar’s back.

“I hope so too, because I don’t want to have to kill a woman I . . . that I care for. Not one wronged like she. Like we all were.”

She looked beyond Ishtar to the simple wooden door.

“Lugh, it is your time to step up now. You finally have your chance! You can finally, directly, protect one of your children. Don’t misstep now!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“. . . TODAY, I TAKE VEGENCE FOR THE DAUGHTER YOU SNATCHED FROM MY ARMS AND STOLE FROM MY BREAST.”

The power of the voice slammed into Aine’s Divine Territory, shaking her store as if an earthquake had decided to rock a cradle. Aine attempted to speak, her dusky rose lips trying to form the words. But the only the sound of the roar of lions and the battle cries of male voices seemed to exist at the moment.

She turned to Asta, grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the door of her Territory and shoved her behind her. Concentrating, she spoke directly to Asta’s mind.

“Go to the back, between the bar and the forge you’ll find an elevator. Leif is down it. Get yourself down there as well. I will find you both when the coast is clear.”

Asta hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth to try and speak.

Aine could already guess from her emotions it was an offer to help, to fight alongside Aine and her father. Aine bellowed to her mentally.

“I said, GO HIDE! I will find you after it is safe!”

Asta could only be astonished to feel her body move of its own volition as it turned away to run for the back of the store.

Turning, Aine stared at her father’s woefully pale face.

“I guess Inanna-Ishtar is one of my mother’s then?”

Her father flinched at the sound of his daughter’s voice in his own head, turning to look at her. His expression must have said it all. Or most of it. But he still answered.

“Ishtar, she goes by Ishtar these days mostly. Yes, she is one of your mothers. And it appears she has a very low opinion of me. I know the rage in her voice. It is a rage I have felt many times. The rage at the death of a child. Your own child.”

A look of torment flash in his eyes, remembering his losses. But it is quickly buried under grim resolve. He turns to face the door and begins walking to it.

“Ishtar is the most powerful, oldest and also the most volatile of your mothers. Worshipped as the Queen of Heaven since before the Pyramids of Egypt, a goddess born during the Dawn and at the Cradle of Civilization. Pride and Arrogance are as much her bane as they are mine. They are common in both kings and queens it appears.

“From the sound of it she has her army with her, which means that she intends to kill however many who happen to get in her way as it takes to get to me.”

Her father turned his head and glanced back at Aine.

“Ishtar is as violent, ruthlessly merciless and savage in battle as she is as passionate, lovingly indulgent and protective of those who belong to her while out of it. No harm will come to you so long as she realises that you are her daughter, not from her hand nor from anyone else’s so long as she breathes. It is simply a task of both of us living long enough for her to realise who you are through her bloodthirst.”

Aine smirked at the word ‘simply’, clearly her father had forgotten that everyone here wasn’t an ancient warrior king and veteran of hundreds of battles. She realised that he also seemed to intend going out of her Divine Territory to face her mother and her army directly. Seemed like a poor tactical decision in her admittedly novice opinion.

“I think it would be best to maybe stay here, don’t you? A little more defensible right?”

Her father chuckled as he grabbed the door handle.

“You underestimate your mother’s power and the terrible power of her army. Conqueror of a Thousand Cities and Ten-Thousand Miles, Usurper of Thrones and Domains, Destroyer of Mountains and Heroes are not just idle boosts. I can only say that I would be able flee if forewarned, but surrounded and forced into direct conflict? Even if she doesn’t fight me in single combat, I would still drown under the number of powerful warriors in her army. If she does seek me out alone, she would still just as easily crush me. I would not be the first god to be felled by her if it happens. All fear her strength while a weapon lays in the palm of her hand. Trickery and subterfuge, before or out of combat, is the only way to get the best her.”

Aine guessed she looked suitably impressed because he smiled grimly.

“Don’t come out, anyone of her soldiers could end your existence. Wait here, even if you don’t go out to meet her, she will be able to sense her connection with your Divine Territory. After all, part of it belonged to her for ages past.”

He slipped out the door, but before he closed it Aine saw a grand tide of black horses, chariots and garbed warriors behind him. Her heart launched itself into her throat at the sight. She then heard his voice on the other side of the door.

“Remember stay here, no matter what happens to me or what you hear. Stay inside, coming out is certain death. Remember!”

Aine swallowed her fear and worry as she waited by the door. Until a sudden sound of a thunderous clash and scream of metal on metal over-rode the general sound of charging horses and roaring lions and warriors. She quickly pin-pointed the sound of her father’s emotion in the distance by straining all the senses available to her, both physical and extraordinary. She swore she could almost see him, see his green and gold fiercely glowing aura in her mind. She watched as he seemed to dance as much as fight.

Impossibly graceful. Perfectly powerful. Striking a sublime balance between the two that expanded beyond the sum of it.

But it all quickly ground to a sudden, sickening halt as another aura appeared.

Black, with hundreds of thousands of star-like blue specks within it. But the stars were . . . fading. Like tiny candles being blown out. Slowly but surely, she could feel the aura’s misery, feel its hope gradually dying out as each star disappears.

She watched in horror as the aura lifted an enormous blue pillar, one long and sturdy enough to hold up the Heavens itself. Before bringing it crashing down on her father.

All within a single moment.

Her father struggled. But the pillar simply rose before crashing down again. No technique, no subtly.

Just rage and fury and sorrow and pain.

So much sorrow. So much pain.

An ocean made of tears. A world full of pain.

The pillar rose and fell. Over and over.

Until her father stopped moving. Until his aura dimmed to almost nothing.

Fear welled up within her, as Aine watched the black aura approach her door.

The handle turned halfway before pausing. A pause that seemed to last forever.