--- Minor Goddess Fabia POV

“What are you attempting Goddess?”

I ignore the questioner for now and concentrate on retrieving the Lizard Kin’s Spirit from the Spirit Plane as Thanaron is yet to take his soul and I have already made his body whole by healing the pierced heart. His body and soul remain, his spirit only recently taken and yet I cannot call the spirit back. I follow the tenuous link, a spiritual echo from the body to Spirit Plane and at the end of the climb, there is nothing. If I didn’t know better, I would think his spirit was destroyed. I throw my hands up in frustration. This is not my first attempt upon this battlefield or perhaps more apt, battle river?

“What are you attempting Goddess?” A quiet impatience laces his question.

“Nasim, as a fellow God you must understand I am trying to exercise my Realm upon the world, I am trying to reunite a spirit to a body and soul.”

“Why attempt this on a worshipper of Tor?”

“In case something goes wrong or in this case, nothing happens so there is no anguish from his relatives and no disappointment to explain to others.” Sometimes husband … I wish to say, yet don’t.

A grunt. Good enough I decide. I did contemplate asking why he uses a war hammer for a weapon while his worshippers use a spear but none of his followers seem particularly put out by the anomaly so why should I. Also, his business, not mine.

“Mother! I mean Goddess, another is willing to follow our way.”

I greet the Lizard Kin female while trying to contain Watas’ excitement with a quiet smile.

“My name is Jexa, Goddess and after all this death I would like to walk the world healing if you accept me.” Her hissing lisp cute. Her reasons are fully understandable and not unique to this day, unfortunately.

“Spread the word Jexa, I will be conducting a ceremony tomorrow, middle of the day by the shore. Lizard Kin are welcome to remain in the water when I do.”

She bobs her massive head of teeth, saying, “Thank you, Goddess and I will ask others.” She then dives off the side of Nasim’s Temple into the river.

“Don’t steal all the Lizard Kin, wife. Some females became warriors today and I would hope to begin their worship of me.”

His serious face soon breaks out into laughter and Gods or not I slap him playfully on his shoulder.

“Mother, father, you are openly displaying affection,” says Watas attempting to scold us, her parents.

We both return to our serious God faces and in fact, Nasim points to a location further along the riverbank. “In a camp there you will find the strongest of the slain worshippers of Tor. I would assume their spirits will not easily fade or forsake their souls and body. I will instruct two of my worshippers to guard you in case of success and the saved Lizard Kin returns with revenge in their heart.”

---

I kneel at the last possibility of twenty corpses. I cast [Healing] to remake the body whole once again, fortunately, this one died tripping onto a stake or perhaps dodging my husband’s war hammer and falling onto a stake. I shrug. The crushed heads of the remaining Lizard Kin corpses would require extensive use of magic to renew, and I didn’t attend to them. My reservoir of magic isn’t deep, Minor Goddess or not. Of course, I wish it otherwise and I await the day.

The two worshippers of Nasim accompanying me gasp every time I heal, they are young, their spears taller than them for now. Watas is with me, observing. Dulra, my sole Priest, remains at my single Temple overseeing the running and upkeep, although a Temple which isn’t a building requires unique caretaking. I also left Issa with Dulra, the separation of a mother from her youngest always cause for concern and I am no different, regardless of my neophyte divinity.

I close my eyes and enter a meditative state calling his spirit to his body. His Spirit is present upon the Spirit Plane, and he acknowledges my call, yet he is afraid. Am I the one devouring the Spirits of his companions, fellow worshippers of Tor? I try to reassure him, offering his body as proof describing his wounds, the location of his death and the battle he fought in. I feel his return; target and follow his descent from the Spirit Plane as a ball of invisible light. The light descends into his body and then … nothing. A ghost image of him rests over the corpse of him, there is no binding.

Before my eyes a shining Thanaron descends and retrieves his spirit, rising once again to the Spirit Plane. I know I am on the cusp of discovery. Alba, my first success due to the body and soul being whole while bereft of a spirit. Nasim my next, the same, the young Stone Giant, wounded although alive, his spirit flown. Now, I can call the spirit which once inhabited the body, back from the Spirit Plane, yet once reunited, Thanaron, without fail carries the spirit away shortly after. The corpse being without a soul, Thanaron must recognise this state and is as efficient as usual. The soul must be the missing piece, the soul bequeaths life to the flesh of the body, while the spirit returns personality and memory to the living soul imbued flesh.

How do I return a soul to a body? Or in plain speak, life to the flesh.

--- Arnora, Priestess of Zeus POV

“I have a gift for you Priestess,” says Zeus.

My faith in him rises with every word. The silence for so long a torture, unbearable, yet I know I must become stronger. Is our God’s presence tenuous?

“I, your humble servant am ready Great Lord.” I bow my head in reverence.

“We will call this gift the [Mantle of Dolos]. There is magic of course, yet the gift relies more upon belief. Upon studying another you can sculpt and envision that other person on another.”

I cock my head to one side … and receive a frown from my God as a response. The disappointment in his eyes wilting my pride and instead of crumbling I think this through.

“Invoking [Mantle of Dolos] I study another, a Panther Kin, perhaps and when ready I can apply that study upon another, and they will look the same?”

His smile is encouraging. His silence wishes me to work harder …

“I could, for example, study a human and then remake Hrut to look exactly the same, a fake?”

“Yes, my Priestess. Hrut will be Frost Giant no more, human in size and known appearance. Yet be cautious, the feet will be Frost Giant in form and colour, yet not size, otherwise, a fake would never pass inspection.”

Hrut, kneels and bowing his head he asks, “Will I forever be human Great Zeus?”

There is a tremor in his voice which I suspect only his mother can discern.

“No Myrmidon.”

Grim relief spreads across my son’s face.

“Yes, Myrmidon.”

His lips form a circle of surprise between his fledgling moustache and beard.

Zeus clarifies, “The [Mantle of Dolos] will endure for as long as you believe – as others question, you must draw upon your oratory and bravado to assuage their doubts. The more who question, the more willpower is required from yourself to maintain your fake appearance. Revealing your feet to another will almost certainly reveal you as a fake and the [Mantle of Dolos] will fail returning you to your original self.”

“Great Lord Zeus, will I be as weak as a human?” asks Hrut with trepidation.

“No Myrmidon, or should I say Prophet Hrut …”

{Worshipper: Hrut Myrmidon of Zeus.

Prophet Level One: You are to spread the word extolling the virtues and benefits of worshipping the being Zeus. Building worship to empower and strengthen his presence in this world.

Godhead: Zeus

Realms: Ruling, Storm and Sky

Holy Symbols: Thunderbolt shaped Sceptre

Prophet Skills: Oratory, Evangelise (Zeus), Theology (Zeus)}

Faith Magic (retained): Zap, Dash, Strength

Faith Magic (modified): Locate (Faithful, Faithless, Heretic)

Divine Magic (retained): Heal Flesh, Soul Sight, Sanctify Area (Zeus), Worship (Zeus)

Realm Magic (modified): Assess Aspirant (Zeus)}

Hrut and I are speechless, such a responsibility, such a burden. Warm tears pool at the corners of my eyes, I almost openly weep for my son.

“As my Prophet, your link to me is as strong as your mother’s, so go forth and recruit human worshippers, they are more similar to my true likeness as are you and your mother and therefore more accepting of my divine self I am certain.”

Hrut’s lack of reusable Divine and Realm Magic, as a Myrmidon, a weakness without a Temple to renew his faith. A Temple must be our priority, until then his new Prophet role will ensure a Divine connection. What is the strength of Zeus? Is he now returned to a position of strength, hence being able to answer our summons? Or is this the last show of his strength, his final grasp? Is he truly fully dependent upon a mother and son to restore his presence and therefore until we succeed this will be the last time, he has the strength to manifest before us? If so, this means a continual thinning of our Divine connection until all our Divine and Realm Magic fades away. So many questions … all which go away if we gain worshippers and consecrate a new Temple to him. We must succeed and none will therefore stand in our way.

--- Cale Exsmith, Head Overseer of Queensport POV

I nod.

The two assisting the Cardinal convert their carrying duties to restraining duties as they clear the stairs and approach the centre of my office. The other escorts fan out either side of our prisoner. Worryingly she doesn’t react.

“Now what?” she asks, her own hands clasping each other like sweethearts out for a walk. She ignores the rough hands of my men grasping her upper arms.

Her calmness irritates me …

“The tide will be turning soon.” Her head leans to one side, doesn’t she understand? “A ship will be leaving Queensport, and you will be a guest of the Empire.”

Her tongue lashes out between rows of razor-sharp teeth. “You don’t have to do this. I simply offer a different way, life and death are inevitable and the Goddess Aphrodite gives meaning to many. Not all, I admit, but many.”

“I assume your Goddess defers control of her worship to her Priests and Cardinals, of which there are few, far fewer than worshipers … reminds me somewhat of our present situation with our Emperor and his court of advisors who in turn govern those below them.” I open my palms and wave my hands to the others in my office. “Are you asking these men, to trade a master they know and rarely hear from with an unknown who would want their attention for any boon she may grant?”

“As I explained the Goddess has no interest in replacing the governance of men, she offers boons for dedication in worship. An easy separation.”

I ease my buttocks upon my desk, smiling. “Will worship of your Goddess put more or less coin in the hands of those who worship her?”

“The usual tithe is trade goods, food and the like but only what is required to maintain the temple and the Goddess’ servants within and in exchange, the Goddess offers comfort in harsh times and protection if required.”

I slap my thigh and flash her a wide smile. “So, if a worshipper is wanted by the Empire they could run to your Temple and be guaranteed protection from the law? I don’t see an easy separation …”

She hisses. A sign of emotion, she isn’t stone.

“A worshipper in good standing with the Goddess wouldn’t be wanted by the Empire.”

Maybe so … although if they need to recruit what then? “What if the Empire decrees that Priests couldn’t walk the streets preaching for converts … they could only petition those entering their Temple and yet a Priest still did this, against the Empire’s Law?”

She throws her head back, lips parting revealing her longish twin fangs. “We will not have to search for converts, they will by word of mouth be our biggest and loudest advocates once the Goddess proves to them the benefits of worship far outweigh any burdens. The only non-negotiable criteria are true worship and loyalty.”

“We will see.” I walk around my desk and slump in my chair. “Release her.” She slithers forward and stops well away from my desk, clearly waiting for the ‘but’. “Go back to your Shrine and recruit from their Cardinal. I promise your Shrine’s stone won’t be taken … we will find another source.” I absently wave her away.

She turns without reply and makes her own way down the stairs.

I examine the faces of the simple hard-working men waiting upon my commands. There is a mix of expressions, most though wondering about my reason. All are subjects of the Empire and as loyal as any other, which is why they were sent on the mission to retrieve the stone in the first place. Rumour already declared the Shrine dangerous and somehow mysteriously protected.

“In several days from now, I will need two of you to approach the Shrine and profess a great interest. When you return, report back. For now, back to your duties.”

They nod and file out of my office, the last closing the door behind him.

“What do you think?” I call out into my office in a low voice.

A door opens and closes behind me. “She has a magical aura, and I am almost certain she knew of my examination. Her magic though is different, not like ours at all.”

I turn my chair and allow my wife to rest upon my lap. “More powerful or less powerful than you my dear?”

She kisses my forehead … I know that sign.

“Different power, we hold our spells within us, memorise the constructs ready for casting. She doesn’t have such, there is just magic within her, a mystery my husband.”

“Dangerous?” I probe while wrapping my arms around her waist.

“Difficult to read any facial expressions, she either carried off a superb bluff or such is her confidence she didn’t consider your reception a threat.” She turns her head and kisses my lips. A consolation prize it seems.

Better I release her then, my decision wise after all and if I need to find her, I assume the Shrine will be the best place.

The door to my office slams open. Two guards trot in, immaculate armour on shiny display and swords drawn taking up a position on either side of the doorway, stiff as boards. My wife tries to move from my lap, and I interlace my fingers to secure my arms around her.

“Too late,” I whisper.

The Duke, aging yet still somewhat athletic in build, black ringlets of a full head of hair framing his pale face with pink cheeks strides through the open doorway. Approaching my desk another two guards follow in his wake. His voluminous robes and the intricate finery of the garments flow into view.

His eyes look directly into mine. “Overseer, tell me of your visitor.”

I should of course rise and bow, instead I whisper in my wife’s ear, and she slides off my lap, pours both the Duke and I a glass of fine wine, one I save for these moments, curtsying as she hands off a glass to the Duke. She then exits my office through the door she entered leaving the men to discuss business.

“A fine wine cures many things,” I quip, taking a sip. The Duke’s eyes return to me, my wife’s sashaying bottom now safely behind a closed door.

“Yes, enjoying the delights, savouring the tastes … one of life’s joys. The visitor?” he growls.

My eyes glance towards his escort and with a wave from the Duke, they file out of my office, down the stairs closing the door behind them. Absolute obedience to absolute power.

“I know as a Duke you care for a significant piece of the garden. I wonder if you desire to shoulder the responsibility to tend the entire garden?”

He raises his well-manicured eyebrows. “Always the dream to tend to the entire garden, alas I would need more gardeners or favourable circumstance …”

I raise my wine glass. “Favourable circumstance is perhaps within reach.”

--- Hrut, Prophet of Zeus POV

After days of practice, finally, progress. My love for my mother was endless, yet her love for me led to abundant overcaution and delay. In the end, I replace my human double early one morning when he pushes yet another cart of ore out of the mine entrance. His companions busy within or on errands back to the village. I as him, dig and cart the ore out until the middle of the day and then sort through the pile during the rest of the day greeting his companions as they come and go, following his mannerisms and greetings. From the study of my human, I believe I successfully emulate his celebration and disappointment expressions, his occasional mutterings and what I assume are his swear words.

Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I pause a moment, a casual thought for my lookalike. Did mother keep him alive or decide the effort too much. I shrug and crush to powder another quantity of rock in my gloved hand and with my other hand pick out the liberated slivers of gold and add to a modest pile upon an upended barrel.

I choose one of his swear words as I survey two distinct heaps of waste rock. One high and coarse the other as significant, yet more powder-like and widespread. The before and after of different prospecting techniques. Unfortunately, this clearly illustrates I am not the same human I was yesterday.

---

“Adair! You lazy oaf you better have some gold for us.” The voice echoes from within the mine shaft and I must respond … as I am meant to.

“You mother of a whole, Pigot, I have been following the small vein, chipping away. We have what we have curse you.” I hurry, to shift the last of the coarse heap rock over the remaining powder. I kick two smaller heaps with a significant amount of fine rock to them spread far and wide … now that I survey my solution, the levelling of the land outside of the mine entrance, the proud tufts of grass here and there, the change is obvious. A sense of defeat gnaws at my stomach … I try to throw away this doubt, my illusion depends upon my confidence.

The weight of a slapping hand upon my shoulder I allow to shuffle my body forward as he expects. I am a puny human, not a proud maturing Frost Giant.

“That’s the shit, Adair, alright. What a gold pile. You get lucky with that seam or finally work your arse off!”

With deliberation, I swivel about. Pigot, his back to me strolls towards my barrel, hands in the air greeting the third member of our crew, Stedman. Their hands meet on high with a loud slap and ore dust billows out after the collision.

Stedman stares past Pigot at me, quirks his head, blinks and then shouts, “Come on Adair, collect your share and let’s celebrate.”

I shake my head, trying to understand how the distraction of this yellow metal makes both men oblivious to my pathetic efforts of subterfuge. These humans are driven by what is on their mind, their priorities which in this case is a pile of gold on top of a barrel. I am certain the amount is bigger than what they expected when compared to the daily yield of the previous Adair over the past several days … still.

After several faltering steps I join them. The pile of gold split into three piles.

“I split this time, so I go last,” admits Stedman, his eyes upon Pigot.

“Well shit for brains.” Pigot stares directly into my eyes.

A ripple of uncertainty shuffles down my spine. Does he know? I break eye contact, locate a pile, and scoop the gold into a leather pouch which somehow ends up in my other hand.

Pigot follows my lead and then Stedman takes the last pile. Skinny, sinewy Stedman follows a round Pigot along the narrow pathway leading from our claim without a single look back. I take one last glance at the pale rock dust contrasting with the original soil and powdering the tufts of grass, shake my head and jog after them.

--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

The human village is behind me. False confidence seeing to my released I believe and Ottar’s huge boot prints in the sand lead me away. They are easy to follow, and I gain some assurance after the shock of not meeting him where we parted ways. The momentary panic of that discovery certainly not Cardinal worthy. Following his trail will lead me to him, to the safety of his protection. As a Cardinal, I am a powerful representative of the Goddess yet my huge Frost Giant Initiate, as a companion provides me with a refuge. As I slither along, deep in thought, I conclude I need the company of another who can support me in an extremely basic way; might and size. None would dare take me, imprison me … torture me … from now on.

I wipe away the warm tears from my cheeks as I find myself collapsed upon a high dune, a single-arm supporting my upper torso and sand rolling across the back of my sinking hand. I knew the danger of entering the human village, yet I convinced myself, my faith in the Goddess would see me through. Yet there was doubt. How many times did I call to her for rescue when held by Allene Corser, then the Arch Priest of Aphrodite, her most faithful, most loyal adherent?

Gentle hands are under my armpits, lifting me.

I open my eyes; unaware I had closed them. I know they fling open further while my jaw drops when I realise who attends me.

“My Cardinal, I hear your prayer, dismiss your doubts. My promise to you is to never forsake you again.”

Aphrodite in all her splendour is before me in her Lamia form, scales bright, a wide warm smile basking me in her divine kindness.

“I …” My mouth opens and closes.

Her lips caress mine, the kiss lingering as her arms embrace me. The security, the surety overwhelming. A fierce body warmth, hers, envelopes me. Every fibre of my being glows with divine energy. My eyes roll back as my body shudders with the wash of sexual release and I blackout.

---

“Cardinal …”

His rumbling voice, all concern and worry. I wake up on the warm sand, yet my immediate reaction is to crave protective comfort. All the bad of my dungeon captivity floods over me, a past which still haunts me. The Goddess, my Goddess has assured me of her protection, yet I need more. I feel his arms reach around my body, strong and steady. Selfish I know, I don’t open my eyes and in fact, feign frailty relaxing into Ottar’s care. The taste of the smell of him on my tongue is never to be forgotten.

“Is the Cardinal ill?”

Another voice invades our moment, female and at the same time horrifically recognizable … it can’t be. My chest hitches as I recall that dark place and the manacles. I pass out fighting denial.

---

I roll onto my side, the fur upon which I lay, soft … I wish to stay here …

Where am I? I open my eyes this time. Stone walls surround me and sunlight shines through a single opening tall and wide enough for a Frost Giant. I sigh with relief. He can’t be far away. With Ottar beside me, I will face Allene Corser in whatever form he has now taken I decree. Is my Frost Giant Initiate still by my side? Will Ottar still defend me or has the silver tongue of Allene talked my companion into betrayal? How long has he been with my companion converting his lies into truth? What will I do if I am alone again?

The light dims and I glance at the doorway. To my relief, Ottar fills the entrance with his massive frame.

“You had me worried Cardinal with your collapse, I thought the humans cast some sort of spell upon you.” He sticks his thumbs into his warrior belt and rocks back upon his heels.

I shake my head and feign frailty again. I know this is wrong, manipulative yet I need to affirm his affection for me.

A welcoming smile radiates from his lips, three steps and he is beside my fur-covered stone bed and on one knee. A squawking draws my attention. Perching upon his shoulder a crow quirks its head and stares at me. There is an intelligence behind the bird’s deep black eyes and with an effort, I drag my eyes away to question Ottar with them instead.

He smiles, flashing his teeth from behind his beard. “We have company Cardinal, a Priestess of Aphrodite, Alba.”

I don’t remember that name, yet as she enters, the morning sun behind her, the shadow can’t disguise facial features which are engraved upon my memory. I scream and push with my tail into Ottar’s body, burying my face into his armoured chest.

“I am not him. Not Allene Corser. I swear this is true upon Aphrodite’s name.”

Raising my head, I peer over Ottar’s massive shoulder. The not Allene leans against one side of the doorway, the sunlight illuminating her features especially and probably deliberately, the face. Confirmation. I observe the slow turn of her face to ensure I scrutinise every pore of the skin. His visage is there, yet feminine. I remember the words of the Goddess …

“Explain,” I whisper. Do I have the strength left in me for more?