“Where are you going?”

He turned around towards the voice. Near the end of an old stairway, there sat a young Weaver clutching a piece of parchment.

“Just outside.”

“For how long? Ad should be awake soon, maybe even before dinner.”

He didn’t know how long he would be out, so he said so. “I don’t know. Probably for a while though. I’ll get some food for myself later with the diems I have left.”

“Why don’t you stay here to have a meal? We’ll talk about what happened in the mountains while eating. I can tell something is bothering you.”

“The guards can barely spare enough to feed you and me. If I eat out, you can save my portion for Adam.”

Even though the words he said seemed selfless, they were selfish at heart. He was actually afraid of staying. It was too cramped, too stuffy, and always caused a feeling of emptiness that made him hate himself. Above all else, he was terrified of looking into the eyes of the friends he had abandoned.

“Let’s talk, Mono. You haven’t said much since we got to Davenport, and that was three days ago!”

“What’s there to talk about?”

The Weaver’s next words were a simple request that squeezed something inside of him, a part that told him to stay. “Don’t go, please.”

He turned back towards the door, unwilling to stare at the Weaver. Leaving wasn’t the best option, but what was the alternative? Flashes of the events that transpired just a few days ago flicked through his mind, along with the choices he had made and the emotional baggage they made him feel. At the thought of addressing anything or everything, he felt his breathing begin to become erratic again; the feeling of being trapped was growing stronger. He moved to open the door and escape.

As he quickly slipped out and closed the door behind him, he had a feeling of deja vu. Has something like this happened to him before? It didn’t matter, he decided.

Mono shook the feeling away and focused on the present.

After hearing about how their deity, a god who apparently rarely showed his face, had personally come to heal the man who had single-handedly defeated a mythically rare Myopic, the guards went out of their way to find accommodations for Adamas, his sister, and his friend. The trio were allowed to stay at a guest house normally reserved for a specific affluent merchant who was currently out of the city.

Standing on the elevated patio attached to the small building’s entrance, Mono looked out at the expansive harbor. As the name implied, Davenport was a port city. Ships were constantly moving in and out, unloading both cargo and passengers. While many were impressive trade ships with massive sails and enough room on board to carry a hundred people, some were tiny and only carried people. Refugees from across the sea, Mono recalled, as he watched another miniscule boat dock. It looked like a tiny blob from where he was standing.

With the amount of incoming people seeking asylum at Davenport, it was no wonder that the city had decided to close its walls to everyone travelling the trails except merchants. Despite its sprawling area and many buildings meant for temporary residents, there was simply no room for the refugees the city had apparently pledged to shelter — let alone space to accommodate visitors.

Going into the city proper this afternoon wasn’t what he wanted to do, Mono decided. The crowded streets were far too noisy with Sojourn’s stone and going sightseeing without the rock seemed rather pointless after having already done that for two days.

So instead, he stood on the patio, observing the bustle from a relatively peaceful position.

It was nice, being able to turn off his brain and not think about…

It was nice to have such a good view.

Nice enough to stay when the Weavers left? The negative voice inside of him asked.

Mono contemplated the suggestion. Based on his conversations with a few guards, it was possible for him to secure a job here as an interpreter. He would be able to make a living, to earn enough money to go wherever he wanted on a ship after a couple months. Looking at his situation objectively, he was really just a tourist for a year in this world. He could go anywhere and do whatever he wanted. Why stay with the Weavers and constantly be reminded of his past mistakes?

A part of Mono, the one which Vivian’s words had squeezed, surfaced for a second. It was enough to make him doubt the negative voice and internally debate his next move.

After several hours of turning the issue over and over in his mind, Mono yawned. The sky was beginning to darken, and the full moon was now visible in the almost-evening sky. He’d think about it as he slept.

Turning back around, Mono re-entered the house. To his relief, Vivian was no longer sitting on the stairway. Carefully tiptoeing past the steps to prevent her from knowing about his return, he opened the door to his room. Though there was no lit candle or other artificial light source, the fading sunlight was enough to see inside.

Mono walked past the small desk in the room which had Emre’s broken bow and his satchel that contained papers for practicing Weaving. He hadn’t touched either since putting them there three days ago. Why bother? The bow was broken and Weaving wasn’t working for him — not even his own original phrase for water.

Collapsing onto the bed, he closed his eyes to sleep.

“You’re alive,” a familiar voice said in surprise.

Mono’s eyes immediately snapped wide awake. He sat up at Sojourn’s words.

Instead of sitting up, however, the extra momentum made him fall forward and faceplant into the ground. Somehow, he had already been standing up in the dark-grey room.

The voice was amused. “That excited to see me, huh?”

He quickly picked himself up. While the fall hadn’t hurt, his body felt strange, tingly. Looking down, he noticed that he was slightly see-through. Was he transparant the last time he had been here? Thinking back on it, he couldn’t recall. Then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention because he had thought that it was a luci—

“Are you ignoring me?”

“Sorry,” Mono replied as he shook away the mental cobwebs. His mind was slightly foggy and his thoughts were sluggish.

Turning to address Sojourn, he took in the eerie, perfectly symmetrical face once more. It wasn’t quite symmetrical at the moment, however, since an eyebrow was arched.

Right, he thought, she wanted a response. What was the first thing she had said? Something about…

“Wait, why are you surprised that I’m alive?” He asked.

“Most people I send over don’t survive the first month,” the goddess explained. “I just assumed that you hadn’t made it either.”

“You did mention something about seeing me again in a month,” he recalled, “but it’s been less than four weeks. Did you set this up because of my prayer?”

It took him a second to process the other part of her response. “And what do you mean ‘most people don’t survive the first month?’ It would have been nice to tell me that before I came here!”

Even though he knew that he was talking to an actual goddess now instead of one he dreamed up, Mono didn’t bother watching his tone. He was furious that Sojourn hadn’t been up front about the dangers.

“No, I didn’t hear any prayer. And did I say that we would meet again in a month? I meant that I would check on you the next full moon.” She shrugged. “My mistake.”

“What about not surviving?” Mono demanded. He was getting more aggravated by the second.

“You need to calm down.”

“You expected me to die!”

“Look,” the goddess said as her face grimaced with annoyance, “I didn’t expect you to do anything. You’re not even where the real danger is.”

The words cut through Mono’s anger straight to his curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Remember how I mentioned a request when I thought you were that other human? It was for help in dealing with the demon king.”

He frowned. “There’s a demon king?” This whole situation really was like that story he had read.

“Well, he’s not technically a demon, but it’s the term I use since it seems to make the most sense to the other humans I talk to.”

At the mention of other humans, Mono recalled his conversation with Emre about meeting people from Japan. “And you send everyone else from Earth to somewhere different?”

“Across the sea where the demon king is,” the goddess confirmed.

“So why did you send me here instead?”

She looked him in the eyes. “You didn’t seem like the heroic type.”

Once more, her words cut through the last vestiges of Mono’s anger. This time, they also stung.

Sojourn was right. He wasn’t a hero. His mind drifted back to his time in the Vatam range before quickly shrinking away at the memories. It was a good thing that Sojourn had sent him here instead of across the sea. How could he fight anything when he couldn’t face the issues within himself?

Mono decided to change the subject. “You said that the demon king wasn’t a demon. Then what is he?”

The goddess moved a finger to tap her lower eyelid. “A human who’s not quite a human anymore.”

“You mean a Myopic,” he replied instantly.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of them before.”

He shuddered at the reminder of Kade. “I met one recently.”

“Then you understand how dangerous they are. In the demon king’s case, it’s not just him. The empire that he rules is aggressive, constantly trying to expand. What’s more, the culture that it encourages is the worst on the planet.”

“How bad is it?”

“At least a third of the population has become Myopic.”

The statement gave Mono chills. Everyone had made such a big deal here about a single monster. A country — no, empire — full of them? That was terrifying.

“That’s why people from Earth are being recruited,” Sojourn said. “We gods are trying to prevent the propagation of an environment which breeds monsters.”

“Which is ironic when you think about it,” a voice cut in. “You know, what with Myopics being sterile.”

Seemingly appearing out of the depthless grey like it was a fog, Daven walked into Mono’s vision, standing several yards away from both him and the goddess.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she snarled.

Her tone shocked Mono. Even after he had been disrespectful to her, Sojourn hadn’t shown nearly as much emotion compared to now, and all Daven had done was show up.

“If you ask me,” the god continued, “all the other deities are more concerned about preserving themselves than anything else. It just so happens that a declining human population would be detrimental to their interests.”

“No one asked you, unmortal,” Sojourn snapped back. Her power made it clear that she was using the word as an insult; unmortal and not immortal, beyond human but not a god.

“Nice to see you again, Mono,” Daven said, pointedly ignoring the goddess. “How is your friend doing?”

“He’s getting better like you said,” Mono replied uneasily as he looked between the two deities. A storm was certainly brewing.

“There’s no issues?” Daven pressed.

“Not that I know of.”

The god nodded while smiling. “Good, good. I knew that he would recover physically, but wasn’t sure about his mental health. I always try to fully help those under my protection, guests and citizens alike.”

“Then you should go back to doing that, unmortal,” the goddess retorted. “This is my domain, and you have no right to be here.”

Daven finally turned to address Sojourn. After a tense moment staring at her, he began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, her voice slightly shaking from anger.

It was strange to Mono to hear such fury coming from someone whose pale face never changed color, to be livid but not physically show it.

“Technically, I have the most authority here since this dreamscape was made in my domain,” the god pointed out. “I was only being polite when you decided to create something in my territory without permission. You’ve had your little chat, and now I need to have one with Mono before he wakes up.”

“But I’m not finished yet, unmortal.”

“Blah, blah, blah, ‘we gods are attempting to stave off a great evil.’ Does that about cover it? And stop with that pretentious attitude. If all I am is an unmortal, then all you are is a piece of rock that people put on a pedestal long enough to gain consciousness.”

“Respect your elders. Don’t speak to me like that,” Sojourn warned, “or else I will—”

“I really don’t have time to chat with a pebble. You can see Mono next full moon. Or was it next month? I can’t recall,” Daven said as he waved his hand. “Goodbye.”

Sojourn’s hair and clothes began to billow backwards, as if being blown by a strong wind that only she could feel. After a few moments of visible straining, she was eventually flung back into the grey expanse.

“Daven!” The goddess howled.

There was a heavy thump as Sojourn disappeared, as if a door had been slammed shut. The grey began to gradually lighten in color until the entire room was almost pure white.

“Man, she is a lot stronger than a goddess of travel should be,” the remaining deity commented, sounding slightly breathless. He turned back around. “Anyways, let’s talk.”

Mono took in Daven’s flushed face and the sweat beading on the god’s forehead. He had no idea how to react to this turn of events. Best to be cautious. “What would you like to discuss?” He asked politely.

“Whoa, what’s with the suddenly formal attitude? Please, relax, have a seat.” The god moved his right arm to indicate a wooden table and a pair of chairs which had suddenly appeared behind him.

“Alright.”

After settling in, there was a moment of awkwardness as Mono watched the god sitting in front of him silently contemplate how to begin their conversation. Daven opened his mouth to speak and then closed it immediately, seemingly changing his mind. This repeated several more times until the deity just threw up his hands and sighed.

“Are you thirsty?” Daven asked.

The random question caught Mono off guard. “Uh, I guess I could drink something.”

“Then I hope you like this,” the deity said as he began to pour the contents of a small silver teapot into two porcelain cups on the table.

Mono stared at the pot and cups. They had definitely not been there before. And yet, their sudden existence felt natural, a part of the ephemeral environment.

Daven slid one of the cups across the table. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Mono said as he tentatively took it.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drink a mysterious solution offered by a deity. Would it be like eating Hades’ pomegranate, forcing him into something unpleasant?

“It’s actually nice that we get to talk here.” Daven took a sip. He sighed in contentment and smiled. “The plant used to make this tea went extinct recently. Now the only place to enjoy it is in my memories or in dreamscapes like this.”

An extinct plant? Mono looked at the slightly green tinted water with interest. He really wanted to try it out of curiosity. After some internal struggling, he gave up and gave in. It was probably safe, drinking a mysterious tea in a dream. Probably.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s… interesting,” Mono replied.

The tea was sweet, far sweeter than any juice Mono knew, but had a different overall taste that he couldn’t place or compare to anything. Perhaps the deity enjoyed it out of nostalgia, because he didn’t understand why Daven enjoyed the tea so much. It was simply a very sweet, unfamiliar beverage.

“Only interesting, huh? What’s your favorite drink?”

“There’s something back on Earth called Sprite.”

Daven leaned forward in interest. “Describe it, please.”

There was a moment of silence as Mono tried to find the right words. It was surprisingly difficult to describe something when the other person didn’t have any context to compare it to. His favorite drink really did boil down to “unfamiliar carbonated sweet drink,” an irony he didn’t miss as he watched Daven continue to sip his tea.

Mono turned away to look out at the white expanse. Thinking about his preferred soda suddenly made him miss home. He really wanted a nice chilled, refreshing can of Sprite.

“That’s a weird container,” Daven commented.

“What is?” Mono turned back, only to gape at the two bright green soda cans suddenly on the table. “How are those here?”

“Well, this is a dream after all. Though you must have a pretty impressive imagination to cause this. There’s even one for each of us!” The deity grabbed a Sprite and spun it several times in his hands, observing it every which way. “How do you open it?”

“Pull the tab on top up.”

“Oh, that’s novel.”

Some cracks and fizzles later, the two were enjoying their cans of soda.

“I quite like this Sprite,” the deity enthused.

“Me too.”

A god and a human crack a cold one in a dream in another world, Mono thought amusedly. It sounded like the start of a joke.

“So, I imagine you have some questions,” Daven said after finishing the drink, setting down his soda on the table. The empty can crumpled a bit.

“You’re here because you wanted to talk to me about the favor, right?” Mono asked.

The deity had mentioned something after healing Adamas but disappeared before he could say it.

“I do have a request for you, but that’s not the only thing I’m talking about. You’re a mortal who has been inadvertently dragged across dimensions to a completely different universe. Surely you have some questions that would like answers,” the deity prompted.

“I have a few,” Mono replied, “but will we have enough time? You were very forceful about needing it when talking to Sojourn.”

Daven waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I just said that to get rid of her.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, the presence of another deity in my domain is a huge headache. We actually have the rest of the night to talk as long as I make sure the dream corresponds with the time outside. So, if you have any questions, ask away.”

Mono took a second to mentally organize his queries. A lot of them could probably be answered by other people, so he decided to focus on the ones that only Daven could help with. Specifically, stuff about deities.

“You said that the plant used to make the tea ‘went extinct recently,’ how long ago was that exactly?” He asked, curious about the god’s age and his perception of time.

“Just two years ago.” The deity noticed the surprised look on Mono’s face. “What, did you think I meant a decade or something? I’m not that old.”

“Then what’s your age?”

“I have lived a total of three hundred and twenty one years. I’m one of the younger deities,” Daven said proudly.

“What would be considered old?”

“Oh, seven hundred years, give or take a century.”

Mono furrowed his brow at the information.

“What’s wrong?” The deity asked.

“I just thought that gods would be more… ancient.”

“The average was probably far greater at some point, but now, not a single god that I have met is even a thousand years old.”

“Why?”

Daven shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s one of the greatest mysteries in this world. Records in several libraries account the existence of many immortals a thousand years ago, and then they inexplicably disappeared. All of them, across the entire globe.”

Mono was intrigued. “Is there a god who would know what happened?”

The deity took a moment to think. “A couple, but I only know one that would be willing to answer: Ayash. He’s over eight hundred years old and wanders around doing his own thing. Last I heard, he was in Damas. Friendly guy, probably because he’s an unmortal like me.” Daven said the last sentence in amusement.

“Sojourn called you an ‘unmortal,’ like it was an insult. What does it mean?”

“Some deities are fixated on their origins. Gods who used to be human, like me, are considered lesser by the ones who came directly into existence from an event or a worshipped idol. They try to make a distinction; hence, unmortals and immortals.”

“So you used to be a human.”

“Just a humble sailor,” Daven confirmed. “I was born here in Davenport — back then it was called Ovlesc. They changed the name after… after some stuff happened, and I became immortal. ‘Davenport’ is just a play on words with my name and the old word for ‘harbor.’ Also, I’d prefer it if we changed the topic, I’d rather not talk about my time,” he shuddered, “between. Are there any other questions you have?”

“Yes,” Mono finally decided to ask the most pressing question, “why do you need my help? You’re a god! Shouldn’t you be able to handle whatever it is on your own?”

Daven looked Mono dead in the eyes. “What do you think a god is?”

“Uh, well…” Mono’s voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a solid answer. Deities really varied depending on the story, but they were always depicted as ancient, powerful, and distant. Interacting with Daven and Sojourn, those things hardly seemed accurate.

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking of, it’s probably only partially true,” Daven said. “The proper definition of a deity would be any entity empowered by the concept or phrase that they embody and immortalized by the mortals who hold the concept within their minds. The reason why I’m asking you for help is because my phrase prevents me from pinpointing an issue in Ovlesc — excuse me, Davenport.”

“And your phrase is?”

The deity waved his hand. “I can’t give you the exact wording, since that could potentially jeopardize my immortality, but it’s something along the lines of ‘protection from external threats.’”

“And the current issue is something internal,” Mono concluded.

“Correct. My phrase is also why I’m coming to you: through a series of convoluted paradoxes caused by the specific wording, I’m only able to indirectly interact with those under my protection. Talking to you, a guest, while assisting another deity with their prayers or while in a dreamscape I didn’t create is the only loophole I found. You’re the only one who can help me. So will you?”

“I don’t know, what can I even do?” With an actual request being laid out in front of him, Mono began to think about his time since he had left Earth and the conclusion he had come to from it. He was helpless, the type of character in a novel that lacked agency, being pulled every which way with no control.

“A lot more than you think. All you have to do is find the problem and point it out to a citizen or the guards. Everything should be fine then,” Daven said.

Mono continued to hesitate, his doubts coalescing. He shouldn’t accept, the voice inside him said. He would just mess it up, or give the deity false hope which would quickly be crushed when Mono inevitably ran away.

“Are you hesitating because of your past?” The deity asked. “Scared to try because of past failures?”

“How did you…” Mono didn’t finish his question.

“When you prayed to the talking rock, I got a good grasp of your mental state.”

“Then you know why I can’t accept. It would be pointless.”

“Mono, I used to be a sailor, a man who drifted from place to place in fear of responsibility. Look at me now. I manage an entire city, protecting it from harm.” The god flashed a confident smile. “People change, and so can you.”

Like the other deity, Daven’s words cut. This time, they sliced through Mono’s doubt.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

Sliced through a bit of doubt, at least.

Daven’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

“Is there any hint you can give me?” Mono asked, “any clue?”

The god rubbed his chin in thought. “The ill are not sick.”

Mono frowned. “That’s oddly cryptic.”

“It’s the best I can do. Give me a minute to see if I can come up with something else that my phrase won’t prevent me from saying.”

Before the deity could add anything else though, Mono suddenly felt light-headed. The world around him began to feel more surreal and his own body was beginning to become less see-through, more concrete.

Daven cursed. “I forgot to hold the dream’s time dilation. It looks like we’re out of time. Your lady friend is knocking on the door to your room right now.”

“Can’t you make the dream last longer?” Mono didn’t want to face Vivian just yet.

“It’s not good for your mind if I do that. Best for you to wake up."

The room was now completely white, the color increasing in intensity as if glowing.

“Thanks for sharing your favorite drink with me. I don’t get to leave Davenport much anymore, so it was nice.” The god’s voice began to become distant. “And remember! The ill are not sick!”

The white flared brightly, becoming a blinding flash.

Mono opened his eyes and sat up for real this time. He looked around at the room he had fallen asleep in before his eyes snapped to the door and the light tapping emanating from it.

“Mono? Are you awake?” Vivian’s voice came from outside.

He moved to open the door. “Need something?”

“Ad wants to talk to you,” the Weaver replied.

About to open his mouth to give an excuse, he stopped himself.

People can change, and so can you.

Maybe it was time to try and stop running.

“Alright, I’ll go see Adam.”