"On three, Thane. One. Two. Three. Motherfucker!" I curse as I fall from the slab of stone. Great place to recover from the War god beating the shit out of you. Very comfortable.

I hit the ground facefirst. The stone on the ground muffles my screams. I hear Thane murmur his concern. "I think that hurt more than getting it cut off in the first place," I take four large, shuddering breaths. The pain is so unbelievable that my legs are numb.

Mishu pats my face gently. "Eeeos?" he mutters. Mushu leans over and licks me.

"Stop," I mumble, waving him away. I try to roll over to my back and am rewarded with searing pain.

I hear Thane groan and then a thud that can only be my brother falling from his own really comfortable stone perch.

Two hands wrap around me and roll me over. My head swims from the agony, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. I concentrate on not vomiting.

"I can feel the blood in me, Thane. It's hammering away at my bones."

"Hmm," Thane hums his agreement.

When I can finally see again I look to see my brother, sitting slumped against the side of the stone cairn, his legs outstretched in front of him.

"Wea-y?" he says slowly, his mouth and teeth doing more work than usual.

"Heee ssshheeaks," Momo says, clapping his hands together.

Thane looks at him, then cracks up, only managing one lone chuckle before he groans in pain. He looks up to the ceiling and mouths, "motherfucker."

"That's what I said," I mutter to him. "Mishu, stop touching my dick." The gargoyle coos and jumps backward, sitting on his hands. "I'm afraid to look, Thane."

My brother glances down at my mangled front, then shrugs. Taking a deep breath, I look down. I really wish I hadn't. I am healing, but the flesh between my legs looks like... fucking gods, it looks like... "it looks like the tongue of a Worm demon."

Thane makes a soft sound of agreement. Momo makes a scolding noise toward me and then pats Thane's shoulder.

"Sorry," I murmur. Tongues and dicks are sensitive subjects.

Thane waves me off, then rolls to his hands and knees. He takes a few deep breaths before standing. As he does, he reaches down and hauls me to standing.

We hold each other up for a long time before we can move.

---

As I am brought back to the Palace by an angry War god dragging along a Forgotten soul, a really angry and worried Death god, two cats, two Basru warriors, two invisible assassins, and fourteen newly-rescued souls from the Field of Lost Souls, the city of Ersetu notices.

As the hum of shocked and speculative voices rises I comfort myself with the knowledge that at least my gargoyles are with Thane and Thelios. I can only imagine the havoc they would wreak right now if they were in the city.

My father has wrapped one arm around my shoulders as we walk over cobblestone streets. Urto didn't like it one bit when my father took over the job of guiding me through the streets. The bond between Urto and I churns sickeningly.

Despite how serious this all is and how I think I may be in deep trouble, I can't help but glance around the city. I was practically comatose when I first arrived in Lier's arms with my Basru. And, when I flew with Ililie to the Eastern Gate, I was only focused on reaching the Gate before Urto could stop me.

Ersetu is somewhat familiar, I supposed cities are. But, the clay and stone used to build the houses and buildings are dark grey, white, and sometimes black. I don't see any of the tan or red colors that Tmari was built with. Under my feet are riverstone pavers of light grey. It looks like all of the streets are paved, even the little-traveled alleyways. In Tmari only the wealthiest of neighborhoods had cobblestone streets. There are an unbelievable number of clothing shops. Even several cobblers that we pass by. No food. No butchers or bakers anywhere. There are a few taverns, but I don't see the saffron yellow of a brothel sign hung anywhere.

I sigh, it makes me think of Esa. Is she all alone in the above? Or is she with my Postites and Patriarch Salbin? Maybe there's a way to find out. My father could check up on me a little, or was that only me?

The strangest difference is how intermingled the shops are with homes that seem more luxurious than I am used to seeing in the middle of the city. In Tmari neighborhoods inside the noble Districts are carefully divided. No one with extreme wealth would ever live right next to the shops.

"This is your city," my father squeezes my shoulder, "any changes you would like to see tell me, yes?"

I peek up at the god of Death. He has calmed down a bit, merrily carrying his scythe above his other shoulder. I'm proud to say that while the citizens show respect and curiosity towards him, they do not fear him. He's a good ruler.

When I see my Basru, with Lier at the helm, waiting in front of the grand entrance to the Palace I smile and run to them.

"Lier!" he catches me as I fling myself into his arms.

He squeezes me tight before setting me away from him. His eyes are worried, but he's smiling enough that there's a flash of white in his grin.

All of my Basru squeeze my hands, their eyes assessing me carefully for injury. When they are finished with their inspections they all, one-by-one, turn hard glares on Urto.

I laugh to myself at their singular focus on Urto. Two of their brethren are restraining a struggling, spitting, cursing Forgotten grandmother in between them and the rest of the Basru don't do more than glance their way.

"Inside, everyone. We are going to have to summon Pir and Mardu."

Urto snorts derisively. "They will not come."

"Then their opinions won't matter, will they?" my father says in a cold voice.

I glance up at him. His jaw is set, but deep in his eyes he looks satisfied. This is my father's war, marching onward with Urto at the forefront.

"Take these fourteen to the Throne Room's West Antechamber," my father orders my Basru. Carnak and Rolle peel off from my group to bring them away.

"Why are they going there, father?" I ask him.

"Shh, Mara," he hushes me gently before issuing more orders. "Make certain that my wife and granddaughter are kept safe in our chambers. Two of you go. You two take this... thing... to the cells under the throne room."

Lier is the last of my Basru left after my father sends them away. Belen joins our dwindling crowd, whispering to Lier about something. I hope it's good news about Thane and Thelios.

I bite my lip. Speaking of my males, who is with them right now other than five mischievous gargoyles? My eyes naturally stray towards the mausoleum they are recuperating in. I can't even see it from here, but I feel them, the bond strumming along, occasionally sending me shivers of awareness.

By the time we wind our way to the Throne Room, Enlal and Inanji are already there. Unlike the last time I was in here, neither goddess has brought a retinue with them. The throne room looks larger, or maybe they just look diminished without their fawning servants everywhere.

Do I look smaller without my Basru and males? Without Thane and Thelios, I feel smaller.

"Where are mama and Poppy?" I whisper to my father, but Urto is the one who responds.

"Only gods and witnesses that they call may enter the throne room right now, Love."

He is being truthful. To my deep unease, even Rasted and Gired are stopped at the door.

I look over my shoulder, seeing Lier's look of consternation just before the door shuts in his face. I wish my brother and father would just let everyone know about Lier's parentage. After all, if I am a goddess, or demi-goddess, then Lier must be, too.

Urto speaks first. "Inanji, you are a lying whore."

The goddess sputters in shocked indignation as Enlal gasps and my father hides his smirk behind his hand.

"How dare you?" Inanji hisses at Urto.

"I dare, because I have felt nothing but a sweet nature from Mara for the past days. I can't imagine her creating a plague of the undead."

"She is duplicitous," Inanji snaps.

"And now, we merely have another opinion from Urto," Enlal straightens up. Her eyes are hard on us all. "I lost so many souls during this argument. I am ready to resolve this question. Who unleashed this plague on the city?"

"I can answer that," my father states. A panel of stone opens in the floor with a harsh grating noise. I scream madly as the skeletal fingers grapple at the top of the hole. The Forgotten grandmother starts to climb, her sharp teeth snapping in the air as she inhales wheezily through her open mouth.

Urto walks over and calmly kicks her back down. "Is that a Forgotten?" he asks.

"It is the one who infected the army of the First House with the plague of the undead," my father states.

"I was not part of the First House, Inanji was," I say quietly.

"That is your creature," Inanji claims, but her voice is shaky as she stares at the Forgotten in the hole.

Urto kicks the grandmother back down again. "It does scent of you, sweet Love," he tells me.

"What did you just call that wretched murderess?" Inanji asks, sounding a little hysterical.

Urto looks at her, then at me in dawning realization. "I'm sorry," he apologizes... to me. "I'll call you something else."

"You call her... You are despicable, Urto," Inanji sneers in disgust. He merely shrugs, uncaring.

Enlal gathers her moss-green robes closer around her as she warily approaches the hole. "Explain what this has to do with so many of my Acera dying."

"They were slaughtered by the First House, before the undead army came from the desert. The First House," I say, frustrated, "the house that Inanji used as her... her slaves. The noble Houses of the above hate anyone not of pure Tasuri blood. That is how the Acera were killed, by their own, very much alive, shifters."

My father frowns. "You are accusing Inanji of orchestrating a genocide, my daughter?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes. Ask the souls father. Ask them how terrible the hatred in the above has become. Ask them how often Fated souls are rejected because of that prejudice."

"The souls in the Field, father, they are sorrowful, aren't they? Why would they be there?" I ask my father, "in the Field of Lost Souls? They did nothing wrong. I didn't think that we passed judgment on souls except for ones like her," I point to the First House grandmother.

My father begins to speak, but I cut him off. "I just think, do they deserve to be there? Isn't it a punishment of sorts? To be so wounded that you forget why you're there? Even their pain from rejection is gone. Is that why their souls end up wandering, lost? What sort of afterlife is it-"

"Mara!" my father says in a sharp tone.

I stop speaking, startled.

"I will bring in the souls to question, daughter," he tells me.

Chastened, I nod. "Thank you, father."

A door opens in the wall. That must be to the West Antechamber. The first couple to walk into the throne room are Nasir's brother and his mate. Perfect.

"You are Fated souls?" Enlal asks them.

The male nods, but the female crosses her arms, head bowed and body quaking, and refuses to respond. Either very brave or very foolhardy, to ignore a goddess.

"Well? Are you?" Enlal stares the female down.

The female nods, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't wish to be Fated to him any longer.

"Why?" Enlal prods.

"He rejected me," comes the pain-filled whisper.

"Why were you rejected?"

"I am Acera and he is Tasuri," she replies. I couldn't have gotten a better answer than if I inscribed it for her to read.

The other couples are brought inside and share similar stories. All were rejected Fated. Some were abandoned and ignored, a few had worse done to them. Just like me.

"This is the above. This is what Tmari had become. A cesspool of prejudice and hate," I tell the assembled gods. "The Field of the Lost is filled with these souls. In the ruined city-"

"The what?" Enlal interrupts me.

"The city where the lost souls are," I explain patiently.

Inanji scoffs, "are we listening to a child's bedtime stories now?"

"Where the lost souls are," I repeat, slowly, matching her glare-for-glare, "I was able to heal their Fated bonds," I emphasis, "by cleaning off the crud and diseased film of Inanji's bonds," I smile sweetly.

My father intervenes before Inanji can leap at me. "Daughter," my father takes my hand in his and draws me to sit down with him on a bench near the throne altar. "Tell us how you saved these souls."

I take a deep breath. I would rather just tell my father alone, but I suppose that the other gods need to know.

"I see bonds," I confess. My father nods, even as Inanji issues a soft sound of dissent.

"Not too surprising, is it, Inanji?" a voice, low and melodically male, joins the conversation abruptly.

"Welcome, brother," my father says sarcastically.

I glance over and feel my eyes widen. The male is... blue. Just as my father's skin is faintly grey, this male has the tint of blue. Blue eyes that have a hint of green are watching us with a distant look. Dark hair on his head shines... well, so inky black that it looks blue. His hands are wet and I think I see fish swimming along the hemline of the blue cloak hiding most of his body from view.

This must be Pir, the Water god. He's not hiding his true nature at all.

"Hello Pir," I greet him politely, as mama taught me.

He tosses me a vague smile. "I would like a daughter, too, Nateos," he muses.

I share a glance with my father. He is beaming as if Pir offered the greatest compliment, but I admit I'm just confused. If my father could impregnate two mortal females then what is stopping my Uncle? Not that I would encourage it, but still...

"Daughter," is it my imagination or did my father stress the word 'daughter' with more pride than usual? "You were telling me about seeing Inanji's bonds?"

I shake my head, 'no.' "I see all the bonds, father. Well," I think about it, "I don't know if I see all of them. But I know I see so many..."

Biting my lip, I try to think. "I see different colors. Um... there's a pretty blue bond between you and me and Poppy."

"A bond of parentage," Enlal breathes with a smile.

"Blue is a very nice color," Pir says.

"It is nice," I agree, "it's a happy bond."

"What is the color of our bond?" Urto says.

I'm startled by his interruption. I'm not sure what to say, so I dance around the truth a little. "Um... Inanji's bonds are silver."

Urto's eyes narrow on me, but he doesn't say anything.

"So, the bonds are different colors and sizes?" my father clarifies.

I think of all of the bonds I have seen. "It's not as if a bond can be just one color or size. I think... decisions and life affects bonds. In the beginning, in its purest form, a bond will just be a simple golden thread, joining souls together. They grow or curl or wither depending on what the souls do during their lifetimes."

"This is speculation, child," Enlal says gently. "All you can confirm is that you see bonds. More bonds than the.... what color did you call them? Silver? The silver bonds of Inanji."

"True," I agree reluctantly. I won't explain that I understand if the bond is one of pain or happiness. It's much like sensing the different types of grief. How do I explain that?

"It is good that you are mine, sweet Mara. For as good as you are, that is a frightening power you wield."

"Why must I be controlled?" I snap at Urto. He narrows his gaze at me. I know his game. He doesn't just want anyone to control me, does he?

"I am a goddess, just as you are a god. Is my ability to see and affect the bonds of souls that much more dangerous than your ability to defeat any and all challengers?"

"Yes," he says without flinching. "I have no bond other than yours, sweet Mara. But I have seen the power you wield. You are fabulously dangerous. You can change the world, in the above and here. What could be more deadly than you?" Urto says it with finality, as if there is nothing more true.

I look at the gods in the Throne Room. My father, posturing protectiveness and aggression. Urto, larger than life. Pir, the distant Water god who can't quite hide his immense power under that cloak. Enlal, the mother, who acts as if her hands are tied by her love for us all. And, finally, Inanji, the goddess who has been given every freedom and spat on it.

It suddenly all makes sense. I am the new goddess, one with a soul because I am half-mortal, a demi-goddess. My father gave me power, but my ability to see bonds is a gift from life, itself. I am dangerous.

But, I deserve freedom, just as all of the souls in Field of the Lost deserve theirs, too.