--- Ruler Goddess Aphrodite POV

Their pitiful pleas reach my ears in a crescendo of pain and betrayal. They are desperate, their lives hanging in the balance and while they wish to remain faithful, faced with certain death, I sense their devotion and trust in me waiver…

I contemplate several stratagems, especially since, because of my urging, I have exposed them to life-threatening danger. I place my face in my hands and lean forward on my divine throne, trying to decide all, some, or a few. Then I smell the acrid smoke of my uninvited guest and look up.

Dilia! The Goddess of the Underworld seems extremely comfortable in her role. A smoky blackness wafts from her black fur, while her eyes blaze red. A billowing short black cape floats away unnaturally from anchor points on her shoulders, a supple black leather-like armour covers her torso pushing her modest breasts up while hardened leather vambraces and greaves cover her arms and legs, yet she lacks a weapon. Maybe next visit.

“Greetings, Goddess of the Underworld. What crisis or emergency warrants such an unannounced visit?”

A curt nod. “I need to share urgent tidings. My servants sense impending death. Many of your worshippers are in peril, although, more importantly, several are renouncing their faith in you. Not only does that mean more work for my servants, but the circumstance is also unique. Oddly, they don’t leave to worship another, they suffer from simple disillusionment.” She flutters her cloak, as she seats herself upon a cloud of black smoke. “This abandonment is dangerous to all the Gods, yet for the Ruler God this situation is more problematic than others.” She places her slim Fox Kin fingers on her chest. “Not I, of course, but others could interpret this occurrence as a sign of weakness…”

Her last word hangs between us like a knife.

“A brief aberration, I assure you. Soon to be corrected, in fact.”

“Once the disillusioned reach the Spirit Plane, they will meet others… perhaps I could assist?”

I raise an eyebrow. “How?”

“As we all know, the Spirits of Worshippers join their Gods on the God Plane. The Spirits of those who don’t worship a God ascend to the Spirit Plane assisted by my servants. What of the once worshipers? If their Spirits join others on the Spirit Plane, they will spread discord. They can’t join their former God, of course, since they have surrendered their belief.”

I climb to my feet and stare at the conniving Fox Kin Goddess. “Their malcontent will remain on the Spirit Plane.”

She shrugs. “Perhaps, but strong Spirits like Allene and Drexel have flown free as it were and who knows, the future may empower more?”

I will regret my next words. She lounges back in glowing confidence, smug smile, and all, knowing I must ask her? This Goddess was once a pitiful creature.

“Your solution?”

“Since the divine previously touched the once worshippers, with your consent I could redirect them to my humble place on the God Plane. There I would re-educate them. More importantly, they could not pollute others with false ideas. My efforts protecting us all.”

“And you would do this without reward or announcement?”

“I serve within your Pantheon, the best I can, for us all.”

I pace.

“I will think about your proposal some more and advise you when I decide.”

There is no change in her demeanour. If anything, she smiles wider while clapping her hands and seems overall the more joyful. Then she is gone, within or behind a puff of smoke. The numbers of Spirits would be small, wouldn’t they? Yet, the Goddess of the Underworld has so few worshippers amongst the Beast Kin, so the number of Spirits returning to her on the God Plane would also be small, yet she manages a significant entourage. Which begs the question how? Why would she want more, even if at this stage, only a few?

Goddess?

The thought speech turns me about. Kneeling before me is my Kobold worshipper Kig, husband of Yora, and parent of Hib.

“Welcome. Your faith in me has brought your Spirit to rest with me and enjoy endless existence.”

“What of Yora? She… she doubted your greatness Goddess, yet she passed before I, as did our young son Hib. He I didn’t expect to see. He, well, didn’t believe, too young to understand, is all Goddess. A rebellious youth, as they say.”

Did Yora become a once worshipper?

“Kig. Leave with my blessing to the Spirit Realm. Find your wife and your son and if you can convince them to return to their faith in me, call to me and I will retrieve you and your family. If you can’t, the choice is yours to stay with them on the Spirit Plane or to call to me with who you have convinced.”

He doffs his frozen hat and bows. “Thank you, Goddess.”

I wave my hand and Kig’s Spirit is on the Spirit Plane.

[Teleport Lessor Being across High Planes -100 Divine Worship Magic Points]

His grey-white skin spoke of frostbite and freezing. A slow death and being the strongest, able to witness the passing of his wife and son first. To attempt to reunite them in death was the minimum I could offer.

Now I must turn to save the living.

[Visitation by Dream -10 Divine Worship Magic Points]

--- Magus Drexel Marner, Greater Spirit

For the tenth time, I cast my sight perception and wonder of wonders. I can survey the entire scene below me from below the building’s cross beam. Not above, not besides, not in and not below, but on the stone surface facing down.

His desperation and angst result in sweating palms, doing nothing to assist, in fact, off-putting as his hand is always in motion, which always changed the distance. At last, I am set, just in time to witness his final desperation. He pushes what appears to be all his few remaining coins into the centre of a table with strange markings. There is much lip movement, and I cast audible perception as well to eavesdrop on those around the table talking directly to my holder.

“Your pair of stone dice are unfortunate for you, Jilt, so with this throw, your ugly face we will finally be gone from the table!”

A chorus of laughter joins in. Jilt sweats some more and his hand involuntarily trembles.

“I… erm, call…”

“Yeah, we know, seven!” Many join the speaker to add their voice to the last word and then laugh loud, several bending over such is their amusement.

Jilt throws the pair of stone dice and I observe my decoy die and my gem-embedded die roll across the table. The decoy die stops first, five dots facing up. I am about to stop three dots facing up by using [Manipulate Stone] to force weight against the momentum to ensure the roll doesn’t complete.

“Seven.” They all speak in a hush.

Jilt scoops his stone dice from the table. A mixture of relief, and elation. I also note a concerted bodily effort solely on keeping the bile in his stomach from rising thrums through the sweating skin contact he has with me.

He triples his money, I note and he leaves the total there. What foolishness is this? While I can manipulate the dice, doing so several times in a row would easily lead to suspicion. A loss now would see him coin less…

As he goes to throw his two stone dice, a spike shoots out. He screams. The pain is nothing; I am certain. The shock though…

He inspects his hand while onlookers peer across the table to investigate. After rubbing the hand on his thigh, he attempts another throw. This time I draw blood with my manipulation. Of course, the die is a perfect square when he inspects it.

My thrower inspects each of the gamblers at the table and they sit back, waving their palms at him. With his good hand, he scoops back his winnings, leaving his original bet. He glances at them all and with a flick, the dice rattle across the table. I decide to allow fate to take control.

“Seven!” The table is in an uproar.

“Someone did something!” screams Jilt. “I would have won big.” His hands nurse his head.

Those around the table, I am certain, are in a mood to protest his double win, yet his convincing disappointment is an able defence, deflecting their doubt.

“The bet stands,” he growls in defiance, inspecting each of their faces.

After three not-so-subtle palm spears, he withdraws half of his bet with a healthy dose of under-the-breath cursing. This odd behaviour loses one gambler, his place quickly taken up by another. The rest stay to witness Jilt’s antics as much as the chance to win coin, I suspect, and on his next throw they do.

After some further training prompts, we settle into a routine of him not betting more than his original bet. After several losses but significantly more wins, I convince him to leave, with a shallow spear in his palm while simply holding his dice. While he stood still, contemplating, whether to go or stay, I shifted my sight perception to the tip of his nose, something I should have done from the beginning. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I could have left him to his fate, yet the competitor in me couldn’t leave anything or anyone in my power to lose.

With ample ill-gotten gains in his pockets, he stomps toward the market, a young sailor escorting him. His companion is wary, I suspect from witnessing his leader’s unstable emotions around the dice table.

--- First POV

[You have entered the Gateway Dungeon of Arsu.]

I blink after reading the message. The murmuring around the frozen camp rises, questions, doubts, lamentations.

“Welcome First, Priestess of Aphrodite. Your Goddess requested my help, and I am more than happy to offer you and your companions shelter and comfort from the snow. Call them to you and direct them to the set of stairs I will create nearby.”

“The Goddess?” I mumble, not yet free from shock.

“I assure you, you and your companions will be safe. Please accept my help, otherwise, you and yours will be certain to perish.”

“Goddess?” I plea, while looking skywards. “Is this truly your will?”

My body fills with divine warmth and in an instant, my blood flows and I feel strength return to my limbs.

“To me one and all!” I shout. “If you can hear me, yell to others to follow you in case they can’t. Salvation is at hand. Our Goddess saves us.”

At my feet, the stone outline of a doorway grows from beneath the snow until proud and clear. A soft light illuminates a set of broad steps which spiral downwards and from that depth, warm air drifts up and flows over me.

A family of two adults and three children arrive. They glance at the stairs and then at me. I know the warm air is upon their faces, yet only when I murmur consent and guide them with my hands upon their backs do they descend the stairs.

The initial families are all like that until a lineup develops and the ones behind simply follow the ones in front, including any goods and animals. I realise now why the steps are broad and the way down circular. The steps allow the animals to descend with significant ease, while the broad steps offer my people a place to lean against the wall to rest while permitting others to continue.

Bucket One and Bucket Two join me.

“There are no more, Priestess,” says Bucket One.

“No more who live at least,” adds Bucket Two.

“What of the other Kin who journeyed with us?” I ask.

Bucket One flaps snow free from her wings. “They know of the entrance and the tall black against the snow is easy to locate, so have no fear they will find our Goddess’ salvation if they require such.”

“Bucket Two, descend and please ensure all is well. Bucket One and I will follow shortly.”

A flick of her wings and she descends.

“Why do they hesitate?” I ask Bucket One.

“They don’t all worship Aphrodite and those that do are warm-blooded with fur and while the snow and wind chill is uncomfortable, for now, they wish to explore some more.”

“Explore? What madness.” I shake my head. Yet none of them has died and they should know their limitations.

“My visit to the Stone Giants was equally fruitless, Priestess. They hollowed out a vast underground chamber with a stone door when they found out we were suffering and dying on top of the mountain. Perhaps they thought we were in good enough condition to climb back down. They have since abandoned crafting any more stairs and now shape stone to create an underground tunnel.”

A shiver runs down my spine, and I instinctively step closer to the dungeon entrance. “They were halfway up, weren’t they?”

Bucket One nods in reply. “Yes. They didn’t want to create a set of stairs which would lead any others to their deaths, so now they will craft a tunnel instead.”

“It will take years, if not longer, and if set on this course, they should start at the base of the mountain, so no climbing is required to allow carts and the like.”

Bucket One grins. “Or allow Karpy to fly through.”

With playful affection, the back of my hand caresses her cheek. “That would be fun.” My hand pats her shoulder. “Come, let us talk to our host and see what our future holds.”

--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

Ottar’s remark isn’t lost on me and one look into his eyes and together we approach the wharf. The initial excitement, like all the natives of the island, answered a divine decree or something now seems to have ended. There is less scurrying about and more deliberate checking and securing now the stone defences of the port are in place.

The survivors, leaning on the shoulders of others, are stumbling towards us, except for the last, who can walk unaided.

I cast [Locate (Heretic)] on the assumption, that only Alba, Ottar and I would be faithful, and all other inhabitants would be unfaithful, while believers of another Pantheon would be heretics from our view of worship.

Ottar is the first of us to react, his eyes resting upon the last survivor to leave their boat. Half a heartbeat after and I notice a thin dull outline around him, like a silhouette, maybe. His eyes snap in my direction.

“False! I name you deceiver!” I scream while hurrying towards him. The dull outline waivers.

The procession of survivors and their helpers halt, their eyes on him and then me and Ottar. From seeing the whites of their eyes, I know they look up, which can only mean Ottar follows on my heels. His accusation, a bellow, which makes everyone on the wharf and the outskirts of the port village stop, and take heed.

The dull outline waivers and then blinks out. I slow and take the time to cast [Locate (Heretic)] once again, giving Ottar the lead. The outline continues to waiver.

As I run to catch up to Ottar, I spot the Harbourmaster hurrying to reach the survivors.

“How do you know me?” retorts the heretic. “To accuse me of anything?”

“Yeah, he has been with us since Queensport. Adair, the miner, is his name. How can a simple miner be a deceiver?” says one survivor.

“He says he is a miner. How do you know?” I ask.

As I finish speaking, Ottar adds, “Deceiver!”

The dull outline around the heretic ripples as if Ottar’s words shake the foundations of his truth.

Another voice. “He paid the Ship’s Captain in gold dust! Triple the rate. Only a miner would carry gold dust, wouldn’t they?”

The all-knowing snark undertone in this reply annoys me more than I would like. I must school myself; they don’t know what the Goddess’ magic has revealed, they only believe what he has told and shown them. Perhaps I should share.

I point a finger at him. “In Aphrodite’s name, the Goddess of Truth, I denounce you as a deceiver and false. You are not who you say you are, not who you appear to be and would, if given the opportunity, manipulate others to raise your beliefs while casting my Goddess’ beliefs low.”

The dull outline grows. As if trying to catch up, his human form ripples and grows, chasing the new boundary. His clothes, including his boots, grow. His skin turns a cold snow white, and his face sprouts a full blue-white beard, which matches the blue-white voluminous nest of hair on his head. As his head hits the stone overhang ceiling, he curls down into a crouch as one hand rubs where, I suspect, it hurts. His burning yellow eyes meet mine. Before my spell ends, I know the Frost Giant kneels before me due to circumstance and not subservience is a Prophet of Zeus. Truly the greatest of heretics, an enemy of my Goddess.

All the humans back away, including his former shipmates. Several switch their attention between Ottar and the heretic as silence descends on all.

Ottar charges forward, reaching for his axe. The heretic edges his way forward to meet him, and I am certain to escape the overhang before Ottar can take a slash at him.

“Stop!” The well-known voice draws everyone’s attention. “What is the meaning of this?” the Chief Governor of the Isles asks.

I oblige with an answer. “He is a heretic, worshipping a defeated and failed God from another world.” My hand waves towards the sky. “A God who betrayed Aphrodite and has no or little interest in this world except to enslave its inhabitants with a false belief.”

The heretic rocks back on his heels and bellows long and loud while pointing at me. “Aphrodite was once a prophet of the mighty Zeus, so let us call this what it truly is, a family spat. You have your new beliefs, which unfortunately no longer align with Zeus’ beliefs and for that, you declare his followers, heretics.”

My predatory smile ends his grin in an instant. “How many followers in this world venerate the now feeble Zeus?”

“Many, and shortly there will be many more once I enlighten those who yearn to know more about the world’s mysteries.” He nods and shares a winning smile with the gathering crowd.

“Deceiver and now a liar.” I open my arms and hands wide. “Summon the Divine Magic of your God and smite me down. I will offer no resistance or deflection. I will simply await my fate.”

This is a gamble, of course. Yet I sense the risk is low. There is no known place of worship to Zeus, therefore Prophet or not, it will be difficult to pray for any spells which he has cast. Also, the fact he is in disguise, Frost Giant size notwithstanding, suggests skulduggery and avoidance. Something I believe in complete contrast and almost a revulsion to Zeus and his idea of worship.

“We are far from any shore, and I needed to cast all my magic to assist my companions, to ensure we survived. How else did you think we managed the impossible once a sea monster attacked and sank our ship?”

The Chief Governor waves his hands above his head, a sly grin upon his lips as he walks between us. He glances at the heretic and then at me.

“If I were to choose, here and now, I would choose Aphrodite, simply because her followers defeated a sea monster if they are being truthful, while Zeus’ sole follower opted to run away and survive.” He takes a moment to survey the crowd. “There will be no violence between the worshippers of Zeus and Aphrodite while on the island. We have bigger issues to contend with. In almost no time at all, two vast fleets will converge on our little corner of the world, and we must stand united if we are to survive and preserve our way of things. I will declare any who disturbs this intent, an enemy of all.” He waves a hand towards us and a hand toward the heretic. “Be gone. The island should just be large enough to ensure you can avoid each other.”

The Chief Governor turns on his heels and strides towards his manor. Alba and several other Governors follow. Alba’s face is tough to read, and I should have paid more attention to her to catch any hints or clues, alas too late now. Captain Dekens interrupts the Chief Governor briefly; they exchange words and then the Captain approaches me.

“Yes, Captain?”

“We can go, immediately. The Harbourmaster will lift the barrier. We can board our ship and cast off. I am going there now. Will you join me?”

His friendly, honest smile is inviting, yet how can I leave a Prophet of Zeus behind to work his trade? Will Alba’s presence counter his? Prophet against Prophet, although Alba has a distinct advantage being a Governor.

“Ready your ship, Captain. I need to meet with Alba before I can give you a final decision. Either way, I will return to let you know as soon as I know so as not to detain you any longer than is required.”

He strives to maintain his smile, which he does by swallowing his disappointment I am certain. He bows and withdraws towards the harbour and his ship. The heretic having already left the vicinity of the harbour as did the crowd provides him with a clear path.

“We going to the manor?” asks Ottar.

As I swivel to answer him, I notice the trails of sweat running down his neck and off his forehead. “You have one task and one task only. Find a place where you can cool down and when done, meet me back here.” A solemn nod and turning to face inland, he takes one deliberate step after another until disappearing from my view. He doesn’t head for the village proper, more towards the wild untamed vegetation.

Breaking into an undignified run, I catch Alba before she enters the manor, my endeavour being assisted by the multiple interruptions made by the inhabitants trying to gain a few words with their Chief Governor.

“Alba,” I call out.

She glances at the Chief Governor, and with a nod towards him, she turns and heads back to me.

“Yes, Cardinal?”

“The Captain intends to leave shortly. I have sent Ottar to find a place to cool down and you linger with the Governor. So, the question I ask is, what is your next move?”

Her hands play before her waist. “I will stay.” I hear her take a deep breath. “Using my position, I will convert the islands to worship Aphrodite and then preach to any visitors. Once I am certain I will make a difference, I will pay for passage on a ship and sail to the southern continent, Empire or Kingdom matters little, and continue to spread the worship of Aphrodite.”

I place my hands upon hers to steady them and hopefully assure her. “You are Aphrodite’s Prophet. You will spread her joy to others as best you can, and I will not question your wisdom in this.” I release her hands and share a warm smile with her.

“Thank, thank you, Cardinal. I want to go far and wide to spread the word of Aphrodite.” Her face warms with a blush. “This island, though, draws me. Perhaps the trials and fragility of this body’s past life influence me, but I yearn to restore her name and reputation.” She shakes her head. “I can’t explain why. I am a Giant Gar spirit, one of the thousands which spawned many years ago, uncaring, unfeeling, purely fighting to survive and then birth more to continue the cycle. This island has a large family, yet I believe the Giant Gar me can find a place here.”

I embrace her. She resists and then returns my hug with her own. “Reconciled within and comfortable with your place in the world, you will make the better prophet. I am certain Aphrodite would bless you and your need.”

We release each other. “What are your plans, Cardinal?”

“Ottar, first, find him and then sail away with Captain Dekens before the two fleets land. You and the Chief Governor I leave to handle the ensuing chaos.” I crack a razor-sharp, toothy smile.

She holds out her hands, which I grab. I feel a tear forming and notice moisture gathering in her eyes as well. We mouth goodbye at the same time and before I embarrass myself and she does the same, we break away from each other. My tail slides from side to side with well-practised efficiency and I don’t look back.

--- Ottar the Oaf, Initiate of Aphrodite POV

I shift my axe for the umpteenth time. The heat in the axe head radiates and occasionally touches my shoulder as I stride towards the cooler interior of this hot island. What is worse, although I do sweat, the air of this island doesn’t dry the sweat like the northern continent. From my time on the seaward side of the northern continent, a sea breeze would bring ample relief, yet here, the heat builds while I feel like I am swimming in air-borne water.

The lush green vegetation surrounds me and while I think this should cool me, I find I need to breathe deep and full to avoid any shortness of breath. I don’t know where I am heading. I found a well-trodden trail and followed. The trail led inland, and that was initially enough. Now I am not so certain.

I bend over and rest my hands on my knees. I strive to breathe. Lost in my quiet thoughts, I hear happy yelps and shouts and a mix of partially spoken words. I stumble onwards. If nothing else, I can ask them to go fetch the Cardinal.

I blink my eyes several times. Humans, no human children. They play in a large pool of water. Water falls from above over a sheer cliff, from where I don’t know and for now, don’t care. I drop my axe and baldric off, then pieces of armour, until I am in a shirt and pants. My toes wiggle in the grass along the shore and I step forward.

A coolness hits my foot, providing instant relief, and the rest of my body follows with no thought of caution. I fall like felled timber into the pool, enjoying the silence as I do.

I roll over and after a while sit up. The cool water is a relief, which I don’t want to give up. It is then that I observe several human children, out of the water, lining the shore. Fingers at their mouths, eyes wide open.

“He is huge,” whispers one.

“Will he eat us?” asks another.

“Sanfrid! Tell the giant man to leave!” squeals a voice, while pushing a reluctant male youth forward.

He pivots and retreats but can’t hide. He is simply the tallest and perhaps oldest present, although I notice he wears clothes whereas the other children present are in breeches or underclothes of some sort, male or female.

Stomping forward, a female child, half his height, curses at him under her breath and then addresses me directly.

“You must leave. You are frightening the children and we were here first.” She pouts, hands upon her hips.

Isn’t she a child? Although a child with attitude, I must admit.

“No,” I reply. I should leave, I guess, as I don’t wish to scare the children, but I am intrigued. What will be the next move of the little miss? I need a genuine moment of laughter after so many days of seriousness and the recent danger of tempting death. Plus, the water is a welcome relief.

She stamps her left foot while tapping a finger on her cheek. “You leave me no choice. Mother says I mustn’t say things like this yet, but you need to know who you are dealing with.”

Of all the female children, she wears a now wet sleeveless shirt of some description covering her pubescent breasts and a pair of undergarment pants, which I have no name for. Her lack of proper attire proves no barrier.

“And who am I discussing terms with?”

She folds her arms across her chest and looks left and then right, possibly noting those sharing this moment with her for a celebration later. A harsh talking to. Punishment? I wish I knew.

“My name is Allene Corser, and I am a Governor-elect of the Isles because of my family’s heritage and rights. So, if you disobey me now, your future on this island will become very, very unpleasant for you. Therefore, it is in your best interests to vacant the swimming hole forthwith.”