--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

"Cardinal, we must cast off," pleads Captain Dekens from his ship. The islanders will shortly place the stone harbour barrier into position, their eyes flicking towards the blind edge of the harbour. Like most islands, they expect Kingdom or Empire ships to appear around the headland without warning. Dusk is almost upon the village, which makes the visiting fleets overdue. Was the damage to their vessels so extensive to slow them down? The other possibility, they waited until the last light to try to recover as many sailors from the ocean as possible.

The Harbourmaster marches towards us, jaw set. His company includes the Chief Governor and Alba.

"I can't leave without him, Captain. Promise me that you will remain close to shore for as long as possible if I board now. I am certain he will return and can wade out to us when he does. His height far exceeds the draught of your vessel."

The Captain glances down the length of the harbour and nods. He leans forward and offers his hand as my snake lower half undulates from side to side over the gangway. The moment I am aboard, the crew drags the gangway into the ship's middle, adding to the barrels, bags and casks of supplies and goods stacked there. The crew pushes off from the pier with their oars.

The Harbourmaster and Chief Governor stand on the harbour's edge, hands on their hips, while behind them, the islanders call and heave, call and heave. The two functionaries give way, and with a crunch, the stone barrier lowers into place, filling in the single missing piece of a continuous wall. Alba presses up against this barrier, her head and neck clear. Maybe the shadow plays a trick, yet I believe a heavy sadness falls across her face. I need to blink to hold back my tears. The separation is slow. The ship's crew is not a full complement; therefore, they must work double at the oars. A terrible pain grows in my heart. My hands tighten around the ship's gunwale, attempting to soothe this burgeoning ache.

"Cardinal!"

"Cardinal!"

My eyes flash towards the village's stone beach, and towering over everyone else is Ottar, waving his axe by the haft over his head.

I point towards him, beyond him, again and again. "Behind you!" I scream. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alba sprint from along the harbour. Behind Ottar, the Prophet of Zeus holds his axe high, arcing downwards before my eyes. Ottar's shoulders shift in a kind of slow motion. Then his torso follows, twisting. Not fast enough. Tears cloud my vision while I scream at my Initiate.

The prophet's axe fails to strike, halting mid-arc. Short-lived confusion clouds the prophet's face as the butt of Ottar's axe smashes his forehead, rocking him back on his heels. The prophet's axe falls from his hands, and his upper body wavers. He drops to one knee instead of free falling to the ground.

I see now. My eyes aren't entirely on Ottar, who now bends down and claims his assailant's axe. Following the rope line, one end ends high in a palm tree, while others have tied the other end off around a block of stone. Beside the block, the crew hugs and cheers while occasionally patting a contraption.

"A ballista, Cardinal," says Captain Dekens, answering my unspoken question. "They have threaded the needle, as they say." He points towards a tree. "Instead of slaying the Frost Giant prophet, they released the ballista with a trailing rope, catching the slow downswing of the axe. The giant probably thought they missed if he noticed at all as his sole focus was on slaying Ottar."

"They would have had to know to be so prepared?"

"Yes, Cardinal. The ballista is no quick load weapon, the addition of the rope no last moment's decision." He points along the shore. "Several other crews, loaded ballista and without a rope, also lay in wait. I suspect if the fancy release didn't work, death releases would have been next."

"Why do they protect Ottar?" I ask.

He leans on the gunwale beside me. "They don't. They protect the peace and uphold the word of their Chief Governor. Do we load Ottar onboard and be on our way?"

Do we simply sail away now? Ottar, I notice, surrenders the stunned prophet to a gaggle of armed citizens, firmly under the command of the Chief Governor. Ottar tries to ask questions. The Chief Governor waves him away while Governor Allene shares a brief conversation with him before leaving to follow the crowd. Ottar stares at me from the shore. Whatever indecision or second thought kept him back, he dismisses and climbs over the stone wall, which now fortifies the village. His powerful body wades towards the ship. The Captain, well ahead of me, has his ship on an intercept course, a loop closing in on the shore, yet able to manoeuvre away under oars without losing momentum.

The light from torches in the village rises as dusk passes to evening. The waves glow and darken when they lap against Ottar's chest as he calls from a distance. "I must stay Cardinal. I must find ice and snow before I can once again adventure with you."

My failure. I pressed Ottar to follow without thought of his comfort and survival. His next words surprise me.

"I must also defend the Prophet of Zeus. Misguided in his beliefs, yet still a Frost Giant, and I would like to ensure he comes to no harm if I can."

How deep does the blood of the Frost Giants run? I feel like shouting out, telling Ottar he is foolish for caring for one who wished him dead, yet I fear my words would only plant a seed of doubt in him about me. I decide this, whatever this is, is a Frost Giant thing. Beyond the worship of Aphrodite and our friendship, I need to set him free. I hope he returns to Aphrodite and me all the better afterwards.

"I wish you well and will think of you in my prayers to Aphrodite, Ottar, the wisest Frost Giant I know and love."

Colour drains from his already colourless face. I am confident his weak return wave is because of my heartfelt words, not a sign of his lack of affection towards me. The ship continues to slip through the waves and away while a silent and thoughtful giant, chest deep in wave wash, witnesses my leaving.

---Svala, Adept of Aphrodite POV

For the umpteenth time, I adjust the ropes around my waist as I jog, along with the rest of those on the Goddess Aphrodite's quest. Behind us, on the ends of the rope trails, a device called a sled. The Bear Kin Merchant, a worshipper of Bellas, no less swears these are common amongst his Kin who frequent the continent's interior.

"Ideally, your waist belt would have two large metal loops for the rope to be threaded through," he says. While keeping up with us, his lopping ponderous jogging is off-putting all the same.

"We thank you for the idea, a solution for an unsolvable problem for us," I reply.

His maw widens into a growling smile. The face of a Bear Kin is animalistic, with coarse fur, a large black nose, and the display of teeth while smiling, a threat more than comfort.

"I do shudder at your barely useable version. Mine is all fine craftsmanship, light yet made from strong materials to ease the sled's weight and allow a greater load. Yours are roughly hewn slabs of timber, functional, yet I shudder at the weight each of you needs to pull."

"Our design and craftsmanship are born of urgency and need but be unconcerned by weight as a Frost Giant's strength grows and renews in ice and snow. The success of our quest is our sole concern."

"How far?" A cloud of warm air expels from between the lips of his maw. I have seen this before, yet this is the first time I have noticed it. Odd.

I point ahead. A tall, dark square shape rises out of the smooth white.

"I count my Temple lucky you were visiting when you did, and I thank you once again."

"There was no luck, Adept of Aphrodite. Our Goddess sent my brother and I on a quest with the promise of a boon upon completion. I expect to meet him shortly as he accompanied the Kobolds while I trekked to locate your village. Our Goddess talked in riddles in the main except where my brother and I needed to be."

"Is your Goddess a Seer? Can she see into the future?"

A deep bellow erupts from beside me. The Bear Kin needs to pause to regain his composure, and I feel less. Asking questions is to learn, not to be subject to belittlement.

"I apologise. Not a Seer. I guess she knows her race, the Snake Kin, and how they despise the cold, and she probably reasoned the kobolds would suffer a similar fate in ice and snow."

Nodding in response to his explanation, I content myself with silence until we reach the Dungeon Entrance.

{You have entered the Gateway Dungeon of Arsu.}

"First, Priestess of Aphrodite? Aphrodite sends me to assist you with your journey," I call out down the spiral stair.

A fluttering of wings grows louder until a unique creature lands lightly before me. Massive basalt black leather wings for First's size fold upon her back. Petite white horns protruding from her forehead contrast against the glistening black scales of her face and elsewhere not concealed by her priestess robes. She is glorious, breathtaking and I drop to one knee yet still need to look down to find her face. Such is our height difference.

"Priestess First, I am honoured to be in your presence and be able to assist you in your quest." I am giddy. Butterflies bounce about in my stomach as all who venerate Aphrodite learn of First, Bucket One and Bucket Two, the Goddess' first followers before she aspired to godhood.

"You are being modest. Your arrival is a rescue, yet I welcome your wording. What must my congregation do to ensure we survive the rest of our journey?"

--- Hrut, Prophet of Zeus POV

My straining against the chains is futile. My strength wains to nothing as my slow, clumsy strike upon the foul worshipper of Aphrodite was my last act of defiance before death and failure. I couldn't even manage that. Too many days at sea and my futile search for ice on this steaming tropical island, my final failed hope. Then there is Zeus. He doesn't answer my pleas or begging prayers, and I don't know how I have earnt his neglect of me, his prophet.

Because of one named Allene, I understand their speech. His preaching on behalf of Aphrodite so long ago also spread his language amongst our steadings. A swift-flowing language in complete contrast to our functional harshness. They are deciding how I should pay for breaching their peace. I try to speak and fail.

Warmth stabs my melting heart.

"You will not have long to wait if you wish him dead."

I recognise his foul voice from my steading. No, my memory returns; he escorted a Snake Kin past our humble Shrine. So long ago now. The beginning of the end, yet we didn't know.

Was he one of the first seduced by the honeyed words of Allene after his magic saved the Jarl's wife and her babe? Bera and I even vouched for Allene! Bera. My betrothed then became an Initiate of Aphrodite, and our love became another casualty of this false faith. Zeus' Priestess, my mother Arnora, pleaded with our mighty god to provide more wondrous magic for mother and child care. This was to counter Aphrodite's religious seduction and his reply, a mystery to this day; this is not my realm. Instead, accusing Aphrodite of stealing the magic from a Goddess of his Pantheon. My mother mistakenly asked our god this question in front of all our remaining worshipers in his last church. They all heard Aphrodite had the power to take magic from Zeus' Pantheon. How can a lesser being steal from a stronger being? Worse still, why can't the stronger being punish the lesser being?

To raise Zeus' attention to the required level, my mother had no choice but to gather the entire congregation so she could ask the question. The answer, though, proved a boon to Allene and his purpose. What started as a few sycophants worshipping Aphrodite to ingratiate themselves with the Jarl's wife became a flood when Zeus himself exposed this weakness.

Is my mother still alive? The heaviness in my heart suggests the answer is no, yet this sign could also be a warning of my imminent death.

Light dizziness sends my eyes into the back of their sockets, and I shut them. The once stable ground now sways and undulates. I briefly remember Aphrodite as a Priestess of Zeus and a friend. Then nothing.

--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

"Behind us, Captain," calls Arend Lange, the ship's lookout.

The onset of night reveals the bow lights of multiple ships appearing around the blind edge of the harbour. Given the crew's murmurings, I discover they are Empire ships, and therefore there is a general feeling of relief. We have escaped before any invasion, and with our head start, we should be safe.

"Fortunate," I say to Captain Dekens.

His hands grip the gunwale while his eyes examine the encroaching fleet in the gloom. His attention flicks from one ship to the next in a steady progression.

"Over twenty of their largest ships. The island doesn't stand a chance."

The crew keeps at the oars until our lookout can't spy the lights of the Empire ships, and then the Captain orders the anchor thrown over the side. Our meal is bread and water. Then we try as best we can to snatch some sleep and wait for the morning.

On wakening, a glare, piercing in intensity, stabs at my eyes and instinctively, I close them. I edge them open while raising my hands as a shield. My eyes open upon a sunlit, sheer black stone cliff face. My heart stops, I am sure. I need to force myself to take a breath. The Wave Piercer had begun the long journey to the Kingdoms by circumnavigating the main island, which could mean none had ever trampled on this sacred stone. As the sun rises, my back to the cliff, I can scan beyond the ship without being blinded. I can't stand still any longer. The rapid beating of my heart forbids such when holy glory is on the verge of being revealed. Hurrying from bow to stern, starboard to port, I drool with each spike, spear, and post of basalt I discover protruding from beneath the waves. A semi-circle of black teeth of different shapes, heights and widths rise out of the ocean, all leading to the main island like breadcrumbs.

"Are you alright, Cardinal?"

"I must return to the island, Captain!" His shoulders under my firm grasp, I stare into his eyes with an intensity he will probably mistake for madness. "I must!"

"Cardinal, we are… it is too late. We will be underway again shortly, and manoeuvring amongst these pillar islands, even in broad daylight, is fraught with risk. Best we sail through and then decide."

"You don't understand. My Goddess' sacred stone surrounds us." I wave my arms about, finishing with both arms pointing towards the vast expanse of sheer stone marking the main island's furthest extent. "This stone is her original body, basalt. The only other time her worshippers have found such a quantity was because of Dungeon theft and creation. A blasphemy!"

His head tilts to one side while his arms spread apart.

Wait. Didn't the Captain call them something? Pillar islands. If they have a name, are there more in this world?

"Where else do these pillar islands exist?" I rise and lurch over him.

He backs away, almost falling over a bag or box. It matters not. "There are many, usually closer to land."

"More!" I hiss, unable to control my excitement.

"But none, black, of basalt like these. You can only find them here."

My fever calms somewhat. "These will be enough," I mumble, and then I face the Captain again. "I must return. I will…"

"Ahead of us, Captain," calls Arend Lange, the ship's lookout.

The Captain and I face these new interlopers. After a glance, he sighs and calls to the Second Mate, Jilt Vogel, "Heave to and stow oars. We must confer with the incoming Kingdom ships."

---

After a heated discussion, the Wave Piercer and crew join the Kingdom fleet. A tow line facilitates the turning about of the Captain's ship behind an ocean-going merchant ship, his protesting futile.

As the shoreline comes into view mid-morning, the islanders have done a superb job of endless negotiation with the Empire Fleet. I can deduce no other reason the overwhelming survivor Empire Fleet is still holding a distance offshore. I imagined them committing to a bloody dawn invasion given their superior numbers, even after the sea creatures reaped a savage harvest of their ships and men.

With the appearance of the Kingdom Fleet, the three ways standoff is complete and, to my mind, an amusing if not predictable outcome. Given our previous experience with the islanders, the Captain and I join the Kingdom's ship's boat to negotiate with the Islander and the Empire representatives.

Where are we going? "Captain," I whisper. "We aren't heading to shore?"

He grins. "We meet on neutral, erm ground. Soon, three boats will bump into each other as we bob about on the bay. Grand, no?"

Sure enough, the bows of the Empire and Kingdom boats are along opposite sides of the islanders' rowboat, one starboard and one port. The suspicious Admirals and Captains of both fleets were the width of the islander boat apart, more than the length of most weapons.

"Welcome to the Isles," says Dyce Lamot, Chief Governor. Allene sneaks me a quick wink.

Both form the official Isle contingent; the rest are sturdy rowers, eyes alert and scanning, hands ready on the oars. Only now do I realise the stern of the islander boat is between the bows of the other two rowboats. Not only does this allow the island rowers to observe the goings on, but the positioning also allows them to strike and stroke the oars immediately and, with haste, return them to shore. The rowers of our boat and the Empire boat are facing away from the meeting. However, they could blindly pursue the islanders' rowboat quickly enough if given an order.

"We have been through your welcome process already. As much as we disagree with the Kingdoms and their futile ideas of independence, I would not want to subject them and us to a repeat performance."

He waves to his right and left, introducing his sub-commanders of the Empire Fleet. At the same time, the Admirals of the Kingdom Fleet present themselves. The Captain remains silent. I assume he is a hidden advantage for when the time is right.

We are fortunate to witness this grand meeting from a boat side seat, except sitting comfortably for an extended period in a rowboat is a challenge. The Chief Governor doesn't want, for lack of fluttering words, to parry any proposal not to his liking where required. He issues strong and occasionally outrageous for effect replies at other times, flat-out rejection, or soft, demure murmurings when appropriate. The Admirals and Commanders of the two fleets may be naval warfare experts, but the nuances of negotiation elude them. As time passes, I notice a macabre glee surfacing in the Chief Governors' eyes. His calm patience is constant, meaning his occasional outbursts of outrage are more devastating and effective. In the end, I believe he outwaits and wears down the Empire Admirals. With skill, he counters the Kingdom's Admirals by stoking the underlying friendly rivalry between them and the overall threat of favouring the Empire if they push him too hard.

"Are we settled then?" asks the Chief Governor.

Both opposing parties salute each other and then, as one, salute the Governor. I suppose shaking hands across the gunwales of bobbing boats would be a risk at the best of times.

"Rationalise your crews. We will then permit any crewless ships to beach, one at a time to be scavenged for materials. Remember, half of those ships' wood, fittings and rigging become the Isles' property. I remind all that we agree to restrict the trade of food and water on the island because the size of both fleets would strip the island clean."

As the crews prepare to heave to, I raise a hand. "Governor, would you permit me a private parley?" When everyone else pauses, I add, "To discuss religious matters, dear to my heart, and I am certain of little interest to others."

He tilts his head towards Allene, who whispers into his ear.

The Empire's rowboat separates, my last words allaying their concerns, with all oars splashing as one in the water. I overhear the Kingdom Admiral's whispering between themselves and fret as I wonder about their suspicions. The Governor and Allene exchange places with two of the rowers. I lean forward, and each rower grabs one of my arms while the end of my tail slithers into their rowboat.

"Stop!" yells someone behind me.

I yank forward and heave the rest of my tail and torso over. The two burly islanders drag back, and I join Allene, who embraces me on a now rocking islander boat because of my heavy landing.

"Bring that creature back!"

I glance over my shoulder. A Kingdom Admiral, hands on the gunwale and red face, stares at me. The oars of the islander boat dip and splash while the Admiral continues to swear under his breath until he turns his anger on Captain Dekens.

"The Captain will be alright. The other two Admirals are trying to calm the third down," says Allene while hugging me even more. "I am glad we are together again."

While our heads are side by side, I try to contain my excitement and whisper, "I have made a discovery. Are you free for the rest of the day?"

"I am a Governor of the Isles. I am free when I say I am free." Her soft giggles are reassuring and a joy.

--- Allene Corser the Younger POV

"I forthwith give notice and advise that at dusk today, the former ground, vegetation and waterways of Family Corser have been bequeathed to the Governor's Council in exchange for all lands on the island made of, or with high a content of the stone known as basalt. The sole exception to this transfer is the Corser Mansion and surrounding grounds as defined by the immaculately manicured hedgerows."

While reading our letter of destruction, I observe and memorise every twitch and curl of his lips. He is enjoying his official duty too much. I am confident the other Governors are enjoying this acquisition too much. There is only one who can negotiate this, this betrayal!

"May I see the proclamation?" I ask in the sweetest sugar voice I can muster. As he hands the treasonous parchment to me with barely restrained glee, I plaster the brightest of smiles across my lips.

I am alone. My mother is at the markets. In plain words trying to earn some advantage, financial, political, or consulting, given the two fleets currently at anchor in the harbour. My brother, with her trying to learn, apparently. Leaving me to handle this jumped-up distant son of a Governor acting as an official messenger.

I know he cannot leave without the proclamation, so I take my sweet, long, annoying time reading every word. His summary is accurate. My wondrous waterfall and swimming pool are no longer exclusively mine. They belong to every Islander. Therefore, I have lost my cherished retreat and strongest boon. Mother convinced me to play the long game, so none I invited needed to reciprocate with any favour or coin. Now, will they even remember my generosity? My hands grip the edges of the parchment, and I pull as my stomach knots. The urge to tear up this terrible document builds within me.

"Thank-you. I will take my leave," he says as I hand off the legal binding document to him.

"One moment, I will escort you."

I notice him swallow, and so he should, the cretin functionary. A Governor should have delivered this change in land title to a Corser family member on their estate, not an unimportant son of a son of a Governor.

Our stroll back to the Chief Governor's mansion is pleasant with one brief interjection. I thought I glimpsed my brother in unseemly haste, showing off a happy smiling face while wearing a faraway dreamy look. Such a combination for him is, of course, impossible, so I must be mistaken. That aside, I devote my full attention to my council functionary. I insist on behaving and engaging in pleasant conversation, commenting on the weather, and asking about his parents' health and interests—chit-chat. Then I move on to more meaningful things. I enquire about his plans. Has his family met with any of the dignitaries of the two fleets? I wasted my breath. He is possibly four or five years older than me, and yet his brain is that of a playful toddler. Carrying documents back and forth and smirking at the misfortune of others is his limit of use, and I suspect his family knows as well. As the saying goes, 'water rises to its own level', and his level is a drop, if not a drip.

He doesn't question my presence as I follow him into the mansion proper, sweeping passed the Governor's chairs and towards the archives office. Here is where unknown to him, I slip away.

"They suckle strongly, don't they?" I beam a blindingly bright smile towards the weary face of their mother while offering a fresh glass of water to her lips. She returns a weak smile, and I turn my offer into action as she drinks deeply. She blinks her eyes, and I withdraw the glass and set it aside.

"Thank-you. And yes, they are tiny, greedy piggies." Her eyes widen for a moment, and I think the worst because of my bold uninvited visit. Instead, she says, "You are the second Allene Corser, aren't you?"

My smile doesn't fall, not a dropping tick of lip or a furrow of the brow. "Some say so."

"Well, like your namesake, you appear when I need you, so thank you again."

I glance at her bulbous, fleshy breasts; little mouths surround the ends, and their little lips pulsating with an acute fever extracting their mother's milk.

Her voice startles me. "Amazing, isn't it?"

I stammer. How did I let that happen? "Y… Yes. Amazing, such a wonder."

Her hand pats my upper arm somehow. What holds her babies in place? "You may meet your true love one day and also enjoy motherhood." Her head leans back slightly in that deep, thoughtful look way. "You are a beautiful young girl, no young woman, yes. Do you bleed yet?"

If this is what it will take, I guess no sacrifice is too much. "Occasionally. Mother says another year yet. I am certain my namesake is all woman, yet I sense her future husband is her religion." I place my hands over my mouth, feigning embarrassment.

She giggles. "How funny." I believe she nods to herself. "She and the drab Snake Kin creature." She bites her bottom lip. "Forget I said that as the Snake Kin creature saved my life and that of my children. Even though she is somewhat unpleasant to look at, she is marvellous as a midwife, and I mustn't forget her miracle arrival."

Her apologetic rambling confirms at least one rumour. The Chief Governor and his "Island Queen" owe the Snake Kin a debt regardless of Isle rules and norms. No one can't forget they owe their life to another, even if they pretend to, says my mother.

"Yes, their faith to their Goddess Aphro…." I pretend to stumble over my words.

"The Goddess Aphrodite, such a lovely, pleasant-sounding name, don't you think?"

As I observe her eyes swimming in remembrance, I believe she is a religious follower ripe for the picking, which will serve my purposes for now.

"I haven't seen either at the market today, so I wonder how they keep themselves busy." I giggle like a silly girl to ensure I lower my age in her mind.

"Oh, sweet girl, don't you concern yourself with them. They are working on a great religious project. Now, don't you go disturbing them?" While she doesn't, I imagine her playfully waggling a finger at me like any mother except for mine, I suspect.

"Could I take a little peep, young girl curiosity, you know?" I flutter my eyelids while my eyes stray, focusing on her feeding babies. I am appealing to her curiosity and giving her the opportunity for satisfaction under the guise of indulging me. The beating of my heart always increases as I wait to see if my manipulation succeeds or not. Wait, why am I staring at her babies? I should be pleading directly into her eyes to sell this.