Darkness cloaked the chamber like a thick shroud, broken only by the flickering glow of a single orb floating in midair. Within the orb, shadows twisted and danced, revealing glimpses of a world not meant to be seen from above. A figure—short, cloaked, and hunched—stood before it, shoulders trembling.
And then came the laughter.
It began as a giggle, soft and unhinged, before erupting into manic laughter that echoed against the stone walls.
"Hahaha! Finally! Finally!"
"Finally what?"
The room was suddenly flooded with golden light, illuminating the dust-coated floor and the twisted metal scraps scattered like forgotten relics. The figure froze, slowly turning. The laughter died in his throat as he laid eyes on her.
She stood radiant and serene, yet her gaze was cold and unreadable—an expression carved from divine marble.
"Your Holiness!" the figure gasped and scuttled forward, dropping into a low bow. The light revealed him to be a dwarf, bearded and sooty, with eyes too large for his small face. Mlor, the goddess's most peculiar inventor.
She walked past him without a word at first, her white robes sweeping the ground like mist. Her gaze fell upon the glowing orb.
"Mlor," she said coolly. "You've locked yourself in your workshop for days. I assumed you were crafting something important."
She tilted her head, inspecting the orb with a faint frown.
"But it seems you've been spying on humans again."
Mlor flinched. "It—it's not spying, my lady. Merely observing…"
The goddess said nothing. Her eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding within the orb: a boy, no older than sixteen, rushing down broken stairs inside an old, crumbling house. She saw the worn crest engraved into the shattered railing and paused.
"Hm…" She turned to Mlor. "Is that not the home I built when I fell to the mortal world?"
The dwarf shifted nervously, sweat forming beneath his helmet. "Well—uh—yes, Your Grace. It was the dwelling you made during your descent."
Her voice grew sharp. "Then do tell… what is a human doing in my sanctified refuge?"
A sudden gust of wind blew through the chamber as her fist clenched. Divine energy flared. Mlor stumbled back, his voice cracking.
"This human was summoned… by Prince Light."
A dangerous silence fell.
"Light," she repeated, almost as a whisper. A storm brewed in her tone. "Mlor… do not lie to me. You remember well what I do to liars."
Blue flames licked the edges of her robes, swirling around Mlor like wolves closing in. He whimpered and shielded himself.
"I'm not lying, Your Grace! Prince Light summoned the human himself! He even… spoke with him."
"Spoke?" she echoed with disbelief. "My son has been dormant for centuries. Since his awakening, he has not uttered a word to a single creature. And now you expect me to believe he summoned a mere human?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "It was a mistake. Light would never lower himself like that."
But Mlor met her eyes with rare courage.
"He did, Your Grace. He summoned that boy… to guide him out of the Zone."
She stilled. "Then why," she asked softly, dangerously, "did he not call for me? I am his mother. Am I not?"
"He did."
The flames froze. Her expression blanked.
"He called for you. For fifty years, he called. Again and again. And you…" Mlor's voice shook with anger now, "You ignored every call like tossing paper to the wind."
"I must have been busy," she muttered.
"For half a century?" Mlor snorted. "No. You were chasing lust and riches. Swimming in jewels, parading through temples… but your son? He was crying for you."
The goddess turned away, her expression unreadable.
"But it doesn't matter now, does it?" Mlor continued. "You're his mother. He should have kept waiting, right?"
His voice hardened. "A mother who abandoned her child in an eternal prison. A mother who feared what pregnancy would do to her status. Tell me, why did you create life if you never intended to care for it?"
Silence.
Mlor bit his lip and then dropped the final blow. "He doesn't care for you anymore. He's chosen the human as his father."
The air turned still. Then—
Crack.
Frost.
Ice slithered across the floor, snaking up the walls. The orb froze solid and shattered, shards scattering like falling stars.
"My son…" the goddess whispered. Her voice cracked. "Chose a human over me?"
"You have no right to be angry," Mlor spat. "You haven't been his mother in a long time."
"Grow up," he hissed. "No child waits forever."
An icicle speared into the ground just before his feet. He yelped and dove behind the remnants of the orb.
The goddess exhaled, her crystalline eyes closing as she calmed herself. With a flick of her wrist, the broken pieces rose into the air and reassembled, the orb whole once more.
Inside, Aria emerged from a cavern, blinking up at the sky. The wind tousled his dark hair as he smiled faintly, awed by the open world above him. A strange crest glowed on his wrist—her son's.
Her son's blessing.
He had chosen this mortal.
She clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white… then slowly smirked.
"So that's how it is…"
She tossed the orb back. Mlor barely caught it.
"Your Grace?" he asked nervously.
"I've made my decision," she said, already walking toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Mlor called after her.
"To help them bond," she said with a chilling smile. "It's been too long since I visited the temple."
She paused, hand on the door. "I wonder… is Saint Nia still waiting?"
The door slammed shut behind her.
Mlor stared in horror. "Oh no…"
Temple of the Capital
The grand hall of the temple lay silent, bathed in soft golden light. At its center knelt Saintess Nia, draped in white, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she prayed at the foot of the statue.
The effigy of the goddess stood tall—wings outstretched, hands clasped in prayer, her face serene and divine.
Creak…
The silence was broken as an elderly man entered. "Saintess Nia," he greeted with a respectful bow.
Nia rose and turned. "Elder Ryan," she replied, bowing in turn. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"Oh, nothing," he said kindly. "Just checking in on our Saintess. You've been here every day lately."
"It is my duty," she said gently. "To pray on behalf of our people. And I feel… something is coming."
Elder Ryan followed her gaze to the crystal dome above, where the sunlight painted moving shapes across the floor.
"It's been fifty years since the goddess last spoke to us," he said. "I wouldn't hold your breath."
Then—
FWOOSH.
A searing white light exploded from the statue.
Elder Ryan shielded his eyes, while Nia stood transfixed. Her pupils vanished, replaced by divine light.
A voice not her own whispered through the chamber.
The light faded. Nia collapsed, and Elder Ryan caught her.
"Saintess!" he cried.
She blinked, steadying her breath. Then her eyes widened, and she turned toward the statue.
"Send word to the king," she whispered.
"A prophecy has been given."
She bowed low to the statue.
"The goddess has spoken."