“Order is never absolute,” said Ashana. “Change is the paradox of perfection that keeps worlds turning and hearts beating. Unity unmakes itself. Malatriant couldn’t accept that. As her realm fell away, she reached into the Dark. She forged her peace – the peace of silence, where hers was the only voice. One by one, Tressia’s neighbours fell. Until all were one in the Dark.”

Melanna frowned. Somehow, the goddess made a hopeless tale bleaker still. The warmth of the fireside receded, until only the chill wind remained. “And then you intervened.”

“Not me. My predecessor and her siblings. They chose champions and granted them magic. The first and last thing they ever agreed on, I don’t doubt. Those champions cast down the walls of Darkmere and ended Malatriant’s rule. Your empire arose from those ashes, and the Tressians . . . ? What they didn’t forget, they warped their histories to conceal.” Ashana sighed. “And now they long for a past that never truly was. It’s all very familiar. No wonder I feel at home.”

Melanna opened her eyes. The mists were thicker than before, clawing at the fortress walls like besiegers. In the distance, darkness shimmered beneath the stars.

“So the legends are true. The Sceadotha met her end in the Southshires.”

“There’s no end in the Dark. It was here before light was light. Everything that exists is built upon its bones. One day it will reclaim what was lost, and silence will reign.”

Melanna shuddered. “That sounds like a prophecy.”

“Then perhaps I’m finally getting the hang of being a goddess.” Ashana hunched lower over the rampart. Dirty blonde hair framed her face. She made a disgusted noise. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“So all this . . . It was meant to be?”

The goddess snorted with laughter. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You just said it was prophecy.”

“I agreed it sounded like a prophecy – and that, Melanna, is a word by which we justify our deeds, or excuse their lack. Just because something’s inevitable, doesn’t mean it can’t wait. Otherwise, why get out of bed? Why do anything at all?”

The fortress walls faded behind mist. There was only the rampart, and the goddess. “So you’ll stop this?”

“I can’t. I’m bound by divine law. Not much to be gained staving off Malatriant if my step-siblings fall to brawling over protocol. That too can be held off for another day.”

“You . . . your predecessor . . . involved herself.”

“No. Her champion did.” Ashana straightened and struck a thoughtful expression that was entirely too guileless. “Now where would I get one of those?”

Melanna staggered back a step. “Me?”

“You are Ashanal, aren’t you? Names are like clothes. Steal them, and you should be ready to play the part.”

The mist rolled in.