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Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

Sometimes I ask myself where I went wrong in his upbringing. The faith I was born from was as pure and fickle as my own shimmer in the night sky - faith in luck, in chance, in fleeting beauty that makes one wish upon a star. And here is my hero… Ethle. His faith in me is strong, that’s true. It warms me from within, like a sip of hot nectar in the cold. But his laziness… Oh Great Zeus, his laziness could give birth to a god of procrastination on its own!

Right now, he’s supposed to be training with his sword. Instead, he’s been lying on the meadow for two hours straight, staring at the sky and chewing on a blade of grass. His eyes - yellow, like a wildcat’s - follow the drifting clouds with no purpose. My divine essence quivers with irritation. I can’t speak to him directly, but a little nudge… a warning… that’s allowed.

I gathered a tiny spark of my power and sent it down. A soft crack echoed through the meadow, and from the branch of an old oak a pinecone dropped right onto Ethle’s face. Small, but noticeable.

— Ow! Damn it! - he snorted, rubbing his forehead. — You again?

He sat up and looked reproachfully at the sky. I felt his faith waver for a heartbeat, tinged with mild resentment. But it passed quickly. He sighed, lazily got to his feet, and finally picked up his old, battle-worn sword. My glow in the sky - invisible in daylight, but always felt by me - grew a little brighter. There. That’s better.

Ethle’s POV

That pinecone again. Sometimes I think my god doesn’t have servants - just a squad of squirrel commandos. Alright, alright, I get it. Enough lying around, time to stretch. The sword feels familiar in my hand, yet today it feels heavy as lead. The sun is so warm…

I swung at an imaginary enemy, and the sunlight flashed on the blade. It reminded me of his eyes. No, not eyes - Tevalne doesn’t have eyes the way we do. But when his radiance paints the night sky, I see in those shifting lights the purest shade of blue - like mountain ice at dawn. Maybe that’s why my gaze lingers on the sky.

Suddenly, a nervous rustle of birds echoed from the west. The forest whispered uneasily. I tensed. Even my laziness retreated before the instinct of a beast. From the thicket, crushing bushes underfoot, crawled… something. A lizard the size of a horse, its dark, knotted scales glistening. Poisonous drool dripped from its jaws, hissing on the grass. A forest dragon. Not the largest, but for a lone traveler - certain death.

My heart sank. The sword in my hand suddenly felt like a toy. The dragon let out a guttural roar and lunged toward me. A hungry beast doesn’t care about the size of its prey. I barely leapt aside, feeling its scorching breath. There were no thoughts - only primal fear. I parried a clawed strike, and the impact sent pain shooting up to my shoulder. Another blow - and my fingers went numb, the sword flying from my grasp. I rolled to the base of a tree, pressing my back to the rough bark. No way to retreat. The dragon advanced, confident of victory. Despair choked me. And then I remembered Him. The one who had always been there, unseen.

— Tevalne! - I gasped, closing my eyes. It wasn’t a beautiful prayer from the scriptures. It was a cry of the soul. — Help me! Give me luck! Just a drop! I’ll train, I promise! Just… help!

Tevalne’s POV

His prayer struck me like thunder. Fierce, pure, filled with true fear and hope. It wasn’t the calm, habitual faith that sustains me day by day - it was a call. And I could not ignore it.

Even now, in daylight, I could feel my domain - the sky. I gathered all the faith Ethle had ever given me, and all the luck I had hoarded for greater deeds. Wasteful, perhaps, for such a small dragon - but it was his first true cry for help.

My power cannot simply smite any creature with blinding energy. But I could do something else. High above the meadow, where the moist air meets the chill of the stratosphere, I birthed a tiny fragment of myself. A spark. It flared, and for a brief instant - even through the bright sunlight - a vivid greenish streak appeared in the sky. My northern lights. Not for beauty. For him.

Ethle’s POV

I sat there, disarmed, waiting for death, when something dazzling struck my face. I flinched, eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t sunlight - it was different. Cold and beautiful. Through my eyelids I saw everything bathed in emerald light.

The dragon, already poised for its final leap, let out a furious roar. I opened my eyes slightly and saw the beast staggering back, shaking its head wildly. A patch of light - my god’s glow - had reflected off the blade of my fallen sword and into the creature’s eyes, blinding it. He had sent me help - the simplest kind, yet so perfectly timed.

Adrenaline surged through me. Fear and pain vanished. I lunged - the sword was in my hand again. While the dragon thrashed blindly, I drove the blade with all my strength into the unarmored throat beneath its jaw. A guttural wheeze - and the heavy body collapsed, drenching me in foul blood.

I stood, leaning on my sword, breathing hard. My body trembled from exhaustion. I looked up. The sky was clear and blue. No glow. But I knew - He was there.

That evening, by the fire, while dressing the dragon’s carcass, I pulled from my pack a worn journal and a charred stick of charcoal. Time for a new entry.

Ethle’s diary

“Today I killed a dragon. A small one, but still. Without Tevalne, I couldn’t have done it. He blinded it with his light. Thank you.

I’m serious about the training. I promise. Maybe tomorrow.

P.S. If you throw pinecones at me again, I’ll hide this journal.”

Tevalne’s POV

He wrote. I felt every letter like a gentle touch. His gratitude was warmer than any prayer. And that little postscript… I laughed. My laughter rustled through the leaves in the night wind.

He promises to train. “Maybe tomorrow.” Well, now there’s no escaping it. Tomorrow I’ll make sure of it myself. For now, though, I watched him resting by the campfire. His blond hair was tousled, his face streaked with dried blood and fatigue - but he was smiling. And above him, visible only to the two of us, my light danced slowly across the sky.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

Faith that nourishes a god can take many forms. There is faith quiet as a candle in the window of a lonely wanderer. And there is faith loud and boisterous, like a crowd celebrating some god of harvest. Right now, I was watching the source of the latter. The hero of the Goddess of Fire had just entered the tavern.

He was the complete opposite of my own hero. His armor, polished to a shine, clattered noisily. His voice, boastful and loud, drowned out the hum of conversations. He was the embodiment of brute strength and lavish offerings - offerings that demanded constant attention. His goddess, Ignis, must have been pleased. Her unseen presence nearby I felt like heat from a blazing forge.

And my Ethle sat quietly in the corner, at a modest little table. He had sold the dragon’s hide and teeth to a merchant and was now enjoying a hearty stew and a mug of ale. He wasn’t trying to draw attention. He simply was. And in that quiet contentment lay a deep kind of strength that warmed me far better than Ignis’s fire ever could. But in the world of Alenor, peace is rarely left undisturbed.

Ethle’s POV

The tavern «The Lost Wanderer» - best place in the world after my meadow. It smells of roast meat, ale, and smoke, and the chatter melts into a cozy hum. Nobody asks questions. I ordered the biggest stew and a tankard of ale with the money I’d earned from my last hunt. Sitting here, eating, I feel like a king. My bag with the diary is in the corner - I’ll write later that the food here is excellent. Tevalne, I hope you’re glad that I’m finally full and happy.

The door burst open with a crash, and in came Farros - a brawny hulk in massive armor, hammer slung over his back, forever shouting about his exploits. He made straight for the largest table, where a few other heroes and guild members were already sitting.

— Hey, look here! - he shouted, slamming a heavy sack onto the table. — Hide of a fire salamander! Gems from a griffin’s nest! Tonight, we feast at my expense! Ignis is generous to those who don’t skulk in corners like frightened mice!

His gaze swept the hall - and stopped on me. Great. Here we go.

— Ah, and who’s this sitting so quiet? - Farros strode toward my table, his armor clanking. — Elet, or whatever your name is? The one who prays to empty skies? Your ‘little god’ can’t even afford a pot for offerings? Or is he too busy admiring his pretty colored lights?

Laughter rolled from his table. I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like fighting without reason, and I could have swallowed insults aimed at me. But mocking Tevalne — that I couldn’t bear.

— My god doesn’t need offering pots, - I muttered, setting down my spoon. — And his strength isn’t in noise.

— Strength? - Farros snorted. — I heard your ‘mighty’ god doesn’t even have a temple. You can’t build him even a shack. He’d have ditched you long ago - if only it were that easy to get rid of you.

Loud whoops and cheers rose from the main table in support of the idiot, making my stomach turn.

Tevalne’s POV

Fool. He thinks divinity is measured in square meters of stone walls. He doesn’t understand that the strongest temple is built within a hero’s heart. But his words wounded Ethle. I could feel his confidence waver - and that I could not allow.

Ignis must have been watching too. I felt her mocking gaze, like a glowing coal pressed against my essence. She waited to see what I would do. Direct intervention was impossible. But I am the god of luck. And luck… comes in many forms.

Farros lifted his mug to take a hearty gulp, still laughing…

Ethle’s POV

I was already clenching my fists under the table, ready to punch that braggart, when something strange happened. The floorboard beneath Farros’s boot creaked and shifted. He didn’t fall, but he stumbled - and his hand jerked. Half a liter of dark ale splashed straight into his face and across his polished armor.

The tavern went dead silent for a heartbeat - then exploded with laughter. Farros, dripping with foam, sputtered and growled in fury.

— Who pushed me?! - he roared, glaring around.

No one had. It was luck. Or rather - his misfortune. I couldn’t help but smirk.

— Seems your Ignis isn’t too fond of you today, - I said, struggling to keep a straight face. — Or maybe she just thought you needed a… refreshing?

The look of rage that twisted Farros’s face was terrifying. He threw the mug to the floor and took a step toward me.

— You, sucker! Bet it was your ‘godling’ meddling again!

He raised a massive fist to strike. I jumped up and backed away - the table between us my only shield. And then came the second miracle. A serving girl passed by with a tray full of dishes - and somehow the tray tilted. A steaming bowl of soup slid off and went flying… straight into Farros. On top of the ale, his armor and pants were now decorated with broth, onions, and carrots. The tavern erupted in deafening laughter. Even his friends couldn’t hold back grins. Farros was furious, but looked so ridiculous that all his bravado melted away. The tavern keeper - a massive man - was already marching toward us, club in hand.

— That’s enough, Farros! - he shouted. — Pay for the damage and get out before I ‘refresh’ you myself!

Farros, teeth bared, slammed a purse of coins on the table and stomped toward the exit, throwing me a hateful glare.

— Pray I don’t see you again, dog! Your luck’s gonna run out one day!

The door slammed behind him. I collapsed back into my seat. My heart was pounding from the rush of adrenaline - but inside, I felt light and joyful, and a stupid grin spread across my face.

Tevalne’s POV

I felt Ignis withdraw her presence from the tavern with fury hot enough to melt steel. Her hero had been humiliated - not by strength or magic, but by a simple, elegant twist of probability. My little victory. I watched as Ethle finished his ale, hiding a smile. His faith glowed bright and steady. He understood everything without a single word.

Later, when he rented a room upstairs, paying a few gold coins, he immediately reached for his journal.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Ethle’s diary

 “Today, in the tavern, Farros - the hero of the Goddess of Fire - said nasty things about you. But you gave him a real festival of bad luck. Thank you. It was hilarious.

He said my luck will run out someday. But I know that’s not true. As long as you’re with me, I’ll always be lucky. Even if I have to fight monsters or loudmouthed idiots.

Tomorrow I’ll head to the dwarves. I’ll buy new armor. You can’t go far in this tin bucket I’ve got. Hope they’re not as full of themselves as some people…”

Tevalne’s POV

To the dwarves? Excellent idea. Their mountain realms are places where luck is worth its weight in gold. Perhaps I can arrange a warm welcome for him - or at least guide him to a smith whose belief in fortune hasn’t yet been buried under a mountain of ore and skepticism.

I looked upon my sleeping hero. Tomorrow would bring new trials and hardships. But tonight, I was content.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

Dwarves. These beings rarely raise temples in honor of gods - especially not gods of fortune. Their deities are lords of the forge, of the earth, of unyielding will. And yet, it is in their realms that luck may gain weight and meaning. One fortunate strike of the pickaxe - and a vein opens. One timely shift - and a collapse is avoided.

Ethle walks along the mountain trail, and I can feel his doubt. He doesn’t know how to approach them. Simply offer gold? But he hasn’t much of it. He’ll need another way. I cannot speak to him, but I can guide. A gentle gust of wind swirls dry leaves, pointing toward a less visible path. An unexpectedly found sign - a rune carved in stone, the word «Luck», left long ago by some traveler. I scatter crumbs of my power before him, like feeding a bird that leads him to water. He must understand on his own, or the bargain will lose its worth.

Ethle’s POV

The mountains here are high, gray, and silent. The air is hot and heavy to breathe. The path the old man in the village told me about had long vanished, and I walked over loose stones, hoping for luck. And luck did not fail me. I found a barely visible trail, and at a fork, I saw a stone marked with a rune. I don’t know what it means, but it looked… reassuring. Tevalne was leading me.

At last, I saw the entrance. Not majestic gates, but a massive cleft in the rock framed by stone pillars. A dwarf sat by the entrance, in chainmail, as broad as he was tall. He looked at me with silent reproach.

— Whaddya want, human? - he grumbled as I came closer. — Passage into the mountains is closed. We don’t fancy tourists.

— I'm not a tourist, - I said, frowning, trying to sound confident. — I’m a hero, and I want to buy good armor from your smiths.

The dwarf snorted, puffing a small cloud of steam into the already hot air. — Every other ‘hero’ claims his gold was wrested from a dragon’s ear. Our metal’s worth its weight. Show me your coin.

I poured the contents of my pouch into my palm. The amount was modest. The dwarf glanced at it and smirked.

— Enough for a loincloth. Maybe a single pauldron. Might even keep the mosquitoes off you.

Something inside me tightened. But I recalled yesterday's lesson at the tavern - strength isn’t always in gold or fists. I looked at the dwarf. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

— What if I offer something other than gold? - I asked. — I can help. Trouble in the mines?

The dwarf frowned, surprised by the turn, but a flicker of interest lit in his eyes. — Trouble… aye, there is. In the eastern gallery - cave beasts. Filthy hounds with claws that cut stone. They’re hindering mining, distracting the guards.

And then something clicked in my head. This was a chance. — I’ll destroy them, - I said firmly. — In exchange for good armor.

The guard studied me for a long time.

— Hmph. Foolish. But… brave. All right, deal. If you clear the gallery - Chief Smith Borin will forge your armor. If the beasts eat you… well, then your fate was to be dog meat. Come on.

Tevalne’s POV

I rejoiced. This was no act of glory, but a bargain - mutual benefit. Ethle’s faith in me helped him see opportunity where another would see only a closed door. His luck had begun to work not as blind favor, but as a tool.

When he entered the gallery, torch in one hand and sword in the other, I focused. Down here, beneath the earth, my influence was weaker - the sky’s light unseen. Yet luck… luck lives in every stone, in every choice. I guided it so that his step would not slip on wet rock. So that the strike of the creature leaping from the dark would hit the strong pauldron of his old cuirass, not his throat. So that he would hear a rustle behind him just in time. It was delicate work - craftsmanship of the finest sort.

Ethle’s POV

The cave was dark, damp, and terrifying. The beasts - hairless, muscular things like badgers with dagger-claws - lunged from cracks with lightning speed. The air smelled of mold and something sour. I fought with my back to the wall, fending off their strikes. Once I slipped, but somehow kept my footing, and the creature’s claws only scraped the rock beside my head. Another time, I turned just in time to parry an attack from behind.

It wasn’t glorious battle with a noble dragon, but a dirty, brutal slaughter in cramped darkness. Yet with every foe I felled, I felt more confident. I wasn’t just swinging a sword. I was thinking. I lured them under falling stalactites, used narrow tunnels to face them one at a time. I wasn’t merely a hero - I was a problem-solver. And that feeling was better than any boast told in a tavern.

After an hour, silence reigned in the gallery, broken only by my heavy breathing. The ground was littered with the beasts’ bodies, their foul blood staining the stone. I was scratched, exhausted - but alive.

When I emerged to the guard, the dwarf regarded me with a new expression - not contempt, but respect.

— Didn’t think you’d live, human. But you did the job. A fair deal’s a fair deal. Come on, I’ll take you to Borin.

Tevalne’s POV

The elder smith, Borin, was a dwarf with a long gray beard tucked into his belt and sharp, intelligent eyes. He listened to the guard’s story, then studied Ethle intently.

— You helped the clan - that makes you a friend, - he said in a gravelly voice. — Armor you shall have. But good armor isn’t just iron. You must put a soul into it. The strength that helped you today… do you still have it with you?

My Ethle nodded, not fully understanding. Borin approached the anvil.

— Then give me your old armor. And whatever coins you have. We’ll melt them down with our steel. And we’ll add something of our own.

When Borin began to forge, I felt something wondrous. His hammer strikes carried not just strength, but faith. Faith in the metal’s endurance, in the steadiness of his hand, in the luck that would guard the armor’s wearer. It was not faith in me, Tevalne - but that faith, mingling with the remnants of my power still around Ethle, created something new.

The finished armor was simple, yet incredibly strong. On the breastplate, Borin etched the very rune Ethle had seen on the stone - the Rune of Luck.

— Wear it with honor, lucky boy, - Borin said, handing over the armor.

Ethle’s diary

 “I have new armor. It smells of fire and mountain air. It’s not as shiny as Farros’s, but it fits me as if it were born on my skin. Borin said a fragment of my luck was forged into it. I know whose luck that truly is.

Thank you, Tevalne. You not only turned aside the beasts’ claws, but helped me find the right path. Sometimes it feels like you’re not up in the heavens, but here - beside me - whispering what to do. It doesn’t always work… but today it did.

Tomorrow I’ll move on. It’s time to start laying the foundation for our temple…”

Tevalne’s POV

Ethle sleeps, his new armor lying beside him, faintly reflecting the moonlight. The rune on the breastplate glimmers with a subtle glow only I can see. It is more than armor - it is a symbol. A sign that our bond grows stronger, needing no words.

He seeks a deed worthy of a temple. And I can feel that the true trial is already near. But for now, I am at peace.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

In the world of gods, rumors travel faster than lightning. And I have heard of him… the Faceless God, born from faith in fate, doom, and the inevitability of the end. His followers build no temples, yet they sow despair, breaking the will of other heroes, proving that all effort is futile before the blind face of destiny. Their faith is a poison, corroding the very essence of hope.

And now one of his priests, a wanderer in black robes, has appeared on Ethle’s path. I can feel the cold, clammy aura of his faith, and it unsettles me. Ethle is so open, so straightforward. His faith is strong, but untested by deceit. I cannot warn him. I can only watch - and hope that the bond we forged through battles and taverns will endure this trial as well.

Ethle’s POV

The road led me into a gray, desolate valley. It had been drizzling for two days straight, and my mood was just as damp. I was already dreaming of hot soup and a dry bed when I saw a stranger by the roadside. He sat beneath a large stone, sheltering from the rain, chewing on some root. He was dressed entirely in black, and around his neck hung a strange iron amulet - a simple ring, the symbol of emptiness.

— Greetings, traveler, - I said politely. — Care to share a fire? Looks like the rain’s here to stay.

The stranger raised his eyes to me. They were dark and calm - almost empty.

— The fire dies. Food runs out. Why persist? All things come to their end, regardless of our efforts, - he said, his voice as monotonous as the patter of rain.

A chill ran down my spine, but I lit a small fire under the shelter of the rock. We sat in silence. Then his gaze shifted to my armor, to the rune of luck etched upon it.

— I see you serve one of the lesser gods.

— To the God of the Northern Lights and Fortune - Tevalne, - I corrected him proudly.

The stranger smirked, though there was no joy in his expression.

— Fortune... A sweet delusion for those afraid to face fate. Do you truly believe your god cares for you? He uses you, boy - just as a gardener uses a shovel. You’ll build him a temple, fill it with power, and what will become of you? You’ll be cast aside, dying in some forgotten valley - as all useless things do.

His words fell upon me like stones. My tongue felt numb.

— That’s not true, - I managed to whisper. — He helps me!

— Helps you? Or have you merely been fortunate? - The priest leaned closer, the firelight twisting his face into something haunting. — Where is your god now? Why doesn’t he drive the clouds from above your head? Why doesn’t he shower you with gold? Because you are an instrument - and instruments do not speak. My lord, the Faceless One, is honest. He tells us all effort is vain. And that truth brings freedom. Stop struggling, hero. Find peace in hopelessness.

He rose and walked away into the rain, quickly soaked to the bone, his only shelter a hood. The stranger left me alone. The rain poured on, and gusts of wind nearly snuffed out both my campfire - and something else within me. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly alone. Above me, behind the unbroken clouds, there were no stars, no light of the aurora.

Tevalne’s POV

I felt his faith - once so bright - dim, clouded by doubt and fear. It was worse than any wound. Even my own radiance grew faint. I was weak. I tried to send him a sign - to make the wind scatter the clouds - but the power of the Faceless God and his priest was too strong here, in this place of desolation.

Then I understood: I could not overcome words that had scarred his soul with a mere sign. I needed an act. A deed that would banish the shadow of doubt from my hero’s heart once and for all.

I gathered what little strength I had left and turned my gaze toward the highest peaks, to the eternal ice. There dwelled an ancient beast, a living challenge to existence itself - the Ice Serpent. A creature whose gaze froze the will, whose breath turned blood to ice.

It was a desperate move. But there was no other way. I sent the remnants of my power - not as a command, but as a call. A feeling of danger that would draw Ethle not forward along the beaten path, but upward -into the mountains.

Ethle’s POV

I wanted to lie down and never get up, to close my eyes and wake in a tavern room. The priest’s words still echoed in my ears. Perhaps he was right…? But then I felt something strange - unease, yet not fear. A challenge. As if someone had thrown a gauntlet before me. I looked toward the grim peaks rising above the valley. From there came a sense of mortal danger - and understanding.

He could not speak to me with words. But he could call me to battle. To let me see for myself. To let me prove it to myself.

I leapt to my feet, shaking off the numbness, blood stirring in my veins.

— All right! - I shouted at the sky, heavy with clouds. — Show me! Show me that nothing is futile!

I marched, then ran toward the mountains, heedless of the path. The cold grew harsher; the rain turned to sleet, then to biting ice pellets. Branches clawed at my face, as if trying to blind me, but an unseen hand seemed to push them aside. The snow-laden path beneath my feet threatened to crumble, yet footholds appeared just in time to save me. And then - I saw it. The Ice Serpent. It was enormous, its body made of transparent, shimmering ice, within which pulsed a deathly blue light. It slept, coiled around towering trees, and even in slumber, its mere presence filled the air with biting frost.

I drew my sword. My hand trembled - not from the cold I hardly felt it anymore, but from fear. One of us would not leave this place alive. I knew that.

And then I did not pray. I simply thought of Him. Of those blue, ice-like eyes. Of the warm fur cloak. Of the pinecone that once fell on my head. Of the ale Farros spilled. Of the dwarf Borin’s eyes, filled with respect. I thought: if I truly am an instrument, then I am the luckiest instrument in the world.

— Tevalne, - I said - not shouted, but simply spoke his name. — Lend me your luck. Just this once.

The serpent awoke. Its eyes opened - two blocks of blue ice with slitted pupils. It unleashed a stream of freezing breath. I jumped aside, and luck was with me - a gust of wind, heaven-sent, shifted the stream by mere inches, sparing me, though I froze evens more. I ran along the ledge, dodging its tail and icy blasts. Every step was on the edge - stones crumbling just after I leapt, fangs scraping against my new armor but failing to pierce it.

It was not a battle. It was a wild dance with death. And my partner in that dance was Fortune - his luck. I understood it then. The priest had been wrong. He wasn’t using me. He trusted me. He had placed his power within me, and now I had to wield it.

I saw a massive icicle - a stalactite - hanging from the cave’s ceiling above the serpent. A mad, desperate plan. My only chance. I charged forward, not dodging, straight beneath the creature’s head. The serpent drew in breath to roar in triumph. And I hurled my sword like a spear into the base of the stalactite.

And once again, luck smiled on me. The blade struck the single crack. A deafening crack resounded. Tons of ice crashed down upon the Ice Serpent, burying it beneath.

I knelt, exhausted, frozen - but alive. The clouds above the battlefield parted. And in the gap between them, a mighty northern light flared, filling the sky with silent, shifting colors. It did not speak. But it was an answer.

Ethle’s diary

 “Today I slew the Ice Serpent. But that’s not what matters most.

What matters is that I understood - you don’t use me. You believe in me. And I believe in you. That’s enough.

Stay silent if you must. I understand you anyway.

Thank you for today - for the most beautiful sunset of my life.”

Tevalne’s POV

His faith returned. Not merely returned - it became unbreakable. Clear and solid as mountain crystal. The radiance I revealed was more than gratitude. It was a hymn to our bond.

The shadow of doubt retreated. The priest of the Faceless One, wherever he might be, felt his defeat. Ethle had passed through the hardest of trials - the trial of spirit - and emerged victorious.

Now he is ready. Now we are ready. For the next step.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

Since Ethle defeated the Ice Serpent, the world around us has changed. Or rather, our perception of it has. The faith of my hero was no longer a smoldering ember that needed constant protection from the wind. It had become a steady, bright flame that neither rain nor the words of others could shake.

The power that filled me was different - not explosive, as after a prayer of despair, but deep and unwavering. I could feel how the other gods, even those who looked down on me, now noticed my radiance.

The time had come. The money Ethle received for the head of the Ice Serpent from the frightened yet grateful dwellers of the foothills lay in his purse not merely as gold. It was a seed. The seed of our shared future.

Ethle’s POV

The purse on my belt pleasantly weighed down the strap. I walked along a familiar road, but this time not aimlessly. I had a goal. I went around several hills, looking closely, searching not just for a place, but the place. And I found it.

The hill stood a little apart from the main road, covered in soft grass with a lone old oak at its summit. From there opened a view of endless forests, a silver ribbon of river, and - most importantly - an open, clear sky. Nothing here would block the stars, or, of course, the glow. The place was perfect.

I went to the nearest town, found the elder, and, without bargaining, counted out the required sum for the right to own that hill. The elder looked at me in puzzlement, shaking his head: — Young man, the soil there is stony; you can hardly plow or build properly. - I just smiled. He didn’t understand.

The next morning, I returned to the hill with a pair of sturdy shovels, a pickaxe, and a heavy stone I had found at the foot. It was smooth, dark, and warm to the touch, as if it had absorbed the sun’s heat. I searched a long time for the exact spot under the old oak, measuring with my steps. Finally, I decided.

I dug a small pit, deep and even. Then, gathering all my strength, I lowered into it that very stone - the first stone of the foundation. It settled perfectly, with a dull, solid thud, as though it had always belonged there.

I sat on the ground, leaning my back against the oak, and looked at the stone. The sun was sinking, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I had neither wine nor honey for a solemn rite. But I didn’t need them. I had words. And a diary to write them in.

Ethle’s diary

 “Today I laid the first stone of our temple. It stands there, under the oak. For now, it’s just a stone. But someday there will be a house for you. Tall, with great windows to the sky, so I can look from there at your radiance.

The priest said you don’t need me. But he was wrong. It’s not you who needs me. It’s me who needs to know that you exist. That you look down at me from the sky and sometimes drop pinecones. That your luck isn’t random, but our shared secret.

I don’t need other people, Tevalne. I don’t need friends in the tavern or a girl from a nearby village. I’m neither bored nor lonely. As long as you’re with me, I have everything.

The construction will take long. But I’m not in a hurry. We have a lifetime ahead.”

I finished writing, closed the diary, and placed it next to the foundation stone. Let him read it. Then I simply sat and watched as day yielded to night.

Tevalne’s POV

He placed the diary on the stone. That simple gesture meant more to me than the grandest rituals in honor of the gods of war. He entrusted me with his most intimate thoughts. He called our bond life.

I looked at him - this yellow-eyed guy sitting on the hill by the lone stone. He was my hero. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t embrace him. Couldn’t pat his shoulder. But I could answer. In the only way I knew how.

Bright stars already shimmered above the hill. And I gathered all my strength. All the faith he had placed in me. All the luck we had shared. All the love a god can feel for his creation.

And I lit up the sky.

It wasn’t just an aurora. It was a symphony. An arc of emerald light flared above the hill, touching the branches of the old oak. Violet and crimson waves joined it, dancing and shimmering like silk. Golden sparks scattered across the dark sky like a blessing. It was so bright, so beautiful, that Ethle - I could see - lost his breath. So personal, I knew that only he could see it.

It lasted an eternity. And then slowly faded, leaving only the twinkling stars above.

Ethle’s POV

I gazed at the sky, eyes wide open. Even after the glow had faded, colored spots lingered before my eyes. My heart pounded as if I were fighting the serpent again.

I turned and looked at the stone, at the diary lying beside it. And quietly laughed. Then I wiped the moisture from the corner of my eye with the back of my hand and said into the silence of the night, knowing I was heard:

— Well then. Now you’re home.

He was silent. But his answer floated in the air, scented with leaves and night freshness. In the quiet rustle of the oak. In the beating of my own heart.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

The core of my being - once shining with a steady, cold light - now resembled a dying ember. Every manifestation, from a faint whisper of wind to a radiant gleam over a hill, cost me strength. That final hymn in the sky had been an unforgivable luxury. I could feel Alenor’s reality becoming more and more distant, while the pull of the Pantheon - the unseen hall of the gods - grew ever more relentless.

The last thing I saw before being torn from that world was Ethle. He sat by our stone, gazing at the sky with such peace and contentment that the pain of leaving cut even deeper. I had no way to warn him.

My return to the Pantheon was joyless. Instead of endless skies - endless marble halls, floating in mists. Instead of one devoted heart - dozens of indifferent eyes.

— Look who’s back - our falling star, -  a mocking voice rang out. It was the god of mercenaries, a broad-shouldered brute in worn leather. — Don’t tell me you’ve wasted all your power on those little sparks in the sky again?

I walked past him. I wanted to snap back, but I chose not to even glance his way. The same old tune. A minor god of fortune without a temple, without worshipers. To them, I was just an object of ridicule.

— Mind your own business if your tongue’s so restless, - came a deep voice, like the rumble of distant caves. From behind a column emerged the Northern god, Gor. He was tall, his dark hair blending with the black fur of his long coat. His icy gaze, usually calm, was now stern. — Tevalne fulfills his duty, spending his strength on deeds of meaning. Like any deity, he requires rest within his domain. You, lesser god of mercenaries, should know that better than most.

The mercenary god fell silent and backed away, reluctant but obedient. Gor was one of the elder gods, and his authority was absolute.

— Thank you, - I murmured, shame prickling along my spine like cold needles.

— There’s no need for thanks. - Gor placed a heavy hand on my shoulder - his touch cold and unyielding. — You’ve grown weak, Tevalne. Your light barely flickers. You must recover your strength. And… know that I am always ready to help, should you need support.

In his eyes, I saw the same concern I found unbearable. He saw me as fragile - something to protect. And I… I only wanted to return to Ethle.

Ethle’s POV

It’s been a week since Tevalne last answered me. A week of silence. Every day I climb the hill. I’ve brought more stones, stacking them beside the first. Dug trenches for what will one day be the foundation. Every evening, I write in my journal.

Ethle’s diary

“Today I brought three more slabs from the quarry. Heavy ones. But for you - it’s worth it.

Why won’t you answer? Did I do something wrong? Maybe you don’t like this temple? Or the place I chose? Give me a sign. A flash. A bird. Anything. I just need to know you hear me.

I wait until deep into the night. But the sky is black and empty. For the first time in a long while, I truly feel alone.”

Tevalne’s POV

— Well, look at that face! -  a pink cloud materialized before me. It was Eros, her rose-colored hair swirling around her with the same boundless cheer as always. — Tevalne, darling, you look like you were just born out of pure despair.

— Very funny. - I leaned back against the cushions in my small, modest dwelling. The view from the window opened not to a world, but to an ocean of endless clouds. — I’m not in the mood for jokes, Eros. My hero… he thinks I abandoned him.

— Oh, your blond little mortal! - Eros clapped her hands. — Sweetheart, I’ve seen him! Well, from afar. He adores you! His faith is so pure, so strong! You should be thrilled!

— I would be, if I could answer him! - I clenched my fists - pale sparks flickered across my knuckles. — But I’m empty. To send even a whisper, I’d need months to recover. And he’s… alone out there.

— There is a way to solve your problem, - Eros said, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. — Go  to  Zeus. He’s got energy to spare. He could share some.

— Zeus? - I scoffed. — He never gives anything for free.

— Well of course not! -  she laughed, twirling a lock of her curls. — But tonight’s his ‘Night of Debauchery.’ Perfect time to ask for favors. And besides -  she winked, — Gor will be there. He’s been looking for you. Told me he wants to make sure you’re all right.

— Report to my keeper? - I grimaced.

— Oh, stop it, Tevalne! - Eros playfully tapped my shoulder. — He’s not your keeper - he cares! And honestly, I get him. You’re stubborn, gentle, and completely incapable of being alone. He’s offering you strength and protection. Why fight it so hard? Accept his courtship!

— It’s not courtship, Eros. It’s… symbiosis. He wants to bind me to him, and I… I just want to be free. And return to my hero.

— Sometimes to find freedom, you have to accept help, - she said philosophically, striking a sage’s pose, one finger raised toward the sky. — Think about it, dear. I must go - a new couple needs my blessing. They’re simply adorable!

She fluttered away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The idea of going to the Night of Debauchery was madness -  but the image of lost, waiting Ethle made it seem like the only right choice…

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

The feast hall of Zeus was blinding. Gold and marble adorned every inch of the vast chamber, ambrosia gleamed as it poured like a river from crystal vessels. Gods and goddesses of every kind reveled, their laughter and chatter echoing beneath the vaulted ceilings.

I stood at the entrance, feeling like a stranger amid this celebration of life. My dimmed radiance stood in sharp contrast to the bright auras that filled the room. From afar, I sensed Gor’s familiar presence. He sat apart from the merrymakers, a goblet of ambrosia in hand, his gaze fixed on me. His expression, always stern, now carried a trace of worry. I looked away.

My path led to the throne. Zeus was enormous - three times the size of any other god - his golden hair flowing in thick waves around him like a storm of sunlight, occupying more space than seemed decent. He sat at the center of the hall, surrounded by his chosen favorites. His eyes, bright as lightning, locked onto me as I approached.

— Tevalne! - His voice rolled through the hall, and for a heartbeat even the music faltered. — A rare guest! Has your fading light been drawn to our humble radiance?

— Lord, - I bowed my head, every muscle taut, — I have come seeking help.

— Help? - Zeus raised a brow. — Speak.

— My hero… I spent all my strength and was forced to retreat, and he still waits for my sign. I must answer him. Grant me the power to do so.

Zeus studied me in silence, and then a slow smile curled his lips. — Power? Ah, little one, nothing comes without a price. Stay. Join our feast. Spend the night. The energy you gain… will be enough for more than one sign.

Of course I knew. The Night of Debauchery was no mere celebration - it was a ritual, a raw and ancient exchange of divine energy through the most primal of bonds. The thought made my stomach twist. But then I pictured the hill… Ethle’s solitary figure… his words in the diary.

— I’ll stay, - I said quietly.

Behind me came a dull thud. Gor had risen, setting aside his goblet. His face darkened like a thundercloud. He looked at me with reproach and pain. Then he turned sharply and strode out of the hall.

Meanwhile, Zeus had already gestured for someone - a joyful, playful god of wine and revelry - to approach. The price had been named. All that was left was to pay it.

Ethle’s POV

Ethle’s diary

“Today a traveler came by and asked if I needed help with the construction. I said no. This temple… I must build it myself.

He shrugged and left. And I remained. Alone, as always.

I wonder, Great One, do you ever feel lonely up there in the heavens? Or is it different for gods?”

***

Tevalne’s POV

The first thing I felt the next morning was a strange, alien energy churning inside me. It was coarse, hot - lacking the delicate balance of my own power. But there was so much of it. I lay in an unfamiliar bed, in one of the countless chambers of Zeus’s palace, sickened by the flood of borrowed strength… and by shame.

I dressed, pulling the white fur of my cloak tight around me. The god with whom I had shared the night was already gone - and I was glad. Straightening my disheveled hair, I moved toward the door, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But a shadow loomed ahead - dark, fast, and furious. It was Gor. He looked pale, the sharp lines of his face carved in ice. His eyes pierced me, a storm raging within.

— Are you satisfied? - he muttered at last. His low voice made the air itself tense.

— I had no choice, - I said, averting my eyes, wrapping my cloak around myself as if it could protect me. My own light, usually white and blue, now shimmered with a foreign, dirty rose hue. Under his piercing gaze, I felt tainted.

— There’s always a choice! - Gor stepped closer. — You could have come to me. I would have helped! I offered again and again!

— Your help comes at too high a price, Gor! - I snapped, my despair spilling out. — You want me dependent on you - trapped in your icy halls, warming my hands at your fire, with you as my only source of strength, not the faith of my followers! - My fingers gripped the edges of my cloak so tightly my knuckles turned white.

— I want you to be safe! - he thundered, and the marble walls seemed to tremble. — I want you to stop selling yourself to powerful gods who don’t give a damn about you! You think Zeus cares? He forgot you the moment you left his sight! - His dark eyes flashed with what could have been lightning.

— And you didn’t forget? - I took a step back, the foreign power inside me flaring with borrowed courage. — You cornered me! Your care suffocates me! I am the god of the Northern Lights - I was born to be free! And you… you!—

We stood there, facing each other, breathing heavily, lips pressed tight - both out of words.

— Fine, - he whispered at last. — Fine, Tevalne. Be free. I won’t stand in your way again.

He turned sharply, the folds of his black fur cloak swirling around him as his heavy steps echoed across the marble floor - and then he was gone. And I was left alone - with a storm of alien power inside me, and a shattered heart.

***

Several days passed in the Pantheon, though in the mortal world time flowed faster. The foreign energy within me slowly settled - crude, but serviceable - yet I couldn’t use it as freely as my own. I hadn’t seen Eros, and certainly not Gor. I remained alone in my quarters, listening to the faint thread that still connected me to Alenor - to Ethle.

The pain of my quarrel with Gor was strange. I had grown used to his presence, his stern protection. Now it was gone. I was truly alone, free from any watchful eyes - just as I’d wanted. Just like my hero. That realization stirred something in me - a spark that drove me to act. I didn’t need these halls, these intrigues, this borrowed power. I needed him. His faith.

Gathering all the energy Zeus had given me, I focused it. This wasn’t a beautiful gesture, nor a hymn of farewell - it was a desperate, forceful impulse meant to pierce the veil between the Pantheon and the mortal world, to send a message to my hero.

Ethle’s POV

I sat upon my hill, staring at the lonely stars scattered across the black ocean of the sky. There was an emptiness inside me. Tevalne had been gone for a month and a half, and I had nearly accepted his silence. Maybe gods truly leave. Maybe he’d grown bored of me.

I opened my journal, ready to write what I thought would be my last entry.

Ethle’s diary

“Entry… I’ve lost count.

That’s it, Tevalne. I’m tired of waiting. I guess I wasn’t the vessel you needed. The temple… I’ll finish it anyway. In memory of you.”

And just as I was about to close the book, it happened. Not a grand aurora, not a dance of light. A single, blinding green flash. Like lightning across the heavens - silent, breathtaking. It cut through the night above the hill, leaving a luminous streak that slowly faded against the stars.

I froze, not believing my eyes. Then laughter burst from my chest - raw, relieved. It was him. It was his answer. Brief as a breath - but clear as dawn.

— You’re here! - I shouted into the night, brushing away the sudden tears with the edge of my hand. — You’re here… - I whispered again, softly.

Tevalne’s POV

The impulse was spent. I collapsed to the floor of my chamber, nearly drained of the strength I had borrowed - all for that single moment. But there was a smile on my lips. I had seen him. Seen him lift his head. Seen the pain fade from his eyes. And for a heartbeat, I felt his faith flare bright once more.

It was worth it. Worth the humiliation before Zeus, worth the foreign energy coursing through me. I had sent him a sign.

I had told him, I am here. Just wait.

I lay there, staring up at the endless ceiling of the Pantheon. I was weak. I was alone. But the connection was restored. Now I knew what I must do - gather strength, drop by drop, grain by grain - until I could one day shine again over his hill. Not to impress the gods. But for the one mortal for whom my light meant more than all the heavens combined.

My home was not here. My home was there, below. And I would return - I will return.

Chapter Text

Tevalne’s POV

Time flows differently in the Pantheon than in the mortal world. There is no change of day or night here - only eternal, diffuse light. But I’ve learned to feel time through the rhythm of my recovering strength. It gathered slowly, drop by drop, like water in a hidden spring.

I found a quiet place at the edge of my heavenly halls, where the energy of creation streamed more purely. Sitting cross-legged, I sank into meditation, trying to think of nothing. Most of all - trying not to think of the man who had disturbed the calm waters of my inner haven. I pushed thoughts of him away, frowning slightly with my eyes closed. I needed clarity. Strength for Ethle.

— Still sitting here like a marble statue? -  a bright voice chimed right by my ear, making me flinch.

Eros materialized on the balustrade as if out of nowhere, her long legs swinging idly. Her long pink curls were the only splash of color in this monochrome place. — So boring! Come on, let’s go watch some new mortal lovers! One shepherd is writing poetry for another girl - it’s adorable!

— I need to recover, Eros, - I replied without opening my eyes. — Don’t distract me.

I tried to sink back into meditation.

— You can recover with friends, you know, - she huffed. — By the way, Gor’s acting up again. His hero nearly fell off a cliff last night while hunting an ice troll. And all because your grumpy admirer sends storms so fierce even monsters can’t survive. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she leaned her chin on her clasped hands.

Something stirred inside me. Guilt? No… not guilt. It was his choice. His way of coping.

— Let him sulk like a child if he wants, - I muttered under my breath, not sure if I wanted her to hear.

— And he’s been sending you gifts again, - Eros continued, studying my motionless back. — Another one just came - a new fur cloak, made from the hide of a star wolf. And precious northern gems. Want to see?

— Send them back. Or keep them - my gift to you.

— Tevalne! - for the first time, a note of irritation slipped into her voice. — He’s trying! The proudest of us all bowed his head, and you won’t even look at him!

Her nagging broke my fragile focus, and before I could stop myself, the words burst out: — He hasn’t admitted his mistake, Eros! He just wants everything to go back to how it was - me locked in his fortress, under his control! - I opened my eyes, my voice sharper than I intended. — I’m not some lovesick fool to be won back with gifts. I don’t want to depend on him.

Eros sighed, shaking her head, her shoulders lowering in quiet defeat.

— I just don’t want you both to suffer. You’re perfect together. He’s like a mountain, and you… like the light on its peak.

— Mountains don’t need light, - I said, closing my eyes again to signal the end of the conversation.

Eros lingered for a moment longer, then fluttered away, her soft wings fading into the glow. I hoped she’d find some other hearts to mend - hearts that still wanted healing.

Ethle’s POV

The temple was slowly but steadily rising from the earth. The walls already reached my shoulders, and I had begun building the support beams for the vaulted roof. The work was heavy but pleasant -  every stone I laid carried a thought of him. I no longer wrote in my journal every day - only when something meaningful happened.

Ethle’s diary

“Today I caught a massive fish in the river. Enough for three days, if I ration it.

Construction’s going well. The villagers have gotten used to me, they don’t stare anymore. Sometimes they bring food in exchange for small favors.

I’m not trying to be a hero - not while you can’t guide me. But as they say, the path to great deeds begins with small steps.

I hope you’re regaining your strength. I’ll be waiting.”

I placed the journal on the stone foundation and smiled. That single green flash in the sky, months ago, had given me more faith than weeks of silence ever could. I could feel he would return soon.

***

Gor’s POV

Rage - a dish best served cold. Unlike the fire goddess’s fury, which burns and devours, my rage freezes everything around it. For a month now - maybe more - my domain, the Northern Mountains, had groaned beneath leaden skies and howling blizzards. It was no natural storm, but a reflection of my mood.

My hero, Cryos, was carved from the same granite as I. Tough, silent, his gaze accustomed to the white void of snowstorms. But even he had begun to bend under the weight I placed upon him. I drove him from one deadly task to the next - to slay an ice troll, to recover a faded relic from a frozen cave, to subdue a wild pack of starving wolves tormenting the villagers. Each feat brought me power - but never peace. I thought perhaps overflowing strength would drown out the ache in my soul. It did not.

I watched him climb a sheer, icy slope, chasing a stone demon. He was on the brink of collapse - fingers stiff with frost, breath tearing from his chest in ragged clouds. And at that moment I remembered him. Tevalne. His fragile frame wrapped in thick fur, his pale hair shimmering like northern lights, his eyes the color of skies now buried beneath black clouds.

I faltered. What was I doing? Cryos was not to blame for my personal torment. With an effort of will, I softened the storm. The wind quieted; the snow ceased lashing his face. Cryos looked up in surprise and saw a gap in the clouds. Moonlight poured through, illuminating a path down - toward warmth, toward safety.

I turned away from the vision. A wave of shame swept through me, searing in its own cold way.

I, god of stone - strong, unyielding - had behaved no better than a scolded child. I sent Cryos a thought - an unspoken apology, permission to rest. He didn’t understand, but he nodded, turned, and began his descent.

And I remained alone in my hall of ice and rock, for the first time in a long while, staring not into rage - but into the hollow silence it left behind.

Chapter Text

Ethle’s POV

I dropped into the tavern after stocking up on supplies and food at the market. The Lost Traveler was noisy and crowded, as always. I was already about to take my favorite corner table to order a hearty meal with the coin I'd earned when my gaze fell on a lone figure already occupying it. I was going to look for another quiet corner, but something about that man made me hold my stare.

He was a man about my age, maybe even older. His face was weathered, with unevenly shaved stubble; his dark hair lay like little tufts on an owl’s head or perhaps like the pinned-back ears of a hunting dog, and his expression was sullen. He sat hunched over a half-empty mug of ale, and his figure in a thick fur coat conveyed such fatigue that I felt sorry for him. I recognized a hero in him — by his look, by the weapon lying beside him on the bench, by the way he ignored the merriment around him.

I don't know what came over me. Probably that same loneliness that had been gnawing at me lately. I went up to his table.

— Is there room? It looks like all the other seats are taken. - I asked.

He lifted his eyes to me, surveying the tavern with the look of a hunter, noting the truth in my words. His eyes were gray, like the winter sky before a storm. — Sit, - he grunted.

We sat in silence for a while; I ordered from the pleasant barmaid and waited until I could dig into my food. His sullen face wouldn't leave me alone and ruined my appetite, so I blurted out:

— Seems your god won't leave you alone.

The man snapped his head toward me, narrowing eyes that glinted like ice in the torchlight — How do you know?

— I have… a similar story. Only mine, on the contrary, disappeared. For a long time.

That thawed the ice. We started talking, learned each other's names. I told him about Tevalne, about the temple, about the silence. He told me about his god, about endless storms and overwhelming tasks.

— He used to be stern but fair, - Cryos said, draining his mug and summoning the barmaid to order another, — and now… it's as if some demon has taken his place. I don't even know what he wants anymore.

— Maybe he's simply unhappy, - I suggested, tapping my fingers on the table. — Gods can probably be sad too.

Cryos pondered, though his face made it hard to read. — Maybe. It's a pity, but no one can ask them about it.

We sat until late. We talked not only about gods but about life, about our and others' deeds, about the quality of ale in different taverns. The man claimed that beer in the North is far tastier than here. Uh-huh. I'd like to check that, but until the chance comes I'll believe my favorite ale is the best in the world.

When we finally stepped out into the street, Cryos offered me his hand, which I shook gladly.

— Thank you, Ethle. I haven't had a good talk in a long time.

— Drop by if you pass these parts again, - I said. — My hill with the half-built temple is hard to miss.

He nodded, and the shadow of a smile touched his stern lips. I watched him walk off into the night and felt something new. Not joy - no. But a light sadness that our conversation had ended. It seems I made a friend.

I adjusted the bag of my purchases more comfortably and walked the familiar road to my temple.

Gor’s POV

Anger had gone, leaving behind an oppressive, heavy silence. I no longer sent storms - at least, I tried not to. I simply sat in my halls and watched the fire in the hearth. And I thought about Tevalne...

Eros, my eternal guardian, visited me several times. She sometimes said nothing, simply sitting beside me and looking at the flame, warming her tender hands unaccustomed to the cold. Her silent sympathy pressed on me no less than any reproach.

— He still doesn't look at my offerings? - I once asked without turning my head, merely handing the girl a plate of thinly sliced meat.

— No, - Eros answered quietly, picking up a piece of meat and placing it on her tongue, savoring the taste. — He says you're trying to buy him like meat at the market.

Her words pierced me sharper than any blade. Was it true? In part, yes. I did not know another language. I am a provider, a hunter. If I see something valuable, I take it and bring it home. Tevalne was my greatest treasure. But he was not «meat». He was… a partner. An equal. And I had treated him like my property.

— What should I do, Eros? - Unvarnished vulnerability sounded in my voice. — I cannot change my nature. But I cannot let him go either.

— Start small, Gor, - she advised. — Stop sending gifts. Just… let him know you are here. That you respect his decision. That you miss him. Without demands. Without expectations.

I nodded, thinking of her words, though from the outside it might have seemed to her that I let it all pass over my ears. It was incredibly hard. Inaction was worse for me than any battle. But I'll try. I'll stop trying to placate him with gifts. Instead I will simply… watch. From afar. I have seen him meditate, and Eros has told me what he struggles for. Tevalne wants to prove to himself that he is not weak, that he can achieve everything on his own. And however much my heart wanted to help him, I'll try to accept it as fact. He is a god too, no lesser than I. He can manage without offerings and help. And in the silence of my heart I sent him a simple thought: “Forgive me.”

I knew he would not hear it. But doing this felt more right than showering him with jewels and furs. It was the first step into the unknown, terrible and quiet as a snowy wasteland.

Chapter Text

Eros POV

Ah, what a day! No, truly! If only you could hear how hearts beat in the world of Alenor this morning! It’s like a grand symphony where every note is a glance, a touch, a whispered confession. My power shimmers within me - pink, golden, and tender- tender lilac light. I am made of this, and there is nothing in all existence sweeter than it.

My heroine, my dear girl Aphrodite, held a little celebration today in the village at the foot of the hill. Not a feat or a miracle - just kindness. She brought fresh pies to a lonely widow who had lost her husband, and helped the village teens secretly exchange their first love notes. And you know what? The prayers that rise to her (and thus to me!) from hearts warmed by such simple goodness are stronger and sweeter than any offered by a conqueror. It’s faith in kindness, in warmth, in the idea that you are not alone. Is that not a miracle?

My helpers - my lovely cherubs - flutter in and out, bringing me news. This couple finally confessed their love! And those two, always quarreling, found common ground while watching the sunset! I listen to them, smiling, and my heart sings.

But there are two notes in this great symphony that ring false. Two hearts beating out of sync, wounding each other in their dissonance. My dear friends - Tevalne and Gor. If only I were an ordinary girl, I’d just sigh that these two fools could solve their problems with words if they only talked! But alas - or perhaps fortunately - I am no mere girl, but the goddess of love. And solving such tangled matters is my sacred duty.

And today, one of my most responsible attendants, the young Poda, brought me a story. Not from written records, but from the oral tales of the far North.

— My Lady, - she said, her wings trembling with excitement, — listen to this beautiful legend the people at the foot of the Ice Peaks tell.

I nodded, attuning myself to her words, and she told me the story...

***

Long ago, when the world was younger, there lived in a northern settlement a youth named Argish. Brave and strong, he knew no fear of monsters or blizzards. Yet in his heart lived a deep longing, as though he had forgotten something very important. So he went to the elder for counsel. And the elder said to him, “Climb the Peak of Eternal Light. Only there will your heart find peace.”

Without delay, Argish set off. The road was cruel. The frost tested his flesh, and the wind sought to hurl him into the abyss. One day, on a steep slope, he slipped, struck his head on a stone, and tumbled into a deep crevice, losing consciousness.

When he awoke in the stony trap, he realized he could not climb out in the pitch darkness. Despair gripped him tighter than any frost. “Am I to die here,” he whispered, “without ever finding what I seek?”

Then above him, light flared - Yasn-Ush, as the northerners call it. But it did not behave as usual. A bright emerald beam descended from the sky, touching the edge of the crevice, pointing to a barely visible ledge. Like a gentle hand, the light guided him, illuminating each foothold.

Gathering the last of his strength, Argish climbed upward. And when he emerged, he found himself on the very summit. There he saw her. A maiden. Her hair was the color of moonlight, her eyes shone with soft radiance. Her dress shimmered with all the hues of the northern lights, flowing along the ground as if covering the whole peak.

When he looked at her, Argish understood everything. It was her he had been seeking - the one whose image lived in his heart. She was the Spirit of Light, the one who guides the lost home.

He smiled at her, and his heart filled with peace. But the strength that had left him on the long journey took its due. He closed his eyes softly, as his consciousness faded forever.

The Spirit of Light bent over him. Tears fell from her eyes, turning into sparkling crystals upon his cooling face. “I will guard you always,” she whispered.

His body slowly turned to stone, the mountain claiming him as it had countless wanderers before. He became a cliff at the summit, sheltering beasts and lost travelers even in the harshest frost. Since then, Yasn-Ush no longer departs for the high heavens. They say the man’s spirit remained beside her. She dances around him in her shining veil, and her rays - green, pink, and violet - always guide wanderers lost in the snow back home.

And somewhere up there, at the meeting of Light and Peak, two lonely souls found solace in each other…

***

As I listened, everything within me turned upside down. It was them! Exactly them! The stern, eternal mountains and the gentle, ever-changing light that always leads one home! In their wise simplicity, mortals saw the very essence of it. They turned their love into legend - the love of the steadfast and the tender.

But in reality? Two stubborn deities: one meditating in proud solitude, the other sitting in his icy fortress, drowning in silent grief. The thread that once bound them - so strong and beautiful years ago - has thinned to breaking point. And though gods are granted endless eternity, this problem must be solved soon, before their rift becomes irreparable.

— My girlfriends, - I turned to my loyal attendants gathered around me, — what shall we do? How do we make these two blind moles see what even mortals can?

We held council by the Fountain of Lovers, where rose-colored waters and flower petals whisper the most secret truths of hearts, and my divine energy flows purest. My maidens offered their ideas.

— Let’s arrange an accidental meeting! - one suggested brightly. — We’ll make them bump into each other in the Garden of the Pantheon - they won’t be able to avoid talking then!

— Pointless, - I sighed. — Tevalne won’t leave his meditation now. And even if we bring them both, Gor will pretend not to notice him - and crush half the garden out of sheer nerves.

— Maybe send them romantic dreams? - proposed another. — Dreams where they’re together and happy!

— Too obvious. They’re stubborn. They’ll see through my tricks and only dig in deeper.

We thought a while longer, rejecting the silliest options. Then the third - most thoughtful one - spoke quietly: — What if we don’t act directly? What if we help through others? Those who know them best? Their heroes, perhaps? Who else could understand how to reach their god’s heart?

The idea sparkled like sunlight on morning dew! In love, as in war, all means are fair - even a gentle push from the shadows.

— Yes! - I exclaimed, as if I’d found the needle in the haystack. — Aphrodite! My heroine! She knows how to speak to hearts. She’ll meet each of them, talk to them, and perhaps then we’ll know what to do next.

Every god, no matter how mighty, has one gift - the ability to turn their gaze and spirit toward their chosen hero, to guide them when words cannot reach. I rarely used this power; I never had cause to. But now, focusing my energy, tugging the thread of our spiritual bond, I sent her a sign - a pull toward the northeast, then north. When she nears her destination, she’ll feel who she must find, and what must be said. Who better than her to understand me?

Aphrodite POV

Aphrodite diary

“Dear diary (and dear Eros!),

Today I felt something strange - and I’m certain it’s your doing. My heart pulls me northward, as if something - or someone - is waiting there. A surprise, perhaps? Or a broken heart you want me to mend.

Either way, I’m ready to go. I’m already packing, though I have no idea how far I’ll have to travel. Maybe I’ll ask the stable master for a ride - or at least to lend me a horse.

I packed a basket with honey cakes and healing herbs - always a good way to begin a conversation.”

***

I smiled at the stable master, asked him to take me north, but when he asked how far, I had no answer. I told him something like, “Until the road leads where it must,” - he only shrugged and said he couldn’t leave his horses for long. Well, being the prettiest girl in the village does have its perks. A few tender smiles, a gift of cakes, a reminder of his wife’s aching leg - and conveniently, I had just the herbs for that - and voilà! The stable master sent his son and a cart to take me on my way. Oh, Eros, what would I do without your charms…

We traveled northwest for some time - it wasn’t a long journey, but I’m not used to such trips. And then I saw it - a hill, and on it, a temple! Not yet finished, but already graceful, with tall arches seemingly made to let in light. My heart beat faster. I knew at once - this was where my goddess wanted me to go.

And on the hill, beside the temple wall, sat a young man. He was drawing something on the ground with a stick, his blond hair falling over a face intent and thoughtful.

I bid farewell to the driver - he looked down shyly, asked when I’d be back, how long I planned to stay. I told him I’d return before sunset and that he could go about his errands in town. Then I turned back toward the temple.

I don’t think, Eros that you would send me on an impossible task - so this young man and I must have a conversation meant to happen. I approached and greeted him. He looked surprised to see a stranger but was polite. I told him I’d heard of his temple and came to see it. We started talking. I offered him my cakes and herbs, and he seemed touched.

He told me about his god, and then I realized he wasn’t just a handsome youth with a heart in need of mending - he was a true hero, like me in essence, though different in spirit. His god, Tevalne, governs fortune -and one cannot draw on such power sitting still. That’s why Ethle constantly seeks adventure, where both he and his god can stretch their strength. And the way he spoke of him… not as a deity, but as a friend. He told me how Tevalne flicks acorns at him when he grows lazy; how once he blinded a dragon with the reflection of his own light when Ethle could hardly hold a sword. The blond’s golden eyes gleamed as he spoke. It wasn’t blind worship - it was loyalty, and longing.

In return, I told him about my goddess Eros, about my quiet, adventureless life. We sat by the fire while Ethle roasted skewers of meat - from what he called “small monster-beasts” that gnawed at his temple walls and refused to leave peacefully. I would be horrified, but who dares to condemn a hunter who kills for food and to protect what is dear to him, and not for fun.

— He’s far away now - I mean Tevalne, - Ethle said, looking at the sky. — But I can feel he’s coming back. Slowly.

I asked him, — What do you think your god needs to be happy - besides this temple?

Ethle paused for a moment, his handsome face frowning in thought.

— Maybe he gets lonely, - he said softly. — Up there, in the Pantheon. He can’t tell me, but I feel it. He needs someone to lean on, I think. Gods talk to each other up there, don’t they?

At those words, it was as though the strings of my soul sang. Could that be the thread that pulled me here? — And would you feel it, - I asked, — if your god became happier?

— I don’t know... He doesn’t have many followers, maybe that’s why he weakens so quickly? But if he had a friend - someone who shared his strength - he wouldn’t have to leave me so often. I think I’d feel it, if Tevalne stopped being alone.

We sat a while longer, until my driver appeared again on the horizon. Ethle stood, offering me his hand like a true gentleman. We parted on a warm note.

Now my path leads further north - and I have a good idea of who awaits me there.

Aphrodite diary

“Dear Eros,

I hope I did what you wanted today, because the road north will take several days, and I won’t be able to turn back if I got it wrong!

That young man I met was such a good soul. I’m sorry we had to part so soon. Maybe, someday, our paths will cross again.

P.S. I hope you’re not too bored up there!”