content notes: violence

Iberto snarled. His goddess’ pleasure was his pleasure, but she had taught him well and he would not be diverted from his prey.

She chuckled, unconcerned by his threat, but answered. “We suspected, but we did not know. The goddes with skills to learn such secrets were among the first weakened.”

“How?”

“I cannot give answers so easily, my Iberto. Even when I wish you to learn them. Perhaps most often then.”

He bit back another snarl and began pacing the room, easily stepping over and around the furniture and decorations that had been… displaced in his earlier training. It angered him more, that this should be all she had, an untended shrine and an ignorant called. “You have given me answers from the moment you called me, Goddess. You have whispered names and histories and directions into my mind until I cannot always tell what knowledge is mine and what is yours. How is this different?”

“I have given you information, I have never given you answers.”

He stopped and closed his eyes. She had never given answers, and never before had he asked, trusting her to tell him what he must know when the time came. Fool. He had trapped himself and her with his impatience…

“Hush, my own.” The great cat knocked him over and wrapped around him, rough-cleaning his face. “You are too harsh on yourself. This lesson all my called must learn. You learn it earlier than most — good! I need a partner, not a pawn. You think for yourself, you ask questions, you seek answers. Good! All the more proof you are what I need. I have set you a hunt that would challenge any called, and you do not quail at it but jump upon it like the hunter you are.”

Iberto let himself relax into the comfort his goddess offered. The Great Goddess demanded much of him but also gave. If she believed him worthy, he would find a way to prove her right.

The Great Goddess began to purr and the soothing buzz of it let him slip from wake to sleep. Or not sleep. His body was heavy and did not want to move, but his mind flew free through a dream-like version of the temple. Where can I find answers? he wondered. A trail formed before him, made of light and an eddying wind. It led him through the temple, to see each of the remaining Called and their goddes.

All popular goddes, still widely worshipped and believed to be a help and aid to people in need.

If the strongest goddes were those loved by many, what were the weakest goddes?

The trail did not appear this time, but as he traveled the temple he began to catch hints of it, a non-existent scent, a shadow that faded if he looked at it full on.

He didn’t know how long it took him to see it clearly, but eventually, he did. Following the trail through the temple took him to many small abandoned rooms with statue-goddes. Most of them watched him with bleak eyes or sat with their backs to the door. But several saluted him or murmured greetings. One, who the trail told him was weakest of those he had seen, still opened his eyes–eyes which froze Iberto even in this strange unbodied form.

“So…” the voice was little more than a croak. “She will throw the dice one last time.”

Iberto tried to bow. He had begun to understand the way the goddes talked, each in metaphors related to their realm and powers. This one spoke of dice and gambling. “My Goddess has more than one hunt to remaining to her, lord. Many more with me by her side.”

“You are young. And the dice fall as they will.” The statue reached toward him. Iberto had more than enough time to dodge, but would not show fear. The rough stone hand touched him and the godde chuckled. “You are brave, young one. Good.

“I give you my last blessing. One chance to rig the dice. One time, and one time only, you may call my name, and… something will change. Perhaps in your favor, perhaps against. But change is its own blessing, yes?”

“My thanks, lord.” Iberto swallowed. “May I ask your name?”

“No.” The godde waved and Iberto found himself back in his body, held by his goddess.

Disoriented he jumped to his feet and opened his mouth, but caught himself before he said anything.

The goddess stopped purring and nuzzled him. “The dreamland can be hard to navigate, but it too is our hunting ground,” she gave him the information he had nearly asked for. “Very good, my own. You learn quickly. What else did you learn?”

Iberto thought over the goddes he had seen, the trails he followed. His clan had been burnt out for the crime of following an ‘evil’ goddess. As if anything that was part of life and nature could be evil.

“They targeted us. The goddes they saw as a threat and your followers. Drove people away so you lost your connection.”

“Yes.”

He thought of some things he had seen and heard in recent years. How worship of Han the Sun and Iowe the Moon had gone from common to rare to shunned.

“Goddes who do not have worshipers do not have Called.”

“Yes.”

Iberto smiled. It was the smile of a hunting cat scenting prey. “There are still those who worship the sun-as-lifegiver. They would not dare come near the temple openly. Perhaps would not be willing to come at all.”

“Not all who worship are suited to be called. This trail must be followed.”

For a moment, Iberto saw himself as he would have been a few months ago. That Iberto would be horrified at what he planned. Steal, yes, the old Iberto had stolen well and often. But what he contemplated now came closer to slavery than the old Iberto would ever have countenanced.

“They must answer the call, willingly, my own. Even as you did. All you do is bring them where they can hear it.”

“Yes, my goddess.”

Iberto returned to where the great cat curled on the floor. He leaned back against her and she began purring again. Her purr soothed him as nothing else ever had or would. He let the sound lull him into the dream realm, where he would hunt the trail of the one meant to belong to Han the Sun.

And he knew that he was no longer that man and never would be again. For if his hunt required it, he would indeed trap these would be Called in the temple and never let them leave.

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