» every broken promise

I'm no hero and I'm not made of stone

The little girl replied even as Erthë regarded the ever-changing god with serene scrutiny, and her objection made the pale mare turn her steady gaze back upon her, calm and penetrating.

"Perhaps you are right" she said, acknowledging the possibility of her statement, "and perhaps not. It does not change the fact that he murdered countless, for no reason other than defending their homeland and their families. The future is not a singular entity brought forth from nothing, but an accumulation of events that are brought on by the actions of the past and present. I grieve for the past, dear, but what I truly fear for is the future of our people in this place, under his rule."

Her attention returned to Kaos when the demon spoke, responding to her words with dark jests and what she supposed amounted to a request for aid. Or was it a challenge, a threat? If they had been on the surface still, if she had been herself and slave to her raging emotions still, Erthë would no doubt have snapped back with rage and contempt, withholding her aid from the monstrous being simply because of what he had done to her. For the Moon, the Sun, the Earth and Time, and all their lost children she might have cried, turned her back on everything and let the void take the pieces of gods-bone and herself along with it.

But here, the rage did not reach her. Erthë felt separate from herself, removed from both past and present, half living or perhaps just half dead already, beyond saving... even if there had been anyone around that wanted her saved.

"I did not forget" she said to Kisamoa, as calm as she was serious. "I will never forget, nor will anyone else who saw what you really are. Do not think that your words could ever convince us to trust you again, Kisamoa the Deceiver, for we know what your words are worth. If you want our allegiance, you shall have to earn it through action, as we once earned the love of our gods in the past. Make no mistake, it is we who hold the real power in this Rift; you need us, more than we shall ever need you, else you would not have driven us from Helovia the way you did."

Turning to Kiada, the hybrid mare extended the divine items towards her; the bow and the fangs, the crocodile and the wolf, and sought to catch the girl's gaze with a serious, urgent expression in those mismatched eyes.

"Don't forget that, child, whatever you do. He needs you, and you are far stronger than you know. If ever there comes a time when your trust in him fades, remember this, and remember that nothing lasts forever. Gods have died before, and new gods have been born from their ashes... "

As she said this, Erthë threw a glance at Kisamoa, to gauge his reaction to her suggestion.

"I will help" she continued, addressing them both now, "but not for you, Deceiver. Never for you. I will help them, though I doubt they will know the difference, or thank me for it. I only hope that it is not too late..."

Bequeathing the precious items to Kiada, Erthë let go of them and took a step back, with a twinge of regret as she rested her eyes on the items one last time. That bow had been crafted for her dying mother, it had been by her side through the grief, through the long season that followed the black mare's departure... and those fangs had been the first gift she ever received from her Goddess. Both were rife with meaning and personal affection, and Erthë regretted having to part with either of them.

But it was done, and her mind was set. Without them on her person, she felt the perilous streams of this place begin to tug at her, threatening to whisk her away to elsewhere. She resisted as best she could, determined to see this through to the end, so that she would know exactly what she had done to the terrible world she had been brought to.

Had she delivered it from evil? Or doomed it to a deeper darkness, as she helped Kisamoa gain in strength?

Right or wrong, I can hardly tell
I'm on the wrong side of heaven and the righteous side of hell

Image Credit

@Kiada @Kisamoa