Even if his days were full of uncertainties, such was not the case for his nights, for the broken man had dreams of revelation and fate.

He dreamt of the past, of what had transpired from the very moment of his conception, to the day the so called divine, had picked an interest on him. He dreamt of an empty stomach and a life devoid of meaning. A cell, where light had never pierced it's walls, where the rats made its home to whom the prisoner, had to fight for scraps of wasted meals.

He woke up, sweating and gasping, not because the memory might've brought melancholy nor pain, but because he realized his life now, was much better than then. Now that his life was on danger, and the goddess sought his downfall, his life was better. What cruel joke is this? He thought, from a prison to torment I transitioned. Is it there no fate that awaits me, that has no curse?

He remembered the past, and who he was supposed to be. Born from a concubine, he was but a bastard son, but the bastard son of royalty. When her mother fell from grace, and her beauty spent, she was thrown into the streets, where once she was found. She resented her son, blamed him for the misfortunes she endured. Can't blame her, for I now know, what she suffered through, being picked by someone who had more power, who was superior, not to be able to resist, nor to escape. And once her usefulness was gone, so was her play, on the life she did not want in the first place.

But onto more important matters. What's the goddess intent? What's her desire?

Is there a way to discern her goals? To peek onto her heart?

He recalls when she sent those bastards into another time, he remembers the clear scent of charcoal. When he was transported into this time, he didn't see, not that he can recall, any flame nor fire. Where those people killed by her scorching hatred?

As he was trying to understand, he felt the soft touch of warmth across his chest. It was her silk like hand.

- I'm the goddess of paths, and though I resist, not for long I can remain. She murmured in her sleep. For the man and the goddess played the lovers act, with all the things that implies.

Love? He thought. Even if I say I love her, how can I be so sure, when I don't understand what that word means. For I loved no one in my life nor anybody gave what I had none.

He went back to bed and accepted the goddess embrace, not out of love and passion, but resignation and forlorn. Be it as it may, let's pretend for a little longer still, for not all was dark.

The goddess did not let go that night. For her dreams were plagued with remorse and frailty, and the prisoner's chest, her last mistake.