The girl had an intricate tattoo around her mouth and neck with both gentle curves and hard, blocky lines. She had dark matted hair and dusky tanned skin with bruises all over, but her eyes radiated a firmness that Kalia was glad to see.

She spoke Toshavi, which Kalia luckily did as well. 

Despite being largely raised by trinitarians on a Dominion-controlled island, it was technically her first language.

 

“Shhh… not so loud. This place carries voices.” Kalia replied quietly  in the Language of her blood father.

 

The girl retreated back into her blankets slightly, a certain degree of panic visible on her face.

“I’m sorry, I meant no offense my lady!” She whispered, lowering her head in shame. “It’s just… I…”

 

The girl seemed to view her with both a great deal of both respect and fear, attempting to look away whenever Kalia’s eyes met hers. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey… I’m not here to hurt you. Take a deep breath and have a moment.” Kalia said, holding her arms out non-aggressively and approaching the cell bars to reduce the distance between them.

 

Kalia heard the girl sniffle a few times as a little bit of her tension left her, and she could see her trying to calm her breathing.

 

“Please, you have to forgive me. My mother told me your stories but I had stopped believing in them.” The girl explained, her eyes one step away from tears. “I never took them seriously, and I beg for your forgiveness. If I had simply abided by your teachings I would have never gotten into this mess.”

 

Kalia’s mind briefly left the conversation at hand in order to try and remember where she had that name before; and yes, she had. Ashtoreth, Toshavi god of tricks, youths and youthful qualities, revelry, revenge, and ‘bad’ love among other things. She could best be described as a goddess with the mind of a bored teenager. 

While Kalia had not been raised by Toshavs, she felt as if she had a pretty good idea about their society thanks to all the Toshavi sailors that visited Parway.

 

From the fertile volcanic soils on the islands that they called home, they built swift and agile ships from the flexible wood of rapidly growing Varksa Trees. From their historic background as migratory fisherman they slotted nicely into the roles of merchants and ferrymen when the Dominion of Garale started to explore the frontier. There was no central governing body for all of the Toshavi islands, so they were united instead by their faith in a pantheon of various interconnected deities.

 

Generally, Toshav culture was all about making mistakes and learning from them, and the more someone had gone through this process the more they would be respected. A Toshavi was not considered an adult until they could show dozens of separate failures, then they would have a ceremony to come of age. In it, things like broken fishing nets and shoddily built clothes would be burnt or tossed into the sea, then youth would receive tattoos designed appropriately to match their chosen calling that incorporated noteworthy scars into them.

 

Crime and punishment fell under a similar theory. As long as the perpetrator was old enough to understand the consequences, merely the will to commit a crime was enough to earn a punishment accordingly. A thief would have their hands burnt, a liar would have their jaw broken, and a rapist would be gelded. Whenever possible, this form of justice was carried out by the subject’s victims. 

Once a criminal had chosen to accept their punishment with pride they would be welcomed back into society and all would be forgiven, but only under the stipulation that they would be drowned given a second offense of the same type.

 

This pattern of mistakes and lessons was widespread among their myths, with a lengthy history of the gods themselves learning from their own missteps to become the supreme authorities in their own respective heavenly domains. 

 

While many of the more local stories about Ashtoreth eluded her, Kalia could vaguely recall a few of them that the nicer Toshavi sailors had told her in her childhood. 

Most of them went like this:

A youthful Ashtoreth would run away from home, elope with someone she had just met, or otherwise expose herself to circumstances dangerous for a young woman.

Something bad would then happen to her, usually kept vague if the story was being told to a particularly young child. Pregnancies with deadbeat fathers, disease-like curses, and perilously long journeys home were common.

Often she would spitefully enact vengeance upon those who had wronged her in the form of bad luck and curses, returning bad deeds twice-over to stop transgressions from ever doing harm again.

 

The goddess of flings as she was known, was a figure that both protected children and teenagers and punished those who would bring them harm. While worship of her was common, she was not held in as high a regard as many other members of the Toshavi pantheon. Teaching children lessons and threatening misfortune was not deemed as important as something like the weather or the sea, nor was it how she most commonly came up in Toshavi culture.

 

More often than not, she was a figure that came up in the fables of other gods, playing any part between a foolish maiden to a petty, wrathful lunatic. 

For every story about her getting vengeance for the innocent, there were five about her committing horrific acts of violence in the name of perceived slights and straight-up guesswork. 

For every ten stories meant to warn the young about the dangers of the world, there were five meant to tell fathers that their daughters should be kept under lock and key.

For every story where she was a hero herself, there were ten stories where she was a spiteful roadblock to the real hero’s journey.

Her presence was felt as wide as the sea, but she was respected about as much as a puddle.

 

Kalia didn’t know exactly when the girl had woken up and how much she had seen of her deeds, but perhaps this case of mistaken identity could be a good thing. Looking closer, the girl had obviously gone through hell. Dried blood clung to her upper lip and a nasty scab was stuck to her cheek, yet the look in her eye stood unwavering. Kalia didn’t want to step on her hope, but she didn’t want to lead the girl on either.

 

“…I know that you’re mad at me right now, but I just have to say that this is an incredible opportunity for a demon. Usurping a cult is much more efficient that creating one, and the benefits it can offer cannot be overstated.” The shadow said, having added a weight of importance to its words.

“Fear, reverence, and notoriety can all increase your power, and a cult can give you all of those in spades. I cannot understate how important this could be. Please Hel, this could mean so much for your future.”

 

Ah, well. That made the decision easier.

 

“I’m sorry kid, but I’m not your god. I’m just a half-breed with issues.” Kalia said, averting her eyes slightly. While nudity barely bothered Kalia, she felt more naked than ever at this very moment. The combination of her stomach, horns, and the semen that soaked her nethers made her skin crawl.

 

“You FOOL!” Soul yelled in her head. “You complete and utter nincompoop. Moron. This goes beyond-” 

 

Kalia did her best to shut the shadow child out as she focused on the girl. She hadn’t said anything in response yet.

 

“…Damnit… Really? But you got pregnant like, really fast. Are you sure?” She said, almost confused. “Are you just blessed by her then?”

 

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing to do with her. I think so, anyway.” Kalia said, now not quite so sure herself. “What makes you so sure?.

 

The girl stood up shakily, clutching one of her arms with her other hand. She was about a head shorter than Kalia.

 

“Well, how could you not be? That was the punishment from the Rose Prince fable repeated right before my eyes, it was literally the first thing I saw!” The girl exclaimed while pointing at Kalia’s stomach, a tinge of desperation in her voice. “You have to be her, there isn’t another option! Otherwise my prayers meant nothing!”

 

Kalia was beginning to feel a bit of guilt. It seemed as if the stories of Ashtoreth were the only thing that kept the girl going. Maybe it would help her, just for a bit.

She shook the thoughts from her head.

No, she wouldn’t mislead her. She couldn’t give her false hope after all of that.

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to do with your god.” Kalia said. “And please lower your voice.

 

The girl’s face soured, a putrid mix of anger and desperation. 

“Prove it!” She spat, holding her arms close and glaring daggers into Kalia. “Prove to me that you weren’t at least sent by Ashtoreth!”

 

Kalia said nothing, this wasn’t a subject she should press further.

She wanted to hug the girl and to tell her that she was safe now, but she knew that she shouldn’t. They were still both prisoners, and Kalia still hadn’t fully developed her plan to get them both out of here.

As for a hug, well, she didn’t know how fragile the girl’s mental state was.

About a year ago Kalia had encountered a woman who had been kept as a trophy after a group of bandits raided a merchant caravan. Just brushing against her accidentally was enough to make her scream.

 

“What’s your name?” Kalia asked after a period of silence, attempting to move the subject away from the divine.

 

The girl hesitated.

 

“Where are you from?” She asked next. “You mentioned your mother. She must be anxious to see you return.”

 

The girl remained silent, her face a mixture of annoyance, caution and several other things. She didn’t quite meet Kalia’s eyes, but seemed to stare right through her.

 

“You’re covered in bruises and dried blood, don’t act like my concern is misplaced!” Kalia said, raising her voice but keeping it as non-threatening as possible.

 

“This is my punishment, I deserve and accept it.” She said, her eyes still not quite focused on Kalia. “I ran away, so Horamma taught me this lesson. I’m too fragile for a life on the continents.”

 

Kalia was struck by an urge to yell that the girl was being foolish, but she held back. She was walking on eggshells now, and easy words spoken loudly would solve nothing.

 

She recalled what she knew about Horamma. As the head god of the Toshavi and patron of storms and justice via karmic lessons, it was his stories that dictated general island law regardless of what local gods were preferred. It was an unfortunate habit that unlucky folk would blame him for their own misfortunes as if they were being punished for whatever they felt most guilty about.

 

“I can tell that you don’t really think that. You were convinced a moment ago that Ashtoreth was going to get you out of here.” Kalia said. “I may not be a goddess myself, but I’m not powerless and neither are you. You survived so far, right? And you're still standing. That’s not fragile.”

 

The girl's eyes regained a bit of focus, cantering on Kalia, but a bit lower than her eyes.

“You said it yourself that you’re a half-breed, so how should I expect you to understand? The gods grasp at you with only one hand.” She said almost somberly. “Only the will of a god can defy that of another, and Ashtoreth is the most defiant goddess of them all. If you truly aren’t her or her vassal, how could you hope to defy law himself?”

 

Kalia sighed as she began to understand the girl’s state. While she hadn’t lost hope, she had given up trying, relinquishing her fate to the wills of higher beings. It was a behavior that Kalia knew well. 

On his deathbed and driven to delirium by the shakes, she remembered Pops. The disease caused endless jitters and shivering, slowly killing him through exhaustion over days spent sleepless. Near the end he stopped looking for a cure, choosing instead to pray for all of his children. Even though most were not his own blood he had pleaded with God for them to find safe harbor somewhere, for he knew that many did not want to go to the church’s orphanage.

He had prayed until his voice was reduced to incoherent murmurs and he had breathed his last.

 

“That was very well put, I can tell that you admire Ashtoreth greatly.” She said, trying her best to smile warmly at the girl. “Did your mother speak about her a lot?”

 

The girl made a subtle movement; an awkward shuffle as she readjusted her posture. It seems like she was trying to curb her anger a bit.

 

“Yea, when I was younger she’d talk about her whenever the storms kept me awake. She’s a priestess you see.” The girl explained. “And she wanted me to be one too.”

 

“And you didn’t want to be one?” Kalia asked, hoping that she was starting to warm up to the girl.

 

She shook her head.

 

“No no, I did, but, for Ashtoreth.” The girl specified. “She was devoted to Horamma though and thought that the followers of Ashtoreth were all wanderers chasing after a fairytale for orphans. She said that they built nothing and amounted to even less, that they fell for the same traps as their goddess and that my life would be more helpful to the island as fish food.”

 

Kalia raised an eyebrow. She was pretty sure that the girl was misinterpreting her mother’s words, but that wouldn’t change anything if she said it aloud. When it came down to it though, she could empathize with the girl’s plight. Even now, Kalia felt a touch of anger that she had become the ‘unmarriable’ woman that the nuns had always predicted she’d be. While it had turned out that that hadn’t mattered in the slightest to her, it still hurt that she had proved them right.

 

“Expectations are stupid, aren’t they? You’re placed on a path walked on by hundreds before you and it’s still hoped by everyone that you’ll do well enough to be remembered. Honestly, running away is the more interesting option.” Kalia told the girl.

 

“Well, I know I said that, but what I was trying to do was become one of those wanderers. They never build anything themselves because they’re always helping others, you see.” The girl explained, a more hopeful look returning to her face. “They’re heroes. That’s better than anything I could be in some shitty temple.”

 

“Hm. I’m not so sure that such a thing as a hero exists. Everyone does things just for themselves no matter who they are. But I also don’t think that self service is incompatible with compassion. I don’t need to be a paragon to do the right thing when it matters.” Kalia began.

She then took a step forward towards the bars that separated the two of them and extended her arm outwards. Through the cell, she held her hand open welcomingly, palm facing the roof of the cave.

“I can’t promise that I can get you out of here, but I can promise to try. Please, I can’t just leave you down here to rot.”

 

The girl stared at Kalia’s hand for almost a minute, the dying fire on the ground slowly dimming as its fuel was eaten through. All the while as it flicked in their faces, Kalia watched the girl’s as it slowly melted away from being stolidly withdrawn. By the time their hands had touched, the girl had started crying. 

She sobbed and sniffed, but did not wail. Perhaps she just wasn’t the type, but Kalia thought that she could see a reason behind it.

The girl was strong, perhaps stubbornly so. Even if no one would blame her for letting it all out and bawling, she still felt as if she could not show that part of herself. Whereas Kalia might back down or attempt to evade something difficult, the girl would face it head on even if it killed her.

 

“What’s your name, brave one?” Kalia asked.

 

“Aiyn.” The girl said between sobs, clutching Kalia’s hand like a railing of a ship in a storm.

 

As the girl quieted, Kalia's mind drifted back towards Soul, and the being quickly responded to the thought.

 

“I see what you're doing. You want to feel powerful. You want to feel like you’ve gotten the better of me.” The voice of the first soul spoke in both of Kalia’s ears at once. “You’re being petty, I may be your only ally in the whole world at the moment save a wounded child.”

 

“Pfft. You’re, part of that is right. I’m the pettiest damn bitch ever.” Kalia told the Shadow mentally. “Hearing you mad like that made my day. If I wasn’t preoccupied right now I could sing.”

 

A second later she realized what she had just done.

Whereas before she just was just thinking phrases really hard and hoping it heard her, she had just spoken to the shadow in the same way as it did to her… by accident?

It just… clicked somehow, and she hadn’t even realized it. Speaking with her astral body just came as naturally as breathing. It almost felt idiotic, to look back now and see how she failed to grasp the concept earlier.

 

“The fact that you can say that at all means that you actually believe it. How small of you.” The shadow berated, paying no mind to her revelation.

 

Kalia ignored the shadow’s prodding. It was obviously trying to get back at her for doing the opposite of its demands.

 

“Sure, whatever you say.” She scoffed. “Anyway, if you want your voice to be heard you had better actually start helping me. Blind orders without an explanation isn’t going to cut it.”

 

“I want you to know that you’re the dumbest Scion I’ve ever had. Not least intelligent. Dumbest. I am the literal highest authority on matters of spirit and soul; it’s my literal fucking name, and you won’t listen to me tell you how to strengthen yours.” The shadow said, its voice cool and smooth. “If you continue to treat your own existence like a cruel joke, then that’s all it will ever be.”

 

“Yep, I’m dumb. Wow, the stupid fucking dumbass doesn’t want to commit cannibalism. The nerve of this cunt, right?” Kalia mocked. “I’m not going to be your puppet and if you can’t get that through your thick-ass skull then I’m not going to even consider a word you say.”

 

The shadow was silent for a moment.

 

“By turning you into a demon I tore you from the cycle of reincarnation. You had an afterlife and I robbed you of it. Death wasn’t going to be your end and I stole that from you.” It spat, malice detectable in its voice for the first time. “I gave you the ability to possibly live forever, but I robbed you of the death necessary to exist forever. When the trinity finds you you’ll either be locked up bodiless until you starve or they’ll just wipe your existance out then and there. Puppet or not, now you will either be my scion or you will cease to exist. There is no other way.”

 

The fire on the ground flickered as it burnt through the last few drops of spilled fuel, light fading from the cave as the words of the first soul settled in Kalia’s mind. What did they mean to her?