Chapter 46 Bonus: The Storm’s Eye

Hurricane season had struck Montu like an axe upon rotted wood. It was bound to happen. The eastern coastal nation had been enjoying balmy summers and placid autumns for far too long. Eventually the buildup in the world’s jet streams would need to erupt out into a storm of volcanic proportions. The oceans were threatening to overtake the coast, a dam had burst already somewhere in the northern hills. Rain and wind smothered the land below, tearing up trees, destroying homes, and ruining livelihoods. The ministry had even sent in a team of twelve larger dragons with carriage-saddles to evacuate those threatened areas.

Tiamat rarely felt as at ease as she did now. 

The ongoing debacle coming from her newest granddaughter had been enough to force her to take measures to calm her poor nerves. The prayers never stopped. They never would, so long as she maintained the mass communication spell to receive them, and she wasn’t about to do that just to give herself a break. 

Many people, thousands of people, were praying to her right at this moment to end the storm. She knew she couldn’t. Well- she could, but a storm does not exist in a vacuum. The energy built up in it would have to go somewhere, and then she would simply be answering the same prayers to different locations. Instead, she did what she could to keep those she could see through the prayers safe. It would have to be ridden out. 

At the very least, they weren’t as bad as the storms and seasons following the thousand years after the Freeze. The weather then had been so violent that civilization was greatly slowed in its sluggish and agonizing crawl back. The storms had reached three times this magnitude. Modern Montu had been swept away almost completely once at 349 AF, and 786 AF. It was for this reason that the land seemed to have a glut of ruins, compared to most. 

Some ruins were of post-freeze and classical Montu, the terms used for the two notable eras before they were subsequently wiped away, however, many were pre-freeze. Typically, even among those, the oldest stone dwellings were the one to persist, as they tended to use solid stonework more often. 

She couldn’t truly take a break, not with the constant barrage of information from every angle that she received. Truly, she knew she could not be everywhere at once, but sometimes that was what was asked of her. 

The main entity one might call Tiamat was, in actuality, typically many thousand of minuscule wills and consciousnesses, each united by a common purpose and will. She could only create so many physical forms at once, particularly if some of those forms were dragons. Manifesting and controlling flesh, even if she cut corners on the details in the internal organs and muscles, took much more out of her than simply reaching out a tendril of her power. In times such as these, she had to manage thousands at once. In most cases, they were focused on anyone actively praying, in the short time following or on whatever subject they were focused on. Some less common instances may be locations or individuals of interest. She tried not to be rude, and pry, though so much was shared with her that could be used as blackmail that she’d been forced to take oaths against using it as such. It had been tempting in some cases.

Clem still hadn’t gotten over his encounter with Safraxi, even if she had subtly tried to push him to move on. Sel’Ifis was praying for her father to appreciate all her effort. Yorkin was praying to see his dear family blade again… perhaps she could nudge Safraxi in the direction at some point. Miveri was still out there blubbering and begging for forgiveness that would never come from a hovel in western Ordenia. Ylexi was praying for the safety of her entire family. Many thousands in the war in Utsnari and Tiskin were praying for their lives, the lives of their allies, the deaths of their enemies, or a quick end to the war. A certain eagle with a severed tendon was wishing ill will on the diminutive fox who’d done the damage in self defense. 

On top of that, she made sure to keep an eye on Idami. She couldn’t stand to let the young dragon leave her sight. Taking her eye off her youngest daughter for even a moment resulted in anguish which rippled the very ocean. Takilnak had already prayed to her once to check on her well-being after an unusual thrum had overtaken him, like a quickened heartbeat. No, so long as Idami was out of Fellrock, she would watch, even if she knew she may be unable to intervene. 

However, this particular Fatima heard and saw none of that. It was a mechanism that the goddess had been taught long ago, by her former friend, Ninazu, in the time before the freeze. To simply craft a single vessel to enjoy a peaceful afternoon was often just what they needed, and bringing its memories back into the fold after it enjoyed itself could do wonders to ease a the stresses of a being such as Tiamat. In fact, in all but the most niche cases, she would have to cut off a physical form from the whole in order for it to act without distraction.

She’d dropped this particular Fatima down a week ago. She really needed it. It wasn’t apparent until only a few days before the hurricane was to strike the coast, that it would be such a concern, and because of this the small oceanside city of Anteli had been a den of mirth and comfort for much of Fatima’s little vacation. The bulk of the city was built upon cliff-sides overlooking the ocean below, with the occasional path to the beach where scattered marinas were constructed. She’d spent the bulk of her time enjoying the lovely ocean air, the sun, the food, and the wine. She’d even rented out a room at a charming little inn overlooking the ocean beyond all for herself.

The town was too exposed to have a major port. In fact, most of its income was from its vineyards. This also meant that every few dozen decades Tiamat had to hop in and see what they had done to refine their grape strains and fermentation. In fact, she often brought seeds from her own personal stock to share with the farmers. Many days, her dedicated relaxing vessel was merely tending to the garden, unless a vacation or second vessel was called for. 

It seemed this year’s harvests had been a major boon. It was something of a relief to the old woman. The managers of the vineyards and wineries had been sure to secured seeds for the next spring and bring them in the evacuation, and to store wine barrels below ground, so the storm was unlikely to disrupt their production much in the long run. Their funds from this year’s harvest should hopefully be enough to pick up the pieces after the storm broke. 

Now, as the storm was rushing in, and the city was falling to pieces around Fatima, she couldn’t help but stand and let the howling wind and sea spray hit her, as the waves crashed against the cliffs and threatened to drag the city down with it. Storms were, historically, Ninazu’s domain. The one exception was anything that formed over the ocean. Those were typically a team effort with her and her former friend. Warm sea water had a way of creating the most destructive forces the world could produce. 

Part of her truly missed those days. Missed Ninazu.

It felt unreasonable, considering all the deceased god had done, but he had been a close companion for more millennia than he had been gone. It often felt to Tiamat as if he had already been dead for some time before the freeze, with how different he had seemed during the war. She could barely recognize the entity she had slain upon the Fell Lake crater those many millennia past. She still did not understand what had happened to him. 

More than Ninazu, though, she missed Apsu. The world would never be the same without him. Her heart ached each and every day as she failed to fill his shoes as a god of civilization. That had always been more him than her. She had been such a recluse in the old days. She only maintained contact with her highest of priests, and her fellow divines. She was a social butterfly now by comparison. Even now, she was having at least a half dozen conversations at once, the Montu Fatima enjoying a soggy and stale loaf of bread in the face of a storm had no clue of. It was lovely. 

The town had emptied a day prior to the oncoming storm, and she’d had the run of the place in that time. Many bakers, butchers, and brewers had left their stock, and she knew much of it would go bad anyway, so she had helped herself, leaving a silver here and a silver there, tucked into hidden nooks and crannies for owners to perhaps notice on eventual return, and blame a bit of good luck.

Now, as the storm was reaching its apex, she was soaked to the bone, and walking out onto the crashing waves as they slammed the town. For anyone else, they would have been deadly, but even the roiling ocean could be used as a bit of fun for a goddess. She was casually leaping from crest to crest like a child avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk, following the coastline toward the north as she did. Bit by bit, her heart began to calm, until it matched the rolling of the waves below her. Then- sun! The eye of the storm had reached her. She threw her arms up and took in the warm rays of the sun as they hit her chilled and soaked through human form. She’d chosen well for her little getaway. She hadn’t even known the eye was coming this way. Perhaps good luck would get to shine on her for once. 

As she turned, and watched the wall of clouds and rain pass over the cliffs beyond, a distinct structure, carved into the cliff-sides caught her eye. Was that-?

She twirled on the crest she’d been riding upon, and leapt ahead to the next, flying over the ocean as if she had taken out one of her forms with wings, until finally she rode one in set to collide with the ruin. The spraying water launched her through, and she rolled to accept the impact. If she were a regular mortal, she’d have just broken her wrist, elbow, and done serious damage to both her legs. Some affordances could be allowed to her, considering her station, however, and at worst the sites mildly stung. 

It was an old temple, pre-freeze, obviously, judging by the humanoid iconography of her, and the presence of Apsu and Ninazu in the carved stone. Had this place always been here? She had never heard or seen it before… wait, no! This was once the temple in Gerathad. This should have been buried by the sediment shifted by the glacial shifts at the end of the freeze. It was already ancient even when the snow had begun to pile up, a sight of archaeological study in its own right. The stone she walked on was easily nine thousand years old. Had it only been uncovered recently? 

Then again, it did seem oddly clean for being buried. She brought up a hand, and a magical light emerged from her palm. Seeing this stone with her own eyes made her feel four thousand years old again… It brought her back to a simpler time, when she could simply embody the rage and callousness of the ocean, but that was no longer an option for her. She had responsibilities. People relied on her. It wasn’t something she could shirk. 

She waved another hand, and the din of the rain disappeared entirely as she put up a protective dome for the temple. She wouldn’t want it to fall into the ocean now of all times. As nice at it would be for her to reclaim it, she would want to enjoy it while it was mostly intact first. 

Once the site was safe and secure, she began to trace a hand along the walls, trying to recall her last visit. Had it been the temple’s inauguration? Oh my, she truly was a hermit in those days to only visit a site as grand as this once. It had been a triad temple explicitly, rather than focused on any one deity, and was a grand example of the developing architectural techniques of the time, and had been carved directly into the cliff-sides, below where a waterfall once fell. 

It had been intended to represent a middle ground between river, ocean, and sky, and achieved the effect beautifully. Even if many modern buildings in the post-freeze age had surpassed it in terms of scale and architectural acumen, this one would always stand out to her in terms of style. Few modern counterparts could hope to match it. Perhaps the palace in Salifir… oh Idami…

No. Fatima snapped herself back to attention. Tiamat had that under control. This vessel had been placed here explicitly to relax and bring the whole back to balance. She would need to keep her mind on happier things. Idami would be fine. 

Perhaps she could attempt to refurbish this temple, and put it back into service? It could be an interesting place to educate people on the history of this wondrous land. So few structures like this remained, let alone as this one was. There had been some collapses, the further she went in, and many walls had been crushed and cracked under the strain of millennia of weight piling above it had begun to forcibly compress the structure. On second thought, maybe a few archaeological crews at best…

A gasp sounded behind her, and she whirled to find a filthy, starving marten cowering against the back corner. She analyzed his face and blurted out the name before she could stop herself, too surprised at finding someone in the ruin to stop the slip: “Diolai?”

The man’s cowering only intensified as his name escaped her lips. “I don’t know you! Please! I only seek shelter!”

Fatima quickly lowered the intensity of the light, worried at blinding the poor man as he went from pitch black darkness to staring into a magical sun before him. She and the man had never spoken, but she knew all who prayed to her, even if he hadn’t prayed to her in some time. “My apologies, I did not mean to disturb you. This place should be safe from the storm. I will not remove the magical protections I have cast when I leave.”

“Wh-who are you? What protections? How do you know my name?” With her excellent night vision, Fatima could see the man working his way back, pressing himself further into the stone. His last few prayers to her had been quite concerning, she had to admit. But even after attempting to answer his last prayer… he had gone silent after, and she had lost track of him. She barely recognized him anymore, from the once handsome and confident sculptor he had been in his youth. 

She let the silence hang in the air a little longer, unsure how best to answer his question. She could always tell the truth, though the wretch seemed in a bit of a delicate state for it now. Otherwise… she could be an explorer, a ministry official, a rider, a dragon. But what would any of them be doing here now? Dragons knew better than to fly in weather such as this. It was enough to tear even one as great as Orythia from the sky, and slam Takilnak upon the harsh stones hidden in the ocean depths as the boiling cauldron that the ocean had turned into created violent undertows. No, truth was, for once, her better route. “I am Tiamat. I have-”

She was hardly given a chance to finish as Diolai threw himself to the floor, and clasped his hands together above his head. “Then you have finally come to save me! I knew this storm had to be divine providence! My restoration of your temple will be the impetus of my redemption!”

Oh. That would explain why the temple seemed in such nice condition, despite its internment. Hardly a speck of dirt laid upon the floors she had passed over to make it to this secluded corner of the temple, the relief sculptures had been cleaned and even partially restored, and many of the ceremonial braziers had been (admittedly haphazardly) repaired and returned to their proper places. She was excited to see how the altars were looking now. “Yes, Diolai. I am more thankful than words can express of your restoration of this ancient triad temple. I am already contemplating how to best put your work to use.”

“I am your servant, Tiamat! I-” he glanced back up, confusion marring his features. “Triad?”

“Yes, my love,” she carefully crept forwards to him, and began to slowly increase the luminosity of her mage-light. “This was not only my temple, but one for Apsu, Ninazu, and I, before Ninazu’s madness.”

The man was back to prostration, crushing his nose against the rough stone. “I beg your forgiveness for the misinterpretation! I believed the murals to be representations of the three survivors of the war, Takilnak, Elefalox, and Disaeite!” 

Tiamat crouched down, and gently lifted the man back to a seated position. Once she was certain he wasn’t about to throw himself to the floor again, she wrapped a blanket around him and handed him a cup of tea. “My love, there is nothing to forgive. You speak not the languages upon these walls, and even I am surprised to see that this temple is in such good condition, despite its age. This temple is almost nine thousand years old. Far older than I could have anticipated it surviving. It would make sense you would assume it is post-freeze.”

“N-nine… thousand?” the man gaped, and stared at the walls around him in wonder. “Then… I have been revering images of Ninazu… How could any representation of him be so… favorable?”

A special kind of tired smile spread across Fatima’s lips. She could see the disgust in his eyes at the mention of her old best friend. So many mortals these days forgot that Ninazu had not always been a boogieman. “He was once worshiped as a rain god, you know?” Perhaps a little education could go a long ways with Diolai. “Before the freeze, when there were all three of us. He was more popular than even I.”

“No!” The man gasped, as if the idea was some great injustice.

“Yes,” she shook her head. “He had nearly twice as many temples as I. Even now… I know not what caused him and his serpents to turn on mortalkind. I fear I may never know. But perhaps it does not matter.” She sighed and glanced back down the hall she’d entered through, watching the rain slam her protective bubble. The draconic body she’d requested Tiamat for had finally arrived, saddle ready. “Diolai, we need to get you somewhere safe. You will catch cold here, come.”

The man shrunk back at her touch, and pushed back again into the depths. “But my work here is not finished…”

“Diolai…” she allowed him to remove himself from her. Forcing him out may only scare the man further. “You will not finish your work at all, were you to die in here. I have no wish to see you come to harm.”

“Then why have you already harmed me so?” He covered his head, seemingly expecting to be struck for daring to ask the question.

Fatima was taken aback at the question. Had she harmed him? Hadn’t his last prayer merely been to let his sculpture shine at the reveal, when his crush, the magistrate’s son, was to be there? “How have I harmed you, Diolai?” The question seemed risky. So many people wrongfully assumed her to be omnipresent and omnipotent. Sometimes they reacted poorly to the truth. 

“They loved my statue… but they paid no attention to me. That’s all it ever was,” he choked out. “The magistrate’s son commissioned me over and over, but… he held no love for me. I pushed harder and harder to claim credit for my work, for him to see me, but in my hubris I did not give proper credit to you, as the one who answered my prayer, and granted me divine inspiration, and so one day my success ended. I could not pick up a chisel. I had tremors, and faint spells. I could not do it anymore. The pressure was too great…”

Ah… yes, she had helped to use the clouds around the statue’s reveal to highlight its finer details, but… she could no more draw people’s attention to him than she could bring her husband back. “Diolai, I am sorry that this has happened to you. It was not my intent. How has this lead you to come here?”

The marten’s eyes raised again to meet hers, pain and fear roiling inside like the waves she had crossed to come here. “When the Mercani came, to investigate the rumors of a great artist in Anteli, they called my art degenerate, an insult to you, because in one of my later works I had included a coldmarked as the focus,” he was back to grovelling. “The magistrate’s son defended it, called them curs, and- and- they killed him! And they tried to kill me! I had to flee! I promise, Tiamat, I meant no harm by including a coldmarked! I had misinterpreted your will!” 

“Diolai, I hold no ill will against any marked. My youngest granddaughter is coldmarked. The Mercani have always and will continue to hate those with coldmarks,” she stepped up, and lifted him to his feet. “I love all of my children, which includes you. Please, allow me to take you from this place. I am sorry that this answered prayer put you in this position, but I only intended to help.”

“But- but- but-” his eyes welled with tears, his lips quivered, and his entire body shuddered at the contact. 

“But nothing. I have only ever enjoyed your work, Diolai. I granted you no divine inspiration. Your skill is your own,” step by step, she began to lead him to the exit, not allowing him room to collapse again. The eye of the storm would be gone soon, and it would only be harder to evacuate him then. “I am nothing but sorry for the tragedy that has befallen the handsome young otter you had pined over. He deserved better as well.”

“Then- then why did he die? Why did you let him die?” The question shot through her, panicking her as if his words were the cracking of the stone around her. These were always the hardest questions to answer. 

“I- Diolai, I am… I am not all powerful,” she stopped mere feet from the draconic vessel prostrated in the entrance. “It is not my will that there is suffering in the world. I work every day to lessen it, but I cannot prevent every tragedy.”

“But why did I live?” he sobbed, too worked up to even register the dragon before him. “Why not him? It was my art that drew the Mercani, not his. He merely commissioned it”

“Because people can be cruel, just as they can be kind,” the vessel lifted the marten’s chin to look him in the eye, a motherly smile gracing her lips. “If it pleases you, after this storm I can return you to your work here. However, I would like it to be with the aid of an archaeologist, and the ministry will be paying you for your efforts. Otherwise, I can take you somewhere to help you get a fresh start. How does this sound?”

The offer seemed to stun the man. The only thing more shocking than meeting a goddess was to be offered a job by one. “I believe I would like to finish this temple very much…”

“Then together, we will make it so. But please, pray for me again, I have been worried for you during your silence,” she finally picked the man up and placed him in the draconic vessel’s saddle, before buckling him in, and tightening the blanket around him, and summoning an extra jacket to warm him. “Stay safe, Diolai. I will return you here when you have been fed and rested, and the storm has abated. I will see to it your work is not disturbed by the weather.”

“I… thank you, Tiamat…” And the other body leapt off of the cliffs and away with him, angling for safety. 

Now alone again, Tiamat turned back toward the depths of the temple. Perhaps she would see what there was to explore here. The poor troubled marten seemed to have been working tirelessly. His last prayer to her had only been nearly five years ago, and this temple had so much of it excavated already. Slowly, by memory, she made her way to the altar room. 

It had been so long since she’d seen a triad temple in such good condition. The one that had been discovered in Confinia three hundred years back had been naught but crushed pillars and worn walls, with nary a sentence or glyph preserved in the stone. The nostalgia alone was enough to mist up her eyes. More was coming back to her now, of the construction of this temple. Apsu had been so excited for it, and had come to her many times to consult on whatever idea he’d had for it… 

The altar room had seen better days, but it was excavated and reinforced with numerous wooden pillars. The three altars were crumbling and cracked. Tiamat’s in particular had to be reassembled with a wooden scaffold to hold the pieces of crushed marble together. It seems Diolai had painstakingly reassembled it piece by piece and filling the cracks with grout, but not quite gotten to the point of removing the supports. She really would have to find a proper way to thank him. Perhaps she could inquire as to who would be taking chosen in the spring, and see if any would be interested in the sculptor? 

She approached Apsu’s first, brushing her hand along the surface and admiring the engravings. It seemed that it was a map of the river that once ended in the waterfall above the temple. Her own altar had been a topographical map of the ocean in the region. Ninazu’s seemed to be a map of the jet streams, the mighty rivers of air that controlled the weather. Upon each altar, where the temple would sit on the map, was an embedded gemstone: a moonstone for Tiamat, a sun-stone for Apsu, and a blue topaz for Ninazu. They had, at one point, been massive shining specimens, worthy of a king’s crown. Now, they were cracked and crushed, barely recognizable for what they once were. 

As her fingertip brushed over her late husband’s sunstone, a spark of magic shot from her finger into the stone. The room lit up as magical lights appeared above each gem, and suddenly… Tiamat was not alone. 

Instinctively, she shot to attention, expecting to have to rescue another mortal who Diolai had not told her about, but… these were no mortals. Standing before her were two men, and a woman. One of the men,  russet skinned like herself, and with an elegant and immaculately trimmed beard down to his chest, was a mortal vessel of Apsu. Another, pale and smooth faced, with eyes as bright and blue as the sky, holding a barely perceptible twinkle of mischief and ambition, was Ninazu. And finally, with a face stern and demeanor, gaunt as a starving sailor, was Tiamat, or at least… a younger version of her. One she did not relish recalling. 

“Welcome, traveler!” Apsu spread his hands apart in invitation, a beaming smile upon his face. He was speaking in ancient Nhutili, a language that had been dead so long that even its daughter languages had perished before the freeze came to be. Tiamat felt blessed she could still understand it. “We bid you congratulations that you have finished your pilgrimage across the varied lands of Gin’Teli! For your dedication and perseverance, we offer you a reward. You may ask us each one question, which we shall answer to our utmost…” the specter trailed off, examining the ruin around him. It seemed he hadn’t even realized the state it was in. “Goodness, this temple has fallen on hard times. May I ask who I am speaking to?”

The other Tiamat scoffed, a sound which resembled the crashing of waves. “Apsu, she is one of mine. Another vessel. Why do you wear this guise? Have you been sent to investigate the apparent abandoning of this sacred site?” She gestured furiously at the walls around her, disgust painting her features. “We should pull the entire city into the sea for letting this marvel of our husband’s design fall to ruin as this!” 

“Now now, Tia,” Ninazu chuckled and placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s shoulder. “These things happen. Who knows how long it has been?”

“Indeed,” Apsu had turned his back to the modern Tiamat to coo to this irate and twitching ancient version of her until she seemed to calm some. “Now, my love,” he turned back to the Tiamat staring in horror at the scene before her, “would you like to enlighten us to what has transpired in the interim since we each stored a piece of ourselves in this temple for the enlightenment of our humble pilgrims?”

Fatima couldn’t speak. Her vessel’s throat had seized up in her panic, and she was fully panicking as three pairs of eyes stared her down in curiosity. This vessel lacked most of the vital organs one would normally assume a human to have: brain, liver, kidneys, stomach, intestines, etc. Instead, these organs were replaced by solid muscle or fatty tissue to save her on concentration. Truly, it only had a heart and lungs to better simulate mortal anatomy, and to allow speech. However, these two organs were fully capable of misbehaving under stress. The heart was beating wildly, and its lungs refused to breathe in rhythm as her diaphragm moved and seized under its own will. 

It was all coming back to her now. Apsu and Ninazu had worked together to create a system of temples that would link together for a vast pilgrimage, one that could take decades to complete, and was meant only for their most staunch followers. At the end, each of them had stored a tendril within their respective gems, which could be activated only by completing a special prayer, which had to be constructed word by word through its many stops, meditated on, and understood. 

Tiamat had thought it extravagant and an unnecessary waste of time, but upon her husband’s insistence, had severed a small fiber of her being to be dedicated to the project. After enough time, it had become possible to forget it was even missing. They had intended to reabsorb and return the tendrils of their will every year or so, to keep them well versed in current affairs, but… yes, that’s right. A coup in the area by the land owning class had destabilized the economy, and made it too dangerous for pilgrims to pass through. Even the priests had either left or been slaughtered in the chaos, and the triad had forgotten it. 

Somehow, touching her own divinity must have been enough to spark them into being again… but how long would they last? Could they last? Perhaps if she-

“Tia? Helloooo?” A hand waved in front of her face, and Fatima was snapped back to attention. She had been standing there, staring off into space with a haunted expression for far too long. “You good, girl?”

The vessel flinched back, teeth bared at her former friend as he got too close. A deafening roar like waves crashing upon rock shook the entire structure, and she took several steps back, entering a defensive stance. The sight of Apsu had been enough to drown her in grief. A glimpse of her old sense had engulfed her in shame. However, Ninazu had lit a fire under her, and she was burning up with fury.

“Woah!” The echo of the traitor god put his hands up, and backed off. “Apsu’s beard, Tia, what happened to get that reaction from me?”

“Perhaps I still have some bite after all,” the ancient Tiamat’s lips angled into a smirk, and her eyes narrowed with mirth. “I thought perhaps I had softened up upon first sight of-” she failed to finish her sentence as the whole of Tiamat suddenly reclaimed her, and she was swept away to mist. Fatima had no interest in listening to the Turmoil Witch drone on about her divine wrath and righteous fury. Reabsorbing her would force Tiamat as a whole to reckon with some of those feelings again, but Fatima needed a chance to speak with these two in peace.

“Mimi… what is going on?” Apsu cautiously approached his wife, hands up, and a calm but unsure smile upon his lips. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, and… an old enemy.”

Tiamat’s panic, shame, and anger were purged as a slamming wave of guilt overtook her. It was as if a weighted chain had wrapped around her neck and was dragging her into the depths of regret and despair. How could she ever properly explain to these two what had happened? 

“Tia… I… I’m not only sensing your essence in you,” Ninazu started, dread precipitating down his face with a single bead of sweat. “Is- did you absorb-”

“Mimi, what on Gin’Teli did you do?” Apsu sounded just as aghast as the echo of his own killer, lacking the knowledge to know the irony of his own situation. 

“It wasn’t me!” the words spilled out from her mouth without the time to temper them. “It wasn’t my fault! I had no choice!” She truly felt as a child in this moment, staring up at an upset or disapproving parent, and attempting to formulate excuses from the ether. Even if she knew what had happened… she had never been faced with the victim of her own inaction, and her rage, quite as directly as this.

“Tia, did you kill us?” Ninazu was creeping forward again, disbelief painted across his features. “I knew that you had your fits, but to-”

“No!” The word erupted from her mouth like a boiling geyser. Her fury had returned. “I killed you! After you murdered my husband, along with at least ninety five percent of all life in this world! Don’t you dare level accusations at me, traitor!” This was the type of rage she had forgotten, which she had buried for so long, in her bid to replace her husband as the rational and collected patron of civilization. It still leaked from her sometimes, as deep as she tried to submerge the roiling oceanic fury within her, but she could already sense the storm outside intensifying two-fold as her emotions reached a fever pitch. All of Tiamat had her eyes on this conversation now. Fatima was alone in her thoughts, but not in presence. “Give me one good reason that I shouldn’t obliterate this vessel of yours, Snake King, and wipe your venomous existence from this land for eternity!”

“Because he did not do that.” Apsu had stepped between the two, face stern, readily defying the true deity before him. She could see it in his eyes, the fear, the knowledge that this vessel he resided in was as mortal as any other. He was finite now, and facing down a deity three times his former strength, but he persisted under her rage. “This fragment, this echo, he has not committed these crimes any more than I have. The Ninazu see before you is innocent, can you not see that?”

“What difference does it make?” Tiamat demanded, stepping forward and baring her teeth. Her draconic visage had become so second nature to her now over the five thousand years following her reinvention of self, and fangs were beginning to protrude from her maw, as a tail whipped dangerously behind her. “Ninazu killed you, and that is Ninazu!”

“I really- I- the entire- Apsu-” the vessel before her stuttered, stumbling back, eyes wide. Spit rained from his mouth as he repeatedly tried and failed to form a coherent sentence, guilt and confusion taking over his features. “Why?”

“You never bothered to enlighten me before I smashed you into the earth like a hailstone and tore your essence from you in retribution for your trespass!” Tiamat growled again, continuing to prowl further into the room, pressing the retreating men further to the back wall. However… the fear in their eyes was sufficient to give her pause. Even Apsu seemed terrified of her in this moment. Her husband… was scared of her. The thought alone was enough to evaporate her fury, for it to percolate into shame. Her posture relaxed. Her teeth and tail returned to normal. “But I am not the goddess I once was,” she averted her eyes. “I have… been forced to distill myself into something new. I am barely an ocean goddess in the modern day. I… apologize for my uncouth display.”

Both echos seemed to relax as she clasped her hands over her stomach and turned her back to them, but it took some time for the pause in conversation to break. Instead, they all listened together as the back wall of the eye of the hurricane passed over them. If not for her protective bubble, Tiamat was sure the front half of the temple might have been pulled into the roiling cauldron below. 

It was Ninazu that finally dared to speak another word. “Tia… I don’t- I don’t know what to say. But I’m sorry. I can’t imagine ever doing that to Apsu, or to the world… how have the other continents faired?”

“They survived, but barely. The other gods have made it clear that us and our ilk are no longer welcome beyond the ocean. I have… been forced to lead the people of our land to believe there is nothing out there for them,” she slowly turned back, and made eye contact with her husband and best friend, tears salting her cheeks. “It has been difficult, rebuilding. The population of the world is not yet half of what it was before the freeze.”

“The freeze… huh?” Ninazu mulled over the word, and its implications. “What of my serpents?”

“By my estimations four remain. Eleven survived the war following your death, and they’ve been slowly picked off over the years.” She sunk into a chair that had not been there a moment before to bury her face in her hands. “You personally killed any that refused your orders, and the others fell into line after. I believe Ningishzida may be among the four survivors. Your shining champion of cunning remains untarnished. For now.” Ninazu seemed far too happy about that for her liking.

“And… my lions?” Apsu had approached her again, and knelt down to see her at her level, gently pulling her hands down to smile up at her puffy red-eyed face. 

“Two. Lahamu spends much of his time in solitude. Hibernating or meditating, in what is now called the dragonlands.” She wiped her sleeve across her face, and continued. “Anu… hasn’t reported in to me in quite some time. She may have perished. I cannot be sure.”

“And…” Apsu squeezed her hands, smiling up at her with pity, “you have been alone all this time, my love? For how long?”

“It has been five thousand and eighty four years since both of your deaths. It was the event which marked our new calendar,” she leaned down to kiss Apsu, finally giving in to the temptation that had been dripping over her since seeing him. “And… no, I have not been alone. I have my children.”

“Children!?” Ninazu’s shock broke the two apart from their tender moment. “Ah. Sorry, I just… never thought of you as one for kids. How many? How’d that happen?”

A faint smile graced Tiamat’s lips again. It almost felt as if she was chatting with her old friend again, and their tumultuous final years together had never happened. “It may surprise you that I am even considered a maternal deity now. I now lay claim to the water of the womb as my domain, along with all other water that belonged to you each. I had to melt the world and hunt down your serpents somehow. Most continued the last directive you gave them before your demise: to freeze, and to consume. I created a divine beast of my own. A creature I call a dragon.” 

She began to beam with pride as she spoke of them. Ninazu and Apsu’s divine beasts had always simply been powered up and intelligent representations of common animals, her own were far more creative in her eyes. “They combine the ferocity of Ninazu’s serpents, and the nobility of Apsu’s lions. They prey from the air and rain fire upon their enemies. And each and every one of them is one of my descendants. I have five now, not including the generations that came after: Takilnak, Orythia, Aurjeule, Amjazel, and Idami. I only just had Idami a few weeks ago, in fact.”

“How many in total?” Apsu’s eyes sparkled with pride, as though the children were his to share. For all that Tiamat cared, they were. 

“Over a thousand,” Fatima’s smile wobbled, but stayed true. “Why… my latest granddaughter, Safraxi, has caused quite a stir. She is the first of my dragons to be anointed with freeze rather than flame. I… could never say it to her, it could very well destroy her and what little of our relationship that hangs on if I did, but she reminds me so much of Ninazu in his younger years, before…” She felt no need to finish. She was trying to dwell on her happiness now, and to fill these two in on the happenings of the last nine thousand years. There was too much to ever cover. “It’s her humor and her ability to crack a smile, really. She is so irreverent. So casual. I believe you two would only butt heads would be on matters of law and order.” 

“Sounds like my kind of kid,” Ninazu grinned, and sank into a seated position against the wall beside the two. “What point are laws if there’s no one to poke holes in them?”

“Truly.” How was she so casual in this now? This Ninazu truly seemed as the one she remembered, not the one she had killed. She was already falling back into an old fondness that she thought she had long drowned. “I am afraid that I cannot introduce you, though.”

“Course not,” the Serpent King shrugged. “Sounds like I’m viewed as some kind of villain now, and who could blame the people who see me that way? It’s best that I fade away back into nothingness…”

Tiamat faltered once again. Of course Ninazu would take this so hard. He had never viewed his serpents in the same familial lens that Tiamat did her dragons, but they had been close. He’d once been almost as popular as Apsu, and now his reputation was worse even than the old Turmoil Witch. “What matters is… that you did not succeed. The world is intact. It has bounced back, and continues every day. I have no doubt that in another thousand years we will have surpassed the old world. I have been… quite preoccupied with the cultural scars left from the freeze of late. My tenure as a patron of civilization has been far from a perfect one. I realize more every year how large the gap between Apsu and I is in our tact for the matter.”

“I wish I could provide support, Mimi,” the echo of Apsu pulled her into a hug, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. “I have confidence that you will succeed, though. Even in just this brief conversation, I can see how much you have grown. You have stayed true to yourself as an aspect of change, that I am most sure of, but the rest of you… I barely recognize you. You cannot imagine the pride I feel for as I see you now.”

The tears were flowing again now. Tiamat had pulled the vessel close, and threatened to crush him in a vice grip. “Thank you… my love. I believe I have been needing to hear those words, even if I know I have so far to go… my anger still gets the better of me.”

“Worry not, Mimi,” he wiped her tears again, but remained at eye level with her. “I have more faith in you than even your most devout mortal follower. You’ve always had a determination that put ours to shame. I believe you have put it to use in ways I never could have imagined.”

“Thank… thank you. Thank you…” Tiamat sniffled. Perhaps giving herself a full functioning respiratory system in this body was a mistake. Her nose was running. “I believe… you two do not have long before beginning to fade. I would very much like to show you the world that I have crafted, if you will allow me?”