I decided to leave silently without telling Katharos or Heidi. 

I had become exceedingly close with them for the past few days, and I missed them already. They were intriguing creatures, and so horribly flawed, which made them all the more intriguing. While I hated most other mortals for their wretched flaws, Heidi’s and Katharos’ were somehow endearing. They hid nothing and knew their issues. 

They were kind and thought their lives were worth no more or less than anyone else’s… but in my eyes, they were.

I never said very much to them, but listening to them talk was a joy. Katharos would tell me what it was like to try and run a country, and how it sapped the strength from him, and made him bone tired. The fact that he tried so hard, despite his health issues was admirable.

And then there was Heidi. Heidi never got sad or depressed like how Katharos tended to. Heidi got angry. It seemed as if very few things could bring her to tears, as if she was fed up with them, and preferred now to get angry at her problems until she solved them or they went away. Heidi could talk all day about nothing, too, which I found amusing. She once spent an hour talking about how she always wanted a suitable dress to wear to formal occasions, although she had none to go to. She talked of things that seemed irrelevant and mundane, and they were. She didn’t pay attention to the things everyone else seemed to think was important in life: politics, money, or getting ahead. Those were the things that, in her eyes, made people greedy, selfish, and uncaring. 

She was always awake before I was, and I would find her sitting on the large rock in her garden, just looking miserably at her wilting crops which I could not expend any more of my godly powers to preserve. I would walk up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, which gave her no comfort. In fact, she looked at me as if I had an agenda.

On the day before I decided to leave, while we were eating in her house, I said plainly, “You don’t like me much, do you Heidi?”

“You’re a great help... but no. I don’t particularly like you.” She said truthfully.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a stuck up snot and you don’t seem to care about anything.”

I wasn’t offended. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I can’t find it in my heart to love mortals.”

She looked at me with downcast eyes. “…if you are a God, you should be required to love us.”

“If you don’t love one another, what reason do I have to do so?” I countered.

“You ought to be above that sort of thing,” she said simply.

I made a face. “It isn’t that simple. Love isn’t for foul creatures. I could no more love mortals than I could ants biting my feet.” I didn’t feel the need to explain myself further.

“Are you going to say that to Katharos? He loves you even though he knows nothing about you, simply because he’s stuck on the notion that you’re a God.” She said testily. “Katharos is like a little brother to me. Don’t you dare say anything to depress him further.”

I looked away expressionlessly. She had no right to say such things against me. She was a lowly mortal. 

Sick of her attitude, I left the house after that, and grumpily sat by myself on her porch. 

I heard some children screaming nearby after a moment of silence. 

Curious, I followed the sound. I followed it for some time until I was completely out of the village, and then I saw the two children. They were Marie and Cael, two children I knew fairly well from the time I spent in the village.

At first, I saw they were only playing. Pushing each other, tickling, and teasing. But they were doing this near a steep plateau where the fall would be deadly. 

The children didn't notice they were so near the edge of the plateau, and before I could prevent it, Marie had pushed Cael off the edge. 

My eyes widened and I rushed the remaining distance separating me from the children. I dashed down the gentle slope to the side of the plateau and knelt at the child's side. His neck was broken. From the plateau above, Marie was weeping uncontrollably. I looked up at her from beside the body. Was my brother controlling this incident, or was it truly an accident? I held the lifeless body in my arms, breathing heavily, my heart pounding.

Death was not so easy when it was seen so close. It was easy to watch these people from The Above and pass judgment on them. I didn’t know them, and they had no effect on my life, but up close…

I closed all three of my eyes and passed a hand over the child’s face. He awoke, and the little girl stopped sobbing when Cael's eyes opened. I thought it might be a waste to use what miniscule powers I had left on such a small life, but to see someone I knew--even if it was someone I didn’t know particularly well--dead and lifeless was too hard for me. 

It was too soon to lose such a lively young boy.

The child sat up and blinked as if he was sleeping for a long time. He looked confused, as if he knew he shouldn’t still be there, and then he looked at me. “You saved me…” he said breathlessly.

I was silent. I didn’t want him to tell the village he thought I was a God. It would probably get him, me, and Heidi into more trouble. I simply smiled thinly and then returned him to his sister, who embraced him happily.