“Kai.”

He turned to the voice, seeing a tall, beautiful woman. Her hair was long and white, falling in curls around her shoulders and back, the same pure shade as the draped gown she wore. Atop her head was a golden crown like a sunburst, matching the gold jewelry she wore and the shimmering shawl just off her shoulders. Most striking was her eyes, which looked as though they themselves were made of light—bright and shining, white-gold with no iris or pupil—but they were not painful to gaze at like the sun might be.

The woman smiled at Kai and opened her hand to him in invitation, all in a way that he could only deem ‘motherly’ despite having no experience of such a gesture from his own mother. Still, she seemed warm and welcoming, kind and gentle, and Kai felt comfortable before her.

He didn’t know the woman, didn’t recognize her—still, he did not hesitate. He moved forward as though she was drawing him to her, but he knew it was completely on his own accord, completely of his own will. There was something that seemed so distantly familiar about her, as though he’d met her before, as though she’d cared for him at some time when he needed it—as though, in some other life, she had been like a mother to him, even when he had none. But still, he felt completely certain that he’d never seen her in his life.

As he placed his hand in hers, a shimmering light swept out from around them, and he winced a little at the sudden brightness emanating around them. Then, when his eyes adjusted again, he saw gold—miniscule lines that stretched in every direction, so fine and thin and delicate, weaving golden spiderwebs through infinite space. The golden threads all converged at a single point: her.

And it was then that he knew, without a doubt, who this must be.

“Ealda?” he asked, his voice small as he looked up at the goddess. She smiled kindly at him, squeezing his hand in affirmation.

His throat closed up as he struggled to process the vision before him, thousands of questions fighting to be asked, wanting to know why she hadn’t answered when he’d called. He opened his mouth in an effort to try to ask one, but no sound came out, his voice lost. Instead, he felt the tears falling unbidden from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks hotly.

She placed her other hand atop his, cradling his now in both of hers. “My child,” she said softly, sadly—her voice held the pain that he felt.

She didn’t shush him, didn’t move to comfort him—she simply let him cry until the tears were dry, until he gathered himself again, composed enough to look at her. She gazed at him silently, earnestly. She squeezed his hand again after he took a few deep breaths, finally calm.

“My child,” she said to him, her voice quiet yet melodic—it reminded him of bells or chimes—like the sound he imagined, when he was much younger, that the stars might make in the sky. “You asked a great deal of me.” Kai opened his mouth, the word ‘sorry’ reflexively on his tongue, but she shook her head. “Do not apologize,” she urged him. “You have every right to ask. I fear I must apologize for not being able to grant you what you wished.”

She paused for a moment, tilting her head a little as though to get a better look at Kai. “Especially,” she said, “because I fear I have a great deal to ask of you, in turn.”

Kai blinked at her, certain that he had misheard. “W-what?” he stammered.

“You are extraordinary,” she told him with a smile that was so soft and genuine that Kai swore he could physically feel its radiance—and for a moment, he was so strongly reminded of that similar moment with Enfys, being told the same thing in what felt like a different lifetime. “The threads of fate are ever moving, ever changing. They shorten and lengthen, they break, they knot, they twist and turn and weave together, tangling and untangling an uncountable number of times with every single breath taken. I do not place or move the strings, but I see them and where each one leads—where each one could potentially lead.” Again she paused, smiling at Kai with a warm fondness. “I can tell you assuredly, my child, that you are extraordinary.”

Anxiety bubbled up inside of Kai’s chest, his heart beating an uncomfortably painful rhythm against his ribcage. He shook his head. “I’m… not,” he said.

“I cannot lie to you,” Ealda told him. “Even then, I never would.”

“I haven’t done anything extraordinary,” Kai objected. “The only magic I have has been hated. I’m—I couldn’t even save Enfys…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

He felt a hand cup his cheek and he opened his eyes again, looking up at Ealda as she gazed at him sadly. “He could not be saved,” she told him, kind but firm—wanting to comfort him while still being painfully honest. “In every possible outcome in the universe, Enfys would have always met that fate.”

Kai shook his head at the words, almost more painful to be coming from the goddess of destiny and fate herself—to know that even if things had been different, there never would have been a reality in which Kai could save Enfys. He swallowed back the sob that threatened to rip itself from his throat, taking a gasping breath. He felt as Ealda dropped his hand, her other palm coming to rest at the other side of his face, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks.

“But Kai, that is why you are so extraordinary, my child!” she said, regaining her earnest tone. “Because you have found yourself here instead—”

“That was him,” Kai argued. “His—the brass sphere, he—Enfys—”

But Ealda shook her head. “That was you, Kai,” she told him. “It is you.” She reached up, brushing a piece of hair out of his face, much like a parent would for a child. “You have such a great purpose here, and you will fulfill it. You will accomplish what you must and more.”

“But what can I do?” Kai asked her, feeling like a helpless child.

“That is why I said I would be asking a lot of you,” Ealda told him. “You must reach your goal, but I am also seeking your help—however, if you aid me, I will grant you assistance in return.”

“But what…”

She shook her head again. “I’m afraid that I cannot tell you exactly—I cannot shape your destiny for you, I can only tug on the threads and help you on your way.” Again, she tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, away from his face. “But you must promise me that you will do all that you can—all that is in your power.”

“I…” He paused, the ache in his chest growing stronger. What could he really do? What did she think he was capable of, moreso than someone else? Why him?

“Promise me,” she requested again, softly.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the palm of her hand, reveling in the touch—it was what he’d always wanted as a child, this type of caring affection from his mother. And suddenly, here he was, one of the six deities cradling his face in her hands, treating him as though he was her beloved son.

She was asking something of him; she couldn’t tell him, which made a sense of dread roil in his stomach uncomfortably. But still, she seemed so certain of him, just as Enfys always had.

How could he possibly deny her?

At last, Kai nodded, looking up at her. “I promise, Ealda,” he whispered.

The smile on her face was nearly as bright as her brilliant eyes, beaming at him with a gleaming radiance. “My child,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her in return, a little pained but still genuine. She leaned in toward him, and he closed his eyes, just as he felt her lips brush against his forehead. Then, she pressed a kiss at his hairline, and Kai felt a searing heat—it was nearly painful, the chaste, motherly kiss branding his skin. White light blinded him, even through his closed eyelids, so bright he was sure he was going to be consumed by it.

For just a moment, Kai wondered if this was what it felt like to die.