With the sun high in the sky, a sweaty Asura arrived at Gensen. Her legs ached as she sat on the rail of a fence and puffed out a breath. Dust clung to her as she stretched her legs out under the cloak on the dirt road leading up to the market. She tapped her legs with her fists pointedly. 

This damned body!

Being small had many more disadvantages than she thought. The tolerance for things felt just as small as she was. 

Taking out her flask, she drank the last of her water, dispirited at the warmth. What she wouldn’t give for some cold water right now. 

Looking around, she waited for a merchant’s cart to go by before getting up and walking forward. The building was rubble when she laid Quinny at the Goddess’s feet, so she had no landmarks or passages to remember. She passed the market that Gensen was hosting, passed the hall of warriors squabbling over the best loot, and a woman holding up a picture of a child, her face stricken with despair.

Asura observed the portrait, but did not recognize the child. She moved on towards a large field of farm land, but still no signs of the temple. Turning into an alley, the lively noises of the festival started to muffle, until only her footsteps were heard. Bringing up her hood around her face, she cursed herself for not bringing any weapons with her. 

Dark gray walls stained with Goddess knows what rose on either side of Asura. Her footsteps made little tp noises with every stone she stepped on. Nervously looking to and fro, she regretted stepping foot into the alley and attempted to backtrack. 

However, the shadows of two figures passed into the alley, along with the slurs of drunken men. Someone had indulged in the festivities a bit too much. 

Hearing them scuffle, she quickly changed directions and sped away as quickly as her little legs could take her. The size she is now, there weren’t a lot of options to protect herself if something were to happen here.

Deciding that being lost in a crowd was safer than being alone with shady characters, she wove through the passages until she found a noisy exit. Stepping out into the sunlight sweating more than before, she still discovered solace in the sun shining down upon her face. 

Looking around, she searched for a safer place than the mouth of the alley, and started forward when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

“Oh dear! What an adorable young lady. Are you lost?”

Asura jolts and wrests out of the man’s grasp to face him, defensive. 

“I’m sorry, child. Did I frighten you?” He withdrew his hand in concern, but the strength with which he had gripped her placed her on edge. 

A tall man with long robes stood in front of her, wearing cream and blood red. They cascaded down the front and back of the cloth in thick stripes. Upon his head lay a thin gold circlet, and around his neck lay a string of beads with a symbol. A crescent moon pinching an hourglass. Asura’s expression soured a bit. 

I’ve never had much luck with religious folk.

She began to look for a way to side step him. 

“Please excuse me.” She lilts in the most polite curtsy she can muster before moving away. 

“Child, you look worn. Would you like to rest at the temple?”

His words drew her back to her current goal. 

Dammit. 

She’d forgotten in her escape that the temple was the destination she was searching for.

Putting on a smile, she nodded.

“Yes, please. Do you happen to have any snacks as well?”

Pretending to be her age was the best chance she had at avoiding suspicion. She started bouncing on her feet as a young child would. 

“No, child, we who follow Piatys strive to …” He trailed off as he noticed Asura’s gaze flitting to and fro, drawn by shiny things in different stalls.

He dug in an unseen pocket and pulled out some dried fruit. 

“Will this do?” 

Asura’s gaze crumpled in disgust at the dried fruit. 

“Dried fruit is yucky!” she turned her head. 

Defeated, he placed it back in his pocket. 

“Right… I’ll see what I can find when we get there. Follow me, child.” Beckoning her with this hand, he turned around and wove through the crowd. The fabric swished to a halt in front of a man in rags with his hands held out. 

Dropping a brinsteel coin in the beggar’s hand, he half turned to Asura.

“Generosity is a virtue, child. Don’t forget to water those around you with it.” Meeting the gaze of the beggar, he tilted his head to him with a small smile. 

Asura felt a twinge of annoyance and was already looking forward to being rid of this man. She turned to try a glance at the brinsteel coin he gave to the beggar, but the beggar had already gone, an empty lot of dirt in his place.

Arriving at large double doors with hourglasses engraved in them, they entered the temple. A wave of nostalgia washed over Asura. Light shone through the slit windows high on the walls, washing the floors with its glow and illuminating the large statue at the forefront of wooden pews.

Shoes met stone and the whisper of their continued encounters filled the room. Asura rubbed her nose on her sleeve as her eyes were drawn to the beautiful carving of a woman draped in cloth. In one hand, an hourglass, the other extended downwards to the ground in a sign of grace. Framed by four wings, on the hood rested a circlet imprinted with a crescent moon. A face barely visible, her eyes closed, lay within the shadows of stone.

Walking to the front of the pews, the priest bowed to the statue before turning to Asura. 

“Please rest here while I fetch some snacks for you.” He said rather deadpan, and the swish of his robes cue his departure. 

Alone, Asura turned in a circle to really take in the building she had only visited after its destruction. It filled her with a strange unknown emotion, coming to this place. It was like opening a box that you had forgotten was under your bed. Right in front of you, but you’d never seen inside it. Seeing the temple in full splendor now gave her that same feeling. Her attention swiveled to the statue once more, its features much sharper than the mauled likeness she had beheld when she laid Quinny down. 

A speck of abyss drew her eyes, and she backed away in surprise. 

Bundled in black cloth much too big for her, a small hooded girl stood before her. Asura had not heard her come in. 

“Hello, little raven” 

Asura stared at her in silence, wondering if she would be punished for dragging her to the ground and yanking on her hair.

“It would be very rude.” The little girl sounded exasperated and planted her covered fists on her narrow hips.

Asura snapped out of her imagination and frowned.

“Don’t read my mind.”

Goddess, or not, she would not tolerate the intrusion. 

“I didn’t have to, it was written all over your face.” She stated matter of factly. 

Asura didn’t say anything, but narrowed her eyes at the little deity. 

“Is this how you treat someone who has brought you a gift?” The little Goddess asked defiantly.

“And what gift would that be? Turning me back into the most vulnerable version of myself?” Asura scoffed. 

The little Goddess, Piatys, dropped her hands and seemed to think for a moment before shaking her head. 

“I don’t have the time to argue with you. This was the only time I could sew together without breaking the rules.” She shook her hands out of the sleeves and brought them together.

“Instead, I have brought you an advantage you didn’t have in the previous timeline.” The exposed part of her face turned up in a smile. 

Asura crossed her arms with low expectations. 

But as Asura watched, the enclosed fists start to shine, a golden light filling the temple. 

Asura looked around wildly, expecting the priest to walk in any second, but no one occupied the space except for the both of them. 

“You did not have any Talents in your previous timeline, even with a heavily gifted mother.” The light shone even brighter as she opened up her palms, casting shadows behind them. 

“So I have… borrowed a gift for you to have in this one. Something that will benefit you in all stages of this life.” Her smile broke into a grin.

Her choice of words instilled a sense of suspicion in Asura, but she put that aside in anticipation for the gift. Something to improve her swordsmanship, maybe? Piatys said it would benefit her in all stages of life, so maybe she can heal herself and others? Or perhaps strength? Her arms relaxed across her chest before dropping to her side. 

Finally something useful. 

“Brace yourself, little raven.” 

Piatys gave little warning before taking the light in one hand and slamming it into the chest of Asura, knocking her backward into the stone floor. Landing on her back with an oof, her legs flung in the air with the impact.

“My children have not been playing fair, so I evened the field a bit.” Piatys clapped her hands together, brushing off invisible dust. Proudly standing before Asura, she looked as if she was expecting a response. 

This crazy woman!

Asura recovered and wrangled with her anger before slowly getting back to her feet. She brushed herself off and glowered at the hooded goddess masquerading as a child in front of her. 

“So what am I to do now?” Asura grumbled, not entirely expecting an answer. 

“Protect yourself and those you love.” Piatys stated, rather upfront about her response.

“That is the power I gave you. The power to protect. With it, you can save lives, including Quinny’s. Perhaps even your parents.” She pointed to Asura’s chest, no different than it was moments ago, despite the orb of light that crashed into it.

“With it, you can open new timelines that I can sew together for your happy ending. They never did carve it in there, but my other hand is supposed to offer a sewing needle.” She chuffed in disbelief while throwing a thumb behind her, indicating her empty extended hand on her carved likeness. 

Suddenly perking up, she changed the conversation. 

“Little raven, there are many who stand in your way. You have already met your first adversary. Your second now approaches. Be careful.” Hurriedly, she adds the last part with a firm tone, leveling her face at Asura. 

Asura’s mind whirled in confusion. 

What power did you give me? Specifically, you crafty thing. 

“Who-” Asura began, but was interrupted by the doors of the Temple swinging open forcefully. 

Swiveling her head to the newcomer, her breath caught in her throat and cold flashed across her neck, jolting her senses. Ebony attire adorned the man’s body, his slicked hair shiny and brushed back. He wore a capelet fringed in gold that also hid nefarious tools he liked to tuck away under his arm. 

It was the man who enslaved her family, killed her father, and instigated the war that took all she loved from her. It was the man that kept her on the battlefield as his loyal dog, killing all in his path to the throne.

Duke Pontius.