The chamber had grown still again, sealed behind the heavy metal door. Only three remained before the goddess—Freya, Jorma, and Swiftfoot—each standing in quiet reverence as Atheria’s divine form hovered above them.

Her presence, though no longer suffocating, still shimmered in the air.

Atheria tilted her head. “You all look so tense.”

She glanced left, then right, as if realizing something. “Ah, yes. One moment.”

With a soft hum, her radiant form dissolved—breaking apart into a scatter of tiny, moonlit spheres that drifted upward like a constellation. They floated above the high ceiling, orbiting gently, casting silvery light like stars.

Then, slowly, she descended in a softer, more approachable form.

Her figure reformed into a tall, elegant woman, her skin a rich shade of obsidian. Long black hair spilled down her back in waves, contrasting with the flowing white dress wrapped loosely around her form. Her upper body was humanlike, graceful… but a second set of furred, clawed arms emerged from her sides—primal as too short horns appeared atop her head. Even at rest, she towered nearly ten feet tall.

She lounged casually across the thick branches of the origin tree at the chamber’s center, her legs crossed casually, one claw idly tracing patterns in the blue sap.

Freya had seen this form before—but only a handful of times. This was the goddess as she chose to be when she didn’t need to impress. This was Atheria at home.

“Ah, Swiftfoot,” she said warmly. “It’s been some time. I'm glad to know that even in retirement, you still wander home.”

Swiftfoot bowed. “Yes, Atheria. I’ve missed this place—and your divine light.”

Atheria smiled gently. “Still teaching your successor a few things, even now?”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “I try. My hands and feet are a bit slower these days, but I do what I can. It’s comforting to know you’re still as radiant as ever.”

Freya, standing just off to the side, felt like she was intruding. This was a conversation between old legends. She kept her eyes low, trying not to draw attention.

But Atheria’s gaze drifted down anyway.

“And yet,” she said smoothly, “no matter how well you raise them…” Her gaze settled on Freya, “they always manage to make… unwise decisions.”

Freya tensed, jaw tightening.

Swiftfoot nodded beside her. “Youth seeks power. Even when it comes at a cost.”

Jorma stepped forward, his voice light but protective. “Hey, cut my sister some slack. She’s doing her best, alright? Mind my interruption, but she does a lot for this place.”

Freya shot him a sharp look, nudging his arm and hissing under her breath, “Jorma, shut up.”

But Atheria smiled faintly. “Ah, Jorma. I see you even less than your sister. Still, your loyalty is noted. I am aware of the talent and dedication you both offer the Legion. In fact, that is why I’ve brought you here—well, you two and a few others.”

Her glowing eyes scanned the chamber. “Where is that Olive boy? He’s one of your old students, is he not?”

Freya straightened slightly. “Yes, my goddess. One of mine. You’re also aware of the others. I believe he was… shaken by your display today.”

Atheria leaned back slightly against the branch of the tree, her fingers lazily curling. “Hmm. Perhaps. But as a member of the Elite Legion, he must grow accustomed to discomfort. Strength doesn’t flourish in comfort.”

Freya hesitated, a flicker of doubt passing through her. Did Atheria not fully grasp the overwhelming weight of her divine pressure? That moment had brought even the strongest elites to their knees.

Atheria exhaled softly. “Still, I was looking forward to speaking with him. He reminds me of you, Freya.”

Freya wasn’t sure if that was praise… or a warning.

Then, Atheria gestured upward to the small orbs of light drifting across the ceiling.

“I assume you know what these are for, Freya. You seem to go through quite a bit of trouble avoiding them.”

Freya stiffened. For a moment, she considered feigning ignorance. But this was Atheria—her goddess. Lying was pointless.

“Yes. I know,” she admitted. “They sense presence and track movement. They act as your eyes, scattered across Eden to observe and report.”

Jorma blinked, surprised. “Really? I’ve seen them around, but I never caught on. Couldn’t sense anything off them… I always thought they were just symbols of your grace. Part of the decor, y’know.” He paused, face shifting to a grimace as a memory hit him. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Atheria chuckled, the sound soft. “Yes. You’re not alone in that. Many mistake them for harmless ornaments. But they are very much alive—and listening. I’d prefer this knowledge stay between us. People behave… differently when they know they’re being watched.”

Freya nodded slowly. “Understood.”

Jorma and Swiftfoot followed with silent nods.

Above them, the little moons spun gently in the high ceiling, more ominous now.

Atheria leaned forward slightly on her perch among the branches, her lower claws curling into the bark. Her voice softened, though it carried easily through the chamber.

“So, as I’m sure all of you are aware by now—someone has been tampering in Eden’s affairs.”

Her words echoed faintly.

“Because of this interference,” she continued, “I now have dead zones in my vision.”

The statement landed like a stone. Even Jorma, who normally carried himself with casual irreverence, straightened.

Atheria’s eyes flicked briefly to Swiftfoot and then to Freya.

“Both of you have mentioned irregularities within Eden’s borders,” she said. “Disturbances that have gone unseen by my moons.”

Despite the discomfort that crawled up her spine, Freya couldn’t deny the relief that came with her suspicions being confirmed. At least she wasn’t imagining things. Still… the thought that even Atheria could be blinded unsettled her far more than she wanted to admit.

Training Arbor had kept her far from the capital, and perhaps willfully so. It seemed the world had moved on without her.

Jorma broke the silence first. “Is this related to the death of Elissa?”

For the briefest moment, Atheria’s expression hardened. Anger radiated off her like a wave of heat—then was gone.

“Yes,” she said at last. “Due to the sensitivity of this matter, I am requesting that you and your sister investigate. Together.”

She turned her attention directly to Jorma.

“You are one of my most effective information gatherers,” she said. “Your alignment with the Aspect of the Moon grants you insight that others lack. Use it well.”

Jorma dipped his head, smiling faintly. “Thank you, my goddess. I work very hard, and your praise makes it all worth it.”

Freya almost rolled her eyes. Of course, he’d flirt with divinity itself if given the chance.

Atheria’s gaze shifted to her next, eyes faintly glowing like twin moons.

“And you, Freya… are a very unique case.”

Freya tensed.

“Due to your many... connections to other powers,” Atheria continued, “my link to you has weakened. Normally, that would be unacceptable. But it also makes you... the perfect candidate for this mission.”

Freya bowed her head slightly. “I understand, my goddess.”

Atheria raised her head. “You are the most experienced among the elite in high-level combat—perhaps the most powerful of them all. If there truly is something in Eden strong enough to slay one of my chosen, I will need your strength.”

For a long moment, the chamber was silent again.

Swiftfoot stepped forward, his old but steady voice carrying through the chamber. “If I may, my goddess… it seems you are assembling a team for an investigation of some sort.” He bowed slightly, his gray hair catching the soft blue light of the sap streams. “I would like to be included in this endeavor. I may be old, but I can still be of use.”

Atheria’s golden eyes flicked toward him, soft but unyielding. “Yes. That is true, old friend.” Her second set of hands rested against the branch beneath her as she leaned forward. “This mission will require a team of my finest—a group capable of operating outside my immediate reach.”

She paused, her expression dimming as she spoke the next words.
“Something—or someone—was able to slay Elissa of Sylvaris. One of the strongest elves under my banner. Such a loss cannot go unanswered.”