Tyche nodded with quiet determination. Tethys smiled, a tear glimmering in her eye, and pressed a sacred shell into her daughter's hands.
"Take this, my strong child," she whispered. "Oceanus and I have blessed it. No matter where you are, the sea will always answer your call."
With a final embrace, she gently guided Tyche from the palace. Her sisters—now transformed into mermaids—bid her farewell with gifts of oceanic treasures, which Tyche accepted gratefully. Promising to return, she rose upon a shell once more and journeyed back to her small island home.
Once settled, she adorned her dwelling with the treasures gifted by her kin. Great pearls glowing with soft radiance, vibrant coral structures—her once modest pool was now a shimmering sanctuary, reflecting the beauty of the sea.
Yet peace was fleeting.
As she sat on the shore, idly twisting the enchanted necklace of Weave-threaded magic around her neck, she contemplated her next step.
Though Mystra had bestowed upon her a fragment of the Weave—an immeasurably powerful gift—Tyche could not ignore the possibility of hidden strings attached. It would serve as a secret reserve, but not the foundation of her divinity.
The sun blazed overhead, its heat searing even the sand beneath her feet.
Then, like a whisper through the wind, inspiration struck.
She stood abruptly, stepping between sea and shore, and called upon the divine essence passed down from her parents. With voice steady and soul alight, she declared:
"I am Tyche, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys!
I shall summon mists to shield the land from the burning sun.
I shall stir the seas to forge currents that carry warmth to the deep.
I am the goddess of mists and ocean currents—sovereign of temperature!"
Her divine spark ignited into flame, and the world itself bore witness. The primordial laws judged her claim—not destructive, but beneficial to balance—and responded with favor.
Burning in divine fire, Tyche endured the agony with gritted teeth. Just as unbearable heat threatened to consume her, a cool mist arose, soothing the flames.
Two radiant godmarks descended from the heavens, landing in her trembling hands. Drawn by instinct, her soul merged with them—the Domains of Mist and Temperature.
Joy surged within her. Mist and temperature together hinted at climate; ocean currents were yet incomplete, awaiting action to solidify their form.
But one thing was certain—
She had bypassed the weakest rank entirely, ascending directly to Lesser Godhood.
As she grew accustomed to her newfound power, she dove into the sea and channeled her divine force. She stirred warm surface waters downward, drawing cold depths upward, creating circulation.
Marine flora bloomed in abundance, fish swarmed in pursuit of life-giving nutrients, and the missing piece of the Currents finally formed.
She absorbed it—not to ascend further, but to strengthen her current state.
Blue currents, white mists, and red-and-cerulean temperature wove together in harmony, forming a stable triad.
At last, Tyche had taken her first true step upon the divine path—secure in her own strength.
From then on, each day followed a rhythm.
Each morning, she rose into the skies, weaving moisture into morning fog across the land. By midday, she returned to the sea, stirring the waters into flowing currents. Only at dusk did she return to her island, weary but fulfilled.
Time passed.
Her duties became second nature. Through them, her understanding deepened. And with it, so too did her power.
One morning, while drifting as mist over the earth, she noticed movement below—a man kneading clay with water, shaping figures with careful precision.
Driven by curiosity, she drew closer, hiding within the clouds before gently descending beside him.
He looked up, and she found herself speaking first.
"Honored one, wise among gods, may I ask your name?"
The man turned, his olive-green eyes gleaming. "And may I greet you, gentle goddess of mist. I am Prometheus, son of Iapetus and Clymene."
Tyche winced inwardly.
Iapetus, god of the soul, was Oceanus' brother. Clymene, goddess of fame, was one of the Oceanides—her aunt, though never met.
"So he is both my cousin and nephew?" she thought, quickly shaking off the confusion.
"Greetings, Forethought," she said instead. "Please give my regards to my sister."
Then, unable to resist, she asked, "What are you making?"
Prometheus smiled calmly. "Kronos has defeated Uranus and claimed dominion over the cosmos. He requires attendants for the great feast—but the Nymphs of Mount Othrys are few after the war. I was tasked with crafting life to serve the gods."
Tyche watched with fascination as he shaped figures from the earth—birds, lions, cattle, and finally, forms resembling the gods themselves.
She observed the spark of life enter them, saw the golden humans rise—beautiful, intelligent, and strong.
Satisfied, she bade Prometheus farewell.
Before parting, he extended an invitation—to the banquet honoring Kronos.
She accepted without hesitation.
Having only met two gods so far, perhaps this was her chance to make allies.
With a light heart, she returned to the sea, calling upon her powers to guide her down the currents to Tethys' domain once more.
Tyche returned to the palace with practiced ease, gliding through the water as graceful as the tides. Her elder sisters swam forward in joyous welcome, their forms weaving through the currents like dancers in a sacred rite.
They embraced her, whispering of how they had missed her presence, and Tyche, moved by their affection, presented them with gifts—glowing gemstones and mist-woven garments she had gathered while drifting over the land.
The Oceanides surrounded her, guiding her to Tethys' throne. The goddess reached out with tender hands, tracing the outline of her daughter's face. She felt the steady pulse of Tyche's divine essence—an elegant fusion of mists and ocean currents—and her eyes shone with pride.
"My beautiful child," she murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Current-bringer of the sea, weaver of clouds, you are our glory."
Humbled, Tyche bowed deeply. "Honored Mother." She stepped forward and offered a crown—crafted from crystal and adorned with pure green gems. Upon Tethys' brow, it gleamed like the surface of a tranquil sea.
Delighted, the goddess praised her daughter's craftsmanship. Then, with a soft click, Tyche unclasped the crown, transforming it into a necklace. Gasps of admiration rippled through the chamber.
Tethys studied the piece with wonder, then declared, "You possess the touch of artistry, my child. You could claim dominion over beauty itself."
Seizing the moment of warmth, Tyche asked, "Revered Mother, I have been invited to the banquet hosted by Kronos. Prometheus himself extended the invitation. Will you be attending?"
Still admiring the necklace, Tethys replied casually, "All gods shall gather. It will be a good opportunity for you to meet your father and elder siblings."
"Then," Tyche pressed gently, "what does Oceanus favor as a gift?"
Tethys paused, then smiled. "Your very existence honors him. To fulfill your divine duties is the greatest offering you can give."
She grew serious. "But this is your first time among the gods. You should bring offerings for Gaia and Rhea."
Tyche nodded. "Would they appreciate jewelry made of gems?"
"No," Tethys replied firmly. "Gaia is the earth herself. Gold and jewels mean nothing to her. Offer her a robe woven from your mists—something born of your own power."
As for Rhea, Tethys sighed. "She has little interest in such things now… not after Uranus' curse."
At those words, unease stirred within Tyche.
The primordial gods were essential to the world's balance. Should one fall, their domain would vanish—a wound upon reality that could never heal.
Since creation began, no fundamental god had ever perished. Even Uranus, cast down from the heavens, still drifted above, denied only his place on the earth below.
Tyche hesitated, curiosity rising. "Mother, are there other primordial deities apart from Gaia? I've never seen any beyond her lineage."
Tethys drew her close, her voice soft with ancient memory.
"In the beginning was Chaos—formless, endless. From its void emerged the first sparks of being. And thus, the Primordials were born."
"The eldest was Gaia, the only one with true form. She became the foundation of all life."
"Then came Tartarus, embodiment of the abyss, severing Chaos from the earth, anchoring the world."
"Following them were Erebos, god of darkness, and Nyx, goddess of night—the twin forces of shadow, seeking unity even as they divided the cosmos."
"From their union arose Eros, the primal force of desire, stirring the hearts of gods and mortals alike. Through Eros, Aether—the light of space—was born, halting the abyss's advance. Then Hemera, goddess of day, brought clarity between night and light."
Tethys continued, her tone reverent. "Protected by these divine forces, Gaia gave birth to Uranus, the sky, and Pontus, the deep sea. Thus did the trinity of realms take shape—sky, sea, and underworld."
"And from Uranus and Gaia came the Titans—your father, myself, and all our kin."
Her daughters listened in awe.
With a final embrace, Tethys urged her children to rise. "Go now, my dear ones. Prepare for the feast."
To Tyche, she added, "Seek Metis. She will guide you to Mount Othrys."
Leaving the temple, Tyche rode the currents back to the surface, a school of fish swimming beside her in reverence.
She stepped onto warm sands, summoning mists to weave into fine white cloth. With flowers, leaves, and crimson fruit, she crafted a crown of natural splendor, gazing at it with satisfaction before returning to her sacred duty.
Above the seas, she rose once more—mist trailing behind her like flowing banners.
The age of gods had truly begun.