The Goddess of Life
The Goddess of Life stood in the center of her creation hall, a chamber carved of living light, where rivers of radiance ran across the floor and blossomed into countless flowers.
From her fingertips streamed threads of shimmering vitality, weaving together into new souls. Each soul pulsed like a newborn star, warm and fragile, before drifting into the streams of existence. It was her eternal duty—to create, to replenish, to keep the mortal cycle alive.
Yet though her hands moved with divine precision, her mind was far away.
Her thoughts circled one name, one shadow, one mistake.
Atlas.
It had been ten years since the accident—ten years since her miscalculation had cut short the life of a mortal boy who should never have died.
She had lived every one of those years in quiet regret, knowing that she, the very Goddess tasked with sustaining life, had ended one. The irony stung deeper than any blade.
Even if Fate herself intervened to rewrite my mistake, even if he was carried to another world, that truth remains,
She thought, her heart heavy.
I ended him. And that will live in me forever.
A fresh soul blossomed from her fingertips, glowing with innocence. The Goddess cupped it in her hand, gazing at it with a faint smile, though her heart ached. How many souls have I given, and yet I stole his away…
But now… now she finally had the chance to see him again.
Atlas was no longer a mortal. His ascension as a minor deity had erased the restrictions that once bound her. Among their kind, there was a rule as unshakable as stone: a god or goddess must not descend into the mortal plane for personal reasons when it came to mortals. It risked disturbing the tapestry of Fate itself. But a deity meeting another deity? There was no such rule.
A gentle laugh slipped past her lips, bright and trembling with hope. At last, I will meet him again. Not as a grieving guardian, not as a criminal hiding her guilt—but face to face, as one divine being to another.
The final soul she was weaving drifted upward, glowing brighter than the rest. She straightened her back, the burden of duty releasing as she whispered, "That is the last. Enough to meet Fate's demands for this year."
Her work was done. Now she could prepare.
"First, a mortal vessel…"
Her eyes sharpened with purpose. She could not descend into the mortal plane with her true divine soul—it would strain the fabric of reality, unraveling mortal lives like fragile threads in a storm. She needed something smaller, something that could carry only a fragment of her true essence.
She extended her hands, threads of life weaving into a new form. A mortal soul began to take shape before her, glowing brighter than any she had made that day. Every pulse of it carried her care, her precision, her devotion. This soul was no ordinary spark—it was crafted to withstand the weight of even a drop of her divine consciousness.
Minutes became an hour. Her focus did not falter. The soul grew firmer, steadier, its glow steady like a flame in still air. When at last it was ready, she let it drift above her palm, hovering like a jewel of living light.
"Now, a body," she murmured.
The next creation was swifter. With a wave of her hand, radiant threads bent and twisted into form—skin like porcelain, eyes like emerald flame, hair flowing with the luster of spring leaves.
A mortal body, crafted with the grace of divinity, yet fragile enough to pass through the mortal plane without tearing it apart. It took her only moments, as if shaping clay that already longed for life.
When it stood complete, a vessel waiting, the Goddess placed the soul within. For a moment, the body glowed, then stilled—its chest rising with the first breath.
Now came the final step.
The Goddess closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her breast. She pulled gently, carefully, separating a fragment of her consciousness, a droplet of her essence.
The pain was sharp, like splitting herself in two, but she endured it without flinching. The fragment glowed like liquid gold, hovering at her fingertip.
With reverence, she placed it into the new soul.
Light rippled across the creation hall.
Before her stood two figures now. One was the Goddess herself, eternal and radiant in her divine body. The other was her vessel, identical in form yet carrying only a fraction of her might.
Though one was mortal and the other divine, they shared the same aura, the same presence. They were one will, one being, split across two bodies.
The Goddess regarded her vessel with quiet resolve.
"It is ready. I am ready."
She lifted her hand, opening a dimensional gate. The air shimmered, folding in on itself until a portal swirled with threads of green and white.
Beyond it, the mortal plane awaited—the temple where Atlas was confined, the place where his myth was being carved into stone.
The mortal vessel stepped forward, crossing the threshold.
The Goddess of Life remained in her eternal hall, watching as her second self vanished into the mortal plane. A weight she had carried for ten years seemed lighter now. Soon, she would meet him.
The son of Fate. The boy she had wronged.
And when she stood before him at last, she would beg for forgiveness with her own voice.
The Temple of Life — Elven Territory
The faint glow of fireflies shimmered through the stained-glass windows of the Elven temple. The air shifted as though every leaf and stone bent in reverence. Selindra, kneeling at the altar, froze when she felt a warmth fill the chamber.
A voice, gentle yet absolute, broke the silence.
"You can stand, Selindra."
Her breath caught. She spun, eyes wide, and nearly stumbled to her knees again. "My—my Goddess! Goddess of Life! Forgive me—" She pressed her forehead to the floor so quickly it echoed in the chamber. "I—I never thought—never dreamed you would truly descend here! What honor could I possibly have done to deserve this?"
The Goddess smiled, her presence both comforting and overwhelming.
"You have served faithfully. That is enough. But do not be so afraid. Tonight, I am not here for worship. I am here for a purpose."
Selindra lifted her gaze slowly, still trembling with awe. "A purpose? Forgive me, but… what could bring you—you—to our small forest?"
The Goddess's expression turned solemn.
"I have come to meet Atlas. The one the world now whispers of as the Son of Fate."
Selindra blinked, stunned. "…Atlas? The Son of Fate? Forgive me for speaking so boldly, Great Mother, but… that's just a myth, isn't it? I've served in your temple for decades, and I've never once seen him—or even proof he exists."
"He exists," the Goddess answered softly, as though speaking of an undeniable truth. "He is no longer mortal. He has been acknowledged even among the Divine. I must see him with my own eyes."
Selindra swallowed hard, her heart racing. "…Then—then where is he, Great Mother? Surely, if he is real, you know where to find him?"
The Goddess shook her head gently.
"No. His path is hidden, even from me. That is why I descended. You will help me walk this plane and find him."
Selindra's breath caught again. "M-me? To guide you? But—I…" She looked around the chamber helplessly. "Great Mother, I cannot even leave the forest. None of my people can."
"Why not?"
Her hands curled into fists. For the first time, her awe cracked into something bitter. "Because if we step beyond these trees, we are hunted. Chased like animals. Captured. Sold."
The Goddess's expression sharpened. "Since when has this been so?"
Selindra let out a shaky breath. "It began a decade ago. At first, it was only whispers, small raids at the edges of our lands. But soon… humans grew bold. They saw our long lives, our beauty, our gifts, and decided we were worth gold." Her voice broke, anger seeping through the reverence. "Our kin vanish. Caravans never return. We hear the word 'slavery' spoken like a curse. They chain us. Sell us. Use us."
The Goddess's brow furrowed deeply, though her voice remained calm.
"There is slavery in this world?"
"Yes." Selindra's hands trembled, her voice low but burning. "Among humans, it has become a trade. We are not the only ones—beastfolk, even some humans themselves fall into chains. But Elves… we are hunted most. They think us rare prizes."
The Goddess of Life was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. Then she spoke, her tone both saddened and resolute.
"Life is meant to be nurtured, not bound. To chain a soul is to wound existence itself. This is a corruption I did not weave into this world."
Selindra bit her lip, staring at her Goddess with both pain and hope. "Then… will you free us, Great Mother? Will you burn their chains to ash?"
The Goddess shook her head slowly.
"No. That is not why I have come. My task is Atlas. But through him, threads of fate may change. Whether chains break or grow heavier… that will be revealed."
Selindra exhaled shakily, torn between despair and faith. "…Then I will guide you, even if I must only within the bounds of this forest. If Atlas is truly real, if he is truly your Son of Fate… then perhaps he will be the answer we've long prayed for."
The Goddess of Life smiled, her hand resting on Selindra's shoulder with warmth that sank deeper than flesh, reaching her soul.
"You will not walk this path alone, Selindra. Beyond the forest or within it, you will be safe. As my guide, you carry my protection. No chain, no hunter, no blade will touch you while you stand beside me."
Selindra's breath caught, tears welling in her eyes. For the first time in years, she felt not hunted, not trapped —but sheltered. "Then… I will follow you, Great Mother. Wherever the path may lead."
The Goddess nodded, her gaze distant, as though tracing unseen threads of fate.
"Good. Then let us begin. The world is wide, but the threads will lead us to Atlas."