The whispers of the Allfather released me from the prison of morality. I was finally free to shape the future.

  -The Journal of the Litch

  Hurona knelt beside a stream. She closed her weary eyes and dreamed while her dark hair flowed with the water. Visions rushed to fill her mind until she shook her head and wept. My son, she thought, my Bannerman.

  A thousand calculations churned within her burning mind. Dark thoughts poured from the shifting stars above, showing her centuries of war and plots. She watched as starships poured out like water, filling every open crack and crevice of the universe.

  “Love is my obliteration,” whispered Hurona, as despair filled her. The words repeated through the void and looped until they lost all meaning. Long-formed plans grew clearer to her, and the universe was soon laid out. With opened eyes, she spied a temple, ancient, long before she found it.

  “Oh…” She whispered, glancing at a distant future, “is that you, his dearest… Rabbit?” She felt the words roll from her mouth and pour out towards the void, below. Old tears gathered upon her cheeks until she remembered the present.

  Hurona sat up on the grass and dashed the water beside her when, from behind, she felt the approach of another. Father! Her mind roiled as he rattled. From the void, old Bony spouted, with the burdened memento mori that he carried. Ever smiling, flesh-devoid, Hurona’s visions snapped to death.

  “They’re dead!” her voice roiled the ancient Atmah, “I sent him into the crucible, to die… Why must I…” She felt her heart beat out of step, then sorrow flowed where fury faded.

  “Impatience…” he snapped, “Your sons were not prepared, and failed.”

  Hurona leaped up to her feet, and fury once more filled her heart. The weight of visions, past and present, weighed on her. Then Hurona started to speak, but he snapped before she replied.

  “You failed to soften Reijl’s heart!” His dour face remained unmoved. He spoke again, as her lips curled, “you let the other rush to battle… without caution in his heart,” His voice was strict, the air grew tense, “and that is why they both are dead!”

  “Why did you come?” She cried into the void between, “why intrude on this sacred place?” Her voice boiled. She spouted, crying, “Did you come just to mock me, Father? Taunt me while I suffer now?”

  “I came to give you perspective!” the Atmah roared as he approached. His bony feet entered the waters of Hurona’s flowing river, casting death where each foot stepped. Hurona watched as butterflies around her garden fled before the angry God. He tried to place his rattling hand upon her shoulder, but pulled back when she turned ‘round. Hurona glared at her father with furious tears in her eyes.

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  “No matter how many times I watch them come… or go… I’m never numbed to the pain. I cannot close my heart, Father, no matter how much this hurts…” her eyes fell to the ground as the light of her father enveloped them.

  When she looked up again, Hurona saw the field of battle and felt flittering specks of dirt on her face. Explosions ripped across her ears, and the screams of soldiers from a hundred countries sprang towards her faster than she could understand them.

  “We lonely few… daughter, have the grace of holy and eternal perspective,” explained the Atmah, dressed in the olive uniform of an American, “few times have we succeeded on the first attempt. That is why you forged their rings… that is why your broth-” He paused. Hurona sneered, baring her teeth.

  “Never mind him!” She spat. The two watched as American and British soldiers charged along a lonely French beach as bullets ripped across their belts and spilled the blood of thousands onto the old sands of Normandy. Rivers of the dead flowed out into the churning sea, as husks of torn flesh returned to the ashen sand.

  “We are beyond mortal concerns…” Explained the Atmah as he reached down and picked up one of the dead, “We can direct the flow of history, but only your children, now, can truly take us down the one true path. They do what they must… and we must close our eyes to their pain lest we succumb to foolish mercy… As he did.”

  In his eyes, she saw the old world burned away in holy fire. Cordillia, the land she had made and loved, torn asunder. She saw the end of the old world in fire and decay. She saw rebirth and renewal gathering in the center of his iris. Bombs wrapped around them, and her eyes darted to the sky. Far above, fighter planes fought for dominance over the skies and distant British vessels lobbed cannon fire at deeply-set bunkers.

  From a vessel pulling to shore jumped Hurona’s Collector. Anger boiled in the young man’s heart, for his love had perished in the spark of war. Hurona reached out her pale, soft hand to pull him back as a hail of bullets tore through his heart and turned his soul into one of her eternal rings.

  “I was too ambitious… foolish,” She noted bitterly.

  “There will be another chance,” replied the Atmah, “when they meet again,” he said as they watched another path collapse amongst the stars above. A single stream ran down the length of the eternal sky, the singular path to perfection, wrapped with a thousand deadly variants.

  “Do you think I enjoy watching my sons die over and over again!” She spat at his feet. The Atmah lunged forward, grabbed her neck hastily, and glared into her eyes.

  “I do not care what you enjoy,” her Father growled coldly, “I care only that your plan works… that when they all meet again, when the last Bannerman is born, your plots are in motion, and we see the end of this filth once more,” their eyes flitted to the darkness that gathered in the void, “lest we fall into eternity.”

  “You don’t know him… Like I do,” she explained, “you don’t understand my children,” The Atmah looked up, curiosity on his expressionless face, “though he is not yet born again, I know my Bannerman already. He is kind… vulnerable… I feel his heart breaking and his resolve gathering deep within. I see him falling in love. I see him living… with terrible loss, guilt.” She sighed, “I feel his bitterness, the taste of fate in his mouth. I know the pain that I will bring to him.”

  The Goddess awoke along her riverbank. Her tears were dried, but she could still feel pain etched across her ever-torn heart. Looking toward the sky, she watched as a distant sun bathed her skin in radiant light. She sighed as her mind churned out an ever-turning plot.