EPILOGUE 2

Ishara leaned forward, intently watching her augury as she listened to the prayers of her Touched and faithful, and lent them her strength as they needed it. It was so… easy, compared to what she’d expected, to be herself.

The prayers weren’t overwhelming. There were unspeakably many of them, yet she understood them all, and knew how to answer each of them. Youths asking her for help winning the hearts of their muses got a little twinkle of confidence, and priests appealing to her power in the name of good found their spells came easier than ever before.

She giggled as she heard one of the prayers, and Seeker, sprawled behind her on the chaise, quickly took interest. “What is it, Dear?” She asked.

“Armitage Vattens,” Ishara told her, looking back at her with a grin. When that only extracted a confused look from her favorite Heartwarden, she beckoned her forward. Ishara willed the augury to focus on the man, and quickly, that became what Seeker would see when she looked into it.

The old man was kneeling in a shrine, whispering in prayer. “He’s praying to me,” Ishara explained. “About me.”

Seeker smiled. “Really?”

Ishara nodded, and turned most of her attention to the shrine, instinctively handling the prayers other than this one, listening alongside Seeker. “Chana is still… torn, about the baby. Truth be told, so am I. It’s a blessing I never thought I’d get to enjoy again, and one I’m not sure I deserve. The gods all know she surely deserves someone better than me to share it with.”

“That’s not about you,” Seeker said.

“Keep listening, then,” Ishara huffed.

“But… Please preserve them, Lady Ishara,” he whispered. “Preserve my Faron, and his Lanri. Please preserve them, and tell them both I am so, so sorry.”

“I guess you really knocked some sense into him,” Ishara reflected, before she reached into the augury, and touched the image of Armitage. “They bear you no ill will. Take care of Chana, and leave taking care of them to me,” she instructed.

Almost instantly, the old baron’s posture straightened, galvanized by words of encouragement he’d not quite heard, and a spell that only had the softest touch on his mind. “Have I told you I’m proud of you?” Seeker asked as the augury turned opaque.

“Once or twice,” Ishara said, turning to look at her beloved.

“Shala might get jealous of you being merciful like that, though,” she mused.

“It’s not Mercy,” Ishara objected. “It’s nepotism. You should see how heavily I’m planning to stack the deck in favor of Mara.” With that, she willed the augury to show the newly initiated acolyte, wandering elsewhere in the same monastery. The blonde would be the picture of an aspiring priestess, dressed up in her flattering white robes as she was. Would be, if it weren’t for the outrageous glaive she wore on her back.

“You stack the deck in favor of every one of your priests, Dear,” Seeker reminded her with a fond whisper. “That’s your job.”

Ishara grinned and nodded, but said, “oh, I know that, Seeker. But I already know which cards I’m going to deal her, not just that they’ll be good ones.” Once the woman joined her Touched, Ishara had a grand destiny in mind for Mara De La Cerene, and was confident that she would be up for the task.

She was about to tell Seeker about it when she sensed a… disturbance. Someone had arrived in her realm, and it wasn’t anyone she’d invited. Before Ishara could say anything, Seeker rose from the chaise, and drew her sword, loosely holding it in one hand as she eyed the closed doors leading into her hall.

“I take it you know who decided to drop by?” Ishara asked.

“I have my suspicions,” Seeker sighed.

A few tense moments passed, and then the door swung open, revealing Mischief, who bowed as they hurriedly said, “my Lady Ishara, Lord Darishi,” by way of introduction. Ishara had only a few seconds to reflect on that before the invader strode in past them.

The man was a devil. It poured off of him just as godhood poured off of her. He was tall, with light skin that had a red cast to it, white hair, and eyes that glowed purple and crimson light. He was dressed in a simple white shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a sigil the same color as his eyes, though too much of it was covered to see what it might depict.

“My, oh my,” he began. “It’s really true. The mortal that dispelled the demon Gorance went and took a divine mantle for herself. I’m impressed.”

“You must want to join him in Pandemonium, if you’re stupid enough to show yourself here,” Seeker growled.

He gave her a condescending smile, then turned his attention back to Ishara. She crossed her legs and rolled her eyes, looking past Seeker’s sword to meet his gaze. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“Oh, I hardly think so,” he said with a grin. “I just wanted to introduce myself, and see who replaced my counterpart, and what I’ve got to work with. I’d just love to get to know you, inside and out.”

“I’ll pass,” Ishara said, which he seemed to accept with a shrug. “Counterpart?”

“Indeed,” said Darishi with a grin. “Your predecessor was an absolute doll, and so very amenable to my ideals.”

“My predecessor, the rapist?”

“Exactly,” Darishi said with a grin. “The only so-called god I’ve ever met that really understood how to have fun with her power.”

“We must have wildly different understandings of the word.”

Behind him, a figure appeared in the doorway out of the hall. And Ishara’s eyes widened as she realized it was Souvenir, curiously eyeing their guest. Much to her dismay, he noticed her reaction before Mischief could usher the hapless Heartwarden away.

He turned and strode towards her. Mischief tried to put themselves between him and her, but he easily shoved them to the side, and took Souvenir by the chin, tilting her head back to look at him. “Why, hello. Who are you?” He asked.

“S–Souvenir,” the Heartwarden stammered, with a nervous smile on her face.

Darishi turned to look at Ishara. “You kept her and named her Souvenir?” He asked with a broad smile. “Oh, I do love a dramatic flourish.”

Then you’ll adore this, Ishara thought as she put a hand on Seeker’s thigh and gently pushed her nowhere. In the blink of an eye, the Heartwarden was standing behind this devil, sword already drawn, not a shred of patience in her eyes.

“I think it’s high time for you to get your hands off of her and leave, my Lord,” she hissed with menace and venom in her voice.

He raised his hands in a gesture that made a mockery of the idea of surrendering. “Does this Heartwarden speak for you?” He asked, looking at Ishara.

“Always,” Ishara easily said. She was not keen on playing hostess to a devil for even a moment longer, and with a setup like that from Seeker, it was easy to press ahead with getting rid of him. “Begone.”

“Oh, very well,” Darishi easily said. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other to my… satisfaction soon enough, one way or another.”

“You’re definitely arrogant enough to know Gorance,” Ishara heard Seeker add, even though she didn’t agree with it. This man didn’t strike her as arrogant at all, but as frighteningly competent. And she was beginning to get a good sense of what had actually gone wrong with Souvenir over the last few centuries. He had a… a power behind him.

“It’s been lovely seeing you again, Mischief,” he told the still-prone Heartwarden, before he whispered a spell that drew on power other than Ishara’s, and disappeared from view.

“One of you had better explain who the fuck that was, and do it quickly,” Ishara sternly said, as she rose from her chaise. Seeker wouldn’t be impressed by her talking like that, she knew, but Mischief would be, and they quickly rose to their feet with Seeker’s help.

“Y–yeah, who was that?” Souvenir dreamily asked. Mercifully, seeing him didn’t seem like it had stirred any memories, even if it had apparently awakened old passions.

“That was Lord Darishi, my Lady,” Mischief said with a slight bow of their head. “He’s an archdevil, and he was… awfully close to Souvenir, before you took your mantle.”

“Well, what in the hells does he want?”

“He wants an Ishara that doesn’t mind rapists, so he and his cult can snatch victims to break at their leisure,” Seeker bluntly said. “He’s who I was protecting Lorra from in the vision I showed you.”

“Ah,” said Ishara. “And he called himself my counterpart?”

“Well, he is,” Mischief began, cautiously. “He personifies passion and desire, too. But selfishly, hatefully so.” They paused, and turned to Souvenir. “You should go find Veris, love. She wanted to show you something.”

The hapless woman beamed and nodded, then obediently scampered off. “Thank you, Mischief,” Ishara softly said, as she came closer, and sat down on the table that ran the length of the hall, looking at them both.

Seeker scowled. “I can’t believe you let them keep that fucking dryad after she–”

“Focus, please,” Ishara urged. She knew Seeker thought Veris deserved to have all manner of horrors inflicted on her for touching her in her grove, but they absolutely did not have time to rehash that argument. “This archdevil. Tell me about him.”

“He’s a god, technically speaking,” Mischief said. “Though he’s hardly popular amongst mortals, as you well know. Nobody wants to tell the world they worship the god of rapists and vampires.”

Ishara frowned as she said, “no, I imagine they don’t.” She paused. “And how close were he and Souvenir?”

“Very,” Mischief said, disdainfully. “And over the course of centuries, as they got closer, she only became worse at her duties, and less worthy of her mantle.”

“So you moved to replace her,” Ishara concluded. “Not because she was unsuited to my powers, but because he was enabling her?”

“And to save her from him. You must understand, my Lady, that she made me to love her. It was her very first act as a goddess. She strayed farther and farther from her own light, and soon enough I found myself looking for a way to free her from his corruptive influence.”

Silence fell on the trio, until Ishara eventually asked, “so… how long have you been looking for that?”

“Centuries, my Lady,” Mischief said, then uncertainly looked from her to Seeker, and back. “Once I realized I wouldn’t be able to protect her from his influence, I started to look for someone who would be better suited. I… I let so many artifacts out into the world, hoping that one of them would reveal a worthy successor, knowing that when it happened, Seeker would swiftly find her, and take notice.”

“All of them?” Seeker asked. She sounded seethingly angry about that.

Mischief nodded. “Before you ask, yes, even the dress. Oh, I let that pompous demon think he’d stolen it, but I practically invited him in to take it.”

“So you wanted me to take her power for myself to protect her from Darishi? Because you couldn’t help her yourself?” Ishara asked. “Weren’t you worried I’d kill her?”

“I was terrified,” Mischief said, meeting her gaze. “I love her more than I can articulate, but I couldn’t let things go on the way they were going. I couldn’t stand by and let her follow that cursed devil’s example, and make victims of her worshippers and a mockery of her church. I was worried you might kill both of us, if I’m honest. But it needed to be done.”

“And you still set it all up,” Ishara thought out loud. She supposed she could respect their grit and willingness to do what they had to. “And now I’m the one he’ll set his sights on.”

“Well, yes,” Mischief conceded. “But don’t let his demeanor fool you, my Lady. Souvenir was exceptionally vulnerable to his manipulations, in a way you are not.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Ishara, cocking her head. She gave them enough credit to not use her powers to look into their mind, but not so much that she didn’t think this was just idle flattery.

“Souvenir was always prone to sleeping around, even before Darishi ever spoke to her. You’re not, my Lady,” they said. “You spent your mortal adulthood married to Faron, and are now still in a deeply committed relationship with Seeker. I don’t see mere flirtations and bluster getting you to fall for that creature.”

Ishara stood up, and shuddered at the thought. She wouldn’t let this change her mind about Souvenir, no amount of grooming and corruption made what she had done to her and so many others excusable. But it did help her to understand what had gone wrong with her, and give her guidance on how to avoid falling into the same traps.

She was the Lady of Passion now, she knewsome of her duties would require her to be intimate with people other than Seeker. But Seeker would always, always be a part of it. Another pair of eyes to hold her accountable, to guide her, to care about her.

Even to stop her, if in the end it turned out that she wasn’t worthy of the trust Mischief and divinity itself had given her.

She returned to the chaise that served as her throne, and sat down on it, then gestured for Seeker to join her as she returned to her duties, and did her best to banish the worries that still lingered.