She chuckled. “Yes, our last meeting was a bit . . . unusual, and Ty rushed me off before I could offer you my name. Please, call me Modja.”
“All right, Modja.” I turned away from her, intending to get back to what I was saying, but she went on.
“I applauded because I think you're right, Vervain,” Modja said. “When I was battling the rain—something I've never had to do before—I felt the sorrow in it.”
“The sorrow in the rain?” Torrent asked, and not rudely. He was genuinely intrigued. As a god of the Internet—the only one—he was always curious about magic involving emotions.
“Yes.” Modja came closer, into the center of the group. “I'm sure you all know how magic holds pieces of us inside it. When you're touching another god's magic that's kin to yours, you canfeel them.”
Azrael exchanged a look with Kirill and Odin, while many of the other gods nodded.
“The god who cast those storm spells is sad, terribly sad,” she went on. “It almost felt wrong to counter him, but pain is no excuse for hurting others.”
“Why is he sad?” I asked.
“I think you've already answered that,” she said. “He's the Beaver God and his little ones have been suffering.”
“But why now?” Odin asked.
“Because the Faerie God changed the world,” I said. “He wiped out most of the things that harmed the planet.”
“Yes!” Modja pointed at me. “Yes, exactly! The Faerie God made things better. He is a villain to many humans. They argue over him, their desires for wealth outweighing their morality. But the animals have no such hindrances. They wholly appreciated what was done to the planet. The Earth itself rejoices.”
Shivers ran over my skin. This goddess was one of those who was more in tune with nature, and I loved that. I responded to it. And she was supporting my husband too. How could I not be pleased? But it was her words that went the deepest; they resonated in me.
“But humans always find a way to fuck things up,” Modja went on. “Their greed drives them. Even the Faerie God can't keep them in line forever. The world is too large a place for one person to rule, even if that person is a god with Wild Magic. Because we are not truly gods. Not even him.” She looked around. “We know that. We are not omniscient. We cannot watch everyone all the time. So, the Faerie God has had to put his faith in human leaders. They are better than they once were, butonly because the Faerie God has made them fear him. And fear does not keep people in line forever. Even if it did, rulers must rely on those beneath them to police their people. And even the best law officers cannot catch everyone.”
“You're saying that no matter what we do, there will always be criminals to deal with,” Az said.
“Yes. But, specific to this situation, humans are breaking the new laws and hurting creatures under this god's protection. I imagine it is even more infuriating for him because you gave him hope.”
“And now his hope has been shaken,” I said, looking at Az. “The Beaver God isn't the one we should be hunting.”
Az nodded. “This is a complicated situation. On the one hand, I don't want to set a precedent by doing exactly what this god wants. If I do, then other gods may attack humans to get my attention next. The Beaver God could have simply come to me, and I would have helped him. Instead, he hurt many people and threatened the ecosystem. I can't let that go unpunished.”
Modja's expression went glacial as she asked, “Who are you to enact punishment?”
I looked back and forth between Modja and Az, wondering if she knew he was the Faerie God. Most people, even gods, didn't.
Azrael narrowed his eyes at her. “I'm the god who rebuilt the world. I've taken responsibility for it. You just said that this god created the storms because of me. I have become the law here. I rule the rulers. Punishment is part of ruling.”
“Is it?” Modja cocked her head at him.
Okay, so she wasn't surprised by that bold and, frankly, arrogant statement. She must have already known who Az was.
“Yes.” Azrael stepped over to her. “If I makelaws but don't enforce them, there is no point in having them at all.”
“Ah,” she said and nodded. “Crime and punishment. But who should be punished? The god trying to do right by his magic and charges? Or those who have hurt the innocents he's trying to protect?”
Everyone went silent as they waited for Azrael's response.
“That is the question that has plagued philosophers for centuries,” Azrael said. “Is a person who does something wrong for a good reason morally good? Should I excuse violence if it's done out of love? And if I do—which, of course, I'm inclined to—how do I justify that to the innocents who were hurt? Don't they deserve justice too?”
Modja blinked, her steady expression faltering.
“Yes, you understand now,” Az went on. “When you start making exceptions based on motivation, you lose neutrality and neutrality is necessary to rule. You cannot play favorites or let your heart sway you.”
“Cool judgment,” Modja said. “I see why it makes sense to you. It's easiest. You have rules and you stick to them. But did you not nearly destroy the world out of love? Did your wife not do the same out of pride and greed? You are not fit to judge coolly.” Her expression softened as she laid her hand on Azrael's chest. “You know what's right, Azrael. It's here. Listen to your soul, if not your heart.”
