I stopped myself, teeth grinding.
"Call it producing, creating, defending—whatever vocabulary you prefer," she continued. "It doesn't change the underlying issue. If something ismaking decisions, if it's sending intermediaries and responding withintent, then there has to be a logical mind involved."
The words hit harder than I expected. I tilted my head slightly. She wasn't wrong. It was something that needed to be considered.
She noticed.
"Oh no," she shook her head immediately. "No. Don't do that."
"Do what?" She confused me.
"That thing you just did," she said, pointing at my face. "You're considering it."
I didn't deny it.
"There is no god down there," she scoffed firmly after pointing toward Nox Eternum. "Gods don't exist."
The room went very still, except for the sound of Heather sharply inhaling. Something in my chest snapped tight, not rage exactly, but something older, colder. After all…Iwas a god.
I stepped closer, my shadow stretched just enough for her to feel it. "Be careful, human."
Her chin lifted. "With what? Offending mythology?"
She looked away first. It was a victory, small, petty, unsatisfying. Still, I took it. But then she did something far more dangerous: she thought. I watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her eyes narrowed, sharpened, recalibrated. She wasn't dismissing me anymore. She wasworking the problem. Adorable.
I froze.
Frygg.
I just did it again.
One more time, I turned, forcing my feet toward the door. A thought entered my mind, "Have you considered that if you're wrong, entire civilizations will die before anyone understands why?"
She didn't even flinch or pause. "If I'm right, then someone has to be brave enough to question the story you've all been telling yourselves."
I faced her again. For a heartbeat, the universe narrowed to the space between us. She wasn't backing down. Only my brothers dared to stand up to me, and even then, not often. Mostly, only Zapharos or Thyros. I regarded her with renewed admiration. She was either extremely stupid or extremely brave. Neither option cancelled the other.
"You assume courage excuses ignorance," I kept my voice cooler than I felt. "It does not."
She stepped closer instead of retreating.
"I assume stagnation kills faster than curiosity," she replied. "History agrees with me."
Frygg. I should have ended the exchange there. I had already said more than necessary, lingered longer than prudent. Every instinct honed over millennia told me to leave, to sever this distraction before it rooted itself deeper.
And yet?—
I found myself studying her again. The set of her shoulders. The way she stood her ground without posturing, without fear-masking bravado. She wasn't trying to win. She was trying to understand. That was worse.
"You speak as if the universe rewards those who challenge it," I observed.
Her lips curved faintly. "No. I speak as someone who knows it doesn't care either way."
That landed harder than any insult. Even though I knew that in her ignorant mind, she didn't mean her words the way Idid. I felt it again, unmistakably—the pull—tightening, insistent, curling low in my chest like gravity seeking equilibrium. I'd felt it before in battle, in moments when fate narrowed to a single decision.
Only this was different. Much more personal. I broke eye contact first, turning away sharply. "You're reckless."
She didn't deny it. "And you're afraid."
