TIWAZ LOOKED IN Kerk’s shop after parting ways with Tracker. She smiled as the burly smith rubbed his gloved hand across his brow, the boy working with him leaning on the bellows, panting in exhaustion. “Ian, be a good lad and go fetch the ale, would you. I am utterly parched. Once we have all the scraps melted down, I’ll show you some leatherworking techniques. Requires more attentiveness than muscle.” The boy looked relieved and scampered off to the back.

“I am home,” Tiwaz called.

The man turned around in surprise, a wide smile brightening his flushed features. “Ah, lass, glad to have you home. Would you terribly mind getting supper started tonight? I am running a little late today and Doom isn’t home yet.”

“Of course,” she replied. “I promise I won’t burn it again.”

Kerk laughed heartily. “You didn’t burn it the last time. A light scorching is good for the digestion.” He smacked his abdomen comically, drawing more of a smile out on her face. “It was perfectly edible. Was my fault for distracting you, nattering away about the old days.”

“I like your stories. I just need to be able to divide my attention better.” She smiled at Ian, who turned brilliant red and averted his eyes shyly.

Her smile faded as she entered the house and went to her and Doom’s room. She hesitated, her hand resting on the handle. Then she took a deep breath and took a step inside. She exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping in defeat.

On the table between their beds sat the medallion she had thrown over the cliff into the waterfall, still glittering with water droplets. She dropped on her bed, looking at it in silence. “You do not own me,” she hissed.

Of course not, a feminine voice no louder than a strong breeze whispered.

She stiffened, glowering as she looked around the room. Seeing no one there, she looked back at the medallion. The emerald in the dragon’s eye seemed to blink. She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sulnar the Emerald-Eyed?”

Yes.

“I owe a debt to you for removing the glyphs.”

You do, yes.

“Why are you speaking to me? Gareth told Doom gods don’t talk to anyone much. Is it time to fulfill my debt to you?” Resigned to an affirmative answer, the woman braced herself for the dragon god’s response.

The ripple of draconic laughter tickled Tiwaz’s mind like the brush of a feather. I am speaking to you because you seem to need someone to speak to. Nothing more.

Tiwaz stood, walking away a few steps. She paused at the door with her fists clenched, back towards the medallion. “Why would I talk to you? I don’t trust you. You’re a god.”

For most, being a god is all the reason needed to speak to any of us. More demands than you could shake your sword at. Often followed by begging when the demands go unanswered. Occasionally, there are those who show simple, honest gratitude to us. But their level of trust too often depends on how much we have given them.

Except for children. We do love listening to children. They are so refreshingly honest and they do love to talk to us, telling us about their days or dreams. Sulnar paused in her wistful reflection, her attention returning to Tiwaz. You, however, are different. Like a child, you are refreshingly honest. However, all you want is for us to go away.

“And I am disappointed because you stay.” She turned back to glare at the medallion. “Would you go away if I wanted you to stay instead? Then I could still be disappointed and you would be gone.”

Sulnar laughed merrily. Oh, you are a little spitfire, aren’t you? Good. I like that. Tell me. Why do you distrust us so? What have we done to inspire such a dim view in your eyes?

“What have you done?! It is what you have not done!” Tiwaz seethed. “Alimar stole us away when we were seven years old. At least, Doom remembers he was seven years. I have no idea how old I was. I have no memory of before. I do know what we suffered for ten years. Ten years. That is longer than we had been free. I should have been able to kill Alimar! I should have died on the sands.” She dropped to the bed, her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t even be alive.”

Tiwaz looked up in surprise when the dragoness agreed without hesitation. Yes, perhaps you shouldn’t be alive. But the fact is, you are alive. If you had died, you would not have the chance to correct the fact that heinous excuse for a human being lives still. The woman looked at the medallion, blinking as she listened. You feel guilt for the past. You should not. For someone so young and so abandoned, you did remarkably well.

“Doom said he hid in an abandoned temple far below our former master’s land. He said, after he had bound my wounds, he dreamed about a strange woman coming to him. It was you, wasn’t it? You told Doom he should have abandoned me.” Her voice reflected a challenge to deny that fact.

I had, yes. Until that moment, I did not know either of you existed. None of us had. Our reach into the mortal realm is tenuous at best, save for through temples that have not been desecrated, or where we once called home when we were still mortals. That dark-hearted sorcerer had poisoned the land he claims as his own, blurring it to all divine eyes.

It was when he entered one of our lost temples that we could hear Thrahx Vaug despite the shackles that muted him. You hovered on the edge of death, a place ruled by powers greater than ours, and the magic in your own shackles and the glyphs combined deceived us. It would have been more practical and easier to help a single, able-bodied gromek alone. His unwavering loyalty to you piqued our interest. As time passed, we saw not only what he saw, but what he did not.

“Wait.” Tiwaz sat up straighter, her expression troubled. “Alimar was the reason our prayers were never answered? He said there was no such thing as gods. I believed him.” Her fists clenched. “Am I really that naïve?”

No, you are not. Within his domain, Alimar spoke the truth. He and his power are unnatural. Corrupt. Even the darkest gods have no desire to deal with him because his loyalty is to himself alone and he would betray them just as quickly as anyone else if it furthered his ambitions. Sulnar’s voice gentled. I have no shame in admitting that we were wrong to dismiss you. Thrahx Vaug’s tenacity protecting you was and is well founded. In you and Thrahx Vaug, we see hope.

She knelt by her bed and pulled out the carved box she kept her personal treasures in. She picked up the medallion with the ruby-eyed dragon, and sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. “None of you are going to go away, are you? Even if I do not pray to you, you are always going to be somewhere.”

Sulnar’s voice turned serious. No, we will not go away. You were abandoned once. We are not going to abandon you now or ever. Even if you want us to. With a groan, Tiwaz dropped her head onto the bed. The goddess chuckled. You do realize the only reason you owe me anything at all is because you have been adamant in refusing charity. Without your conscious agreement, I had to abide by what you displayed normally about such matters.

“There is no such thing as charity,” Tiwaz stated in sullen tones. “Even when nothing is demanded as payment, eternal gratitude is expected. ‘You ungrateful wretch! After what I did for you once.’” She shook her head sharply after the mocking mimicry of others she had heard. “I have seen it! Better to have a tangible payment and be done.”

I see. You are neither entirely correct nor wrong in your belief. True charity should have no expectation of gratitude, but few are able to not desire something for what they give another. Tiwaz narrowed her eyes at the medallion in suspicion. Rest assured, beyond the debt you owe me for removing the glyphs, none of us have any expectations of you. No demands. You are free to choose to do as you wish. Worship us or don’t. It matters not. Our faith in you is as sure as Thrahx’s. We will still watch over you.

The former gladiator sat up, picking up the green-eyed medallion, regarding it in silence. She draped it around her neck, tucking it in her tunic with a resigned sigh. “So help me, if I have any reason to regret this,” she grumbled, “I will find some way, somehow, to make you regret it. And I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Doom. That’s all!” She tucked the ruby-eyed dragon coin in her vest pocket before heading to the kitchen to prepare supper.

Behind her, the lid to the carved box shut gently, the latch swinging up into place. Just as he does everything only for you, child.