The Sea of Fragments stretched endlessly in all directions, each crystalline shard containing a moment from a different world. Most hung suspended in the cosmic void like stars, but in this particular corner of infinity, three fragments had been arranged around a small table that hadn't existed moments before.

  The Goddess of Stories sat in a chair that seemed to be carved from starlight. Steam curled from her teacup, carrying the scent of Earl Grey through the void.

  "More tea, Your Divinity?" A bipedal goat butler approached the table. He held a silver tray that held an ornate teapot with matching teacups. His horns had been polished to a mirror shine, and his black suit was pressed to perfection. Behind him, a formation of twelve goat soldiers stood at attention with golden spears held vertically.

  "Yes, please, Beauregard."

  The butler lifted the teapot and refilled her teacup before disappearing back into the void.

  As she lifted the cup to her lips, the nearest fragment blazed with activity, showing a scene of Clive Weston picking his way along a rocky coastal path. “This child is having quite the adventure, isn't he?"

  "Are you not entertained?" Certainty materialized in the chair across from her with a sweep of her arm that knocked three nearby fragments across the void. She reclined against the chair with one leg draped over the armrest while stretching her arms.

  "Earl Grey or Chamomile, Lady Certainty?” Beauregard reappeared and bowed before Certainty.

  "Chamomile for me, Beauregard. And do bring those little cakes with the icing!" Certainty bounced slightly in her seat.

  He poured the pale amber tea into her cup. The Chamomile's honey scent spread throughout the void. Without a word, he tucked the tray under his arm and stepped backward into a fold of reality. Seconds later, he emerged with a three-tiered stand of petit fours decorated with roses made of crystallized sugar.

  "Oh, Beauregard, you magnificent creature!" Certainty clapped her hands together and immediately reached for a lavender-frosted square, biting into it without ceremony.

  “You’ve placed considerable faith in this child.” Stories said as she set down her teacup onto the crystal table.

  “I have the most wonderful feeling about this one!" Certainty leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with pink glitter. "He has something the others lack, that stubborn refusal to accept defeat."

  "Him? I see glimpses but am yet to be convinced." Stories' eyebrows rose fractionally. "Not even Lumis has managed ascension after a thousand years."

  “Meh, don’t even get me started on that disappointment. God of Light? More like God of Ls.”

  “He’s still one of the big three gods of Euchronia; it would do you well not to underestimate him.”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it? One quest left on his grand destiny, and he stalled out, contented to play God in his little playground.”

  "Yet you expect better from someone who died in a little fire? Clive remains fundamentally weak. I fail to understand your fascination."

  "We all began weak, you know. Even you, Stories."

  “Recollections may differ, my dear Certainty."

  The void around them turned cold as Stories' fingers drummed once against her teacup handle. A leather-bound tome materialized in her left hand, its cover blank except for silver clasps that clicked open of their own accord. In her right hand, a feathered quill appeared, its tip wet with ink.

  "Perhaps you require a reminder."

  "Oh, for crying out loud!" Certainty threw up both hands. "Fine, fine! You were always magnificent and terrible and perfect. Happy? Now put that blasted pen away before you rewrite something important."

  Stories closed the tome with a soft thump, snapping the silver clasps shut. The quill dissolved into specks of light between her fingers, and the book faded from her lap as if it had never existed.

  Certainty opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as something materialized in the void around them.

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  A swing appeared, its chains extending upward into nothingness. Upon it sat a young girl, her legs dangling as she swayed gently back and forth. Purple hair flowed around her shoulders like liquid silk. When she lifted her head, her purple eyes were beautiful but utterly empty, like polished gemstones. Crystalline dust scattered as she brushed it from her white dress.

  "Miracles! You're finally here." Certainty abandoned her chair, rushing over with arms outstretched. "I've missed you terribly. Every second felt like centuries. Oh, how I long to hold your heart again."

  She moved to embrace Miracles possessively, but Miracles gracefully sidestepped, leaving Certainty grasping empty air and stumbling forward off-balance.

  Miracles moved to the table, stepping around Certainty's flailing form without so much as a glance. She claimed the third chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

  Certainty's arms dropped to her sides. She stood there for a moment, watching Miracles settle into her chair, before trudging back to her seat like a scolded child.

  “You’re late.” Stories said.

  “I had to sort out a small situation with world fragment 847,293-B. A little girl praying for her sick mother. Such earnest faith.” She accepted a teacup from Beauregard and added three sugars, stirring counterclockwise.

  “And did you grant that girl her little miracle?”

  Miracles paused mid-stir as a smirk settled on her face. "Do you really need to ask?"

  Stories tilted her head slightly, returning her smile. Miracle's smirk widened, and she raised her teacup in a mock toast.

  "So." Miracles took a careful sip. "What cosmic matter requires our attention today?"

  "Whether someone's favorite pictomancer has what it takes to become an Ascended." Stories gestured toward a fragment where Clive hunched over his sketchbook, completely absorbed in his work. "I remain skeptical, but Certainty seems... well, certain."

  Miracles blew on her tea and considered this. “I have seen over a million fragments. In none of them does he succeed. The results are quite conclusive.”

  "A million out of infinity?" Certainty interrupted. "That's not even a rounding error! You've seen zero percent of the possibilities."

  "I don't need to count every grain of sand on every beach to understand the nature of erosion. Patterns emerge long before you reach infinity."

  “And frankly…” She paused to add another sugar cube to her tea, watching it dissolve. “If it weren’t for your meddling, he would be a nobody."

  Certainty's chair creaked as she stood up. "My meddling?"

  “Please, quit pretending. I know why you’re supporting Clive. Do you really think we are blind to your schemes? Poor Clive… To be—”

  Bang.

  Certainty slammed both hands on the table, but Miracles remained unfazed. For a heartbeat, the void held nothing but the soft clink of Miracles' spoon. Then Certainty's lips curved upwards into a smirk, and she settled back into her chair with theatrical slowness.

  “Rich words from you… My beloved Miracles. You want to talk about meddling… I know all about your meddling. Those secret mortals you grant miracles to. Upsetting the balance. This story would have ended long ago without your constant interventions."

  "And would you truly prefer that?" Miracles smiled. "Boredom is the only poison that can touch us, after all. I intend to savor this entertainment for as long as possible."

  “Clive will become an Ascended. I guarantee it.” Certainty declared.

  The two of them stared at each other. Rose-pink light bled from Certainty's skin while sapphire flames crawled along Miracles' arm. Where the two energies met, the void rippled like water struck by stone. The crystal fragments rattled against each other, causing their reflected images to fracture into static. The teacups clinked against their saucers as the crystal table vibrated. Even Beauregard's carefully arranged petit fours tumbled from their tiered stand.

  Behind them, the platoon of goat guards felt the pressure and dropped to one knee in unison, their golden spears clattering against the void's floor. Beauregard himself pressed his back against a fragment, as he clutched his silver tray like a shield.

  "Enough." Stories didn't raise her voice, but the single word carried absolute authority. Both goddesses' auras flickered and died. Stories lifted her teacup and took a sip. "Such confidence from both sides. I believe it's time for a wager."

  Certainty straightened in her chair, the last traces of pink light fading from her skin. "What kind of wager?"

  "The kind that settles disputes between Ascended. You believe this mortal can achieve transcendence. Miracles believes otherwise. I propose we test that conviction."

  Miracles leaned back, sapphire flames extinguished. "As long as the standard rules apply."

  "I accept." The words tumbled out before Certainty could stop them.

  "Excellent." Stories gestured, and golden contracts materialized before each goddess. "The terms are simple. Young Clive has until the next Convergence to achieve ascension. If he succeeds, Certainty wins. If he fails, dies, or abandons his path, Miracles claims victory."

  "Plenty of time. This will be an easy victory for me." Certainty snatched up her contract and signed with a flourish of rose-pink light.

  Miracles watched the signature burn itself into existence, then lifted her own quill. "Very well. This should be entertaining." Sapphire fire sealed her name to the parchment. “Might I remind you of the covenant of the gods. No direct intervention, no divine revelations.”

  Certainty waved dismissively. "My Certainty system complies with all covenants."

  Stories added her own signature last, and all three contracts burst into flame before dissolving into droplets of light that scattered among the crystal fragments.

  "The wager is sealed." Stories folded her hands in her lap. "May the best goddess win."

  "And now that business is concluded… More tea, anyone?" Stories asked, already reaching for the pot.

  The first time I died, I fought with everything I had.

  The second time, I wept and raged.

  The tenth time, I still believed I could break free.

  By the ten billionth time, I closed my eyes and let go.

  That was when the miracle came. And finally, I understood. As long as you still had hope, the miracle would never happen.

  -The Book of Miracles 5:7