2 years earlier.

  The full moon hung above the ruins like a cold eye. Diana knelt in the mud beside Isiah's tombstone, her white robes soaking through at the knees. Three days she'd been coming here. Three days since they'd buried what Karasmai left of him.

  "Why?" Her fingers dug into the wet earth. "Why did you take him? He was good. He prayed every morning. He helped the sick. He never questioned your will."

  She pounded her fist into the ground before lying against the tombstone in resignation.

  "I served you perfectly. Every healing, every blessing, every moment of my life devoted to your glory. And this is my reward?" She pressed her forehead against the cold stone. "Please, almighty God of Light. If you have any mercy left, any love for your servants, bring my Isiah back to me."

  The graveyard stayed silent. The only sound was the whistling of the wind through dead leaves.

  "Please." Her voice cracked. "I'll give anything. My position, my power, my life. Just let me see him again. Let me tell him I'm sorry."

  "The God of Light will not answer your prayers."

  Diana's head snapped up. A robed figure emerged from the shadows, standing between the tombstones. The air around him smelled of hellfire and brimstone.

  Diana had never seen this person before. But one look at his aura was enough to determine his allegiance.

  "You. How dare you—"

  "Three days you've begged. Three nights you've wept." The demon's voice was smooth as oil. "Has your god answered? Has he even acknowledged your pain?"

  "Begone, demon." Diana struggled to her feet, mud clinging to her robes.

  “If the God of Light will not answer your prayer, perhaps you should ask another.” A sinister smile formed on his lips.

  "I know what you offer. I've seen your resurrections. Walking corpses with dead eyes and no soul. False miracles. Mockeries of life."

  "You're right." The demon spread his hands. "I cannot bring back the dead as they were. Even my power has limits."

  Diana turned away. "Then leave me to my grief."

  "But I can."

  The new voice was young, almost childlike. Diana spun around to find a young girl with blue hair standing beside the demon. In her small hands, she held a mirror fragment.

  "Look." The girl held out the mirror.

  Diana saw herself in the mirror, but it wasn’t her reflection. In the fragment, she wore simple clothes instead of holy robes. Beside her stood Isiah, alive and laughing, his arm around her waist. They were standing in front of a small cottage. Children played in the yard—their children. This was the life they'd planned to have.

  "This is a trick." Diana's voice shook.

  "It's a possibility. One that can become reality with the right miracle.”

  Diana reached for the mirror, then pulled back. "What price would you demand?"

  The girl smiled. "You understand the nature of miracles well."

  "State it."

  "Life requires life. Stillness for motion. The people of this town for the one you love."

  Diana stumbled backward. "The whole town? That's thousands of innocents."

  "Innocent?" The girl let out a shrill laugh. "Where were these innocents when the church took Isiah? Where were their protests when they dragged him to the caves? They watched. They said nothing. They told you to pray harder, to accept God's will."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The words hit Diana hard because they were true. Every single one.

  "They're not innocent," the girl continued. "They're complicit. They are nothing but monsters. True abominations, unnatural things that deserve their fate. Turn them to stone, and you and Isiah can live the life they denied you." The little girl held out a rose in her hand. “What do you say, Diana?”

  Diana looked at the mirror again. Isiah was pushing their daughter on a swing. The sun was setting behind their cottage. He turned and smiled at her, that crooked smile that made her heart race.

  "And Isiah will truly live? Not some shadow or construct?"

  "I swear it on powers older than the gods." The girl's blue eyes glowed. "Your love's strength will fuel the miracle. The stronger your devotion, the more complete his resurrection."

  “I accept then.” Diana reached out to grab the rose.

  “Good. But you must understand this. This miracle feeds on the very emotion that drives you now. That hatred must never fade. Never soften. The moment you forgive them, the moment you feel mercy, the miracle will never happen.”

  "I will never forget what they did." Diana thought of the cruelty of Karasmai. Of the other clerics who suggested she pray for acceptance. “They're already stone to me.”

  The girl smiled and released the rose. The moment Diana's fingers closed around the stem, thorns bit deep into her palm. Blood welled up, running down the stem.

  “Then the pact is sealed.”

  The girl began to fade, her form becoming translucent. "May your desire bring you the miracle you seek."

  Miracles sat in the Sea of Fragments, watching Diana's memory unfold in the crystalline shards that floated around her. She tossed another piece of popcorn into her mouth, savoring the butter and salt. Mortals were so wonderfully predictable. Show them their heart's desire in a mirror, and they'd trade away the world.

  "Love makes fools of them all," she murmured, watching Diana clutch a rose. "Three thousand souls for one dead templar. The exchange rates these days are truly—"

  [100% Certain kill: Absolute Strike]

  A hand erupted through her chest from behind, fingers wrapped in pink light. The popcorn scattered across the void.

  Miracles looked down at the arm protruding from her ribcage, clutching onto her beating heart. "Oh, this again."

  Her body collapsed to the ground, lifeless and still.

  "I knew it! People always misunderstand you. They say you’re cold-hearted.” Certainty held the heart to her cheek. “Nonsense. Total slander. Your heart is warm.”

  [Miracle No.66: Girl in a Box]

  Reality folded. A black cube materialized around Certainty with its walls pressing inward. Certainty’s muffled voice came from within: "Not the box! You know I can't—the walls are too close—Stopppppp!"

  The cube imploded into a point and vanished.

  Miracles materialized on a fragment nearby, brushing cosmic dust off her dress. "You’re as impulsive as ever, dear Certainty."

  Certainty reformed beside her, gasping. "Ten seconds in that thing. Ten seconds! You know what enclosed spaces do to me."

  "You literally pierced through my heart."

  "I was protecting your honor. People say you're heartless. I proved them wrong. Very different things." Certainty picked up a piece of scattered popcorn and popped it into her mouth. "Besides, you’ve been a very naughty girl. Your deal with Diana breaks at least seven divine accords.”

  "Only six. I checked."

  "My Clive will stop her regardless."

  "He already has."

  Certainty froze mid-chew. "What?"

  "About three minutes ago, your time." Miracles gestured to a fragment showing Clive placing a rose beside Diana's body. "Sword through the heart. Rather poetic, considering."

  "I missed it?" Certainty spun toward the viewing fragments. "My champion's defining moment, and I was trapped in your stupid box?"

  "He did well. Turned her own light against her, then abandoned magic entirely for steel. Very pragmatic."

  Certainty's pink eyes blazed brighter. "Then nothing can stop him now. He'll become Ascended within the year. I can feel it. Absolute certainty in his path."

  "Are you certain?"

  The way Miracles said it made Certainty pause. That particular tone meant she had been busy again.

  "What did you do?"

  “Do you really want to know?

  “Tell me,” Certainty pouted as she stamped her feet.

  Miracles drifted closer and whispered in Certainty's ear.

  Certainty's expression shifted from suspicion to surprise to something almost like delight.

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "But that would mean—"

  "Exactly."

  "And Clive has no idea?"

  "How could he? Even you didn't see it coming."

  A grin spread across Certainty's face. "Oh, this will be magnificent."

  "I thought you'd appreciate it."

  They looked at each other for a moment, then both goddesses shared a tender kiss before erupting in a laughter that echoed through the Sea of Fragments.

  The full moon hung above the graveyard like a cold eye. Jill knelt in the mud beside Clive's tombstone, her white dress soaking through at the knees. Three days she'd been coming here. Three days since they'd buried what was left of him after the accident.

  The portrait he painted of her leaned against the headstone. It was the only piece untouched by the fire. They found it right beside his charred body and said it was a miracle that it remained intact.

  "I'm sorry." She pressed her forehead against the cold stone. "I'm so sorry I said those things. I was angry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean—"

  “Jill Weston.”

  She jerked upright. A young girl with blue hair stood between the tombstones. Her dress was white as bone, untouched by the graveyard's mud.

  “Would you like a miracle?”

  The brush finds the canvas. The heart finds its match. The desperate find their devils.

  The story repeats. Mortals who would burn the world for love, and gods who would let them, just to see what colors the ashes make.

  —Goddess of stories and theatregoing