The Scion was beautiful, his jaw chiseled, his eyes deep. He radiated strength, his poise perfect, his smile captivated.

  “Shall we leave, madam?” he said.

  She felt compelled to… obey. Such was their nature, but compared to her Lady, they were… lesser.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  She checked her dress in the mirror, she had to be perfect, as always, nothing else would suffice, for her, or for her Lady. A quick pull to smooth the fabric, a final glance and she turned toward the attending Scion, her would-be driver.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  With those words she took her seat in the car and let their journey begin. Away from the bustling streets, the screeching birds of the harbor, inland.

  Toward one of the great plantations, where her Lady waited for her, under the shade of the grand pavilion. A cup in her hand, her Lady sat in a wooden chair, of intricate design. The Scion bowed and bid farewell, but he did not leave them all alone, for there was another.

  She stood there and watched them, both sipping on tea and clearly engaged in a game of strategy. A board with a square grid and two bowls of stone, one dark, one pale, between them.

  She did not speak, for she had not been addressed. She only observed as they moved pieces about, exchanged brief words, even laughed at times.

  The man was not a Scion, not Kin, and most certainly not a mortal. She could sense it.

  What was he?

  “Sit, madam,” he said.

  His words, a suggestion, an offer, not a command. Yet she obeyed, and sank into the chair brought by a servant, who quickly vanished out of sight.

  Her Lady turned her face toward her. An unusual smile on her face.

  “Have you ever met a god?” she said.

  She had.

  Seen some at a distance.

  Even exchanged a few words.

  Old powers who had been supplanted by the Scions, but still useful.

  Still part of his plan.

  “Yes, my Lady,” she said.

  “Good,” her Lady said.

  “Where are my manners, madam,” the god said and poured her a cup.

  She brought the hot tea close, felt its aroma, and took a sip. Tea and gods, that was her life now. She let it flow down her throat, into her mind. She savored the taste, and the thought.

  She savored the moment, words came unbidden but welcomed, by the god and her Lady. It all felt so easy, as if a weight had been lifted from her, a fog lifted from her eyes, all was so clear, sights and sounds.

  It was him.

  Time rushed, the sun began to set, and the world became red by beacon and horizon. In the distance she could hear the waves of the ocean, the winds against the trees, the rustle of leaves.

  “How far the tea of this island travels… across the sea… throughout your father’s realm,” he said.

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  Her Lady nodded.

  “Even you have partaken of it before, haven’t you, madam?” he said.

  “Every morning, with my parents, sir,” she said.

  Her parents. How far they were from her now. In time and space.

  “Travel… it connects us all… doesn’t it. Whether it’s things or people,” he said.

  She wasn’t theirs anymore.

  “Connections are so special, aren’t they?” he said.

  She was hers.

  “Yes… but fragile. Everything is connection, the cosmos is built on them,” her Lady said.

  Hers.

  “This my father knows. All is connected, but those connections can be broken, severed. Lost,” she said.

  “Without him there is only Chaos. Like the sea…” she said.

  She stirred the tea with a spoon, and made it swirl.

  “Like this tea,” she said.

  “Chaos, it’s everywhere.”

  The god finished his tea.

  “Then one should savor it,” he said.

  “It’s why I exist, to experience it all, whether order or chaos, or everything in between. Without that tension, there’d be no need for movement, for travel, for someone to guide you.”

  “My servant, do you know what he is a god of?” her Lady said.

  Before she could speak, her Lady answered her own question.

  “A god of travel. An old one, not that one can tell,” she said.

  Her Lady’s hand touched the god’s hand, a gentle stroke followed by words.

  “A friend, too,” she said.

  “Only a friend?” the god said.

  There was no answer, but she still held onto his hand.

  The sun set, only the moon remained and her audience ended.

  She had met a god.

  Had some tea.

  Savored it.

  A month had passed.

  She had savored it too.

  The island flourished, the fields prospered, the workers toiled, but their hardships eased, their burdens relieved. Food aplenty, wages raised, water abundant.

  Her Lady. Their Lady. She walked among them, in the streets, on the fields, and they offered her their devotion, and she gave them her blessings.

  Her Lady saw. Her Lady acted.

  All within the Ambition’s plan.

  But her way.

  And once again she was summoned.

  To the pavilion.

  Where they both waited for her.

  The moon shone bright, even stronger than the beacon of the mountain, illuminating her Lady and the god.

  As they stood there. Silent.

  The air felt cold, the wind was absent, no sounds came from the fields beyond. And it wasn’t her imagination. The world had paused.

  Her Lady held out a hand, an invitation to come closer. So, she did.

  Closer.

  Her Lady was before her.

  The world was silent, because it was her will.

  She was there, because it was her will.

  Her Lady spoke.

  “You have served well, my servant,” she said.

  “I promised you miracles, and instead I gave you service.”

  “And you have served. You have listened.”

  Her mark pulsed. It was warm again.

  “But do you understand?” her Lady said.

  She touched her mark. It was still there. It would always be there.

  Did she understand?

  She looked her Lady in the eyes. Did not avert her gaze. Even at the sight of perfection.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  Her Lady moved closer, leaving the god behind her.

  “My father — the Ambition — extends his will over all things, that is his right,” she said.

  “He molds gods, places, peoples as he desires.”

  “And tonight, I will do the same.”

  “For that is my right.”

  “As all are beneath me, so too am I beneath my father, but his power flows through me to use as befits me.”

  “I and my sisters, we use this power to shape for ourselves… servants.”

  “Agents to carry out our will in ways mortals never could.”

  Her mark grew warmer, brighter.

  “I will make you my guide, little one. I will shape you into a god of travel,” she said.

  A god.

  She would become a god.

  The wall was gone. Crushed by the words of her Lady.

  A calm came over her. Her breath steadied.

  “But I am not my father. You must choose. As you chose to become mine. Do you wish to be more, even if someone else will be… lesser?” her Lady said.

  And with those words the god stepped forth.

  “To become a god is an honor. And to become one of travel… you will find it, interesting,” he said.

  Lesser?

  The god placed his hand on her shoulder, its touch soothed, connected.

  “Do not worry. I will still be a god… only lesser,” he said.

  Lesser.

  “You shouldn’t fear change. I don’t, it’s in my nature,” he said.

  He would choose to be less.

  “Do you accept?” her Lady said.

  To be more. It was all she ever wanted. Her hands tightened. Her eyes opened wide. She opened her mouth.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Yes. More than anything.

  The Lady moved. A hand on her forehead, another on the god’s.

  It all poured into her. A fire that did not burn. Life without end. Power she couldn’t comprehend.

  Reality became more vivid, more alive, more real. Endless threads, connections, hidden spaces, angles unimagined.

  It was too much.

  She fell to her knees, free from her Lady’s touch, but not from the change it had brought.

  Was this what it was like to be a Scion, a Kin?

  A god?

  The world whirled and shook; she couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. Who was she? What was she now? Her hands touched the floor, felt its nature, its origin, where it had been cut, by whom.

  Too much.

  Hands cradled her face.

  Eyes looked into hers.

  Gently they pulled her up.

  Chaos yielded to another.

  “Rise,” her Lady said.

  “Rise, my companion.”

  “My Socia.”