The sensation of falling still clung to Lin Xiang like a nightmare, the piercing screams echoing in her mind. Shivering, she opened her eyes to a tranquil sea of silvery-blue moonlight, where seven radiant stars gleamed above. Yet even as she gazed upon this divine vision, the edges of the world crumbled before her very eyes.
A noble goddess emerged from the lunar ocean, draped in flowing black veils, her waist bound by a net-like girdle centered with a massive ruby glowing faintly in the dark.
Her deep, sorrowful gaze fell upon the trembling soul before her—this girl who was now nothing more than spirit. In a voice both ethereal and mournful, she spoke:
"Welcome, unexpected traveler, to the Gate of the Moon. I am Mystra, the goddess of magic in the realm of Faerûn."
Lin Xiang's soul quivered under the brilliance of the deity, yet she swallowed her fear and bowed low. "Honored goddess, why have I been brought here?"
Mystra turned her eyes toward the collapsing divine domain, grief pouring from them like an unsealed wound. "Our world is dying. Sharra's shadow weave has shattered mine beyond repair. The elemental planes are in chaos, their fury tearing through the lands with tsunamis and storms. The gods will soon fall into eternal slumber within the Astral Sea."
She reached for her girdle, its once-powerful threads unraveling before them both. "Before entering the Astral, Savras made one final prophecy—one that led us to you."
Her gaze softened as it settled on Lin Xiang. "Fate guided us to you, my child. One of my mothers, Selûne, found you adrift in the Chaos beyond the Crystal Spire."
With those words, she extended the broken belt. "We must make a pact—an oath sworn upon the River Styx. I shall give you all that I am, and in return, you must carry my name back to Faerûn, spreading my faith so that I may rise again from the void and reclaim my place in the reborn world."
Though much of what the goddess said eluded her, Lin Xiang understood the urgency of survival. She echoed the vow, and from between them flowed a stream of dark water, bearing silent witness to the binding promise.
A ghost of a smile graced Mystra's lips as she looked toward the distant unknown. "Ao has awakened. This catastrophe will force him into slumber once more—until the world is reborn."
"And now," she whispered, "you must go."
At her command, the seven white stars fell into the moonlit sea, forming a small boat that carried Lin Xiang beyond the crystalline walls and into the endless, formless chaos.
Silence reigned.
Time lost meaning.
As days—or perhaps centuries—passed, Lin Xiang watched countless fragile worlds bloom and vanish like bubbles in the void. Sheltered within the vessel's glow, she feared what might await her should it fail before reaching its destination.
Its light dimmed.
Unseen presences—some kind, some cruel—watched from the void.
At last, the boat approached a strange new realm. Unlike Faerûn's crystal spheres, or the fleeting bubbles along the way, this world was layered—five tiers stacked upon one another.
The lowest abyss.
The upper earth.
The sky between.
Above it all, a silent void.
And at the outermost edge, a dense shroud of darkness.
Through that darkness the boat passed, then dissolved into stardust.
As expected, the moment it vanished, Lin Xiang plummeted—falling from the heavens into a vast, endless ocean.
How long she drifted, she could not tell—until a gentle call stirred her awake.
"Awaken, my daughter," came the warm, maternal voice.
She opened her eyes to find herself nestled within a radiant white shell, golden pearls cushioning her body beneath. With each soft wave, the shell slowly unfurled, revealing a goddess of soft brown curls and pale, luminous skin. Her eyes, deep and calm as the sea, shimmered with life. The waters lovingly draped her in a flowing ivory gown.
For a brief moment, Lin Xiang felt disoriented—until the black girdle materialized anew, transforming into a pearl necklace, the red gem resting over her heart now glowing softly against her chest. Memories surged through her like a tide, and her confusion faded into quiet understanding.
She now knew her new name—and her identity.
Daughter of Oceanus and Tethys.
One of the Oceanides.
Tyche, goddess of currents and fortune.
Sister to Metis.
Aunt to Athena.
Yet as clarity returned, so too did reality.
She had entered the Greek pantheon—a world infamous for its lack of restraint, where women were treated as prizes to be seized. Gods lurked behind every tree and cloud, driven by unchecked desires, behaving less like deities and more like spoiled children with infinite power.
Cautious vigilance would be her only armor in this perilous world.
Tyche silently vowed—she would never become someone's possession. Her most pressing concern now was to obtain enough power to protect herself. Gaia, the Earth Mother, and Nyx, the goddess of Night, were treated with reverence not because they desired it, but because their primordial strength left no room for disrespect.
Yet when Tyche turned her gaze inward, she nearly wept.
Though her parents were first-generation Titans, the domain of the sea belonged to Pontus, the primeval god of the open ocean. The sea's many aspects—its fury (Phorcys), its dangers (Ceto), its gentleness (Nereus), and its wonders (Thaumas)—were all children of Pontus.
The lineage of Oceanus and Tethys, however, did not inherit dominion over the sea itself. Even Metis and Eurynome had only gained their divine roles after defining their own essence within the world. That was why Metis, though born of two sea deities, became the goddess of wisdom.
Most of the others held only local dominions—lakes, rivers, springs—and if their waters dried up, they would fall into obscurity, reduced to mere nymphs, powerless and unclaimed by divinity. A few exceptions existed, such as Dione, goddess of the frozen seas, who wielded great power despite her regional domain.
After Metis and Eurynome, few Oceanides had managed to carve out their own divine identities. Later generations struggled even to attain minor domains. Tyche was now a sea nymph—weak, insignificant among the gods, barely above the nature-born tree nymphs in rank.
To be a nymph was to live in constant peril—not only from lustful male gods, but also from demigods and heroes who saw them as little more than prey.
Her priority was clear: gain strength while still under the protection of the elder Titans.
With that thought, she began to survey the island where she had awakened.
It was small—centered by a dense forest, bordered by white sands with no natural defenses like cliffs or ravines.
Venturing inward, she came upon a clear spring forming a pool, its bottom paved with pearls of every color, shimmering beautifully beneath the sunlight.
For a moment, she stood awestruck, whispering in disbelief, "So many pearls… endless necklaces, earrings, pearl powder…"
But peace was fleeting.
Joy soon gave way to unease. A lurking sense of danger shadowed her thoughts like a nightmare.
After much deliberation, she decided to seek help from her mother. Her father, Oceanus, ruled the outer waters beyond the world—an unreachable distance for one so weak.
Resolute, she stepped onto a white shell and sank beneath the waves.
This was the age of Kronos, the Titan Lord of Time. Intelligent life was rare, and during her long journey through the sea, she encountered only mindless fish.
She arrived safely at the underwater palace of Tethys.
And what a palace it was.
Adorned with sapphires, pearls, and coral of every hue, it radiated wealth beyond imagination. Seeing it, Tyche's heart swelled with greedy delight—she had never seen such opulence.
A group of blue-haired mermaids swam forth joyfully, circling around her with warm greetings. "Welcome, beautiful sister! Honored daughter of Tethys, our mother awaits you!"
They escorted her through the grand entrance, where a majestic throne of shells awaited.
Upon it sat a goddess of boundless warmth—Tethys herself. She extended her arms, beckoning Tyche to come closer.
Tyche's heart tightened. In Greek mythology, family bonds were scarce. Demeter, the only truly maternal figure, had yet to be born. Most gods bore children out of passion or whim, raising none, caring less.
Yet as she approached, Tethys reached out and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Instantly, Tyche's tension melted away.
With loving hands, the goddess stroked her deep brown hair. "My dear child, my treasure… you've finally returned to your mother."
Comforted, Tyche confessed her fears.
"I know why you have come," Tethys whispered, sorrow in her voice. "I wish I could grant you a divine mantle, but to receive a role from another means becoming their subordinate. And once you are bound, freedom and power slip beyond your reach. I do not wish this fate upon any of my daughters."
She sighed deeply. "Many of your sisters once stood where you are. Some chose to remain with us. But most refused, seeking their own paths elsewhere."
Tyche understood.
To place her destiny in another's hands was unthinkable.
After a brief silence, she lifted her head, eyes resolute. "Then I will follow the path of Metis—I will find my own divine essence and claim my own role."
Tethys' expression wavered—grief at yet another daughter departing, pride at her strength.
"My beloved child," she said gently, "once you take on a divine duty, you must fulfill it. Helios and Selene serve in turns, guiding the sun and moon. Eos opens the gates of dawn each morning. Those who bear violent or cruel domains often become twisted by them, shaped into beings defined by their roles."
She took Tyche's hands firmly. "Remember this well—if you abandon your duty, the power you hold will abandon and harm you in return."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Go now, my daughter. Seek your essence. Forge your fate."