Selindra returned to the Goddess, finding her in the middle of the farming fields. The dawn's first light broke over the horizon, scattering a golden haze across the land.
The Goddess of Life stood barefoot upon the soil, her hands raised gently, her touch unseen yet felt. The crops swayed though there was no wind, their stalks gleaming as if kissed by dew from another world. Each plant seemed to breathe with renewed vigor, their roots tightening with strength, their fruits swelling as if ripened by the presence of their creator.
Farmers in the distance whispered among themselves, not daring to approach but bowing from afar, their hearts stirred with reverence.
Selindra's steps were careful, hesitant even, as though she did not wish to interrupt a divine act. Yet the Goddess turned with a soft smile before Selindra spoke a word, her presence radiant and calm.
"My Lady," Selindra said, lowering her head, "I have found something of importance."
The Goddess tilted her head slightly, her hair catching the glow of dawn. "Then speak, child. Your voice carries more weight than silence."
Selindra bowed deeper, then relayed what she had gathered from the innkeeper and the traveling musician—the myth of the Son of Fate sung in song, the whispers of divine wine given by a stranger cloaked in mystery, and the tale of a presence that could only be traced eastward.
As the last words left Selindra's lips, the Goddess's smile brightened. Delight glimmered in her emerald eyes, and for a fleeting moment, the heavy burden she bore seemed lighter.
"At last… a clear path," the Goddess said, her tone hushed but filled with warmth. "No longer shall we wander blindly."
Selindra looked at her uncertainly. "My Lady, should you not preserve your strength? You said yourself that your power must be reserved for the portal."
The Goddess chuckled softly, like the trickling of a brook. "Yes, but now that we know the way, a small indulgence is allowed." She raised her hand, her fingers tracing a pattern in the air, weaving lines of light that shimmered like threads of morning frost.
Before Selindra could ask what she was doing, she felt it—an immense but gentle force washing over her, lifting her as though the world itself embraced her. Then, behind her, she felt something bloom: a sensation not of flesh but of pure magic unfurling.
She turned slightly, gasping when she caught sight of herself reflected in the faint shimmer of the spell—a pair of white, glistening wings stretched from her back, radiant yet weightless, glowing faintly in harmony with the Goddess's own.
The Goddess of Life stood before her, wings equally radiant, majestic in their span and purity. No words could capture the beauty of it—she looked less like a figure of worship and more like a vision of the dawn itself.
"My Lady…" Selindra whispered, awe dripping from every syllable. "This… this is…"
"Flight," the Goddess said, her smile gentle. "It is not often I share such gifts. But today, you and I shall walk the skies together."
Selindra's throat tightened. She wanted to fall to her knees and weep, not from sorrow but from the sheer overwhelming honor of it. She dared not, though, for fear of disrespecting the gift. Instead, she bowed low. "I… I will treasure this, my Lady. Even if it lasts but a moment."
The Goddess reached out and touched her shoulder lightly. "Then let us not waste that moment."
Together, they ascended.
The ground fell away in a rush, the fields and village shrinking until they were no more than painted strokes upon the earth. The air grew cooler, sharper, carrying with it the scent of clouds and freedom.
Selindra's wings moved instinctively, each beat propelling her forward, the magic flowing as naturally as blood in her veins. Below them stretched an endless canvas—the rolling forests, rivers that glittered like silver serpents, mountains piercing the heavens.
Selindra's eyes widened at the splendor. "It's… it's beautiful beyond words."
The Goddess glanced at her with a serene smile. "The world is always this beautiful, Selindra. But mortals rarely see it from the sky. Perspective changes all things."
For hours, they flew, the land shifting beneath them like the pages of a story. Villages turned into dots, rivers into threads, forests into oceans of green. The sun climbed and waned, casting the land in hues of amber and rose.
Finally, as dusk approached, a vast shape broke the horizon—a city unlike any Selindra had ever known. High walls gleamed like polished stone infused with light, towers crowned with banners of gold and silver. Even from afar, the city radiated a pulse, an invisible heartbeat that carried power with every thrum.
They descended slowly, landing upon a nearby hill that overlooked the grand sight. Selindra's eyes widened, her breath stolen.
"This city…" she whispered, clutching her chest as if steadying herself. "My Lady, the very air is heavy with divinity. It presses against me… it feels as if every person here holds a spark of a god."
The Goddess nodded, her gaze calm but serious. "You are not mistaken. The mortals of this city are drenched in divine essence. If they were to awaken it, to shape it into strength, this city would rival even the oldest nations."
Selindra swallowed hard. "And at the center… there is something greater. Stronger. It nearly drowns out the rest."
"Yes." The Goddess's voice softened, reverent and certain. "That presence belongs to no mortal. It belongs to him. Atlas."
Selindra's eyes widened further. "Then it's true… the Son of Fate is here."
The Goddess's wings folded gracefully as she turned her gaze upon the glowing heart of the capital. Her smile was faint, but her eyes burned with something rare and bright.
"At last," she said. "Our search ends here."
As they descended toward the capital, the radiant wings of light slowly dimmed. Feathers of shimmering magic dissolved into the air, vanishing like morning dew under the sun.
By the time their feet touched the stone road at the city's gates, the wings were gone, leaving them to walk among mortals as if they had never flown.
Selindra lingered for a moment, almost missing the warmth of the wings on her back. She shifted her eyes to the Goddess beside her. Even here, walking calmly on stone like any other traveler, her presence radiated grace. Yet it was veiled, dimmed just enough so she would not overwhelm the mortals around them.
The guards barely looked at them, but when their gazes fell on Selindra, their expressions twisted. The whispers started almost immediately.
"An elf…" one woman hissed, her lip curling.
"She walks without shame," another muttered, clutching her child's arm protectively.
The men's stares were worse. They lingered on Selindra with lustful hunger, their gazes roaming shamelessly. Yet when their eyes flicked to the woman walking beside her—the calm, graceful figure cloaked in an unshakable aura—their bravado faltered. Something deep within their souls whispered danger. They quickly assumed the obvious.
"Must be her slave…"
"Strange she's without a collar."
"Maybe they're here for that."
Selindra's jaw tightened. She felt the weight of every gaze, every vile assumption, grinding against her pride. She kept walking, head held high, but her hands curled into fists at her side.
As they entered the heart of the city, her worst fears were confirmed.
Elves. Countless of them. Some carried goods, some swept streets, some stood silently by their masters' sides. All bore collars around their necks. Their eyes, once bright and proud, were dulled, empty. Yet when they glimpsed Selindra—an elf walking freely, unbound—they faltered. Envy, sharp and bitter, flared in their gazes.
Selindra felt her heart twist. Her kin were nothing but livestock here.
Her fury swelled, restrained only by sheer will. Her nails bit into her palms until her hands ached.
The Goddess glanced sideways at her, reading her anger with ease, though her own face remained unchanged. Her silence was deliberate, her focus unshaken. She did not soothe, nor interfere.
Selindra whispered through clenched teeth, her voice low but venomous. "So it's true… this is where it started."
The Goddess's gaze shifted, questioning, though still calm. "Slavery?"
Selindra nodded stiffly. "Yes. I heard whispers in my clan, but… I didn't believe it was this vile. The first chains… the first collars… they came from here. And it spread like rot." Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with barely contained wrath.
Her words hung heavy in the air.
The Goddess's expression did not change. She gave a simple, quiet reply: "I see."
That calmness only fueled Selindra's rage, but she said nothing more. She knew—deep down—that the Goddess would not move against this horror. Not here. Not now. The mission was Atlas. Everything else would be left to Fate.
They pressed on, moving through the crowded streets, until they reached the heart of the capital. And there it was—the temple.
It towered above the city, a mountain of white stone and gold reliefs. Its spires touched the clouds, its steps flooded with worshippers. The structure radiated reverence, rivaling even the greatest temples of the Goddess herself.
But it was not her image carved into the gates. It was his. Atlas. The reliefs depicted a lone figure, standing above mortals, offering them his blood as if it were nectar from the heavens.
The air itself vibrated with divinity. Selindra's breath caught. She could feel it pressing down on her bones, undeniable.
The Goddess's lips curved faintly, her voice a whisper only Selindra could hear. "We've found him."