Certainty exploded into existence beside his bedroll in a cascade of pink sparks.

  "WHAT?!" Her voice cracked like thunder in the confined space. The tent canvas rippled from the force of her manifestation. "Miracles came by? That conniving, manipulative, boundary-violating bitch."

  Certainty paced in tight circles, her form flickering with agitation. "I'm going to have WORDS with her. Serious words. Professional words. I'm going to file a formal complaint with the Celestial Council—no, forget that, they're useless. I'm going to march right up to her domain and—"

  She whirled on Clive, jabbing a finger toward his chest. "You're MINE. My champion. My project. She can't just waltz into your tent and serve you TEA like she has any right to—"

  Certainty stopped mid-rant, her eyes narrowing. "Wait. Did you drink it?"

  "I..." Clive started.

  "You DRANK it?!" Certainty's form flared brighter. "Of course you did. She probably did that thing where she acts all mysterious and detached and serves it in expensive porcelain. With the little cookies arranged in a spiral. Did she have cookies?"

  "...Yes."

  "UGH!" Certainty threw her hands up. The motion released more pink sparks across the tent. "That's HER thing. Tea and cookies and that insufferable 'I want nothing' routine. Every single time. Do you know how many champions she's poached with that act?"

  Clive blinked. "Poached?"

  "Oh yes." Certainty's voice dripped with venom. "She loves recruiting from other gods' rosters. Especially mine. Says she's 'offering them freedom from wanting' or ‘only when you’re devoid of hope will the miracle finally happen’ or some other philosophical garbage. Really she just likes stealing things because—"

  She caught herself, waving a hand dismissively. "You know what? I don't care. This is fine. I'm being mature about this."

  She was clearly not being mature about this.

  "It’s alright. I'm not interested in changing patrons," Clive reassured her.

  "Good. Because you CAN'T." Certainty's voice turned sharp. "We have a CONTRACT. You died, I offered you a deal, you accepted. You're bound to me until you die again or complete your purpose. Those are the rules."

  "I don’t think we ever signed a contract."

  "That's not important right now." She waved it off. "What's important is that Miracles knows the rules and violated them anyway. This is—" She paused, studying him more carefully. "Wait. Why did she visit? What did she want?"

  Clive hesitated.

  "She said Jill wants to see me. On the night of the full moon. At the Humbert Mountains."

  The tent went very, very quiet.

  Certainty's flickering stopped. Her form solidified completely. When she spoke again, her voice had lost all its theatrical fury.

  "Clive. Please tell me you didn't agree to that."

  "I said I'd be there."

  "Oh no." Certainty's hand rose to her face. "Oh no, no, no. You absolute idiot."

  "What?"

  "She BAITED you!" Certainty gestured frantically. "The tea, the whole performance—it was all setup for THIS. She needed you calm and vulnerable and desperate enough to agree to an obviously suspicious meeting."

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  "I have to see Jill—"

  "It's a TRAP, Clive! An obvious, blatant, impossibly transparent trap! Of course Jill wants to see you. That's what makes it perfect bait. Miracles probably put the idea in her head herself. 'Oh, wouldn't it be nice to see Clive one more time? I can arrange that.' And now she's got both of you dancing exactly where she wants you."

  Deep in his heart, Clive knew it was a trap. But what choice did he have? For the sake of seeing Jill again, he would do anything. "I don't care. I'm going."

  "Yes. I know you are." Certainty's shoulders slumped. She sat down on empty air, as if there were an invisible chair. "Because you're my champion, and certainty means being absolutely, stupidly, predictably committed to your decisions. Even the worst ones."

  "Can you at least tell me what to expect?"

  "From Miracles?" Certainty laughed a hollow laugh. "Expect anything. Expect nothing. She's the Goddess of Things That Shouldn't Be Possible. Contradictions are her specialty."

  She began counting on her fingers.

  "Three hundred years ago, she granted a dying king's wish to see his kingdom prosper. Within a year, his nation had the richest farmland on the continent. Within five, they'd grown so wealthy they tore themselves apart in civil war. Everyone got exactly what they wanted. Land, gold, power. And it destroyed them."

  Her second finger.

  "Seventy years ago, a mother prayed for her stillborn child to breathe. Miracles obliged. The child drew breath. One breath. Then stopped. Technically, a miracle fulfilled. The mother went mad. Turned out it was better to have never had than to have loved and lost.

  Another finger.

  "Last decade, a warrior asked for the strength to defeat an unbeatable enemy. She gave him exactly that—the strength to defeat an unbeatable enemy. Singular. He won his battle, then lost every fight afterward. He died in a bar brawl three months later."

  And yet another finger.

  "Her most recent example was a young girl who wanted to be reunited with her lover. She did so, in exchange for the lives of everyone in her town. Poor girl ended up being viewed as a villain and slain by a hero."

  Certainty's hand dropped.

  "She doesn't lie, Clive. That's the worst part. She gives people exactly what they ask for. Every word literal. Every wish granted. And somehow it always ends in tragedy because mortals never ask for the right thing."

  Clive stared at the tent ceiling, processing each example. The pattern was clear. "She sounds like an evil genie in a bottle."

  "Essentially. Except genies are bound by rules. Miracles just... chooses to operate this way. Because she finds it interesting. Boredom is her only poison… that's what she always says."

  "Interesting." Clive's laugh came out bitter. "People's lives are interesting to her."

  "People's lives are interesting to all gods," Certainty said. "We just have different definitions of the word. What did Miracles say Jill asked for? Exactly."

  Clive thought back to the darkness. "She said Jill wanted to go home. Wanted me to come with her. Wanted the world to stop changing so everything could go back to how it was." He paused. "And Miracles gave her the power to make that happen."

  "Oh." Certainty went very still. "That's... that's actually worse than I thought."

  "Why?"

  "Because 'the power to make that happen' could mean anything." Certainty's voice turned grim. "The power to bring you home to Earth. The power to kill you so you can be together in the afterlife. The power to trap you in an eternal moment so time stops changing. The power to erase your memories so you forget this world ever existed."

  The pink aura around her dimmed as she stared at Clive with earnest eyes. “Clive…” Her voice lowered and lost its theatrical edge. “Don’t go. I have a bad feeling about this. You don’t know what she’ll do to you.”

  He looked up at her, surprised. This wasn't the dramatic goddess who threw tantrums or the smug deity who enjoyed watching him struggle. For the first time, she felt like a child that he would want to pet instead of slap.

  "I have to go," he said gently. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  The silence stretched between them.

  Then she straightened, and the familiar theatrical irritation returned to her voice.

  "Fine. Go to your mountain. Meet your doomed ex-girlfriend. Walk into the obvious trap." Her form began to fade at the edges. "But Clive?"

  Her voice turned serious again.

  "Don't you dare die before I figure out what game she's playing. Because if Miracles gets to claim your soul when you go, I will be VERY upset."

  "That's touching."

  "I'm being selfish, not touching. Not worried." The defensive edge sharpened. "You're mine." She flickered brighter for emphasis. "MINE. Not hers. Remember that when you're standing on that mountain."

  "I will."

  "You'd better." She paused, her form nearly transparent now. "And Clive? Whatever happens up there... whatever she's turned Jill into..."

  Her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

  "Come back."

  Then she vanished in a shower of pink sparks that faded slowly in the darkness.

  Clive lay back on his bedroll, staring at the space where she'd been. The tent felt emptier than it should have. His chest ached. His head ached. Everything ached.

  But in three days, the moon would be full.

  And he would be there.

  Even if it killed him.

  Especially if it killed him.

  The condemned man walked to the gallows with eyes wide open. When asked why he didn't run, he said: 'Because she's waiting for me on the other side.