[Warning: Creation consumed 5 Divinity Points!]

Well, it would have been more surprising if my first attempt succeeded. Still, what am I supposed to do with this failed soul now…

The crimson core drifted before me, bright and whole, and if not for the system's words, I would never have known it to be incomplete. To my eyes, it looked almost identical to the other soul cores, perhaps even larger and more vivid, save for one detail - the lack of divine threads tying it to Orrvyn's projection in my realm.

For a moment, I considered tampering with it further, but the thought passed quickly. I had no idea how to shape or repair a soul, and at this point, I would be more likely to destroy what I had made than to fix it. Guidance, of course, remained unhelpful.

There is no need to rush. I have more than enough to do as it is. And once my rank rises, once I have learned more about souls and how my consciousness works, I might be able to bring Roy back. If it is even possible…

The system's phrasing worried me. It had claimed I was not restoring Roy, but creating a new soul altogether. At the same time, it hinted that if I held his image clearly enough in mind, I could recreate him perfectly. A copy of Roy, indistinguishable from the original. To even attempt that, I would need Vivien's help - my knowledge of Roy was simply too little after all. But before treading down such a path, I first needed certainty. I needed to know for sure whether Roy's return was truly impossible, and whether I even wanted to forge a copy of his soul. I had to consider if granting Vivien's wish like that would be the same as deceiving her - there was no way I'd go against the principle I had set for myself.

But those questions belonged to the future. What concerned me now was the audience waiting in the present. Karla would be meeting Tekla today, and that meant she would almost certainly request something from me - most likely help in saving the Elves.

I could not be certain of her rank, but I was more than confident she stood at Platinum. If she became my believer, she would immediately surpass all others as the strongest under my banner. That alone made the decision easy on the surface. Yet, as always, whether it was this new world or my old one, anything truly valuable carried its own danger. To save the Elves meant to draw the gaze of gods, and if the Goddess herself, described by Karla, by Gundir, and so many others as one of the greatest powers in this world, had perished beneath that weight, then what chance did I have? I was nothing more than a fledgling deity, fragile and only beginning to grow.

Even so, letting her slip away would be a waste. She is too great an opportunity to ignore. I doubt she expects immediate action; for someone who has lived centuries, who doesn't care about time as much as mortals do, a wait of a decade, or even a century, should be little more than a pause. I will tell her that in time, I may move to save the elves, but not now. I only need to find the words that hide the truth. I must not reveal that I fear the other gods.

To be honest, I wasn't sure why it should be considered a flaw to avoid a war with other gods. In a world where deities were common, it seemed natural that some would be strong and others weak, that the weak might rise and the strong might wane, much like nations and even entire civilizations did in my old world. What held me back, however, was the precedent it would set for my believers if their god appeared anything less than almighty, if I seemed hesitant or afraid to act when pressed.

I kept returning to the same conclusion: if the Velmoryns believed I was omnipotent and omniscient, even if I never said it aloud, they would walk into any future war with confidence. They would be more willing to risk their lives for a god who felt limitless than for one who counted Divinity Points on his fingers and did the math on whether a single artifact would empty his reserves. Which, not that long ago, is exactly what I was doing.

The self-deprecation helped, surprisingly. I shifted the Window and willed to see the temple where Tekla moved around, setting the torches alight. For reasons I hadn't fully understood, the Velmoryns didn't use candles, or perhaps they didn't know how to make them. I did. In the past, whenever I visited my mother's parents, I watched them pour candles from beeswax, slow and methodical, with the room smelling faintly sweet. I had no idea if bees even existed here, but I did know what my grandparents taught me: animal fat made fine candles, and that my tribe had in abundance, especially after bringing back so much meat from the monsters that attacked the Yellow Tribe.

I'll show Tekla how to make candles, but I should teach her more than that. A god demonstrating candles is a little too humble on its own.

I kept finding the Velmoryns less developed than I expected, which made sense when I considered how they had lived. Even if they measured their years by centuries, they had spent most of it isolated, shouldering winters and threats with no real competition to pressure them into advancement. Civilizations moved forward because they had to, because neighbors breathed down their necks or ambition pushed them out of comfort, yet my tribe had barely survived long enough to consider anything beyond their basic needs, the raids from stronger tribes, and the long months of cold. I had deduced that Pintre was the one who had shielded them from the beast waves; without that, judging by what I had seen at the Yellow Tribe, they would have been wiped out.

"High Father, our Elf guest will visit the temple soon. Please guide me on what I should answer." Tekla's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She knelt before my statue as she spoke, the words reverent and sincere.

She seems to be more comfortable asking for help than before.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

In the past she never sought my guidance unless she was desperate. She certainly wouldn't have asked for help with a simple conversation. Either she considered this Elf too important to risk a mistake, or she had grown comfortable with me. I assumed the latter, especially after I had drawn her into my realm a few hours ago.

When no answer came, she rose and moved along the walls to light the remaining torches. She showed no disappointment and no hint of resentment. I had kept silent on purpose to see how she would react, and she remained exactly what she had always been - obedient and loyal, a priestess who served without complaint.

While waiting for Karla, Tekla cleaned the temple, not only of dust but of the fallen crimson leaves. She fed a couple of drops of her blood to the Tree of Life, which now bore three fruits nearly ripe and a small fourth. In time, one of them might save a believer's life. The best part was that the fruits would never spoil once plucked; mana ran through them and kept them whole.

"Priestess, would you have me wait outside?"

The voice at the door made Tekla flinch; she had been so immersed in her thoughts that she had not heard the footsteps.

"No, Karla; I was waiting for you," she said with a warm smile, touching her index finger to her lips to seal the tiny red bead. "I know High Father wished you to visit our tribe, yet I do not know the reason. I have received no vision concerning you."

Disappointment crossed Karla's face before composure returned; resolve settled in its place. "Priestess, with your permission, I would ask a few things, and I pray that the God of Velmoryn reveal His will to us."

Her choice of words caught me off guard. I had meant to let the conversation unfold and step in only if needed, but now I wasn't certain. She wanted a direct answer from me, and giving it through Tekla would be awkward, perhaps even for me, too.

"Priestess, I do not know how much you hold of High Mother of Sylvan in your lore; She gave Herself that we might endure. A Goddess of such power could have turned aside from strife with other gods, yet She chose to stand with Her children, with us, the Elves."

Her voice carried such warmth and love that it reached even me, let alone Tekla, who was extremely compassionate. Her eyes grew bright as she met the Elf's gaze, clearly sharing her pain.

"Forgive me if this sounds discourteous, especially as I come seeking aid and the Lord's blessing, yet for an Elf to bear another God's mark is as if... to replace our Mother. I must know that the one I choose to serve is worth..." She stopped as Tekla raised a brow. "…shares the High Mother's ideals and principles."

"Your words truly stray toward discourtesy," Tekla scolded her, though gently. "Yet it was the High Father who opened our gate to you; it is not for me to judge or chastise. I would count it an affront to my Lord to weigh His greatness as though it requires weighing. If one seeks the measure of His care, let them look upon our people: a Drukyr, once only a friend to Elves, now labors at our side; dozens of Velmoryn stand strengthened by His blessing; a Divine Tree keeps watch over His children; and He has even…" Tekla paused, smiling and shaking her head. "I said I would not set out to prove Him, and still my heart refuses silence when His light is not rightly seen."

Karla returned the smile and slowly nodded. "Your love for the Lord is proof enough, Priestess. I beg mercy for my earlier slight against the High Father, and I must beg it once more, for I would make a request." She bowed slightly and placed her fist to her chest - a gesture whenever Velmoryns made an oath. "I swear I would gladly serve High Father, the God who, like our Mother, guards His children, yet my life is not mine to spend."

Tekla's eyes widened, and so did mine, though not from surprise. I already knew what she wanted; what caught me off guard was the change in her voice. I had grown used to Tekla's shift whenever she took on the full weight of her role; her words turned careful and bright whenever she spoke as a priestess. Karla seemed to do the same. The ordinary girl who chatted with Avenor was gone. She spoke as an elf would… or rather, as the elf I had imagined would.

"I am the last of the Elves beneath this sky. If I fall, my people will remain forever bound in that sealed world, forsaken by the living and unreceived by death. I cannot allow that. I will not cease striving to deliver them; yet if I were to pledge myself to the High Father only to learn He would not reach for my poor kin, my life would be accursed. I could never disobey my Lord's will, and still my heart and soul would fail, knowing I had given away the last frail chance of my people's survival."

She paused and searched Tekla's face. But she found nothing. In that moment, it was not the warm, compassionate girl standing before Karla, but my priestess. She would not let sentiment show unless she believed it served my will.

And in that moment, even I did not know what I desired.

This matter is too serious to settle through Tekla alone; a mage as powerful as Karla is worth the extra effort.

Divine Kingdom.

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