Goddess of Balance

My blade hums as I draw it from the sheath strapped to my back, whispering a sound only I seem to hear. It’s quiet now, the kind of quiet I crave. Not peaceful. Not safe. Just…still.

I step through the archway, my boots silent on the stone. The scent of incense still clings to the walls, trying to mask the rot beneath. The Order always did love their illusions.

“You’re here to serve, you are worth nothing if not for us. You are a tool meant for us higher gods to use for our gains.” 

These memories… 

“You should be happy!” 

This is the order telling me what I was meant to do...no, born to do. They haunt me in the back of my mind. Who am I? Is this my only purpose?

“Elvara. Elvara. ELVARA!” I think someone is calling for me.

“Elvaraaaa.” I think it’s Anna. “Come onnnn.. Wake up, you know you have another mission today and the Order will get mad if you are late to the meeting again.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see her throw the curtains open, the sunlight barging into my room I recoil away.

“Ugh, but it’s too early,” I say as I pull the covers over my head to block off the too bright sunlight.

“Just five more minutes, please Ana,” I whine as I sit up.

“You told me to wake you up this early so stop whining.” 

“Fineeee,” I say as she drags me out of bed.

Thankfully Ana had already set out a nice outfit for my mission briefing, a sleeveless white dress with gold-trimmed edges and a cinched waist that looks way too formal for someone who might have to stab something by noon. The fabric shimmers faintly in the sunlight streaming from the window in golden streams of light. Next to the dress is a pair of slippers with these ribbons that will wrap around my legs. Compared to the black pants and shirt I wear to conceal blood, this is far too fancy. 

I shrug into the dress and shoes. Stepping in front of the mirror, I stare at my reflection. This…this outfit reminds me of the robes the Order wears when they pretend to be merciful. I hate how much I look like them in this thing, but what say do I have in these matters when I am just these people's tool, meant to serve them till the day I die? I look at my hair, the navy almost black strands absorbing the sunlight. My deep ocean blue eyes look back at me, determined.

I turn back to Ana, my sweet maid who is too kind for this world. 

“Well then, hurry to the meeting before they scold you for being late again. We don’t want a repeat from last time do we?”

“Ok, then I will go!” I say in a sarcastic tone.

Waving, I think of how we became friends in the first place. As I walk down to the halfway to the throne room

I wonder what my new mission is this time. I think as my heart seems to pound in my ears while I wait for my sign to enter the throne room. 

“You may enter” says a deep, powerful voice from inside I recognize as Vaerik the god of War, the male leader of the order.

The moment I step through the sealed archway, I feel it, a strange weight pressing down on my spine. The air is colder here, more menacing. My boots echo against smooth black stone as the door seals behind me, cutting me off from the world outside.

A platform rises beneath my feet, lifting me slowly into the center of a massive circular table. The ascent is silent, but my heartbeat seems to be pounding in my ears. I bow down on a knee as I get to the middle of the table, showing my respect for the order.

When I finally look up, every god is here. All of them. That cold feeling runs up my spine again.

They sit in their thrones, evenly spaced around a wide, ring-shaped table that wraps around the platform like a noose. There's a hollow center between them and me, just enough space to make sure I feel the full weight of their gaze. 

“Rise, child. You have been summoned here for your next task,” says Niraxis, the goddess of judgement and the female leader of the order, her voice calm and regal. Her tone gives nothing away, but when I meet her gaze, I feel it sharp cutting. She never liked me. Not when I was young, and certainly not now. And from the look in her eyes, I doubt that will change anytime soon.

I meet Niraxis’s gaze, and for a second I forget how to breathe. She doesn't look angry. She doesn't look anything. I could never read her, and what makes it worse, her cold eyes stare straight at me, as if she’s already weighed my worth and found it lacking.

To my left, a soft scoff breaks the silence. Velastra, of course.

The goddess of beauty sits draped across her throne like a vision carved from moonlight. Her appearance is flawless: skin like porcelain kissed by starlight, violet eyes rimmed in silver, and hair cascading down her back in waves too perfect to be natural. Her gown is threaded with soft gold and shimmering roseglass, sheer in places, sculpted in others, elegant, seductive, deadly.

But beneath the softness lies steel.

Velastra is Niraxis’s right hand. Whispers say she was once a goddess of healing and love, long before she chose power over peace. She is as cunning as she is beautiful, charming enough to make you trust her, calculated enough to slit your throat the moment you do. Her cruelty is never loud. It’s polite. Precise. Pretty.

She leans forward slightly, resting her chin on one pale knuckle, the corners of her lips curled just enough to sting.

“Still in one piece? I had assumed they’d give this to someone…competent.”

Her voice is smooth, effortless—like silk slipping off a blade. I say nothing as among the divine order, silence is law. One does not speak to the gods unless given permission. A single word out of place is not defiance, it’s sacrilege.

To her right, Vaerik sits in rigid silence. His armor is forged from volcanic obsidian and trimmed with veins of molten gold that shines in the light. He wears a constant scowl, every line of his body says he's only here because someone dragged him.

Apollox, the god of astrology and arrogance, lounges in a throne of carved crystal, its edges catching the light like shattered stars. Faint constellations flicker inside its surface, shifting in slow, deliberate patterns. His coat is midnight blue, stitched with moving galaxies, and a golden band hovers above his brow. 

“Ah, our little star returns,” he says, each word soaked in sarcasm. “Do try not to burn out again.”

His smirk lingers like a stain.

Alandra, the goddess of dreams, rests quietly in a crescent-moon seat made of pale ivory and soft light. Her robes are woven from silk and shadows, constantly shifting. She wears a veil of silver threads, though I can still see her soft, motherly smile beneath it.

Zorrien, god of knowledge, moves at last. His throne is a library carved in stone, etched with runes that glow as he thinks. His robes are layered in muted grays and soft whites, minimal and exact.

He says nothing at first. Just lift one hand and place it gently on the table. A scroll materializes with a hiss of golden light.

“The target has been chosen,” he says flatly. “The details are within.”

I reach for the scroll, only then does he raise his eyes to meet mine.

“Read it carefully, Elvara. One misstep, and the threads of fate will unravel,” he says.

A pause.

Then Alandra, gentle as always, tilts her head toward me. “Be safe, child,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Return well.”

I bow, not for them. Not for Niraxis in her throne of cold judgment. Not for Velastra and her honey-coated poison. Not for Vaerik’s silence, nor Apollox’s arrogance, nor Zorrien’s hollow certainty.

I bow for her, for Alandra, the dream-weaver who once held me when no one else would, who offered kindness in a world built on obedience. The only one who ever looked at me and saw more than a weapon.

To the rest, this gesture is a performance. A mask they mistake for reverence. But beneath the silence I don't honor them. I resent them.

I bow…to mock them.

I returned to my room not long after. The scroll sits on my desk, not yet opened. I haven't opened it yet. 

I need to open it, but I feel fear tugging at the edges of my mind. I shake my head. No, I can’t be scared! 

Before I really overthink this the scroll is in my hands, my fingers quickly breaking the smooth, red wax seal. 

Smoothing it out, I see Zorrien's elegant writing. His commanding tone is visible in each stroke.

His eyes…his eyes were a shade of blue, so light, so beautiful, kind of like mine…What the heck am I thinking!? He is my target. He disturbed the sacred peace and I must restore it.

At the crack of dawn I am up. I pack slowly, carefully planning everything I put into my bag. I don't pack much, nothing can bring too much attention to me. For this mission I am no longer Elvara, I will be playing the role of a grieving, determined mortal girl, Elaine, ready to join the Whispers. Nothing can be too clean, too fine. I must play this role perfectly, I think. 

The story of Elaine runs through my mind as I need to memorize my new life. She…I lost everything. My sister Anabel. Her.. ugh… my parents. My village. All stolen by the gods' enforcers. Her…my story is simple. I want revenge. And that’s why I seek the rebellion.

I pull on my tunic and boots, both rough and plain, a little faded at the seams to give that impression of a mortal girl barely holding on. My corset is scratched and worn, hugging a cream-colored blouse tucked into olive-green trousers. I shrug on my black cloak, pulling the hood of my head because that will draw suspicion. I reach my arms up, putting my hair in a half-up half-down style, just enough to keep it out of my face if things take a violent turn, but loose enough to frame my features. Pretty, forgettable, mortal. I have a blade sheathed by my boot just in case and nothing else in order not to attract the wrong attention.

My bag is filled with another outfit for the road, my night clothes, a few coins, a map (which I don't really need but apparently a lost mortal girl does), my fake identification papers, and at the very top, a carefully wrapped meal. Ana had made me my favorite food for the road, warm sunroot stew and a small loaf of honeyed bread, still soft. 

My room is still dim with the early morning light. I glance around one last time making sure I have everything I need. I open the door seeing Ana; I hug her tightly, just in case. Her small arms hug me back, warming me up on this cold morning. 

“I’ll be back, don't worry,” I whisper in her ear.

“Be careful, ok?” she says, her voice laced with worry.

I say softly, “This isn't a good bye, it’s just a placeholder of words until I see you again."

The Red Ember Hollow province unfolds before me in hues of rust and gold, its stress pulsing with life even as dawn fades. Red Ember Hollow is known for its bustling trading alleys and black-market stalls, it's a place where secrets are sold along with spices, and where those who wish to vanish without a trace often do. If someone wanted to disappear, or cause trouble without anyone ever knowing, this place is perfect for them, perfect for hiding a big group of rebels. My feet move with purpose, but I try not to be hasty to not call attention to myself. My boots click against worn out stone as I step through the twisted streets. I slip into a bar where my instructions say is the best way to get the whispers a message. The bar is dim and hazy with the scent of smoke, alcohol, and body odor coming from the men sitting at their tables, screaming at each other and singing and dancing to the tune that the band in the corner plays. A few heads lift as I enter but none linger. I approach the counter pulling my face to show confidence but also determination, playing the part of a girl seeking revenge. I pull my cloak closer to me concealing some of my features in the dim light.

“I heard the night is loudest when no stars are watching,” I say softly. 

The bartender doesn’t look up, but I see the way his hand stills for half a breath. I hope I haven't been misled to say the wrong code but studying the bartender's reaction, I believe it was correct.

Hopefully, the Whisper’s leader shows his face. Tonight.

If not… 

I groan inwardly and wait for what feels like forever. Half an hour passes, the shadows outside stretching longer as the day goes by, the tavern air thick with smoke and the drunkenness of wary travelers. No glances, no strange whispers under their breaths, no secret nods from shadowy figures in the corner. Just bad ale and worse company.

Maybe I said the wrong code? Maybe tonight is not the night. 

I push off the bar with a sigh, trying to hide the frustration bubbling in the back of my head. Great.Just great. I’ll have to come up with something else. I turn– I guess finding these pesky whispers will be harder than I originally thought–when someone slams into my shoulder.

What the–?

I stumble, barely catching myself. How did I not see them coming? I twist, eyes scanning, my hand twitches toward the dagger hidden beneath my coat.

Too late.

A chill crawls up the back of my neck

No. No…no…no.

Suddenly, everything blurs…

Then. Nothing but darkness.

I wake up with a jolt. I see nothing but black. Is there a bag over my head? I stir a bit. I try moving my hands but.. They.. wont budge?

I hear muffled voices.

“I think she’s awake.” I hear a rough male voice say not too far from me.

Woshh… 

I feel a cloth like fabric scraping across my face.

A blinding white light floods my vision, so the sharp it fills my eyes with a burning sensation. I flinch, twisting my head away, trying to bury my face in my shoulder to hide my eyes from the light, but I can't go any farther, the bindings around my arms hold firm and tight. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through my nose, trying to calm the pounding in my chest and ears. Slowly, shapes begin to take form through the haze. My lashes flutter. Four silhouettes stand in front of me, just far enough away that I can't make out their faces yet, but close enough that I feel the weight of their stare.

I try to quickly scan the room absorbing as much detail as I can.

The closest guy to me on my left is tall, board-sholdered, with sandy-blond curls that fall into his sharp green eyes and tanned skin. His posture is casual, almost bored, but his fingers twitch near the hilt of a dagger strapped to his thigh. A patchwork cloak hangs from one shoulder, mismatched like he’s either resourceful or maybe just reckless. His smirk tugs slightly when our eyes meet, like he’s already made a joke at my expense.

The closest guy to me on my right towers over me with pronounced muscles, warm brown skin, and long luscious hair that seems as black as night, tied at the base of his neck. He is wearing what seems like a chestplate over a simple black shirt and leather pants. 

The guy closest to the blond is almost as pale as a ghost with hair slivery-blond, his eyes an unnatural bright shade of violet, his gaze unreadable but I think he is trying to read me. Oh dang, I need to keep pretending to be innocent Elaine still. I slip a placid confused face to mask my true intentions. A plain white shirt is tucked into his deep ocean blue pants. A long cloak drapes over his shoulders, so blue it almost looks black.

And the last person I can make out right next to the mysterious silvery-blond guy is…a girl? She seems to stand apart from the others. Her presence seems to command the room with just a glance. Confidence seems to roll off her in waves. She's tall with a surprisingly straight posture. Her long red hair tumbles down her back in cascading curls, catching the dim light with slight hints of copper and what seems like fire. A dark green layered dress clings to her curves, as if it were cut and tailored to make her a commanding beauty of a presence, with her skirt having this effect of flowing green silk. Her eyes scan me head to toe.

Wait, why is there a big gap between them?... Wait, is that space for HIM?...

A dark commanding voice booms from somewhere behind me.

Footsteps, calm, controlled, commanding, echo against the wooden floor until a figure steps into view, draped by golden lights streaming past his tall frame. His posture is relaxed but it's the kind of relaxed that makes every hair on my neck rise. The kind that commands respect. No…he has earned their respect.

My heart stutters.

No way...That has to be him!

Rhyder Vale.. The infamous rebel leader. My "assignment."

He’s just slightly in front of the others in that gap that was left for him. The light shining bright behind his silhouette, makes him have an even more powerful presence than he already commands. 

I try to hold my face steady, to keep emotion from showing on my face. I will play the role of Elaine so well they won't even see me coming. Soft, innocent, desperate, that's the role I will play. That's who I will become.

He stopped a few feet away from me, his sharp gaze seemed to pierce through my bones. 

I shiver runs down my spine.

“Well,” he says, tone smooth and unreadable, “what do we have here?”

His eyes flick down, taking in the ropes around my wrists, the bruises, the confusion I’m trying to wear like a second skin.

Don’t break. Don’t flinch. I let out a shaky breath playing the role of a frightened girl, and let the lies slide on my tongue.

“My name is Elaine,” I say, making my voice small but clear. “My sister, my parents, my village…the gods took everything… I came to find the rebellion.” 

I hesitate, just long enough to seem real. “I want revenge.”

For a moment, no one speaks. Then he tilts his head just slightly, considering me like I’m some sort of puzzle.

A grimace plays at the corner of his lips, barely even noticeable. A flicker of what could be concerning. Not kind. Not cruel. Just empathetic… Our eyes lock and suddenly everything is on fire, flashes of moments overlap with reality, I feel pain, sadness, hopelessness. Screams…everywhere the smell of burning wood flesh filling my nostrils. A woman and man with warm and kind faces written with terror try to pull me out of the burning house when the roof collapses. The man is engulfed by the flames while the woman is stuck underneath a heavy wooden pillar. Tears flow down my face, I scream trying to pull the nice woman from underneath my pillar. She shouts at me to leave but I don't listen. I keep trying to push the pillar of her when arms engulf me and pull me out of the fire… 

“Well then, Elaine,” his voice echoes in the silence.

I snap back into the moment, what in the gods was that? What did I just see…BOOM!

The walls start to crumble as the sconce swings from the roof.

Muffled shouts echo from somewhere behind me it seems.

“Ronan, Selene, go check what’s going on out there, Darek and I will stay with this Elaine,” Rhyder whisper-yells.

The girl with the fiery red hair he called Selene and the guy with the pitch black hair he called Ronan ran out of wherever I am and seemed to open the wall and just walk through!?

“Now tell me Elaine, do you know the cause of why this place seems to want to collapse on us?” he said in a low menacing growl. “Did anyone know you wanted to find us?”

I put on my best show of acting scared, acting like it took great effort to speak.

“No...no...” I make my voice tremble “I have no idea what…or who is attacking! Plus I have no idea where I even am so how would I be at fault?!”

“I just had to make sure,” Rhyder said as he looked at me with suspicion written across his eyes and brows. 

“Ronan and Selen are taking too long. I am going to go check what's going on. You stay with the girl Darek,” Rhyder commanded.

Derek just nodded in response and in a flash he too seemed to disappear through what I am guessing is a hidden doorway.

I crane my neck to just see where this hidden doorway might be accessed when a whisper runs a shiver down my neck. 

“Hello, little star.”

I freeze…Only the order ever called me that…never anyone else…ONLY the order. I turn my face to stare at the other person in the room, the silver haired guy Rhyder called Darek. I fight to keep my frightened girl act together to not let the tiny bit of fear and confusion show.

“The Order had a change of plans. They want this done and over quickly. They’ve called in their spy to help, so stop the act already Elvara,” he said my name with a sharp tone in his voice…and how did he find me in the first place?

“They decided to help speed things up, so they put a rune on you to help track you into the base of these delinquents if you are wondering,” Darek said quickly. “Now I am going to cut your ties and you are going to find Rhyder and end all of his nonsense,” he said as he pulled out a knife from some hidden sheath. SNAP! The binds on my wrist and necklace went away one by one as he cut them off. 

“I need to take care of the others so you are on your own from here on out. You should find Rhyder through that door, all the way down the hallway and to your right. Do you understand?” he said with a commanding tone

“Yes,” I said in my normal voice this time.

I turn from him and go to the door, slowly opening it as I spy through it to see if there are any obstacles in my path. Okay the coast seems clear.

I slip through the door and start to head down the hallway as Darek told me and two strong hands grab me from behind. I duck, crouching and twisting as I throw out my leg in order to sweep my attackers legs from beneath them. The tall figure jumps, avoiding my kick. I shoot straight up to see that they are already lunging for me. My back hits the wall behind us with a thump. 

Off… the air wishes out from me and suddenly my arms are pinned above my head, a knife to my throat.

“Wow, it seems I underestimated you, Elaine.You’re quite the fighter.” 

Damn, I know that voice…Rhyder.

“Now how did you escape your binds AND Darek?”

I don't bother answering his question as I shove my knee upwards into his stomach. He lurches as the knife hits the floor while I swivel my arms from his grasp. I kick the back of his legs and in a split second he’s on his knees as I press his own knife to his throat this time.

The roof collapses on us.