Chapter 13- The Goddess & The Gathering Storm

They've forgotten my name.

They always do, eventually.

But in the quiet places, between moonrise and prophecy, some still whisper it like a lullaby.

Nythera.

MoonBlood. Weaver of fate. Mother of the girl below.

I stood barefoot on the edge of my sanctuary, my soul brimming with something sharp and ancient. Not quite rage. Not quite grief. Something older than both.

The storm wasn't in the sky. It was in me.

The divine realm shimmered around me, shaped by my breath and my sorrow. Floating mountains veiled in crystal vines. Rivers of silver dreamflow, singing in voices only the gods remember. Creatures made of forgotten magic and childhood stories drifted lazily through starlit groves. My palace, the pulse of the moon made manifest, bent and twisted with my emotions.

And today?

It bent in fear.

I stood above the scrying pool, hovering over the glowing waters bound to the mortal realm by blood and bone. My staff trembled in my grip, the moonstone at its peak swirling with agitation.

And there she was.

Rhiannan. My daughter.

My precious piece of prophecy, too bright and too fast. Wrapped in wolf limbs and post-bonding glow, her skin still humming from Kaleb's touch. The second seal complete.

Too soon.

"Child," I whispered, my voice caught between reverence and desperation. "You burn too bright already."

She should not have awakened yet. The bonds were forming faster than fate had permitted. The threads were tightening, too quickly, too violently.

"This isn't the pace we chose," I growled, pacing the observatory floor. Every step sparked stars beneath my feet. My palace groaned under my frustration, its living walls warping in tension.

The prophecy echoed in my skull, relentless.

There once fell a spark through the fracture of skies,

Born of divine flame and earthbound cries.

With six fated bonds, a pentacle shall rise,

To shatter the veil where the darkness lies.

She'll dance through time, through death, through flame,

Till the ancient one sleeps with a forgotten name.

I spoke it aloud, trying to pry meaning from its marrow. But every time I reached forward, the threads clouded. The shadows hissed.

There's something else in the loom.

Something foreign. Something wrong.

"I see you," I snapped, slamming my staff against the floor. "I feel you in the weave, but I can't touch you."

I reached over the scrying pool, desperate. The waters shifted, shimmered, and then blackness slithered across the surface. Tendrils of void, formless and ice cold.

And in the silence, it spoke. Not with words. But with claim.

Mine.

I recoiled, bile rising in my throat. The pool cracked. My breath hitched.

"No," I hissed, voice trembling with fury. "You will not reach her. Not yet."

I turned and ascended the glass staircase to the Heart Loom, the soul of fate's tapestry. Thousands of threads pulsed and danced, each line someone's life, their choice, their love, their death.

And there, there she was.

Rhiannan.

A silver thread, bright as starlight and wild as moonfire. Connected now to Arwen's ink black line, Kaleb's glacial white. But floating above them…

Void.

Not dark. Not shadow.

Just absence.

It didn't belong. It hadn't been woven. It was injected.

My hands shook. "You've poisoned my loom."

I tried to touch it, but my fingers slipped through like it was smoke made of sorrow. Nausea slammed into me. This wasn't divine. It wasn't mortal. It was outside.

Outside the laws. Outside the stars. And it was watching her.

She is mine to break.

The words slithered down my spine, oily and wet.

I snapped.

Lightning split my sanctuary.

"Touch my daughter and die!" I roared, and the storm answered.

Rain fell like shattered stars. My palace shook. My pain bled into the sky.

I would not let them take her. Not when the world needed her more than ever. I'd seen the rot. The broken thrones. The starving villages. The monsters wearing crowns.

Andopeer is on the brink.

And my daughter… my little girl born of war and wonder… she will tip the balance.

She must.

Even if I can't interfere directly, I can still nudge.

Still warn.

Still defy.

I summoned a small orb of moonlight, my breath forming it from raw essence. I pressed my lips to it and whispered into its core.

"Beware the demon man. He comes cloaked in beauty and rot. He is owned by the Entity."

I flung the orb into the void. Through realms. Through veils.

Let it find her.

Let it reach her.

A whisper in a dream. A crack in the dark.

Then, knees buckling, I collapsed beside the loom. My hair tangled, my body trembling. I pressed my forehead to the floor and whispered a prayer I haven't spoken since the stars were young.

"Please… let her survive what's coming."

The storm raged around me, echoing my heart.

And somewhere below… my daughter stirred.