Goddess Rising

She went through the maze again. She chose to escape the palace, and when the carriage driver asked for a destination, she gave him a different one. It made no difference. Garo found her, and she once again ended up in that row of cages. Though, oddly enough, she ended up in a different cage.

She went through it a third time, worried about the time she was spending away from the feast, but more worried about her life. She chose to escape again and chose a different destination. Once again, Garo found her. She went through the maze eight more times, picking different destinations and growing more terrified with each failure. After the eleventh attempt, she accepted that Garo would always find her. He was a god, after all.

She could not believe that there was no path to safety. But knowing of its existence and finding it were two different matters. And, she realized, what if she did successfully hide? Would Garo give up searching for her or simply threaten her parents? They were not the most loving parents, but they were her only ones.

When she stepped into the maze again, she reluctantly took the first branch, the one that required her to stay in the palace and serve at the feast. At the feast, she did her duty, serving drinks to a deity she could not recognize. When the feast ended, she and the other servers were led into a room and each given a cup. She refused to drink from it and managed to defeat two guards before they forced it down her throat. When the scene next changed, she was back in the cage.

On a whim, she made the same choice again, and this time chose to drink from the cup. When it took effect, she was back in the cage. Apparently, the cage was not a punishment for defying Garo. It was simply where she ended up when she died.

She was trapped. Whether she ran from the feast or attended it, Garo intended to see her dead. And despite all his promises, death did not mean a neverending feast. If Garo wanted to kill her, what could protect her?

Another god.

On the next attempt, Aria’s first action on entering the hall was to go to Achi and beg her to save him. She would never do that in real life, but a vision allowed her to be more exploratory. To her relief, it worked. The scene changed to show her leaving with him at the end of the feast. Next, she found herself working in the kitchen in a different palace, one made of black walls and happier workers.

Next, she was in a hallway, head bowed as Achi walked side by side with his father. She had not spoken to him since the day he took her to the palace, and all attempts to get him alone had failed. He spoke to other servants, so he was clearly avoiding her.

In the next scene, a devastated-looking attendant announced that Achi was dead. They were all to leave the palace as quickly as they could. Next, she was back at her parent’s home, and in the next scene, she was kneeling before Garo again. He did not even give her a reason for her capture. He simply gave a nod and ended her life. And, once again, the cage surrounded her.

Every subsequent run-through ended in disaster. It did not matter if a god saved her or which god it was, or if she hid in the palace, or escaped and changed her name, or begged Garo for mercy. He either killed her immediately, or he waited until Achi was dead before killing her. Either way, she ended up in the cage, staring down a miserable eternity.

After more attempts than she could count, she stood before the maze’s entrance again, mad with frustration and brimming with panic.

“There has to be a way,” she said. “There has to be a path that doesn’t end in disaster.”

Before her eyes, the maze changed. Rather than a maze, it became two straight corridors, each leading off to a different future; two out of thousands.

She hesitated only for a moment, then she entered the first corridor.

When she took off the ring, it felt as if she had aged a thousand years. There was not enough room in her memory for everything she had seen, but she tried to remember it anyway. The storeroom was still empty and, when she peeked out through its door, her fellow servants were still waiting in line. In fact, time barely seemed to have passed. They all looked as frustrated as they had when she had left. Some gave her curious looks, but she marveled at how little those looks meant to her.

She joined the line again, her tray and the pitcher on it, held close to her chest. Another wait commenced, but her legs did not ache. Any physical discomfort was dwarfed by the turmoil in her mind.

They were not called into the feast for several more minutes, but her legs did not ache. Her mind, fully occupied by the choice she was wrestling with, had no room for bodily aches. When the curiosity at her return had faded, she made her move. She walked down the line of attendants until she found the sixth person in line. Then, she stepped in front of him.

He protested, confused and offended, but she simply informed him that she liked that place and would not be moving. He was not pleased by that, but he did not have to option of pulling her aside for an exchange of fists. Instead, he made a rude comment and accepted his place as seventh in line.

Aria took a deep breath and tried to still her shaking hands. The waiting attendants were in a pattern of three: one holding a basin of water, one carrying a golden drinking cup, and one carrying a pitcher of wine. As sixth in line, Aria would be the wine-bearer for the deity at the second table- Achi.

Her heart thumped as she waited; none of the calming exercises she knew could tame it. So, she tried to accept the fear - like she had every other time she had faced death.

Finally, someone appeared, ordered them to stand straight, and invited them into the feast. They walked in practiced formation, matching each other’s paces, and keeping their gazes respectfully downward. Aria snuck a glance around and found that most of the deities had not arrived. But Achi was at his table, staring lazily at the musicians. She suspected that he was deliberately avoiding her form, but she had no evidence of that.

When each attendant was in position, they turned toward their guests and proceeded with their tasks one at a time.