That night, inside the tavern, Ana and Epona were completely drunk—singing, laughing, and dancing with the other guests.

  (Image created with Gemini AI for illustrative purposes only.)

  The place was large and filled with cheerful commotion. A group of troubadours strummed enormous lutes, singing heroic tales of the great King Charlemagne while the patrons drank beer and clapped along.

  “Come on, ladies! Show us how they drink in Britannia and Ireland!” shouted the men around them.

  Ana didn’t understand a word, but Epona translated for her—and soon, both joined a drinking contest. Epona didn’t last long; she ended up vomiting spectacularly, much to the innkeeper’s fury.

  “My apologies for my friend’s behavior,” Tania said to the hostess, handing her a few coins. “Please, take this for the trouble.”

  The party raged on. Tania, Anpiel, and Rodrigo merely watched as the two goddesses reveled, red-faced and laughing.

  “You don’t drink?” Rodrigo asked Tania.

  “And make a fool of myself like them? No, thank you,” she replied dryly.

  “Well, at least they’re releasing some of the stress from earlier,” Anpiel said, amused.

  “Who was that woman we saw today?” Rodrigo asked quietly.

  “Athena,” the angel answered, his tone suddenly grave. “A criminal goddess and leader of a revolutionary group that stands against El.”

  “She’s also the mentor Ana always talks about,” added Tania.

  “I thought she’d be… a good person, then,” Rodrigo said, uncertain.

  “She was,” Tania said softly.

  “Once, Athena was the envy and admiration of all goddesses,” she continued. “She was our role model—beautiful, brave, and strong. It was said her father, the Anunnaki of the Greek pantheon, would one day pass his throne to her. But for reasons I still don’t understand, she exiled herself and became a wanderer.”

  “Ana met her during that time. Back then, Athena wasn’t a threat to Lel. She had suffered deeply, and Athena took her in—helped her heal from her pain.”

  Rodrigo sensed he shouldn’t ask what kind of pain Ana had endured.

  “But one day, Athena invited Ana to join her rebellion. That’s when they parted ways. Since then, Athena has been one of the most wanted fugitives in all the heavens. Even without her totema, she—and her followers—are dangerous,” Tania concluded.

  “I’ve heard that term a lot,” Rodrigo said. “What exactly are totemas?”

  “Oh, right,” Tania said, smiling faintly.

  “When humans once worshiped the gods, they gave us form through statues, symbols, and sacred seals. Their prayers and faith created physical vessels—special armors we wear in battle to amplify our divine power.”

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  “In other words,” Anpiel added, “they’re magnets of faith. The more a deity is worshiped, the more powerful their totema becomes.”

  The angel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small figurine. It was carved in the shape of a woman seated beside two horses.

  “This is Epona’s totema. When she needs it, I’ll deliver it to her.”

  “And yours?” Rodrigo asked Tania.

  “Well… I suppose I owe you that explanation,” Tania said nervously.

  Rodrigo looked at her, surprised by her hesitation.

  “Ana and I don’t have the best reputation in Lel,” she admitted. “That’s why a malakim was sent to oversee our mission. We haven’t been authorized to use our totemas yet—they’re still above, in Lel.”

  “Unless the situation becomes dire,” Anpiel added, “I’ll retrieve them and hand them over.”

  Rodrigo didn’t dare ask about Tania’s “bad reputation.” It was strange enough seeing her speak so much.

  “It’s a strange mission,” Anpiel admitted. “Normally, totemas would be granted for a confrontation with a god—like in Loki’s case.”

  Tania fell silent for a moment. “I think Ana and Epona feel the same as I do… I don’t think Athena was lying,” she said, looking away.

  Rodrigo’s heart skipped. Would Anpiel report that statement to Lel?

  “I think we need to talk to her,” Tania continued, “though it’ll be hard for Ana, considering their history.”

  “Won’t that affect your evaluation before Lel?” Rodrigo asked.

  Tania clenched her fist, nearly striking the table—but stopped herself.

  “I won’t report any of this to my superiors,” Anpiel said calmly. “You may not know this, Rodrigo, but Tania once helped us all greatly when she still had Lel’s favor. I’m sure this is another of Anat’s schemes.”

  “I’ve worked so hard,” Tania said bitterly. “I’ve completed every mission assigned to me, and yet I’m still forbidden from entering Lel—still denied my totema! And now they want me dead! Damn Whoranat!”

  Her voice broke, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

  “Would you like a drink, Lady Tania?” Anpiel asked gently.

  But she didn’t answer. She lowered her head onto the table, her hands trembling. Soft sobs escaped her.

  It was an uncomfortable silence. Neither Rodrigo nor the angel could do anything but listen to the quiet weeping of the goddess with fiery hair.

  “I’m going to bed,” Tania finally said, standing up. “But tomorrow, I want to speak with Athena—whether Ana likes it or not.”

  She left a few coins on the table and walked away.

  “I think I’ll retire as well, sir Rodrigo,” said Anpiel. “I haven’t slept in two full days.”

  He rose and left the tavern.

  Rodrigo looked over at Ana and Epona—they were still dancing wildly.

  “Rui! Rui! Come dance with me!” Ana shouted, laughing.

  (Image created with Gemini AI for illustrative purposes only.)

  She ran to him, pulling him by the arm. But she was far too drunk; after a few clumsy steps, she collapsed against his chest.

  “Time to go, Ana,” Rodrigo said gently.

  “Don’t leave me here, Rui,” she mumbled.

  He slipped her arm over his shoulder and helped her upstairs, glancing back to see Epona still laughing and drinking with the others. He laid Ana carefully on her bed. She fell asleep instantly.

  Rodrigo realized that he shared the room with Tania—but the goddess was already asleep, turned away from him.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his boots, when suddenly Tania began to scream.

  “Stop! Stop! Please, don’t! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

  She was crying in her sleep, thrashing in the sheets. Rodrigo didn’t know what to do, but he reached out and took her hand. Slowly, her breathing steadied. The nightmare faded.

  As he sat there beside her, Rodrigo began to understand something: the world of the gods wasn’t so different from that of men.

  “Is this a suicide mission?” he thought, staring at the moonlight through the window. Then he made a silent promise—

  no matter what happened, he would protect them all.