“There is so much You don’t understand,” Lore continued, calmer now, “and I think that’s why You allowed the gods to take from You. You wanted to see what would happen, when the worldwas governed by human hearts. We are all an experiment.” She cocked her head, trying to sound less furious than she felt. “And the experiment went wrong, and then it was up to us to fix it. So now You have Your power back. But what happens when someone else comes here, centuries from now, and wants a piece of it? What if, by that point, You’re curious again?”
The Fount bubbled. “We do not make the same mistake twice.”
“Respectfully, I don’t believe You.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that You need a guard,” Lore said. “Someone to stay here and make sure no one else gets it in their head to try on godhood. Someone with a human heart to keep You from making inhuman decisions.”
“Someone for them to worship,” the Fount said derisively.
Lore’s nose wrinkled. “I deeply hope not.”
Raihan looked up from his scribbling, eyes narrowed even as his hand kept moving. “What are you playing at, Lore?”
“I’m done playing,” she said simply. “And I won’t let the game start again.”
The Fount burbled some more, as if beginning to boil, the weight of Its thought hanging heavy in the air. “You mortals only last so long. Who will take your place?”
“Seeing as I don’t really trust anyone else,” Lore answered, “I think it would be in both of our best interests if You did something to combat that mortality. Not get rid of it, mind You, I know that’s impossible. Just extend my time.” She arched a brow. “Maybe You’ll learn something by then.”
“So you are doing the same thing He did,” the Fount said, as contemptuous as a magic fountain could sound. “Looking for a way out of dying.”
“Not at all,” Lore murmured, thinking of Gabe, thinking of Bastian. “I’d love to die.”
The Fount had no reply for that. “You said you wished to talk terms,” It said finally. “We suppose you will want repayment.”
“Give them back to me,” Lore said simply, her voice a wound.
“They are far gone. Death cannot be cheated.” It paused. “But it can be… abbreviated.”
“How abbreviated?” Her heart slammed against the base of her throat.
“Five hundred years,” the Fount said. “The time from the Godsfall to now. Then you can have them back. But they will die again, you understand this? Immortality is not an option.”
“We don’t want it,” Lore said. “We just want a life together. It already began, and we want a different ending.”
“We accept your terms.” The waters of the Fount splashed lightly, washing up the sides of the golden stone. A small wave lapped over the edge, collecting in a shallow basin made from a broken tile. “Drink. There is no power in it, only longevity.” Its not-voice went wry. “Wehavelearned things.”
Lore knelt. Then she sat, crossing her legs beneath her; a less comfortable position, but she didn’t want any posture of worship for this. She cupped her hands, scooped up the water, and drank.
It washed through her, shining and cold, stringing stars through her bones and minor harmonies around her organs. Lore gasped and opened her eyes. She felt no different, not really. But the world looked a little brighter.
She stood, making sure her legs were steady, then walked over to Raihan. He’d stopped writing, pen hanging limp in his fingers. “Well,” he said as she approached. “That was… something.”
“Did you get all of it?” She sat beside him, glanced at his notebook. Messy scrawl covered the pages.
“Every bit,” he said.
“Good.” Lore closed her eyes, sighed. “We need to make sure only the truth is shared this time. There will still be opportunitiesto twist it, but if we can make sure the truth is out there, it will make a difference. Surely.”
“Surely,” Raihan repeated. A moment of silence. “What do you need from me, Lore?”
“Just to stay,” she murmured. “Just to write the truth.”
He nodded. Then he stood, walking toward the path. “I’ll start now,” he said. “Sharing the truth, I mean.”
Lore watched him go. Then she was alone with the Fount. She looked at It with her eyebrow cocked. “You’re stuck with me, now. For five hundred years, at least.”
