Already, she was drifting into sleep. But she heard the Fount when It answered.
Many things.
500 AFA
Little goddess.
A gentle nudge. A quiet song.
It is time to tell the tale again.Softer, almost sad:And then your waiting will be done.
Finally. Finally.
The goddess rose. She went to the Fount.
The girl chosen to write down the story this last time was a pretty young thing, maybe twenty, all green eyes and red hair. The goddess knew that the world beyond the island had changed, but she didn’t know how, and no one told her. They dressed the same, in trousers and shirts and boots. They wrote with pens, in notebooks, and though they looked slightly different from century to century, they didn’t change all that much.
When she approached, the girl stood. She smiled eagerly. “I begged them to let it be me. I’ve wanted to hear this.”
The goddess arched a brow and settled on the lip of the Fount. She began her story, once again, for the last time. Anxiety thrummed through her as she spoke. The world seemed to bend, to rush her on.
We see, the Fount said, running beneath her thoughts.We have heard this so many times, and We see now.
The girl wrote dutifully, asking questions. The goddess tried not to be annoyed when she was interrupted. She wanted to get this done. She had things to do.
This girl peered up from her notes, eyes narrowed. “Which one was your favorite?”
The Goddess of Waiting laughed. It was an unexpected thing. She hadn’t laughed in so long, and it felt so good, that she did it again, louder. Something seemed to fall away, a shroud that she hadn’t realized she’d spun around herself. She’d been in stasis for so long, as if her waiting had enclosed her in a cocoon, the goddess-self a mask she’d drawn over her real face.
But this was the fifth time she’d told this story, this was her five hundred years, and the life she’d waited for was so close, she could taste it. Her debt was nearly paid. There was a hum in the air, building as she told this story, making all the hairs on her arms stand up. The waters of the Fount sloshed forward to gently touch her hand.
“Neither,” she told the girl. “I loved them both equally, wanted them both the same. Gabriel kissed like fire. Bastian wanted me in control. They were so different, and so perfect, and I loved them both so much I’ve been waiting on this damn rock for five hundred years for them to come back.”
The girl’s eyes went wide, and so did her smile, her pen moving fast over her notebook.
Lore—that was her name, her name was Lore, and yeah, shewas technically a goddess, but hopefully that particular trial would be over soon—leaned forward. “What’s your name?”
“Kenna.” The girl’s eyes were saucer-wide. The goddess did not often ask for names.
“Well, Kenna,” Lore said, “you’ll be the last to hear this story.”
Yes, the Fount said.Yes.
Kenna’s eyes were going to fall right out of her head if she widened them any more. “I… are you sure?”
“Very sure.” Lore stood. “I have plans.”
Kenna left in a dreamy haze.
Lore’s time was up. She could leave. But before she did, she turned to the Fount.
“So You said You’ve learned something.”
The waters bubbled and frothed.We have, hearing the story. Watching you.
Her brows climbed. “Watching me?”
For five hundred years, you have waited for love. For five hundred years, you have treated your friends with kindness, as they go and make the world kinder in turn.The water splashed up, wetting the hem of her skirt.We are not human. We will never be. But We have learned human kindness, and it is something worth saving. This world is worth saving, because people like you are in it.
