The Flyting Of The Dea Pronoia
I appeared out of the planeswalk in a flurry of pages and a small burst of mana. I could sense the mortal realm and tap into it just as easily as any other goddess, but for the first time in a while, I planeswalked out into the divine realm instead.
Most mortals perceived the divine realm as being above the tallest clouds and tucked away. The reality was much stranger. It was more like stepping sideways out of the mortal realm and then using flight magic to go upwards to the gallery adjacent to a theater stage. The divine naturally had box seats to the dramas of the mortal realm.
This was my first divine meeting in nearly a decade. The last time I had been called to my creator’s divine abode was when Cinderblaze, Bralla, and I had all reached our twentieth year of existence. We had been called back to the divine realm from our various wanderings – my studies at Witherbloom College, Cinderblaze’s role in the House of Endings, and Bralla’s wandering fight-settling ways – in order to serve in our roles as primary deities for the plane overall and create our banes and boons for the mortals. I had codified my teachings of information-sharing and how it should be done and granted it to some of my relatively few mortal worshipers to better standardize the entire process. Not every divine had been as kind to the mortal population on the plane, not even the ones who had once been mortal themselves. I hadn’t thought much about that back then.
But I was certainly thinking of it now.
Cinderblaze, my “older” “triplet” “brother” – it was hard to say any of those unironically considering we were crafted at the same time by our shared creator, we barely looked similar because he was patterned after demons and I was patterned after humans, and mortal concepts of gender was something we both had a vague grasp on at best – was waiting for me when I arrived. His demonic wings were pulled tightly against his back, as though he were trying to disappear without shifting back to the mortal realm or the House of Endings. I watched the tension leave his shoulders. “Hey Lily. They’ve been at each other’s throats all day.”
I forced a smile to my face. “Then let’s see if I can make it worse,” I joked, offering my arm to him. Out of all of us – myself, Cinderblaze, Bralla, and our creator – I was inexplicably several inches shorter than the rest of the family. Yet another thing my creator messed up for me, in addition to forgetting to give me blood or ichor and giving me some of her mental illnesses.
Cinderblaze laughed and accepted my offered arm. I felt a little smug about that, admittedly; I was closer to Cinderblaze than I was to any other divine in Thyrsus, and even our elder sister Ending couldn’t get a laugh out of him like I could. Together, we stepped inside our creator’s divine home.
Each Thyrsian goddess, born or apotheosized, had their own personal portion of the divine realm, which expanded with each new addition to our pantheon. And considering the sheer number of us across the plane, that was for the best. Even still and despite the argument inside that was reaching a fever pitch, the domain of the Dea Xenia always felt the most like home. My creator’s divine abode was a large yet simple wooden temple, with a fire burning to transfer offerings from the mortals and a long table for visitors. I had learned during my first decade that there were proper seats at this table.
My creator, who currently appeared as a human woman that I heavily resembled, sat at the end closest to the fire, with Ending (who looked like a minotaur as usual) to her right and Beginning (who had switched to her preferred satyr guise) to the left. My eldest sisters were the first goddesses crafted after the plane and its first beings had already been made, so such a place of honor was a natural spot for them.
Then there were some of the older apotheosized divines as the table slowly stretched closer to the entryway. The Dea Lykeie, a massive wolf goddess who had already bat her chair away. The Dea Eurynome, an older pastoral goddess who stayed with the Dea Lykeie pretty much every time I saw them. The Dea Euenemos, a sphinx and Beginning’s eldest child in addition to being the Fair-Winds God, sat with the Dea Haliplanktos, a telkhine who was raised from mortality and became the Sea-Roaming God. (The Dea Haliplanktos glared at me, and I glared back. Our recent competition to become the patron goddess of Actalia had left bad blood between us despite me winning quite decidedly.) I much preferred the Dea Ouranios, the Sky God and the Dea Euenemos's son who also appeared as a sphinx, and his partner the Dea Pandemos, the All-Loving Goddess who alternated regularly between harpy and siren forms. There was also the Dea Khalkeus, an apotheosized cyclops who was now the Bronze-Smithing God.
And finally, I, the Foreseeing Goddess, sat down with Cinderblaze, the Exactor of Justice, leaving me sitting across from our sister Bralla, the Saving Goddess. We were the newest goddesses. And the weakest. I clenched my fists under the table, furious about that fact. I barely qualified as a goddess – I was comparable to, at best, a sufficiently powerful mortal mage. I couldn’t shake the plane like most of the goddesses at this table. Even Bralla, the war-loving Dea Soteira, had gathered dedicated followers who prayed to her first and foremost. I simply disappeared until people remembered to pray to me.
Our plane’s creator stood up from her seat once she noticed that I had arrived, thus marking the thirteenth member. “Silence,” she said to the Dea Euenemos and the Dea Khalkeus, who both promptly shut up. “I did not convene a council just so you all could argue with each other. As many of you know, this meeting of the divine typically happens on a decade basis. This time, we had to convene a bit earlier due to the general state of the Multiverse.” The Dea Xenia stepped aside to prowl around the table like a hunting animal. I mentally slapped myself for the comparison; of course she did, she was the originator of the concept of druids across the Multiverse, like the oldwalker Serra had been the originator of angels on many planes. “The Omenpaths have opened across Thyrsus despite quarantining attempts. And I must head to other planes to tend to business regarding some old friends and acquaintances.” She stopped behind me. Silently, I offered my right hand, calling our family’s shared spark to it. She held my hand for a moment longer than necessary to accept it. Then, she kept moving. “Because of that,” she continued as she walked around the other side of the table, “we will be handling the wonders now.”
Whispering broke out among the other goddesses. The wonders were how we – twelve divines chosen by the Dea Xenia out of hundreds – influenced the mortal realm in a broader stroke than we usually did. This rationing of broad divine power was what kept Thyrsus from being destroyed by any individual petty goddess.
She sat down once more at the head of the table. “Dea Telos, if you would begin.” Ending was always the first, as the eldest of us all.
Ending nodded. “Thank you, mother.” It stood up. “As I did eight years ago, I shall be expanding the House of Endings and creating a larger rest area for those who do not wish to return to the surface world.” With that, it sat back down. I wasn’t surprised by Ending’s declaration; it was devoted to its duties in the afterlife. Nor was I surprised by the surge of divine power that traveled through the entirety of Thyrsus to follow its will.
Beginning, the Dea Arkhe, stood up next. “And I will be using my own wonder to assist the Dea Telos with making the afterlife more comfortable to the dead.” It sat back down. The surge of divine power followed just as quickly as the first.
I paid attention once it shifted to the Dea Lykeie’s turn. Usually, I spent this time pondering how to help the mortals of Thyrsus most and fulfill my role as a goddess of information and knowledge. But something felt off this time. And something I had learned from being an adventurer was to never shrug off something feeling wrong.
The Dea Lykeie stood up, her lupine form towering over the rest of us. “I will elect the mortal Iokheaira as a paragon for my faith so that it may be spread deeper into the wilds.” Iokheaira, I recalled, was a prodigal centaur archer that was from the Dea Lykeie’s bloodline before she became the Dea Lykeie. I bit my tongue as I felt the divine power surge to make her will true.
The Dea Eurynome was next, and she straightened up once the Dea Lykeie sat back down. Being a centaur meant that the chairs were not built for her current form. She was far angrier than usual, which was apparent in her wonder for this decade. “The lotus eaters of Orchinia have slighted me, and I will be blighting them with a drought until the next set of wonders.” I frowned as that one set in. The Dea Eurynome wasn’t usually a spiteful goddess. And as a harvest and pastoral goddess, she was one of the only ones who could give bounties and droughts that easily.
I was less surprised when the Dea Euenemos stood up fully next and declared his. “Likewise, I shall be raining disaster upon the village of Latessos. Their fields shall flood and be rendered useless.” Latessos had a large population of those who did not fall under the love domain of the Dea Euenemos. I was also immune to his bastardry. Under the table, my nails dug into my Strixhaven uniform as divine power surged once more.
The Dea Haliplanktos was looking at me as he stood up to declare his. “I will be creating a new species for Thyrsus,” he began. I met his gaze and raised my chin, challenging him. I hadn’t backed down from the older god during our contest over Actalia, and I wouldn’t back down now. “A beast with the body and mane of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, the wings of a dragon, and the face of a centaur. They shall feed upon meat, even that of the sentient races. They shall be called manticores.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my creator scowl for a moment. My gaze did not waiver as power surged to create the manticores. I quietly made a note to find ways to destroy them quickly as the Dea Haliplanktos sat back down.
The Dea Ouranios was a lot more withdrawn when he stood up. “I shall safeguard Salaros.” A floating island that served as a library. One of the few places with consistent worshipers of mine. I felt a little bit of relief as that went through.
“And I shall safeguard Lesbos,” the Dea Pandemos said as she stood up once the Dea Ouranios was done. At least those two had their heads on right.
The Dea Khalkeus, however, returned to the form that the other gods had set when he stood up. “I will create an avatar to walk Thyrsus,” he said, his voice far louder than the rest of ours. “To punish the mortals who think themselves above me when working the forge.”
What in the name of other planes’ hells has gotten into everyone? I wondered as that change surged forth. I had been distant from Thyrsus during my studies, of course, but nothing had felt this...drastic. I quietly reached over to squeeze Cinderblaze’s hand and reassure him.
The Dea Praxidike squeezed my hand back before he stood up. “I shall enact judgment,” he said, his voice far quieter than the Dea Khalkeus’s had been. That got everyone’s attention. Like the Dea Eurynome giving bounties and droughts, my brother was the only one who could enact judgment. It would randomly bend the divine power in a way that he chose as he found out what it would do.
We all held our breaths as the power surged to him. His eyes were closed as he analyzed the divine magic. Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke. “Dea Soteira, a powerful mortal will challenge you to a duel within this decade. I do not know when, where, or who, but it shall happen. This is my judgment.”
Bralla silently pumped her fist in the air in excitement. The other gods let out the breath they were holding. I did the same. Usually judgments went far worse for the mortals, but this was one of the few ways that Cinderblaze experimented with the chaos that was innate to demons of other planes.
The Dea Soteira stood up next, even though it would have been my turn next. I didn’t mind, I needed the extra time to think of how to help the mortals after all of this spite. What none of us expected was for the Dea Soteira to brandish her sword towards the Dea Euenemos. “Dea Euenemos, I challenge you to a duel for my wonder,” Bralla declared, her chin held high and her angelic wings flared. “Winner takes a portion of divine power from the loser.”
I watched the Dea Euenemos hesitate. If he accepted, there was no doubt that the Dea Soteira would win and switch places with him in the divine pecking order of strength. If he declined, he would be considered a coward. He finally shook his head. “I refuse the duel.”
Bralla’s smirk remained as she sat back down. Once more, divine power surged, writing a new myth of the cowardice of the wind god. The mortals would come up with different details on their own. That was the incredible thing about mortals: the stories they told.
Finally, it was my turn. I closed my eyes for a moment. The other gods were surprisingly petty, vengeful, vindictive, and spiteful. How could I target the mortals to optimize helping them? I couldn’t undo the wonders of the other gods, especially not ones like the Dea Eurynome’s drought. I cast my mind to my fellow Strixhaven students, all of the ones I had agreed to look out for – Rohia and the others from the Brazen Coalition of Ixalan-Torrezon, Ghostmark of the Dokuchi Reckoners, and so forth – and all of my mortal friends – Koda, Tabitha, Beatrice, Lohiarm, Gideon, and Benoe – and I realized then that I needed a new trick up my sleeve. Or, rather, a new domain. There was an archetypal figure missing from our pantheon, even among hundreds of names. An archetype embodied in the gods of other planes, like Valki of Kaldheim or Mochi, the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon of Kamigawa.
I, the Dea Pronoia, stood up. “For mine, I shall claim another domain,” I said, my voice full of a new confidence. “I am the goddess of information and knowledge, crafted from water. Now, I claim the position of trickster god.” I inhaled sharply as the divine power granted me what I claimed. I felt the composition of my very being alter to take in this third domain. Trickery settled in nicely with magic and water.
Reactions were mixed. I focused only on my creator’s. It was nearly impossible to read the expression of the Dea Xenia most days, but right now, I saw clear pride in her eyes and a small smirk at the edge of her lips.
The Dea Xenia stood up once I had sat back down. “Thank you all for coming,” she said. “Now, I must head out on business. The Dea Telos and the Dea Arkhe are in charge of the plane until I return.” With that, she planeswalked away in a rapid growth of thorned vines and poisonous plants that disappeared with her.
The other gods muttered among themselves and got up to leave once that was done. Cinderblaze found my hand and gently squeezed it. “Ballsy move, sis,” he whispered, keeping his voice down.
Bralla leaned over the table. “And a powerful one at that!” she whispered, her feathered wings fluttering the whole time and nearly knocking herself over from excitement. “Announcing yourself as a trickster? You’re gonna make everyone have to think three times now.”
I smiled a little. “Thanks, you two.” I noticed most of the gods leaving in one chunk – the Dea Lykeie, the Dea Eurynome, the Dea Euenemos, the Dea Haliplanktos, and the Dea Khalkeus were all trying to slip out together. Emboldened by my own actions, I stood up. “Going somewhere?” I called as I strolled after them.
The Dea Euenemos scoffed in disgust. “Is there a problem with that, upstart?”
I crossed my arms. “I was actually hoping to ask why you all seem so vindictive about the mortals lately,” I deadpanned. I was fishing for information and making it clear that I was. The older gods thought themselves so much smarter than I was, and maybe that was true, but I could leverage that.
The Dea Haliplanktos rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, I know you’ve been off playing mortal student on other planes, but we don’t have to justify ourselves to you. Why don’t you just run back to your mother and suckle her teat?” He realized what he had just said and slapped a hand over his mouth.
But not before my fury flared.
The fire in the hall went out immediately. “Oh? Is that hubris I hear?” Everything in the room suddenly became sharper. “You think you’re so good that you can insult the Dea Xenia herself?”
“Now, wait a minute, hold on-” the Dea Eurynome tried to intervene.
I jabbed my finger into the Dea Haliplanktos’s chest. “May the Ending and Beginning strike me down if I speak falsehoods,” I hissed out, knowing that my eldest sisters were listening. “You, Sea-Roaming God, are a sore loser and care more for stroking your own ego than being concerned about your mortal worshipers. I mean, really, inventing a new monster just because you lost a contest? You are pathetic.”
I turned towards the Dea Euenemos next. “But not nearly as bad as you, Fair-Winds God of cowardice. You punish a village simply because they do not experience the narrow kind of love you have become obsessed with. I would spit at your feet for such an insult, but you’re not worth the spit.”
Next on my list was the Dea Eurynome. “You, Pasture Goddess, I’m just disappointed in. Calling down a drought upon a village of treefolk for a slight? What are you, five years old? I suppose that was my folly, to expect maturity from one of the oldest goddesses on the plane.”
Then came the Dea Lykeie. “I’m not even sure what to make of yours, Wolf Goddess. I don’t know if I’m impressed that you managed to keep track of your descendants or disappointed that you decided to elect a paragon from your bloodline. Utterly fucking ridiculous to do divine nepotism when picking a paragon. Has the sinking of Nirias taught you nothing about what goes wrong when it comes down to mortals doing weird shit involving blood? You’re definitely old enough to know better than this.”
Finally, the Dea Khalkeus. “And normally I wouldn’t even waste time with you, Bronze-Smith, but really, announcing your intentions of punishing mortals in front of a bunch of other gods? I’d say ‘don’t be stupid’ but we crossed that bridge several planes ago.”
I threw my hands into the air. “This is the best that our plane has for divine beings? You all are acting like children. Now if you’ll ex-fucking-scuse me, I need to figure out how to clean up your messes.” I turned and offered a respectful nod to my sisters and brother, then willed myself to leave the divine realm. Unlike planeswalking, this one was instantaneous and had no fancy magic surging around it.
My chosen endpoint on the mortal realm was Actalia, the port village I had won patronage of in the contest with the Dea Haliplanktos that made him so angry that he decided to invent manticores about it. I had invented a Thyrsian kind of olive tree based on the trees I had seen on other planes and how useful they were to the mortals elsewhere. I looked upon the first olive tree I had created, now settled comfortably around the center of town, and frowned. What I had created was ultimately derivative. So, too, was the manticore that the Dea Haliplanktos had decided to create in revenge; such a manticore was identical to the varieties I had recorded on Zendikar. But that was fine. I could work with finding a weakness to that.
I made my way through the village and nodded towards the mortals that had judged the competition. I stayed out of their ways as they worked, and they stayed out of mine. I made it to the small library that had been built in my honor and silently slipped into the back room. Once there, I pulled a chair over to a desk, flopped into it, kicked up my feet, and turned on my communicator. Instead of going to the chats or my blog, I opted instead to use the search engine to refresh my memory of manticores across the planes. If I could recall the similarities between them all, then I could reverse-engineer a solution. I kept reading until the words melded together on the screen.
But I knew that I needed help and advice, from someone older and wiser than me. With a heavy sigh, I flipped back over to the communications network, logged back into the server, and sent a direct message to the Coalition fleet commander who had been offering me advice through my far more normal woes.
Good evening Miss Sussana, or whatever time of day it is when you receive this. I need some help. What does your fleet know about manticores?