As the bulls' blood burned before the altar, the statue of Bēlet-Imtu moved. Not the little one they'd retrieved from the ruined city, but the towering, three-story tall one carved from solid rock.

The goddess did not speak but as she raised her hand in benediction, light poured from her palm, banishing every shadow from the cavern. The light was so intense that Ihra was forced to look away, so intense that she could see it even with her eyes shut and her hands covering her face. Despite its radiant glare, she felt no pain, but somehow she knew better than to truly look at it.

For several minutes, the light lingered, exuding a gentle warmth that seeped into her body, healing aches and wounds she hadn't even noticed until their sudden absence. She lost track of time as the fear faded, replaced by a peace she hadn't known since her parents' death but, eventually, the light dimmed and she opened her eyes, blinking as they adjusted.

Selene's grace?! The peace she had just felt rapidly dissolved as Ihra stared at her surroundings in confusion.

A thick forest surrounded her, not like the jungles she had grown up in, but the northern forests her ancestors had once roamed. A tangle of pine trees grew so close together that barely any light reached the forest floor, interspersed only by the occasional white trunk of an unfamiliar tree.

The song of birds surrounded her, trills and whistles from an invisible choir accompanied by the chatter of a pair of chipmunks squabbling atop a fallen log. The harmony of the forest surrounded her on all sides - everywhere except directly behind her. There was only silence there.

Her heart thumped furiously as she spun around, reaching futilely for the bow that no longer hung from her back. Silence in a forest usually indicated the presence of a predator, but there was no predator stalking her - or at least, not a mortal one.

She froze as she caught sight of the Stag Lord, before falling to her knees in the blanket of pine needles covering the ground.

Ayāllu was larger than she remembered. Twice as tall as any Corsyth and a pair of shoulders wide enough to accommodate a small family, he positively dwarfed her - and that was without including the massive pair of antlers that crowned him, complete with more tines than she could count. His upper body was mostly human, save for the thick coat of shaggy fur that covered most of his torso and arms, but his lower body was that of a deer, with sharp hooves digging into the soft loam and short, white tail.

"Lord Ayāllu," Ihra gasped out, somehow finding the courage to raise her head and meet his eyes. They were larger than they should be, black voids that stood out against the long chestnut hair that twined between his sprawling antlers.

"It is rare for my daughter to ask for a favor," he rumbled, his voice rich and earthy. "And rarer still for me to grant it." Thick, cloying musk filled her nostrils as the Stag Lord moved to stand above her. "Tell me, why should I surrender even a fraction of my power for one so insignificant?"

Ihra's mouth ran dry at the unexpected question. "Lord Ayāllu, your daughter-" she started hesitantly, but the Stag cut her off abruptly.

"My daughter's debts are not my own and we both know a suitable reward has already been arranged."

"I…" Ihra could think of nothing that didn't say pathetic when standing before a god.

I've wanted to do magic since I was a little girl.

I'm afraid of falling behind my friends.

I never want to be powerless again.

Weak, her mind hissed. A wave of self-loathing washed over her, but with it came a glimmer of something more. "You shouldn't," she admitted candidly. "Compared to my friends, I am weak, a half-blood not blessed with the strength of my ancestors. But I have never let that stop me." She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she pressed on. "Just like you, my lord. The stories tell of the spurned son of Selene and Tsiahu, of the forgotten progenitor of the elves." She spoke rapidly, afraid at any moment that her head would leave her shoulders. "But you persevered, my lord, and so have I. I have fought for every scrap I possess; give me something more than scraps, and I will not let you down."

The forest fell silent as she finished speaking, even the birds ceasing their song as Ayallu stepped toward her. "Bold words," he growled as a long, black blade formed in his hand.

Ihra flinched as he stepped close, every instinct in her body screamed at her to run, but she held her ground and raised her eyes defiantly. "Words backed up by actions, my lord. Have any of your other followers faced dead gods and ascendant demigods and lived to tell the tale?"

The cold metal kissed her neck, followed by a warm trickle as blood dripped onto her collar, but Ihra refused to look away. A part of her regretted her words, but there was no point in backing down now; he would either kill her or spare her.

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"If you had run," Ayāllu said softly, "I would have cut you down. But as it stands…" He stepped back as the dagger dissolved into mist and eyed her curiously.

Ihra held her breath, praying to every god she knew, as she waited for his response.

"No."

She'd been preparing herself for the worst since the moment Bēlet-Imtu had offered it to her. She'd refused to let herself hope, refused to even consider the possibility that she might finally receive the magic she'd always craved. But hope was not so easily starved. Like a weed fostered by abundant rain, it had seeped through the cracks of her defenses, planting its roots deep in her heart.

Ihra blinked the tears as she bowed her head, struggling to keep her composure. "Very well, my lord-"

"My daughter's deal is not my own," the Stag Lord continued, seemingly oblivious to her reply. "But this is the second time you have caught my attention, little fawn, and thus I shall offer you a deal of my own."

Treacherous hope blossomed in her heart again. "A deal, my lord?"

"You are headed to the war, no?" He asked with the full confidence of one who already knew the answer, and she nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"Then I shall give you a quest. Pass it, and I will grant you a portion of the magic you crave. Do you agree?"

No matter how much she wanted to babble 'yes,' Ihra was not foolish enough to accept the quest without learning more details. Ayallu may not have been a Fey, but his father was. "What sort of quest, Lord Ayāllu?"

"Vengeance."

She waited for him to continue, but the Stag Lord's silence dragged on. Her patience was the first to break. "What would you ask me to do," she prodded.

"During the chaos of the Fey Wars, many temples were destroyed, stripped bare of every valuable and burnt to the ground. But not all of them were despoiled by the enemy."

His massive stag eyes fixed on her. "Ēkal-Ya'ar was just a few days' ride from the Corsyths' capital. Where thousands used to gather there to offer worship, now deer and vixen are its congregants. But it was not destroyed by the Fey."

"A minor noble of House Parādîl used the Fey's rampage to cloak his own actions. In the dead of night, he sacked the temple and slew every one of its priests so that none could testify to his deeds. His gambit was successful; none realized what he had done, and he used the gold to vault his house into a position of some importance during the war. Bring the house to account, and I shall grant you your desire."

Ihra frowned as she heard his request. While the noble's deed was truly villainous, he was probably long dead. "My lord, are there any guilty still living?"

"They are all guilty," the Stag replied flatly. "They have spent my gold, worn my silks, eaten my food. They have committed sacrilege whether they ken it or not. You may spare the children, but the adults must die."

"But…" Her heart pled with her to accept the god's offer, but Ihra hesitated. Do I really want my happiness to be built on other's misery? To create more orphans? Time had dulled the pain of her parents' passing, but it was a wound that would never quite go away. I can't accept this.

"I'm sorry, Lord Ayāllu, but I cannot kill those who do not even know of their guilt."

"Perhaps I was wrong about you." His black eyes bored into her, emotionless voids that threatened to swallow her whole. "I thought you strong-"

"My lord," she interrupted him. "Is there no other way to punish them? Can they not make amends?"

"Amends?" He mulled the word over.

"Very well; I will agree to alter the quest slightly. If the adults agree to restore what was stolen from the temple, to rebuild it to its former glory, and to serve as its priests, I will forgive their sacrilege and will even offer a boon to their children. But if they refuse," he added ominously, "then they shall die."

The offer was barely any better, but as Ihra opened her mouth to barter further, the Stag Lord spoke over.

"You have asked and received, little fawn. Do not ask again."

"But-"

His expression darkened. "Deny the quest if you wish, but I will have my vengeance one way or another. Or do you think you're the only one I can ask," he threatened. "Perhaps someone who will enact my will without question."

Ihra's mouth clamped shut. "Then I will do my lord's bidding," she said weakly.

Ayāllu smiled grimly. "Such is the path of a champion, little fawn. Do this, and you shall have all that you desire. Now, go - our business is concluded."

She rose shakily, and as she turned to face the forest, he called after her. "And do not let my daughter defraud you of those relics. Her deal is not my own," he said for the third time.

As he spoke the world spun around her, and when she opened her eyes again, Ihra found herself standing before the goddess.

Sunlight filled the glade beside the mystic waterfall, revealing a shrine that had been fully rebuilt, and even the goddess herself seemed to glow with a soft light. "So my father has agreed to grant you his essence," Bēlet-Imtu said with a broad smile. "That concludes our deal then - I'm glad it worked out." She raised her hand as if to banish Ihra from her realm, and Ihra spoke up quickly.

"Not so fast - Lord Ayāllu did not agree to honor your quest."

"He offered to make you his champion, did he not?" the goddess countered.

"Only if I complete a quest for him." One I'm not sure I'm willing to complete, she thought glumly. "But for your quest, I have received no reward." Her eyes met Bēlet-Imtu's. "I believe we agreed I would receive two relics"

The Fey goddess' mouth twisted angrily, and for a moment, Ihra feared that she would refuse, but she finally nodded her head. "My father put you up to this, I assume?"

"A patron should look after their champion," Ihra replied with faux seriousness, "but I'd like to think I would have noticed it myself. I'm not the naive girl I once was," she smiled hardly. "Now, may I see the relics?"

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