"—and we'd be fools not to seize this opportunity!" Roderick's fist struck the council table hard enough to rattle the clay cups. "Thirty days. That's all the time we have before Xellos crawls back from whatever pit his essence retreated to. Thirty days to claim Corinth, to free those people, to secure the trade routes we need for—"

"Free them?" Engin's voice cut through the merchant's fervor like a blade through cloth. "By marching in and imposing our will? By deciding what's best for them without their consent?" His lip curled with disdain. "We fled from gods who treated us exactly that way. Have you forgotten?"

Ebonheim sat at the head of the table and wished she could sink through the floor.

The council chamber—really just the feast hall with its long tables pushed together—buzzed with arguments that had been circling for the past hour.

Fifteen years she'd guided this settlement, and never had she felt the weight of divinity press so heavily on her shoulders. The afternoon light slanting through the windows painted everyone in shades of amber, but the warmth didn't reach the tension crackling through the air.

Bjorn's scarred knuckles drummed against the table. "You're making this too complicated, Engin. Those people are slaves. Mind-controlled slaves. We break the control, we free them. Simple."

"Nothing about this is simple," Lorne spoke quietly, but command laced his words; The voice of someone who'd led men into battle and understood the cost. "Even if we break Xellos's hold, even if we destroy whatever artifacts he's using, we'll have to fight our way through guards who genuinely believe they're defending their god. People will die. On both sides."

"Better some die free than all live as puppets." Thorsten's beard bristled as he jabbed a thick finger at the rough map spread across the table. There could be many more of those demonic artifacts throughout the settlement. Corruption woven into the very stones. We can't just leave that festering in our valley."

Ebonheim's fingers traced the wood grain of the table, following the whorls and patterns while voices rose and fell around her.

Ryelle sat three seats down, silent since finishing her report.

"The question isn't whether we can free them." Evelyne's accented voice carried the sharp certainty of someone who dealt in measurable truths. "The question is whether we have the right to force freedom upon them. Some may choose to remain loyal to Xellos even after the compulsion breaks. What then?"

"Then they're idiots." Bjorn crossed his arms. "But at least they'd be idiots making their own choice."

"Would they?" Kelzryn stirred from where he'd been standing silent by Ebonheim's die, his humanoid form seeming to gather shadows despite the afternoon light. "Break a mental bond that's existed for years, and what remains? Confused, traumatized people whose entire sense of self has been shaped by external will. They won't suddenly become rational actors capable of informed choice."

The dragon's words settled over the argument like frost.

Roderick rallied first. "So we do nothing? Leave them enslaved because freedom might be complicated?" His laugh held no humor. "That's cowardice dressed as philosophy."

"It's caution." Engin fixed him with a stare that could quell rioting crowds. "I watched gods destroy towns and villages in their games for power. I watched them save people who never asked to be saved, then demand eternal gratitude as payment. This smells the same, Roderick. Dressed in prettier words, maybe, but the same underneath."

"Except we're not doing this for power." Evelyne gestured sharply. "We're doing it to stop a demon-aligned entity from—"

"We're doing it because it's the right thing to do!" Bjorn slammed his palm down.

"We're doing it because Corinth is close enough to become an extension of Ebonheim!" Roderick shot back.

"We're doing it because we can't let Xellos rebuild his strength so close to—"

"Enough."

The word slipped out quieter than Ebonheim intended, but divine will carried it through the chamber like thunder rolling through valleys. Every voice stopped. Every eye turned to her.

She stood, and the simple motion felt like lifting mountains.

"I hear you. All of you." Her gaze swept the table, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "You're all right. And you're all wrong. And I don't know which matters more."

Silence held the room. Outside, the sounds of the city drifted through the windows—children laughing, hammers ringing against anvils, the everyday music of lives freely lived.

Her people. Her responsibility.

"Engin's right that we have no place forcing freedom on those who might not welcome it." She moved to the window, needing something to look at besides the expectant faces. "But Bjorn and Thorsen are also right that we can't just leave them under Xellos's control."

The windowsill's wood felt solid under her palms. Real. Grounding.

She turned back to face the council. "And Roderick, yes, there's an opportunity here to expand trade, strengthen ties, create partnerships. We would be fools not to see that."

"So you agree we should act?" Thorsten leaned forward.

"I agree we can't do nothing." Ebonheim returned to her seat, but didn't sit. "But I also can't march into Corinth and claim it as my own. That's not who I am. That's not who we are."

"Then what do you propose?" Lorne asked. "The thirty-day window isn't a suggestion. It's a countdown."

Ebonheim's hands curled into fists at her sides. The divine power within her surged restless, wanting action, wanting purpose. But divinity without wisdom was just another form of destruction.

"Information." Ryelle spoke for the first time since the debate began, her eyes never leaving Ebonheim. "We need to see it ourselves. Not just hear reports, but witness what Corinth has become. Understand exactly what we're dealing with before we make any decision that can't be unmade."

"Reconnaissance." Lorne nodded slowly. "Go in quietly, assess the situation, gather evidence."

"And if we find it's as bad as Ryelle described?" Evelyne's fingers steepled together. "If we confirm systematic mental control, demonic corruption, all of it?"

Stolen novel; please report.

"Then we'll know." Ebonheim met the artificer's gaze. "And we'll decide based on truth, not assumptions."

Engin's weathered face creased into deeper lines. "This still feels like the first step down a path we swore never to walk. Spying on a neighboring settlement, gathering intelligence for possible invasion—"

"It's not invasion if we're breaking chains." Bjorn's jaw set stubborn.

"It's invasion if they don't want us there." Engin's voice carried the weight of lived experience. "And some of them won't. Mark my words. Break Xellos's hold and you'll find people who preferred the certainty of slavery to the chaos of freedom. I've seen it before."

The truth in those words tasted like ash. Ebonheim had read histories, heard tales from travelers. She knew what Engin described wasn't hyperbole but hard-earned knowledge written in scars and lost friends.

"Then we'll face that truth when it comes." She straightened her shoulders, feeling the mantle of divinity settle heavier. "But I won't make this decision blind. I won't become what many here had fled from because I was too afraid to look at complications."

Kelzryn shifted behind her, azure light pulsing in the cracks of his humanoid form. "A word of warning. The divine hierarchy does not reward hesitation. Other gods would have claimed Corinth already, would have swept in during Xellos's absence and declared it their rightful conquest. Every day you delay is a day you appear weak to those who measure strength in domains controlled."

"I don't care how I appear to other gods."

"You should." Kelzryn's voice carried ancient certainty. "Because they're watching. They're always watching. And weakness invites predation."

"So does rash action." Ebonheim turned to face him fully. "You've a long time, Kelzryn. You've seen gods rise and fall. Tell me—how many fell because they acted without thinking versus how many fell because they thought too long?"

His smile held no warmth. "Roughly equal numbers. The wise learn to balance both impulses. The question is which you'll regret less when the consequences arrive."

Ebonheim's divine senses prickled. She could feel her people's faith like distant heartbeats, thousands of connections that bound her to this valley and everyone in it. The weight of their trust, their belief, their hope that she would guide them well.

But there was something else too. A void where Corinth should have resonated. Eight thousand people living so close, yet she felt nothing from them. No faith, no prayers, no connection. They belonged entirely to Xellos, their belief and quintessence flowing to him alone.

The wrongness of it scraped against her divine nature like broken glass.

"I'll go." Ryelle stood, the motion drawing every eye. "I've seen what corruption looks like in the Order's castle. I know what to watch for in Corinth."

"You're too recognizable." Lorne's tactical mind already working the problem. "A divine avatar walking into another god's domain? That's either an act of war or an invitation to assassination."

"Then we don't advertise what I am." Ryelle's scarred hands flexed. "Merchants travel to Corinth all the time for trade. We join a caravan, pose as traders, observe."

"I should accompany you." Roderick pushed back from the table. "I know how settlements function, what questions to ask. And I actually am a merchant—my cover would be genuine."

Evelyne's fingers drummed against her chin. "And I can bring sensor equipment, analyze the artifacts Ryelle described. Determine their scope and function before we attempt any intervention."

"Three people." Lorne studied them each in turn. "Small enough to avoid attention, diverse enough to cover different aspects of investigation. Could work."

"Could get them killed." Bjorn crossed his arms. "Xellos might be gone, but Ryelle said demons still move freely in Corinth. They'll be watching for trouble."

"Everything worth doing risks death." Ryelle's smile showed teeth. "Besides, I've already killed their god once this month. I'm not particularly worried about his servants."

"Temporary discorporation isn't the same as killing." Kelzryn's correction held grim amusement. "But I suppose that's a lesson for another time."

Ebonheim looked at the three volunteers—her avatar, her merchant, her artificer. Three people she trusted, three perspectives that would give her the truth she needed. But sending them into potential danger while she remained safe behind her domain's borders felt like cowardice.

"I should go with you."

"No." Lorne and Kelzryn spoke simultaneously.

Lorne's face softened slightly. "I know it's tempting. But you can't hide what you are. Your divine nature would light up like a beacon the moment you crossed into Corinth's borders."

"And Xellos would sense his territory violated the instant your foot touched his land." Kelzryn continued. "And more than that, leaving your domain undefended while Xellos's fate remains uncertain would be strategically foolish. Other gods might see opportunity in your absence."

The cage of her own nature closed around her. Too visible to spy, too vital to risk, too bound to her domain to move freely. All the power of divinity, and she couldn't even walk beside her people into danger.

"Then you three go." She forced the words out past the frustration. "You leave tomorrow with the next trade caravan heading east. Observe, document, gather truth. Return within five days. We'll need time to plan based on what you find."

"And if we confirm everything Ryelle reported?" Evelyne asked. "If Corinth is as thoroughly corrupted as we suspect?"

"Then I'll break the chains. I'll destroy the artifacts, negate the compulsions, scatter the demons." The words came out steadier than she felt. "But I won't claim their domain. I won't force them to accept me as their goddess. That's not freedom—that's just changing masters."

"Some will want you to stay." Lorne's voice held certainty. "Once freed, they'll beg for protection. What then?"

"Then I offer sanctuary to any who wish to come to Ebonheim. Any who want to leave Corinth and join us here." She met each council member's gaze in turn. "But I won't rule them. I won't claim their settlement. If they want to rebuild Corinth as something new, something free, that's their choice to make."

Engin released a breath he'd been holding. Relief softened the hard lines around his eyes. "That's the goddess I know. The one we dreamed into being."

"It's also potentially foolish." Kelzryn's bluntness cut through the moment's warmth. "You'll weaken yourself helping people who may never acknowledge you. You'll create a power vacuum in Corinth that some other deity will inevitably fill. You'll expend divine energy without gaining territory or followers. By every traditional measure, you'll lose."

"Then I'll lose." Ebonheim straightened her spine. "But I'll do it as myself."

Bjorn grunted. "Can't fault the conviction, even if I think you're making this harder than it needs to be."

"Difficult doesn't mean wrong." Evelyne began gathering the papers spread across the table. "When do we depart?"

"Dawn." Ryelle rolled her shoulders, joints popping. "Gives us tonight to prepare. Roderick, you know which caravans are heading east?"

"Hector's group leaves at first light. He owes me favors—he'll take us without questions."

The council began to disperse, voices rising in smaller conversations about logistics and preparation. But Ebonheim remained seated, watching the afternoon light fade to amber twilight through the windows.

Engin lingered after the others left. The old man's hand settled on her shoulder, warm and weathered.

"You're afraid," he said quietly.

"Terrified." No point lying to the man who'd helped birth her into existence. "What if I'm wrong? What if breaking the compulsion does more harm than good? What if they hate me for it?"

"Then you'll be wrong. And they'll hate you. And you'll live with that." His grip tightened. "But you'll live with it as yourself, not as some other god wearing your face. That matters, little goddess. More than you know."

Ebonheim covered his hand with hers. Divine flesh against mortal skin, warmth against warmth.

"What if I can't save them?"

"Then you can't." Engin's voice held the rough gentleness of someone who'd survived more losses than victories. "But you'll have tried without becoming what you oppose. That's all any of us can do."

He left her there as twilight deepened to dusk. Outside, the evening sounds of home drifted through the windows—laughter, conversation, music.

Her people. Her purpose. Her reason for existing.

But somewhere east, eight thousand others lived under a different god's shadow. Walked through days without true thought. Spoke words without genuine feeling. Existed without truly living.

Thirty days until Xellos returned.

Seven days to learn the truth.

And then... then she would see what kind of goddess she truly was.

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