As the sun rose in the sky, Rowen's fingers twitched him awake. The drunken man woke with a headache, yet the memories from last night were fresher than the dream he'd just been in. Grabbing the dining chair he stumbled his way up on his feet, nearly collapsing once or twice, but somehow managed to keep himself on his feet. Stay updated with m-v le-mpyr
Once up on his own and stable on his feet, his mind simmered with anger, with rage beyond anything he'd ever felt. He was a man of little value, who tried to abuse everything he had, even the small position at the gates to extort merchants and passersby. So how could he? How could he let go of what happened in his household? His wife's infidelity–the property he owned.
Despite his storming mind, however, he reached not for her throat which he could see from the cracked door of their bedroom, but rather a bottle of ale he'd stashed behind one of the cabinets.
'This bitch...This whore.' Uncorking the bottle with his teeth, he brought the stale ale to his lips. Downing it without care, he felt it burning down his throat before making his empty stomach churn. Only halfway through the bottle, he couldn't help himself anymore. Smashing it on the ground, he headed straight for the bedroom while Tanya came rushing out to the sound of the shattered glass.
"What the hell are you doing, Rowen?!" Seeing her husband charging at her the moment she walked out of the room, Tanya's eyes widened, but she didn't step away, flinch or even try to run. Instead, winding up her hand, she slapped him the moment she came close enough. "Get away from me! You monster!"
As the sound of the slap echoed, Rowen stumbled back over to the dining table and fell to the ground. Raging still, he tried to get up, but before he could, Tanya moved closer and kicked him in the chest to keep him down.
"AGHH! YOUUUU!" Grabbing her feet as she tried to retreat, Rowen twisted her ankle and managed to make her fall sideways. Crashing her head against the wall, a deep cracking pain seeped through Tanya's skull–making her not only lose consciousness but also stiffen up at every limb.
'What coincidence that the two are about to cross paths just as I receive this letter and Erika has accepted me? Perhaps my father knew of this man's cowardice and the eventual acceptance of the priestess about me.' Brushing the matter away for a minute, Athenia turned her gaze to the darkened letter.
Written in golden ink, it addressed her directly as if it wasn't a message but rather a conversation with her father.
'My daughter, I know I'm no longer with you–probably lost to the star of extinguished like one that has lost its splendor. And yet here I am with you, in this letter, in many such letters scattered throughout your journey. You'll find me in the darkest corners, hidden in some crevice that nobody else but you and your chosen could find.
I can tell you plenty of what will be, what you must to avoid the worst of the storms, but doing so benefits none–for your future will not be the same if you're living it through me. Even so, when the candles wick away, when the moon refuses to shine, remember–your father was there, watching over you over every possible stretch of time.
You have nothing to fear for you are Athenia–the goddess of death and the goddess of life.'
Smiling throughout the note, Athenia had momentarily forgotten about Rowen and Erika's crossing. She was gleeful, genuinely happy. Hugging the note close to her heart, she felt its words burning into her chest and she pulled her hand away, the note was gone but the words remained, inscribed into her memories and the eternal soul of a god.
"Now then," with a smile, she conjured the looking glass. "Time to teach a coward a lesson!"