Goddess

not yet risen. My last day on this earth has not yet begun. I should be terrified, but I’m not. For once in my life, I am not afraid. I suppose it’s easy to be brave when you’re protecting your friends and your paramour. Lover. I don’t know the right term. How can one word encompass all that you are to me? It can’t. 
But you make me brave. I intend to throw myself, and Enyo along with me, off this cliff. I don’t want you serving a madwoman, and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. 
If I succeed, I want you to know I did this willingly and with courage. For once, I am not crying. 
I want to thank you. For being my friend, for protecting me against Enyo. For keeping me warm on cold mountain nights and for loving me. For teaching me what love is. I do not regret a single piece of this journey because it led me to you. I don’t think I could ever love another being, even if I grew old and experienced a full life. You are it—the only person who could make my heart flutter and my tongue fumble. You make me shy and flirtatious—at times disastrously so—and giddy all at once. 
You are so beautiful, and so strong. 
I want you to be free, and to have a life that makes you happy every day. You, of all people I know, deserve joy. 
I hope I gave you some measure of happiness in our short time together. You certainly made this harrowing journey worth it all.
Also—Because I know you might think of this and worry—I always trusted you. I simply didn’t tell you about our plan to rebind Enyo because I didn’t want to break your heart. I know it seems selfish, but you were the bright spot of my days, and the idea of asking you to choose between your Goddess and me was impossible. 
I’m sorry. I should have told you from the start. Or at least after our first kiss. 
Gods, kissing you… touching you. Being wrapped in your arms. I’ll think of that as I watch the sunrise today—perfect thoughts for my last one. 
I love you, Delyth. 
Alphonse
P.S. If you ever do see Etienne again, please tell him I forgive him. For the ritual, for leaving… He is my brother, after all. I cannot hold hate or anger in my heart for him.  Hug him for me, if you do see him again. He thinks too much and doesn’t get hugged enough. I should have hugged him more. I should have told him I love him more too. 
Alphonse.
Delyth clutched the thin paper to her chest and clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking with the force of her sobs.

Chapter V
Ninth Moon, Full Moon: Mynydd Gwyllt Clan
Despite the splints on her fingers, Tanwen’s hand still ached. Of course, her head pounded from time to time, and the bruise on her jaw had not faded. It had only been a handful of days after all. Her physical woes were nothing compared to that of the clan, though.
Three dead, seven seriously injured, half a dozen more slightly injured; the number of hunters able to go out had dwindled considerably. Tanwen could have wept in relief that this attack had come after the majority of the harvests. Despite farmers being dead or hurt, Mynydd Gwyllt would survive the winter.
Her people had no idea how to react after the attack. Affronted, afraid, bloodthirsty, or relieved. Some clamored for her to send out hunters to take down the strangers and bring back Gethin. Still, she had others pleading that she do nothing, lest they invoke the wrath of those Gods.
Niclas, in private, had even said they should be happy that Maoz would be brought back. Of course, he understood Maoz’s return didn’t fix the deaths and injuries, but…
Tanwen had made him sleep in his own quarters since he had said it. Maoz hadn’t done anything for them in the last three hundred years, and now his devoted followers were dead and harmed? No. That was not her God. Not anymore.
And it made sense that Enyo was insane. Her followers were idiots that blindly followed a high priestess who bred brutal fighters like Tanwen’s people might breed a horse for its beautiful coat or sound mind.
Yet, they were Gods, and so Tanwen could see no way to get Gethin back. Or any reason to send people out to hunt for him. How could mere humans fight that?
A call from the gate drew her from her brooding. There were strangers at the gate. Had they returned? Did the Gods want more from them? A second call said one was known. A woman. A winged woman.
Her head ached.
What was she doing here?! Tanwen jogged down the road despite her injuries, and with some assistance, climbed the wall to peer down the opposite side.  Indeed, it was Delyth. And some frail, pale boy. He didn’t look as if he could hold a mug of fine ale, let alone a spear or a blade. It was unlikely he was from the temple.
“Come to see what your precious Goddess has done to my people?” She called, not giving the signal to let them in. Tanwen had already had enough trash in her settlement this moon. She would not let another killer in.
༄
Once, the sight of Tanwen of the Mynydd Gwyllt might have hurt Delyth. Sent a shot of pain, like an old injury, through the center of her chest. There was a time even the sight of the road leading to her could do it. Years ago.
Now, Delyth did not think anything could ever hurt her again. Not in the way that leaving Alphonse on that mountainside had. She was broken from it. Raw.
Tanwen, in comparison, did not even prick.
It was clear at once that something had happened here. The guards were too-wary, some of them bruised or bloodied. Tanwen was looking as though she’d been beaten