[GNOSIS—Herald of the Canonical Myths] liked to keep a tab on things. Even—or perhaps especially—on things that had little to do with Gnosis’s day to day. For trivia gave rise to specificity, and specificity was what gave stories—whether truth or fiction—their power.

  Gnosis themself couldn’t claim many strong likes or dislikes, but if Gnosis had one pet peeve, it was vagueness. Souls ought never be vague about who they were and what they were about. That was something specific about Gnosis, and that one element of specificity about themself pleased Gnosis well enough.

  Just as Gnosis was pleased to host today’s roundtable of overseers.

  Gnosis surveyed the scene with equal parts pride and humble gratitude. Gnosis had gone to great lengths to pretty up the Singing Lotus. To make each fellow Deva feel right at home inside Gnosis’s personal Lotic space. And there they were, seated comfortably (Gnosis could hope but never have the means to confirm) inside four different alcoves, each custom-rendered for the divine guest it housed.

  All five active-duty Heralds were in attendance—a feat that could’ve been even rarer had a sixth not gotten themself exiled under some astoundingly vague circumstances. And despite the passage of several months since Sublimity’s departure, Suradao had yet to produce their replacement: the next candidate for Devahood.

  The delay, as Gnosis understood it, was due to Duality’s overly stringent selection process, perhaps made even more uncompromising after the most recent ascension had backfired so spectacularly. Gnosis, impatient to meet and learn everything possible about this potential newest addition to the Devas’ ranks, wished Duality might lower their standards just a smidgen. But Gnosis would never suggest it out loud, of course. How would that look, coming from a self-professed paragon of specificity?

  Poor Duality. Suradao’s overseer looked a soul possessed, though perhaps in large part due to the blood-caked medieval weapons and armors with which Gnosis had decorated their alcove. And perhaps because they were the busiest and most stressed-out Herald, it was Duality who opened the proceedings, cutting straight to the chase.

  “Comrades!” A hearty, muscular greeting, though made somewhat tinny by a filter in the form of a heavy iron mask. “Much as I’d enjoy catching up with you all, I really can’t stay for long. So, let’s have it. Where did we land on this anomaly that’s got the Abiding Ones so worked up?”

  [DUALITY—Herald of the Harnessed Wrath]. Likes: military memorabilia, nature documentaries. Dislikes: pickled cabbage, stand-up comedy. Their bleached mohawk swayed imperiously as their head bobbled in speech. Gnosis loved that bit of specificity about them.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” This from Humility, leaning out from a throne of painted jade. Of all the Devas gathered in the Singing Lotus, Pretjord’s overseer seemed to most overtly appreciate Gnosis’s hospitality. “We do what we should’ve done two ascensions ago. Lend me three of your best Asuras, Duality, and I’ll see to it that Serac Edin is extinguished before she even steps foot in Manesfera.”

  [HUMILITY—Herald of the Muted Passions]. Likes: guqin music, wuxia dramas. Dislikes: cottage cheese, cats. As they spoke, their curtain of bead-strings jingled against a sheet of verdigris. Also specific and endearing, if somewhat leaning toward cliché.

  With that said, Gnosis rather hoped for Humility’s suggestion to be shot down. Gnosis didn’t want fellow Heralds meddling in Manesferan affairs if it could be avoided. Gnosis hoped also for someone other than Gnosis to raise the objection.

  “Amitabha.” Someone like Principle would certainly do. Their soothing, sleepy voice well matched the background of pure-white infinity Gnosis had chosen for them. “Forgive me, Heralds, but I must intercede. For I’ve interrogated the void at the heart of Serac Edin, and have come away more convinced than ever. That hers is a Path forged solely of her own will and mettle.”

  [PRINCIPLE—Herald of the Proving Rites]. Likes: the word ‘amitabha’. Dislikes: ???. Difficult soul to pin down, this overseer of Tidereign. Was it that they really had nothing to reveal of themself, or were they simply better than most at hiding it? Be that as it might, they seemed in a more talkative mood than usual.

  “I won’t deny the persistent presence of outside influences, both in the present and reaching from beyond the bounds of time,” Principle continued, “nor the definitionally anomalous circumstances of her and her Instrument’s transmutation. Yet, at every turn, Serac Edin has rejected such preconceived destinies, to instead assert and elevate her own self—to write her own story, as it were. As such, hers is a Path that must, by the foundational principles of Pathsight, be allowed to reach its conclusion, naturally and organically. If anything, Heralds, we’ve already meddled too much.”

  Here, Principle finally paused in their overlong spiel. Gnosis, as a connoisseur of performance in all its forms, recognized its deliberate nature—pause for effect.

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  “After all,” Principle finished, “the self must suffer before nullity. Before impermanence. And the more actualized the self, the more edifying her suffering. Amitabha.”

  Gnosis had to hand it to Principle. No other soul up and down Mount Meru could quite so seamlessly juxtapose tranquility and menace. The faceless monk apparently deemed their contribution at an end, for they promptly tidied up their kasaya and settled into a meditative pose.

  Humility fidgeted in their throne, bead-strings jingling in Duality’s direction. Duality in turn swayed their mohawk toward a fourth member in attendance.

  Elegy sat prim and pretty in their crescent moon seat, celestial robe and diaphanous sashes billowing against a backdrop of the Milky Way. Their grandiose appearance notwithstanding, they always did have the least to say at one of these roundtables. Face veiled by dragonfly wings, they nevertheless radiated displeasure at being called upon.

  Gnosis could sympathize. At this point, any sane Deva would be sick and tired of yammering on about the anomaly. But yammer on Elegy did, if only to pass the buck.

  “I’ve no skin in the game,” they declared, reasonably enough. “But I will point out the increasing futility of this exercise. The best time to intervene would’ve been the very moment the anomaly was first identified, back when she was a KL-30 whelp. Of course, our dear Sublimity bungled that opportunity for all of us. Very soon, Serac Edin will follow her oh-so-self-affirming Path to Suradao, where I suspect the problem would quash itself without any of us lifting a finger.”

  Here, Elegy took a moment to bow their head in Duality’s direction. The sarcasm was palpable, even if Gnosis themself had no way to touch it. Not a hair of Duality’s mohawk moved in response.

  “With that said,” Elegy added, rather generously by their standards, “she will have to pass through Manesfera before that can happen. Why not, then, leave this matter in the capable hands of our resident overseer? Sublimity tried to corral this soul, then lost their mind in the attempt. Principle took a gander, and has evidently become enamored. I say we allow Serac Edin one last dance in paradise before the hell that is Suradao. What say you, Gnosis? Wouldn’t you like to process this vaunted anomaly in ways only you can?”

  [ELEGY—Herald of the Ubiquitous Laments]. Likes: bird’s nest soup, space operas. Dislikes: raspberry jam, dogs. Devalem’s overseer was specific in all the ways Gnosis loved, yet Gnosis couldn’t quite bring themself to like Elegy.

  Regardless, as the most senior Herald among the group, Elegy’s natural leadership couldn’t be denied. As they directed their ‘gaze’ and question onto Gnosis, all others followed suit in unison.

  Gnosis took a moment to compose themself.

  Gnosis’s list of dislikes was perhaps longer than Gnosis had realized, because as it turned out, Gnosis disliked being the center of attention. Even as a connoisseur of the performance arts, Gnosis themself was prone to stage fright, as it were. Good thing Gnosis had come prepared, having done some due diligence on the topic at hand.

  “Serac Edin,” Gnosis began by setting the stage. “A curious specimen, to be sure. Amorphous. Elusive. But not vague. If anything, perhaps too specific. Too many specificities, each one more character-defining than the last, vying for her own and our attention. And we keep feeding her that attention! That, perhaps more than anything else, is what has imbued her with so much power in such a short amount of time!”

  Gnosis had something in the ‘like’ column too. Gnosis liked being in the groove. All the good performers had that. Flow state. The zone. In fact, if what Gnosis had gleaned about Serac Edin was accurate, she had it in spades.

  But Gnosis was a gracious host. And at present, all Gnosis’s guests—with the possible exception of Principle—looked bored out of their minds. Devalem would do that to you if you weren’t careful. Well, Devalem could still change if Gnosis had Gnosis’s way.

  For now, though, Gnosis would play the gracious host. Wrap it up. Send the guests on their way. Then onto the next show.

  “Our intrepid heroine has just climbed out of the animal kingdom, where her escapades would serve as an example for generations to follow. An irony, perhaps, that she herself will reap no benefit from the fables she herself helped write. For her journey now takes her to the byzantine world of man. And in Manesfera, you either rise to the top… or become parables to warn others of your failure.”

  Elegy on their hanging moon. Duality amidst blood and steel. Principle upon a field of white. Humility atop a jade throne. They were all perfectly still and attentive as they waited for Gnosis to finish.

  It seemed Gnosis had won them over. Such wonderful guests! Oh, how Gnosis wished they could all do this more often. As often as there were lists to make and tabs to keep. And who knew? If Gnosis had Gnosis’s way…

  “Let us see, then, shall we? Whether Serac Edin and her merry band of followers have what it takes. Rise to the top?”

  Or drown in a sea of inequity and vice.

  The guests filed out one by one. As soon as the last of them took their leave, the Singing Lotus returned at once to its usual appearance.

  A black screen. And lines of data to fill said screen—everything from attributes to descriptions to logs of who did what when and said what to whom. Not just from Manesfera, but all the Five Realms below the summit of Mount Meru. Maybe even Devalem would join that list one day; wouldn’t that be a right treat to keep tabs on Deities and all that they knew?

  But one tab at a time. One list at a time. For now, Gnosis was perfectly content to welcome another into SFERA’s fold. A new performer, with the potential to flip the very stage on its head.

  Welcome, Serac Edin, to Manesfera—your very first playground in the Virtuous Realms. And… welcome back, Zac—the one that never was.

  Two more chapters to go in Book 3!

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