Krataigón knelt before the Lost Isnd, his head bowed, the whirlpools that once defined his existence now stilled. The raging waters, the force of his defiance—everything had been reduced to a single, undeniable truth.

  He had lost.

  He had tried for a decade to breach the mist. He had called Nancy’s name so many times that even the ocean had memorized it. And yet, he had always been cast out. But today, he understood the price of power.

  Catherina wanted his submission.

  Not as a warrior, not as a challenger—but as her God-in-Waiting.

  His hands clenched into fists. It was humiliating. It was maddening. But if it meant being by Nancy’s side…

  “I, Krataigón, God of Whirlpools, swear fealty to Catherina, Goddess of Mist. I shall be her God-in-Waiting, bound to her domain.”

  The mist trembled. The Lost Isnd, hidden for a long times, thinned its veil. And from the fog, she emerged.

  Catherina.

  Her lead-colored hair shimmered like wet stone. Her grey-blue eyes pierced him with knowing amusement, but there was something else, something she refused to acknowledge.

  Beside her—

  Nancy.

  His Nancy.

  Krataigón surged forward, calling her name. “Nancy, my love!”

  And in an instant, she was in his arms.

  Nancy clung to him, tears hot against his chest. “I love you, my Krataigón. I saw how you tried… for a decade. Every time you reached for me, I saw it.”

  Krataigón cupped her face, his hands trembling. “I would do it a hundred times more, Nancy. A thousand.” He kissed her forehead. “How is our child?”

  Nancy smiled through her tears. “Strong.”

  A flicker of mist danced between them, and Krataigón turned to meet Catherina’s knowing stare. She had let him have this moment.

  And yet—

  The mist whispered around her, shifting. The world was changing.

  Mist, once a veil, had become something new. Something deadly.

  _______

  On the isnd, Catherina sat sobbing alongside Sidney, the oldest nymph and demigod—her mother's dearest friend, the one person she trusted like a mother she had never known. The mist swirled around them in a quiet dance, echoing the turbulence in Catherina’s heart. With tear-filled eyes, she finally spoke in a trembling voice, “Was I wrong, Sidney? Krataigón—he turned out to love Nancy so much, even daring to offer half of his divinity for her safety. Why does that make me feel so sad?”

  She paused to wipe away her tears, bitterness and longing intermingling in her words. “Men like him, who force women, will never take responsibility—just as my father abandoned me and my mother. Why must Krataigón be different? Why should he belong to a mortal nymph like Nancy, when he should be mine?”

  “Cry, Catherina,” Sidney whispered, her voice ancient and patient.

  Catherina scoffed and wiped away the single tear that clung to her cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sidney. I am a goddess.”

  Sidney ughed softly, “And? Does that mean you don’t feel pain My Dear Godess Catherina?”

  The word ‘pain’ settled into Catherina’s chest like a stone. Deep inside, she believed Krataigón should have been hers—he belonged in her domain, under her rule, by her side. And yet, the mortal nymph had won. Nancy—who had no divinity, who had done nothing but exist—had taken what should have belonged to Catherina.

  Was this love? That sharp, agonizing thing inside her only deepened her torment. “Why does it hurt, Sidney?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Because you care,” Sidney replied, tilting her head with quiet wisdom.

  Catherina clenched her fists, murmuring, “I am not weak. I am a goddess, Sidney. I am supposed to be indifferent.”

  Sidney’s soft chuckle answered, “Gods do many things, my Goddess. Even things they pretend they don’t.”

  Her fists tightened further. “Then… does that mean I am evil?”

  “What do you think?” Sidney asked gently.

  Catherina thought of Krataigón, kneeling in the ocean for a mortal; of Nancy, willing to break her heart for her child; of herself, forcing an oath that separated them—simply because she could. Finally, she whispered with resolve, “…I will do what I must, because I can.”

  A slow smile curved her lips as she continued, “Besides, there are gods far worse than me. And I will make Krataigón mine.”

  The mist around them seemed to echo her determination, even as the painful truth of lost love and unyielding duty weighed on her soul.

  ________

  Sidney had always been a witness.

  She had watched Catherina grow from a lonely goddess into a ruler of mist and illusions. She had watched as the ocean nymphs whispered tales of Catherina’s kindness—and feared her cruelty.

  And now, she watched as Catherina changed once more.

  The tears on her goddess’s face were real. But so was the hunger in her eyes—the hunger of a goddess who had realized she could take what she wanted.

  Sidney sighed.

  “You are not evil, my goddess,” she murmured, holding Catherina just a little tighter. “You are just… a god.”

  And sometimes, that was the same thing.

  _______

  Far beyond the Lost Isnd, in the nds of Khaos, something shifted.

  Nymphs, who once relied on mist to guide their way now feared it.

  For mist no longer merely concealed—it devoured.

  And in the depths of the ocean, whirlpools no longer stayed in water.

  They spun in the mist itself, spiraling like ghosts of the sea, reaching beyond their natural borders.

  And all across Khaos, the gods felt it.

  A new force had been born.

  One not of water. Not of air.

  But something in between.

  And at the heart of it all—a goddess ughed.

  _______

  Sidney patiently waited for Catherina to calm down. The sea breeze carried the weight of their silence, the mist swirling around them like an unspoken truth.

  “My goddess,” Sidney finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. “Where did you hear that gods don’t love, don’t cry, and must always be indifferent?”

  Catherina wiped her tear-streaked face, scoffing bitterly. “From our memory, Sidney. We gods inherit memories. That’s what is in Gods memory.”

  Sidney chuckled, shaking her head. “Ah, that’s Mnemosyne’s nonsense. That Titaness of Memory—we all bear her burden. Every creature, mortal or divine, is filled with memories bestowed by her. But not all of them are true.”

  Catherina frowned, her stormy grey-blue eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

  Sidney’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “I come from a long line of priest nymphs, Catherina. So did your mother. We learned from word of mouth, from history passed down—not just from memories we were given. We know the truth behind the gods, behind the Titans.”

  Catherina’s confusion deepened. “In the memories of gods and many creatures, ‘Titan’ means powerful, great and ruler—”

  Sidney cut her off with a raised hand. “Yes, but it wasn’t always so. In the age before the great myths, before the stories were rewritten, ‘Titan’ once meant something else entirely. The word Titan were use to known as timid one.”

  Catherina’s breath caught in her throat. “You mean… from the primitive age?”

  Sidney nodded. “Yes. From the time when Uranus ruled. Before even the Titans shaped the world.”

  A chill ran down Catherina’s spine. This was knowledge she was never meant to have.