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“What do you mean where did I come from? I am from the White Snowfield,” Ketal said, as if the question had no mystery at all.
Kalosia did not answer. They did not have the composure to answer.
“Kalosia?” Ketal asked them, hearing the odd strain in their silence.
Only then did the god steady themself. “You are… truly a being of the White Snowfield? You are actually a barbarian from there?”
“Ah. That is what you mean.” Ketal understood the weight inside the question.
If a god enters my inner world, they can see it for themself, he thought. The Abomination had sensed it; there was no reason a god could not.
He considered how much to say, then tipped the question back with an amused light in his eyes. “What do you think?”
Ketal did not deny anything.
Kalosia gulped once and looked at Ketal. Their mind moved through a tangle of thoughts and then cut cleanly through.
“It does not matter,” they said at last. “You are still on our side, yes?”
“Why ask that now?” Ketal replied. “If I were not, we would not be having this conversation.”
“Then it is settled.”
There was no problem to fix and no contradiction to untangle. Kalosia accepted the simple truth.
“You will bear the authorities of the gods without breaking,” they said. “I will speak to the other gods. Some will...
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