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Nearly once a day, Father held out his enclosed palm to Naia. With childlike anticipation, she’d watch as he spread his hand to reveal a blossomed dahlia—mahogany red, full of thin, sharply silk blossomed petals. It pulled a smile out of Naia every time he stuck the beauty behind her ear.

Naia reached for the flower in Mother’s hair. “Your carnation is beautiful, Mother. Did Father grow it for you?”

Her icy gaze snapped to Naia.

Naia winced, and her hand froze mid-air.

Refused to hold her child.

She sank her arm back down to her side, averting her eyes from her mother’s intense glare. “I apologize.”

Mother resumed peering throughout the room as if her face was made of stone.

“I did grow it for her.” Father leaned over and playfully nipped at Naia’s ear to coax a giggle out of her. It did not lift the frown plaguing her lips.

Naia itched the tickle her father’s fingers left on her earlobe, unable to pull her gaze away from her mother. She sat stoically, peering out across the hall, and every so often, her pale eyes flickered from one side of the room.

Naia was captivated by the shimmering chrysocolla pendant on her chest. The flickering candlelight of the chandeliers reflected off its gemstone. The color was of the shallowest waters, a divine drop of the sea. It was stunning, and Naia longed to ask about it. Where did you get it, Mother? It compliments your complexion and eyes. I hope to be as beautiful as you are when I grow older.

Naia was reluctant to voice such things, though, knowing it would result in another harsh look and vacant response.

The craving for her mother’s affection began as a pinprick, only to swell into an ache. Naia hadn’t known what to call such yearning until overhearing Via’s story.

It was an ugly truth.

Naia did not have her mother’s love, but what would it take to win it?

Evening fell upon Kaimana. Those who lived in the village were closing their shops. In the sky, the tide was but of a soft whisper as rays of the sunset bled through the transparent quilt of the sea.

Naia held her father’s hand as he escorted her through the garden, filled with bright, blithe colors. The fragrance of orchids wafted in the air as they strolled through the blossoms. Twilight cast silhouettes over the palms, shadows of their spiked heads splaying across the sand.

Naia watched in fascination as the hibiscus and passion fruit flowers closed as they passed by.

She peeked up at her father. Did he close the flowers, or did they close because of the fading sunlight?

Her father glanced down at her, one of his thick brows raised. “What is it, darling?”

They slowly made their way across the bridge over the River of Souls. “Did you put the flowers to sleep?”

Her father’s mouth twitched as he looked onward. The amusement slowly fell from his face by whatever he saw.

Naia followed his gaze to the crowd materializing within the courtyard and piling through the entrance of the palace. Divine figures draped in luxurious robes of the finest silks and satins. Naia had never seen so many deities in her mother’s kingdom.

Her father scooped her up and materialized them into the throne room.

When Naia’s eyes came into focus, they sat on her father’s throne alongside Mother. Gods and goddesses lined the outer edges of the room, while five immaculate figures stood in the center.

The Council—each member a High Deity and the first in existence of their lineage; the only five High Deities who had carried their titles for well over five thousand years. No other had ever bested them.

“Father, why is the Council here?” Naia whispered.

“Your mother is being challenged for her title as High Goddess of the Sea,” he explained. “The Council is required to be present when a middle deity challenges a High Deity for their title.”

Naia squeezed her tiny fists in her lap in response to the quickening pace of her heart. “How long has Mother held her title as High Goddess of the Sea?”

“Oh, my darling, there is nothing to worry about. Your mother has held her title for well over three-thousand years.”

The scales of a deity’s power were determined by the multitude of abilities and worshipers one possessed. Mortals worshiped her mother across the Mortal Land, but her primary source of prayers came from Nohealani Island—an island the High Goddess supposedly founded. After her imprisonment beneath the sea, she built Kaimana and turned it into an empire. Whoever challenged her did not stand a chance.