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“I mean, I was up until a few hours ago, by Your insistence. You needed me to bring You back the magic You lost. The magic You let Yourself lose.” Lore crossed her arms. “And that really brings us nicely to the crux of my argument: This can happen again.”

Water sloshed thoughtfully. “ What do you mean? ”

“You know what I mean,” Lore said. “I saw Nyxara’s memories. They stole from You, but You let them—gave terms, gave second deaths, allowed Them to become what They did. You could have stopped Them, and You didn’t. Why?”

The waters churned, threads of magic tangling and coming apart as the Fount thought. “ We did not want Them to take from Us, you understand ,” It finally said. “ But as it was happening, We thought… it was something new. A new world. And new worlds are Our business. ”

“So it was just a diversion for You,” Lore said. “You didn’t think of the consequences. How like a god.”

The Fount frothed but didn’t dispute her.

Lore glanced sideways at Raihan, writing so furiously he’d nearly worn holes through the paper. Good. He was getting all of it.

“And that,” Lore replied, turning back to the Fount, “is why You can’t be trusted.”

The waters churned faster now, nearly breaching the sides of the Fount’s walls. “ Insolent child. We are not your petty gods, with human wants. We are older. We are unknowable. ”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Lore said. “And it’s true.

You have nothing human in You. This world is of little consequence, since You can just make another.

You can spin new existences into possibility on a whim—at least, You can when You have all Your power.

You were going to let this world dissolve like…

like a child destroying a toy it doesn’t want to play with anymore! ”

Glowing waters sloshed in the Fount, but that was Its only reply.

“There is so much You don’t understand,” Lore continued, calmer now, “and I think that’s why You allowed the gods to take from You.

You wanted to see what would happen, when the world was governed by human hearts.

We are all an experiment.” She cocked her head, trying to sound less furious than she felt.

“And the experiment went wrong, and then it was up to us to fix it. So now You have Your power back. But what happens when someone else comes here, centuries from now, and wants a piece of it? What if, by that point, You’re curious again? ”

The Fount bubbled. “ We do not make the same mistake twice. ”

“Respectfully, I don’t believe You.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that You need a guard,” Lore said. “Someone to stay here and make sure no one else gets it in their head to try on godhood. Someone with a human heart to keep You from making inhuman decisions.”

“ Someone for them to worship ,” the Fount said derisively.

Lore’s nose wrinkled. “I deeply hope not.”

Raihan looked up from his scribbling, eyes narrowed even as his hand kept moving. “What are you playing at, Lore?”

“I’m done playing,” she said simply. “And I won’t let the game start again.”

The Fount burbled some more, as if beginning to boil, the weight of Its thought hanging heavy in the air. “ You mortals only last so long. Who will take your place? ”

“Seeing as I don’t really trust anyone else,” Lore answered, “I think it would be in both of our best interests if You did something to combat that mortality. Not get rid of it, mind You, I know that’s impossible. Just extend my time.” She arched a brow. “Maybe You’ll learn something by then.”

“ So you are doing the same thing He did ,” the Fount said, as contemptuous as a magic fountain could sound. “ Looking for a way out of dying. ”

“Not at all,” Lore murmured, thinking of Gabe, thinking of Bastian. “I’d love to die.”

The Fount had no reply for that. “ You said you wished to talk terms ,” It said finally. “ We suppose you will want repayment. ”

“Give them back to me,” Lore said simply, her voice a wound.

“ They are far gone. Death cannot be cheated .” It paused. “ But it can be… abbreviated. ”

“How abbreviated?” Her heart slammed against the base of her throat.

“ Five hundred years ,” the Fount said. “ The time from the Godsfall to now. Then you can have them back. But they will die again, you understand this? Immortality is not an option. ”

“We don’t want it,” Lore said. “We just want a life together. It already began, and we want a different ending.”

“ We accept your terms. ” The waters of the Fount splashed lightly, washing up the sides of the golden stone.

A small wave lapped over the edge, collecting in a shallow basin made from a broken tile.

“ Drink. There is no power in it, only longevity. ” Its not-voice went wry. “ We have learned things. ”

Lore knelt. Then she sat, crossing her legs beneath her; a less comfortable position, but she didn’t want any posture of worship for this. She cupped her hands, scooped up the water, and drank.

It washed through her, shining and cold, stringing stars through her bones and minor harmonies around her organs. Lore gasped and opened her eyes. She felt no different, not really. But the world looked a little brighter.

She stood, making sure her legs were steady, then walked over to Raihan. He’d stopped writing, pen hanging limp in his fingers. “Well,” he said as she approached. “That was… something.”

“Did you get all of it?” She sat beside him, glanced at his notebook. Messy scrawl covered the pages.

“Every bit,” he said.

“Good.” Lore closed her eyes, sighed. “We need to make sure only the truth is shared this time. There will still be opportunities to twist it, but if we can make sure the truth is out there, it will make a difference. Surely.”

“Surely,” Raihan repeated. A moment of silence. “What do you need from me, Lore?”

“Just to stay,” she murmured. “Just to write the truth.”

He nodded. Then he stood, walking toward the path. “I’ll start now,” he said. “Sharing the truth, I mean.”

Lore watched him go. Then she was alone with the Fount. She looked at It with her eyebrow cocked. “You’re stuck with me, now. For five hundred years, at least.”

“ An interesting five hundred years, We are sure ,” the Fount burbled.

“Undoubtedly.” Lore flexed her fingers back and forth. “Now there’s something we should fix.”

The Isles were still burnt. The dregs of the Godsfall still poisoned them. The Fount couldn’t fix everything—she couldn’t fix everything—but she could fix this.

Lore settled her hands on the lip of the Fount, right over the pieces they’d found and brought back. It buzzed like It had before but didn’t make her go numb. She was something that could withstand It. She and the Fount, of the same nature.

Lore looked deep into the waters. A swirl of color, but right now she needed gold and green.

They rose to the surface, then spun away in lazy spirals. She watched them, grabbed them, pulled them into herself. Imbued them with her will, easy as taking her next breath.

The power flowed through her, and then into the earth.

Buds sprouted on long-dead trees, blooming green, the bark going from char-black to deep-brown. Grass unfurled like a carpet. Wildflowers opened in colorful swaths up and down the path to the Mount.

The green and gold settled back down into the Fount, replaced by air and water and fire.

These, too, she channeled easily, funneling them up into the air, recalibrating the atmosphere. Seasons realigned, weather stabilized. The sharp gust of an autumn breeze ruffled her hair.

The magic resettled. The waters of the Fount spun. That’s nice , It said contemplatively, Its voice only in her head again. Nice to feel like things are back as they should be.

“It’s a start, at least.” Lore sighed, exhaustion filtering through every muscle. “Not so bad, being helpful, huh?”

The waters swirled in thought. You have carved a beginning, daughter of the dark, when your nature was always an end.

“I am nothing if not contrary,” Lore replied, and settled her back against the stones to watch the sun set over the ocean.