The kingdom of Ofana sat far on the eastern side of the continent of Galania. The land was rich in resources both mundane and magical, and the Ofani people were hardy and hard-working. Despite these and other virtues, Ofana had relatively little trade or even contact with its neighbors. This was because Ofana had the misfortune to have Begana as its patron goddess.

  Most deities have symbiotic relationships with their followers, with blessings and acts of worship passing back and forth. Most gods also take a relatively hands-off approach to godhood, as they know that some mystery and capriciousness keeps the mortals hooked. Begana didn’t get the memo, and she was the sort of deity that people worship because it’s the best way to keep her from obliterating the kingdom. There are many religions that warn against invoking the wrath of their god(s), but the Ofani practice one of the few religions where “Don’t get Her started” is a major tenet, the first of their Eight Principles.

  The goddess’ character wasn’t entirely negative for the Ofani people, though. Her wrath would come down on their enemies even harder, ensuring that their neighbors wouldn’t dare try to invade. A few had tried despite the Ofani desperately warning them away, which was how the charred remains of the kingdom of Antasis became a substantial addition to Ofana’s territory a few centuries ago. The Ofani king who’d recently tried to get her to repeat that performance on the nation of Boranna wound up vaporized, which was why the current king was a mere 17 months old. He was a precocious kid, but not that precocious.

  It was Beganes, the seventh day of the week. Most of Galania called it Valtres, but needless to say Begana wasn’t a fan of them having every seventh day named for that other, more popular deity. The change was an example of the First Principle in action.

  The priests were assembled at the High Temple. Although she was inconsistent, the goddess would manifest in the Temple most Beganeses, often with some new “blessing” she’d concocted, but sometimes just to socialize.

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  The High Priest Taywyn did his best to hide his annoyance and dread as the goddess appeared in a scintillating burst of black and white energies. To anyone who hadn’t been seeing it week after week it was truly impressive. For Taywyn it presaged, at a minimum, a stressful day.

  The goddess was beautiful, though it was the beauty of a petulant teenage girl. “Behold! I send you a visitor from another world, someone who perished on Earth and is now reincarnated into a new form, who you shall learn from! Meet my first Proph—my first Apostle!”

  A tense silence followed. Someone coughed. A priest raised his hand.

  Hand on her hips, the goddess glared. “Really?”

  Lowering his hand and averting his eyes, the priest said, “I, er… Sorry, but this sounds a lot like how the Valrunists get Prophets?”

  “It’s nothing like that!” A helical blast of black and white divine power shot from her hand, reducing that priest to a small pile of ash. The Keeper jotted down the ash pile’s name. They had considered having prisoners serve as clergy and god-handlers, but everyone was terrified of what might happen if the goddess found out.

  She stood there, tapping her foot.

  “Alright,” she said at last. “I know you want to ask something. I can tell. Spit it out.”

  Sensing a non-lethal path forward, Taywyn cleared his throat. “Exalted Begana, that… appears to be a houseplant.”

  The goddess looked at the houseplant that had appeared on the altar, then turned back to her followers. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out! Byeeeee!”

  Once she’d vanished, one of the newer priests sighed. “Is there a better deity we could worship?”

  “They tried that once,” said an acolyte. “It’s why this is the Second High Temple of Begana.”

  He didn’t recognize the acolyte, a young woman with red hair, but she’d had the good sense not to speak in the presence of the goddess, unlike the guy someone would need to sweep up. Taywyn picked up the houseplant and thrust it at her. “You deal with this. You can be… Mercy, she already called it an Apostle. Custodian? Anyone have any ideas?”

  “Witness?” offered another priest.

  “Companion?” offered yet another.

  “‘Companion’ will do. You are the Companion to the First Apostle of Begana. What was your name again?”

  “Uh, Alara?”

  “Keeper, make a note of that. And someone get her a watering can.”