Artos looked at the space where the young soul had been standing just a moment ago with his mouth agape. He wasn’t sure if he was more shocked by the kid’s ability to speak (and that he kept it hidden) or by the way he used their fight as cover to escape to the mortal plane (right under their noses).

  His shock quickly morphed into an appreciative grin as he chuckled, the final image of the child unusually vivid in his mind. That inexplicable glow that drew attention he clearly hadn’t wanted. The carefree smile there so briefly that it would’ve been missed if Artos blinked, in such stark contrast to the eyes full of nothing but exhaustion and indifference. The words he’d spoken, so casual in the face of literal gods it was nearly dismissive. Like he genuinely did not care at all about them.

  What a cheeky little thing.

  Gwen cast him an exasperated look when he laughed before ignoring him in favor of rushing to her balcony’s edge. He followed after with a smirk, not bothered by her continued displeasure. She was a goddess of protection and righteous vengeance while he was… very much not. They had fought many times over the long years they had known each other and by rights they should hate each other.

  Yet, she didn’t hate him.

  Sure, she wasn’t very nice to him. She yelled a lot and argued about the things he did and occasionally tried to stab him. He had been annoyed by her at first, thought her nosy and self-righteous. Then he realized that you don’t get as upset as she did by the choices of someone you’ve given up on. Gwen might not have put it that way, but he knew there was no malice in her actions, that this was how she cared about him even if she didn’t like him.

  He had found that interesting. Then that interest turned to fascination and now, all these years later, he was hopelessly in love with a woman who couldn’t stand him.

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  It was only as he followed her that he finally connected the facts that, if the child who had just swan dived off the edge could talk then he must’ve been fully cognizant the entire time.

  Artos felt a momentary twinge from his somewhat battered conscience. He hadn’t treated the child very well, that was for sure. In his defense, he hadn’t expected what he did to affect him much. Most souls are so unaware without a body that they wouldn’t feel pain at all. A rare few could feel some sensation while the occasional diamond in the rough would experience their afterlife as vividly as though they were still alive. He had only thought the kid was of the second kind, with a vague, curious awareness of a newborn. Seeing, but not understanding. At worst he thought drinking his blood would give him the sensation of a body ache. Uncomfortable, but not truly painful and soon forgotten as he moved on to his next life. It was also why he hadn’t bothered truly explaining anything. Even with some awareness, trying to have an actual conversation would’ve been like trying to talk with a cat.

  At the balcony’s edge the two of them stood and peered down, watching in ways only the gods could as the unique little soul traveled its way through dimensions into a new life. It was a rare sight even for them, as this wasn’t exactly how life and death were supposed to work for mortals.

  Below them the child’s soul was laid bare in a way it hadn’t been before, and he had to admit that Gwen was right. There was something distinctly different about that little soul. Something that tugged at Artos’ attention. He narrowed his eyes at it, not understanding what he was seeing, then glanced at Gwen. “How exactly did that soul end up changing? You said it reacted differently. What did you mean by that?”

  Gwen’s brows had that adorable little furrow she got whenever she was worried, upset, angry or deep in thought. It was a multi-faceted furrow. “Under the kind of strain you put on it, that child’s soul should’ve disintegrated if you came here even five minutes later. When he arrived though, while there were signs of him being profoundly affected and it must’ve been an intensely painful experience.” She sent him a condemning side eye. In his defense, if he had known it would hurt the child that much Artos wouldn’t have given him something like that. He had a somewhat wild reputation, but not a cruel one. “His body, believe it or not, was actively absorbing your energy and using it as fuel to enact change. When I interfered to at least stop the pain, it did the same with my energy. I less healed that child than gave his soul the power it needed to take care of itself.”

  Artos blinked at her, trying to hide his disbelief. “How would something like that be possible?”

  Gwen shrugged. “Who’s to say what’s possible with him. I didn’t catch it earlier since it’s so uncommon it didn’t even occur to me, but now that I look at him it’s obvious he’s Favored.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Artos’ gaze snapped back to the kid, studying him in a way that he really should’ve done before. It was obvious now that she mentioned it, with the glow and the way the kid tugged at the attention. His feelings on the matter suddenly became more complex. A Favored was perhaps one of the rarest existences in the world, beings born of a powerful whim. He couldn’t even name five who had appeared since the beginning of the world.

  Artos suddenly understood the tired look in the little souls eyes in a whole new way. He wasn’t prone to excessive sympathy for others, but a Favored was a being who it was literally impossible not to feel for. Even for them.

  Looking past the rather glaring fact of the kid’s nature, he studied how the energies of the three of them had integrated together in one being. He could tell the kid’s soul have been reshaped in a way that definitely didn’t look human. His soul was now an ideal conduit for magic, fine-tuned by an invisible hand to grant great capacity and control. And that was only what he could tell at a glance.

  Gwen was right. Because of their influence the boy wouldn’t get to live anything like a normal life, even if he wasn’t Favored. He would have no human parents to raise and guide him in an unfamiliar world. He would be alone and eyed greedily on all sides. This time, Artos’ conscience took a thorough beating.

  He watched with something nearing concern as the child neared the end of his journey, a body beginning to form for the little runaway soul. It didn’t have to be complete for Artos to decipher how it would appear. Black hair, golden eyes, a mix of three distinct magics in one person. The kid would look like him, with his olive skin and devilish good looks, but would also have Gwen’s lovely eyes. Something about that gave Artos an incredible feeling of satisfaction. It was almost as if-

  Realization struck like a lightning bolt, so stunning he couldn’t help muttering out loud to himself as he put the pieces together. “Oh my goodness. We made a baby.”

  Several things happened at once after he spoke. Gwen’s head snapped in his direction so fast and with such intensity her neck would’ve broken if she were a mortal. Artos made an immediate decision and with a flick of his finger he redirected where the child would appear in the mortal world, instantly placing him out of Gwen’s influence and reach. A mere moment too late Gwen reached for the child herself only to realize she was a step behind. With the child gone she instead turned slowly back to him with a grave expression.

  “What you just said. Explain it.”

  Artos simply couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips then, a sense of victory filling him as a thousand thoughts at once zipped through his mind. He and Gwen had made a baby, the two of them, together. They hadn’t meant to, but happy accidents were for such times as these.

  And it was indeed a very happy accident.

  For all their power and knowledge, if there was one thing that was forever outside the grasp of the gods it was a child of their own. They were the children born of the world’s beginning, too strong to be left without limits. So they alone of all other creatures could not reproduce. Not normally, anyway. What children they managed to have were created in odd, often grotesque ways and were never as powerful as their parents, doomed to die like any mortal. Yet they were treasured all the more for their fleeting nature. For them who could never have true born children, watching a being bearing their traits grow and learn was uniquely fascinating. A singular obsession they all shared.

  And of all the gods who had as yet to have a child of their own, Gwen was known to want one the most. A child she could raise and teach and protect and love. Yet she was never willing to take the steps to make one, as the process wasn't often a pleasant one.

  And now, by some strange chance, the two of them had made a child of their own. A child Gwen very much wanted. A child that was now beyond her reach and entirely within his grasp.

  “Think about it. He will be born with traits from both of us, he wouldn’t exist as he is without our influence and interference, and he wouldn’t have been born if we hadn’t come together as we did today. By even mortal definitions it would be hard to say he’s not our son.”

  With every word he said he could see the spark in her eyes growing until it was a brilliant conflagration of intense desire and hope.

  “I have a child?” She whispered the question like she was too afraid to say the words aloud and make them untrue.

  “We have a child.” He corrected. It was a very important distinction in his mind. The most important.

  Her eyes sharpened at the reminder. “What did you do with him? Where is he?”

  “He’s safe, of course.” He hoped he didn’t look too smug.

  “Safe where Artos?” Gwen gritted out.

  “With my people in Trivangar.” It was perfect. His people would rather die than let his child come to harm, and there were so many of them the escape prone child wouldn’t be able to easily slip away. He would be stuck there, safe as could be.

  “You sent him to your cult?!”

  Artos scoffed. “Oh, so you can have a fanatical religious order and it’s okay, but I get one and suddenly it’s a cult? How’s that fair?”

  Gwen didn’t deign to dignify the question with a response, her eyes going steely. “Do you mean to try and keep him from me?”

  Artos could all but hear the promise of a holy war in his future if he said yes, and as fun as teasing her was he didn’t want to go quite that far. “No, of course not. Why do you think I’ve been emphasizing how he’s ours instead of just mine. You can meet him whenever you want.” Gwen blinked in surprise at the easy acquiescence, only to tense again as he continued. “There’s just one condition.”

  “Yes?” Gwen prompted him, her eyes full of wariness.

  He took a breath. With the cards he had in his hands, now seemed the best time to go for broke. “Marry me. Broken homes are hard on kids, I hear. With two parents-”

  Artos never even saw the fist before it punched him in the face.