Electra did not answer her sister's question. She only remained silent, eyes downcast.
Tyche's suspicion deepened—but she wasted no time dwelling on it. Stepping protectively in front of her sister, she turned to face the intruder.
"Step aside, unworthy one," she commanded coldly. "By order of the Titans, I have come to reclaim what is ours."
Thaumas—the so-called Wonder of the Sea —did not respond. His gaze never left Electra.
His sorrowful eyes shimmered with tears that fell into the water, crystallizing into iridescent pearls before they could vanish.
Electra flinched, turning her head away.
A low, mournful cry escaped Thaumas' lips as he transformed into a great whale and vanished into the abyss.
Tyche exhaled sharply, dragging a bewildered Electra along with her through the currents.
She had the distinct feeling she'd just stumbled into a divine soap opera.
Back at Tethys' temple, the Oceanides gathered around Electra in concern.
Tyche reported the encounter to her mother, who listened with a knowing sadness.
"This was not unexpected," Tethys murmured, gently stroking Tyche's hair. "Thaumas failed his ascension to Mid-Tier Divinity. The fractures in his godhood nearly destroyed him."
She sighed.
"Pontus intervened, binding the cracks with force. But the damage remains. Thaumas became unstable—his wonder twisted into madness. Storms. Whirlpools. Deception beneath the waves."
Her voice softened. "Only Electra brings him peace. Her calm presence soothes the pain within him. That is why he seeks her out again and again, often taking the form of a whale."
"But she refuses him?"
"She does," Tethys confirmed. "Because she knows the cost. If she were to remain by his side, if she were to bear his child… her divinity would fade into nothingness. A nymph consumed by love, dissolving into sea foam."
Tyche's foot tapped impatiently against the floor—her thoughts brimming with frustration.
How cliché.
Fated lovers bound by imbalance.
One goddess destined to heal the other's broken essence.
Of course, marriage was the obvious solution.
Yet she asked anyway. "Why won't she accept him?"
Tethys smiled sadly. "Because she is too weak. At heart, she is still a Nymph. To carry a child would unravel her very being."
Tyche frowned. "But couldn't she simply gain a mantle? I could give her my domain over craftsmanship."
Tethys shook her head. "Your gift was earned—through artistry recognized by the world itself. Even if you gave your mantle away, the essence behind it would still follow you . It will only abandon you when someone surpasses your skill."
Tyche blinked.
So even divine domains could be fickle.
She muttered under her breath, "What a cruel muse."
Returning to her island, she mused on the burdens of artistic gods—always needing to evolve or risk being cast aside.
At least domains born from primordial essence were loyal.
They chose their host once—and never left.
As she floated lazily in her pool, a new presence stirred.
Three figures emerged from the mist—Astraia, radiant as ever, accompanied by Selene, goddess of the moon, and Leto, goddess of night's gentle hush.
Tyche welcomed them warmly.
Selene, already a Mid-Tier deity, carried an air of quiet elegance. Leto, though only a Lesser Goddess, possessed a rare grace and strength of spirit. They were inseparable—two luminous spirits walking the dark skies together.
Watching them, Tyche felt a pang of longing.
To possess such pure friendship among gods was rare indeed.
"I came seeking your handiwork," Selene said, smiling shyly.
"And I brought materials," Leto added, holding up silken fabrics woven from moonlight and shadow.
Astraia, ever playful, flicked stardust from her veil.
Before Selene could speak further, Tyche laughed lightly. "No need for words—I understand. Allow me to repay your visit with a gift."
Delighted, the three followed her through the grove, offering their gifts while Tyche set to work.
When the two lunar goddesses departed to fulfill their celestial duties, Astraia lingered.
"They are closer than most siblings," she mused, watching their retreating forms. "Sometimes I wonder if I was foolish to reject Helios."
Tyche rested a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "It is the nature of their mantles—Moon and Night belong together. Had one been male, I'm certain they would have been wed."
Astraia smirked. "And what of you, clever mist-weaver? Could love find its way into your careful plans?"
She gestured toward the heavens.
"Helios, the radiant sun god. He walks the path of fire and light, a Titan with the potential to ascend beyond Mid-Tier. His role complements yours—climate and warmth entwined."
She leaned in, whispering like a secret oracle.
"If your paths crossed, fate might bless you both with power drawn straight from the source."
Tyche only smiled.
Some destinies were worth weaving.
Others best left to chance.
The goddesses lingered in laughter and conversation until Tyche finally whispered the tale of Electra and Thaumas into Astraia's ear.
Astraia fell silent, her starlit eyes dark with thought.
After a long pause, she spoke. "My sister Leto bears a mantle of calm—a gift granted for bringing night's hush after day's end."
She turned slightly, voice growing distant. "That domain is shared among the gods of darkness. Nyx, the primordial goddess, refuses to descend to the earth, so she cast away both the essence and the duty of tranquility."
A moment passed before she added, "But your sister could take it up. The Nightborn would not oppose her claim—her presence would only expand the reach of serenity."
Tyche's eyes lit with realization, her fingers tightening around the fabric in her hands. "Then the sea will welcome peace. The three great sea deities will support her without question. This can truly save my sister."
Astraia smiled gently. "To share tranquility across realms benefits all who hold its essence. Even the sky will look kindly upon this union."
Without delay, Tyche summoned dolphins to carry word to Tethys.
Her mother answered swiftly—her form taking shape from the sea itself, woven from divine currents. She embraced both goddesses warmly.
"I have already spoken to your mother," Tethys murmured, stroking Astraia's hair. "She has agreed to attend."
And so, Phoebe descended from the heavens alongside Selene, Eos, and—most unexpectedly—a winged god cloaked in exhaustion, his eyes veiled in sleep-laden mist.
"This is Hypnos," Astraia explained softly. "God of Slumber. His mother birthed the very essence of stillness."
Tethys welcomed them all, joy softening her features. Rare was the meeting between kin unbound by duty or rivalry.
Phoebe, ever composed, wasted no time. Her foresight had guided her here.
With quiet authority, she gathered the deities of tranquility—those who shared fragments of peace—and reached an accord.
In return for allowing the ocean a place within their domain, they would grant Electra the mantle of Tranquil Bay .
Even the mighty sea gods could not deny such a pact.
"From this day forth," Phoebe declared, rising with finality, "Electra shall be the Goddess of the Calm Sea."
As if in answer, the world stirred.
A small but radiant godmark formed in Phoebe's palm—the first sign of a new deity's rise.
She placed it in Tethys' hands.
A blessing.
A beginning.
With formalities complete, Phoebe departed, followed soon after by Hypnos and the others.
Only Astraia remained.
Beneath the moon's watchful gaze, the island bloomed in celebration.
Electra's flame burned steady—no longer a mere Nymph, but a true goddess, her dual heritage accepted by the divine.
Tethys wept with pride.
Oceanus, though absent, sent his tides as tribute.
The banquet lasted long into the night, filled with song and abundance.
When Hemera drew back the veil of daylight, the night goddesses took their leave.
Hypnos vanished early, worn thin by endless dreams.
Selene and Leto returned to the skies.
Only Astraia lingered.
Curious, Tyche asked, "Why do you remain, my friend? Shouldn't you be casting stars across the heavens?"
Astraia laughed lightly, shaking her head. "A falling star does not need to shine every night. My mantle allows me freedom, not chains."
Tyche frowned. "But won't that limit your growth? Won't you remain forever at Lesser Godhood?"
Astraia's smile never wavered. "I bear a fragment of prophecy—I inherited foresight from my mother. The mantle of Stars is still forming in her embrace. When it is ready, I shall inherit it fully and become the Lady of Shooting Stars."
She raised her hand, letting stardust trail through her fingers like liquid light.
Tyche exhaled, equal parts relieved and concerned. "You believe your visions show you the future—but even fate shifts like the tide. Do not grow too comfortable."
Astraia only grinned. "Then let the tide surprise me."
Realizing her warning had gone unheard, Tyche changed the subject. "Did you hear? Kronos and Rhea clashed again."
Astraia perked up immediately. "Yes! From the sky, we saw everything. He swallowed Demeter whole—Rhea's cries shook the heavens!"
She leaned in conspiratorially. "We都不敢现身 on the nights he feeds."
The two goddesses watched the sea ripple beneath the moonlight.
One seeking peace.
The other weaving fate.
Neither knowing what storms lay ahead.