The goddess of meteors recounted the scene with meticulous detail to Tyche: "Rhea, weak from childbirth, stubbornly sought to reclaim her daughter, even casting aside the crown of Queen of the Gods."
"Fiercely she shoved the King of Gods, only to be struck down again and again by Cronus, yet each time she rose anew, allowing the dirt to stain her robes. The divine palaces atop Mount Othrys were shattered by the clashing powers of these two sovereign deities, inciting great discontent among the immortals."
"She was a devoted mother!" sighed Tyche, unable to bear hearing more. "Had she the choice, I believe she would have forsaken her royal divinity for the sake of her child."
Astraea gazed upon the sorrowful Tyche, as if comprehension dawned: "Thus it was you who summoned the rain to veil Rhea's weeping." Her thoughtful eyes fixed upon Tyche. "O kind Tyche, what knowledge lies within your heart?"
Unaware of the implications, Tyche continued to cautiously reason with Astraea: "The deeds of the King of Gods have utterly broken Rhea's spirit; henceforth, the tides of time shall flow in opposing currents." Pausing momentarily, she whispered, "I would not be surprised at anything Rhea might do. Should she break with or turn against the King of Gods, our days of peace shall come to an end."
Unexpectedly, the goddess of meteors fixed Tyche with a most peculiar gaze—one that made Tyche herself uneasy. Adjusting her gown, Tyche finally asked, "My dear friend, why do you look at me thus?"
Never before had Astraea worn such solemnity upon her face. Touching her lips lightly, she warned, "O wise and perceptive Tyche, your foresight and wisdom are admirable! I daresay you are more fit than I to wield the gift of prophecy. Yet there are truths that must remain unspoken, no matter how surely they may one day unfold."
"Remember this—glimpsing fate's truth exacts a price!"
With those words, Astraea departed in haste, leaving Tyche standing motionless in place. Phoebe, the Titan goddess of prophecy, was the strongest authority over destiny before the birth of the Fates. To have assumed she could not perceive the future—how arrogant and foolish I have been!
After reflecting, Tyche regained her composure. Astraea's final warning suggested she too had learned something of the future from Phoebe. Whether the choices they faced would lead to conflict remained unknown, but protecting two lesser goddesses amidst the impending war between two mighty divine rulers seemed well within their reach.
Considering further, Tyche resolved that remaining neutral during the coming Titanomachy would be wisest. After all, the battlefield would lie upon the earth, while the gods of the sea held formidable strength. However, neutrality would require her sisters—those presiding over lakes and rivers—to relinquish their domains and return to the sea, becoming mere Naiads to ensure their survival. Would they truly surrender their divine roles? Reflecting inwardly, Tyche knew she herself would not so easily abandon her power. Perhaps this very reason partly led Metis to wed Zeus. Indeed, many sea deities had secretly placed their hopes upon the new generation of gods.
Time passed, though its measure remained uncertain. Each time Tyche wove her mists across the sky, she watched for signs in the paths of falling stars—but the heavens had been silent for far too long.
Then came Eos, robed in roseate light, opening the gates of heaven as Helios guided his chariot across the firmament. Selene and Nyx, having completed their nocturnal duties, arrived together. Tyche presented them with garments of exquisite craftsmanship and inquired about the whereabouts of the goddess of meteors.
The two goddesses exchanged glances, and finally Leto spoke: "I cannot say where my sister now rests, but fear not—for Ouranos, god of the heavens, and Koios, lord of darkness, are dividing the powers of the stars to bestow upon her. With the stellar dominion granted by our mother, she likely slumbers now, absorbing this newfound strength."
Tyche gasped. "Is she preparing to ascend beyond her current divine rank?"
Leto nodded. "If all proceeds smoothly, she shall awaken as the goddess of stars and stargazing—the Lady of Starlit Nights."
Relieved, Tyche felt genuine joy for her friend. She requested Leto inform her once Astraea awoke. The goddess of night graciously agreed, offering gifts in gratitude before departing alongside Selene.
Leto's gift was a veil of utter darkness, vast enough to shroud an entire isle; wherever it spread, sound vanished, leaving only profound silence. Selene gifted a flask of liquid moonlight. When poured into a pool, the water shimmered radiantly beneath the gentle glow of silver luminescence.
With Astraea's fate settled, Tyche felt a weight lift from her heart. At their next meeting, she would address her friend as 'Your Highness'—a privilege reserved solely for those of lesser divine rank. Only beings of such rank could command subordinate deities, and even the King of Gods dared not punish them without cause.
Each sunrise and moonset found Tyche dutifully fulfilling her sacred duties, her powers over clouds and rain blending ever more harmoniously. Yet the call of the cosmic laws grew increasingly insistent. Though she sensed her ascension lay within that summons, its meaning eluded her entirely.
That changed the day when ocean currents began flowing independently. Henceforth, warm surface waters would naturally descend to the cold abyss, while frigid depths returned to the light. With this natural rhythm established, Tyche's dominion expanded. No longer bound to manually guide the currents, she was freed from their direct governance.
Rejoicing, she danced through the waves, feeling the steady pulse of the seas around her. Once more, the essence of water welcomed her with open arms, offering a myriad of divine domains within the primal ocean of forces. Attempting to connect, Tyche received few responses—until temperature, breaking away from its watery tether, merged with her incomplete climate domain, forming a curious pull.
In an instant, countless new divine threads reached out to her. Several pale-blue glyphs eagerly leapt into her grasp before she withdrew from the sea of primordial energies.
Domains of Cold, Snowfall, Frost, and Ice emerged, embraced warmly by the elemental core. Temperature exerted its will, guiding transitions from ice to water, from water to mist—commanding all three states of water. The essence of water itself shaped and refined this nascent divinity, forging it into perfection. Snowfall and Frost intertwined with Rain and Mists, completing her once-deficient Climate domain.
At last, both Water Cycle and Climate ascended to the rank of lesser divinity. Thus did Tyche firmly establish herself in this world, no longer merely drifting with fate—but shaping it.
The power of the water cycle seeped into earth and sky alike, amplifying the primordial essence of water. The world's will turned to Tyche with unprecedented attention; in a gesture of favor, it caused lilies—her most beloved bloom—to flourish beside every spring and stream. From that moment forth, the lily became Tyche's sacred flower, forever protected from the careless hands of Naiads.
As the currents of the water cycle delved beneath the surface, Tyche keenly sensed the budding emergence of the domain over subterranean waters. Once fully formed, this divine function would be hers to command.
Ascension to lesser divinity had been a long and intricate process. The primal force ceaselessly refined her godhood, perfecting her essence with each passing moment. When her divine nature reached absolute harmony, the gates to higher divinity would part ever so slightly, and through patient perseverance, she would rise to stand among the foremost of deities.
At last, upon reaching this elevated rank, Tyche soared into the skies with a cry of exultation. Her bond with the world's essence ensured an endless wellspring of divine energy—never again would she fear depletion. Mount Othrys called out to her in reverence; its snowy peaks crowned marble columns of purest white, while crystal springs welled up in place of stone and soil, raising a temple upon the waters.
Upon a throne adorned with clouds, rain, snow, and mist, a radiant blue light ignited—and in an instant, Tyche stood within the sanctum. This marked her rightful place among the divine council, granting her voice the power to propose and to vote. After leaving behind a divine manifestation to preside over the temple, she departed without regret, returning to her secluded isle in the sea.
In the days that followed, gods of all ranks extended their congratulations and invitations. With grace and courtesy, Tyche declined feasts and formalities, preferring the solitude veiled in mists. On her island, she lived in quiet contentment, tending only to her duties in shaping the climate, while devoting the rest of her time to mastering her newly acquired domains.
Yet even for a deity, existence could grow lonely. Time passed, deepening the weight of eternal isolation. Having secured her safety, Tyche struggled to preserve what remained of her mortal sensibilities. She could not discard propriety and virtue as if they were mere illusions; nor could jewels or fine garments fill the growing emptiness within her soul.
Driven by curiosity and a longing to understand, she finally stepped beyond the veil of mist and began her journey across the world.
Taking the form of a drifting cloud, she wandered aimlessly, beholding all she encountered—from the endless oceans of the north to the towering mountain ranges in the east, each revealing its own unique beauty. She strolled through forests bathed in morning fog, where golden shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy like celestial spears.
Dryads peered curiously at this unfamiliar goddess, drawing near to embrace the moist mists she carried. Born from the blood of the sky god scattered upon the earth, these gentle spirits differed from their vengeful kin, the Furies. Their fragile forms sought refuge in the embrace of nature, blending into trees to hide from covetous eyes, some becoming localized woodland nymphs.
Gazing upon these graceful beings, Tyche spoke with gentle warmth: "I am the goddess of climate and mistress of the water cycle. Fair Nymphs, my island seeks attendants—will any of you walk beside me?"
Her dominion over rain and mist swiftly won their favor. Overjoyed at her arrival, they sang in unison: "O nurturer of lands and forests, we give thanks for your presence. So long as you shield us from those who would take us, we shall gladly accept your protection."
Again sighing at the lamentable state of morality among goddesses in this world, Tyche solemnly accepted their loyalty. She unfurled her mist-laden robes, enfolding the sacred trees of the Dryads, and thus concluded her unexpected journey. Upon her return, she settled them upon her isle and returned to the moonlit pool where lilies thrived under divine blessing, blooming endlessly in a sea of white petals. With her permission, the Dryads wove her a crown of blossoms, its fragrance delighting her heart, which she placed upon her brow without hesitation.
Watching the Dryads dance freely amidst the flowers, Tyche was seized by inspiration and set about reshaping the island. As sovereign of the surrounding seas and land, she raised the terrain, expanding its borders. Upon the new summits, she summoned snow, crafting slopes for recreation. Cold mists condensed from icy heights and drifted downward, meeting warm ocean breezes mid-slope to dissolve into soft vapor.
Each Dryad found purpose: carrying harvests to the frozen heights for preservation, gathering ripe fruits to ferment into wine, adjusting furniture within the temple, and even tending flocks gifted by another deity. In time, Tyche grew utterly indulged, retreating into her temple to live in constant comfort, cared for in every way.
Days slipped away in serene idleness, and Tyche lost count of how long she lingered in such ease. Then came one day when a dolphin messenger arrived bearing news from Tethys. Reluctantly, she emerged from her sanctuary, stroking the dolphin's smooth back. At once, the voice of the goddess echoed in her ears.