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In the outskirts of a growing town, a fire crackles. Flecks of orange and red are blown away by the night wind, offering little light to Mumei as she prepares her nightly offerings to the gods.
Four pouches sit in front of her. Inside of one, Mumei gently places wild berries she had gathered earlier that day, a silent prayer of gratitude for Fauna, the protector of nature and giver of its bounty. In another, Mumei sprinkles in a pinch of silver dust, a material that has been recently used to craft compasses and sextants. This is dedicated to Sana, the creator of all the stars and planets in the sky, and patron of travelers. In the third, Mumei gathers ashes from her fire pit and plucks threads from her tattered cloak in the name of Baelz, the destructive and chaotic weaver of fate and destiny. Then in the last pouch, Mumei puts fragments of old animal bones she had gathered from the forest floor for Kronii, the warden of time and the overseer of order.
Once each pouch has its contents, Mumei ties each one shut with a piece of twine. She attaches an owl feather to each pouch, saying a silent prayer.
She thanks Fauna for a successful hunt.
She thanks Sana for guiding her steps.
She thanks Baelz for showing her another day.
She thanks Kronii for her growth.
Mumei gathers her offerings in her hand, then goes on to snuff out the dying campfire. Darkness shrouds her vision, but her eyes quickly adjust to the dim light the stars cast overhead.
The hunter takes a breath. The comforting and homely smell of pine fills her lungs. She exhales in a slow and steady stream.
Then she walks.
Every night, like clockwork, for as long as she can remember, Mumei has done this. It is a routine she never fails to fulfill, even in the midst of the harsh winter storms or humid summer heats: at night she gives her offerings to the gods at their respective temples, then returns home to her humble cottage in the woods to rest, only to rise once the first streaks of morning light sift through her window, and hunt for her meals, trades, and offerings for the day.
Her memory guides her feet through the dim path, ducking under low branches and stepping over gnarled roots as she makes her way towards town. There comes a point where Mumei notices how the scent of pine fades with the trees surrounding her. The dense forest lightens as less and less trees line her path, making way for more frequently traveled highways for carriages and travelers. There comes a point where the loose dirt underneath her feet turns into cobbled stone, lining the path to a town fueled by man-made light just a few hundred meters away. Mumei’s shoes click softly against the paved road, the only sound filling the air as she enters the town.
Few people are out, including Mumei. Probably going out to the taverns in the eastern bend, she thinks. That’s where most of the noise is at night. Everything else is quiet. Mumei doesn’t mind it, though—she prefers it, in fact.
She ventures northward, and finds herself in an empty town square. In the morning, the square roars with noise, with bartering traders and giggling children running around. But in the night, the only sound Mumei hears is the gentle trickle of water. An elaborate fountain comes into view, a graceful statue of Fauna as its centerpiece. At its base, small lights illuminate her face, enveloping her in an ethereal golden light, as if she stepped down from her place in the heavens to greet this growing provincial town.
Mumei takes a moment to appreciate its beauty.
And then she continues north.
The lighted path eventually leads her to the Goddess’ Circle, the religious quarter of town. Throughout the years, it has grown from its humble roots of small shrines to immaculate temples, each themed after its respective goddess, arranged in a semi-circle around a glorious statue depicting all four of them.
Fauna, with an olive branch in one hand and a bundle of wildflowers in another.
Sana, with the entirety of the known universe within the palms of her hands.
Baelz, with the Key of Fate, the key to the countless possibilities only she knows.
Kronii, with a pocketwatch she holds from its chain, an eternal pendulum.
Mumei bows her head in front of the statue, a small sign of reverence before she makes her way to the entrance of Fauna’s temple. The intoxicatingly sweet scent of flowers greets Mumei as she enters.
The inside is decorated with pillars cloaked with crawling vines as well as budding apple trees, which will eventually bear fruit. Mumei spots a bluejay resting inside of its nest, one of the many animals that call the temple their home. Her footsteps rustle the damp grass that makes up the temple floor—the acolytes of Fauna’s temple refused to pave the ground even after the rest of the building was constructed.
At the end of the great hall, moonlight comes through a circular skylight like a clearing in the forest, illuminating the great oakwood shrine underneath. Offerings of meals, flowers, and the season’s harvest are piled in front of the shrine, gratitude from the whole town for the bounty this season.
Mumei places her pouch of wildberries next to a beautiful bouquet of lilies. Her offering pales in comparison to what the others have given her, but she doesn’t mind.
In the depths of her mind, Mumei knows Fauna loves it all the same. It’s the sentiment that powers the gods; that’s what her parents taught her.
After a quick prayer of thanks, the hunter makes her way to Sana’s temple. The immaculate white of the marble floor and impressive variety of scholarly instruments decorating the hall is a stark contrast from Fauna’s. Mumei’s lonely footsteps echo in the quiet of the temple, though the sound fails to capture the attention of two acolytes holding intricate sextants in their hands, necks craned back to gaze at the stars through the clear glass ceiling.
Like Fauna’s, silver moonlight illuminates a shrine at the end of the hall. Sana’s shrine is a gigantic, working model of the known universe, its gears visible as the planets and stars orbit a statue of Sana. At the statue’s base, manuscripts, compasses, bags of gold and silver line her feet. Some are offerings for the pursuit of knowledge; others are prayers for safe travel.
Mumei places her pouch of silver dust within the pile. Her offering is a small sign of gratitude.
Her footsteps echo throughout the hall once again as she heads towards Baelz’ temple. The polished obsidian floor is sleek, up to the point where it can be considered reflective. On either side of Mumei, there are frescos detailing how the gods came to be. There are so many vibrant colors and distorted figures, Mumei is never quite sure what to make of the story. Yet, there is a beauty about the art that cannot be doubted, and it never fails to capture Mumei’s attention until she reaches the moonlit shrine at the end of the hall.
Baelz’ shrine is a statue of her. Her hands are splayed, the String of Destiny weaving around every one of her fingers, forming a tight-knit tapestry between her palms. The Key pierces the String, and Baelz looks down with a smile on her face, pleased with her work.
The pile of offerings at the base of the statue is significantly smaller compared to the ones in Fauna’s and Sana’s. It’s mostly an assortment of things, things that some would say shouldn’t even be considered offerings: a small tapestry, a lock-and-key, even a block of cheese. After all, not many townsfolk send their prayers to the goddess of chaos, chance, and fate.
Mumei adds her pouch of string and ash to the small pile.
When she looks up, she swears she sees a glimmer of approval in the statue’s eyes.
It makes Mumei smile as she makes her way to Kronii’s temple.
The Warden of Time’s temple is sleek. The interior is orderly, each decoration simultaneously serving a purpose, such as the ionic columns flanking Mumei on either side, or the slits in the walls that let in streaks of light, illuminating sundials. Down the long hall, Kronii’s shrine shimmers from the moon’s rays. It’s a large clock, ethereal and daunting, silently ticking away the seconds, a reminder of man’s mortality.
Mumei’s steps are steady as she approaches, consistent and certain like the heartbeat of a clock.
Her rhythm falters when she notices someone standing in front of the shrine.
She swears there wasn’t a person there before.
Probably it’s an acolyte maintaining the clock, she tells herself. Most of them fulfill their duties at night when the temples rarely get any visitors. She’ll just give her offering then return home, as usual. It’ll be fine to approach, she thinks, as long as she doesn’t bother the acolyte’s work.
But as she resumes walking towards the shrine, she feels her instincts tugging at her, telling her that not everything is what it seems. Before she knows it, her body carries her on her toes, quiet and cautious, trained from years of hunting. She hides her presence with shallow breaths, and slinks closer to the shadows casted by the columns.
She approaches closer. But where she is at now, Mumei can only barely make out the side of the person’s face.
She takes a step forward.
And then another.
The person looks over their shoulder and immediately catches her eye.
Mumei feels like a wide-eyed deer as she stares, feet shackled to the ground with shock, her heart frozen in her chest.
She has never met this person before in her life.
Yet, she knows who it is.
“Kronii…?”
The name quietly slips past her lips, reverberating off the temple walls, deafening Mumei with her own shock.
Kronii, on the other hand, looks only mildly surprised. “Oh, I didn’t think anyone would be here. Usually people visit in the daytime, don’t they?
“I—wh—wh-what are you doing here?” Mumei sputters out.
“Gathering my offerings.” Kronii gestures to the small pile of gifts on her shrine. “And you?”
The pouch in Mumei’s hand suddenly feels heavy. “Giving my offerings.”
Kronii’s cerulean eyes stare at Mumei’s hands with lazy interest. “So it’s you.”
“M-me?”
Kronii points to the bundle of offerings gathered at her shrine. Mumei’s nervous gaze follows Kronii’s finger, and realizes a number of the offerings are small brown pouches with an owl feather attached.
Color floods Mumei’s face; she feels lightheaded with embarrassment.
“So why animal bones? Is it a reminder of how fleeting your lives are in this plane?” Though her voice is flat, something lives in her voice, something bitter, something stinging, as if she’s cursing time—cursing herself.
It makes Mumei’s chest feel a little cold.
“Something like that,” the hunter replies after a moment.
Kronii raises an eyebrow, and glances over at her. “I thought you mortals would be more obsessed with the idea of living for as long as you can. I mean, why would you worship the one who’ll be the cause of your inevitable death if Bae doesn’t get to you first?”
“W-well—“ Mumei has to pause to clear her throat. “I-I think it’s because our lives are so fleeting that it gives us meaning. Everything the goddesses give us is a blessing because we only have one lifetime to experience it.”
The waver in Mumei’s voice is gone now, replaced with a growing confidence as she continues to talk. “So we treasure what we can. Because you never know when it’ll be gone. And it’s because of time, because of you, we are able to experience true gratitude for being alive. You give us meaning.”
Kronii gives a huff, a sound of passive amusement and mild intrigue. Yet, Mumei notices the placid look in Kronii’s eyes breaking. Her eyes shimmer in the moonlight like ripples disrupting a water’s surface, cracking the cool exterior.
What a human response, Mumei thinks to herself.
“How interesting…” Kronii says, her voice trailing off.
Mumei’s confidence from before dissipates like fog. Her ears burn with embarrassment as bumbles out, “S-sorry if I stepped out of l-line though, Y-Your Eternity, I—I mean all I do is just l-leave bones on your shrine so—“
“Speaking of,” Kronii cuts in, so quietly confident it shuts Mumei up, “I can take that from you, too.”
“Wh-what?”
“That.” Kronii points at the pouch Mumei cradles in her hands. “I’ll take it.”
“O-oh! I mean, you don’t have to because all it is just animal bones like you said and—“
Kronii extends her arm, her palm facing towards the ceiling, expectant. A silent order.
Mumei doesn’t argue anymore. She places her offering into Kronii’s palm. It dissipates into flecks of blue light like the embers of a flame. Out of the corner of her eye, Mumei notices that the other offerings on Kronii's shrine do the same.
“Thank you.” Kronii’s response is curt and sharp despite the words that leave her mouth, but Mumei hears something warm underneath, a small hint of genuinity hidden by a mask of awkwardness.
The clock ticks, and a chime rings throughout the empty temple, deafening and ominous.
Kronii spares Mumei a glance, and Mumei swears she sees the corner’s of Kronii’s lips quirk into a smile.
The clock rings again.
The hunter blinks.
The warden of time is gone.
-X-
Ever since then, Mumei finds herself seeing Kronii every night.
Their first few meetings are awkward and short-lived, often in front of Kronii’s shrine; Mumei stumbles over her words, tripping over rarely practiced formalities, and Kronii is clumsy with compliments and stiff with her praises.
However, as the nights melt into months, there comes a point in time where Mumei notices the forced niceties beginning to thaw. It starts with a quirk of the lips, which eventually blooms into actual smiles of familiarity. There comes a point where they venture off beyond the marble walls of Kronii’s temple, losing themselves in the surrounding forest as they wander, winking stars lighting their path. And then there, in the quiet of the forest, they share their first laugh together, a soft song heard only by them and the trees.
“You know,” Kronii says one night after Mumei gives her nightly offering, “you don’t need to call me Your Eternity.”
Mumei shakes her head. “It would be disrespectful if I didn’t.”
“No, really. Just Kronii is fine.” The warden looks away as color floods her cheeks. Under her breath, she hurriedly adds, “I want you to.”
Mumei’s heart flips inside of her chest as she silently nods in understanding, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning.
That night, Mumei notes how unexpectedly cute Kronii could be.
One month leads to another, the moon trekking across the indigo sky, and before Mumei realizes it the harvest festival has come and gone. Mumei walks through the town the night after the festival. She notes the groups of people milling about, no doubt still gathering their goods and stands as they prepare for the trek back to their hometowns. Mumei remembers a time when the festival used to be a small thing with only a handful of local farmers—now it has grown into a grand celebration.
As she walks past a particular merchant, the delicious scent of well-seasoned venison grabs Mumei’s attention. Her mouth waters as her eyes glance over, and sees a cooked flank of a deer, browned and tempting, staring back at her.
This would make for a wonderful dinner—and a wonderful offering.
“Thirty gold pieces,” a gruff voice sounds above her.
Usually the hunter would have flinched, but the thrum of excitement is in her body as she gives the butcher the gold. The butcher slices the flank into four strips, bags the meat, and hands it to Mumei. She says a word of thanks, then makes her way north, a small spring in her step as she heads toward the Goddess’ Circle.
She wonders if Kronii will enjoy it.
Once Mumei reaches the Goddess’ Circle, she places a strip of meat at each altar, inside of the goddess’ respective temples. Fauna’s and Sana’s shrines are flooded with offerings. Even Baelz’ and Kronii’s offerings have grown considerably, a testament to the town’s growth.
As Mumei walks over to place her final strip at Kronii’s temple, a light cough to the side catches her attention. She looks over, and sees a blonde girl wearing the royal blue robes of Kronii’s acolytes. The silver clock hands emblazoned on the left side of her robe and the piercing icy blue of her glare shimmer in the moonlight.
“What are you doing?” The acolyte’s voice is steady and full, her question coming off as a command.
“G-giving my offering,” Mumei stutters out, thrown off by the acolyte’s aggression. Most often ignore her when she comes to visit the temples.
The acolyte scoffs. “An offering? You mean that?” She points at the strip of venison in Mumei’s hands. “You’re going to be offering Her Eternity scraps from the festival?”
“W-well, Kronii says that—”
“ What did you just say?” The acolyte exclaims, her incredulous eyes growing wide. She takes a step back with a reddening face, astounded, as if Mumei had pulled out her dagger on her. “Did you just refer to Her Eternity without her title?”
“W-well, she said it was fine—”
“ She said it was fine?! What, did she appear in front of you and tell you that herself?”
Mumei blinks. Then slowly, she says, “Y-yes.”
The acolyte throws up her hands. “First you, a lowly hunter, show up with nothing but leftovers and then claim to have seen Her Eternity in the flesh? Absolutely insane. And blasphemous too. I ought to have you excommunicated from the Goddess’ Circle for that laughable claim. In case you didn’t know, only acolytes and high priests are allowed to communicate with the Goddesses themselves because we have trained in this art.”
“B-but—”
“But nothing, hunter.” The acolyte gives Mumei a withering glare, and she steps back like a startled animal. “Let this be a warning before you decide to give Her Eternity trash under the guise of an offering.”
Mumei wants to say something. She feels her voice bubbling deep inside of her chest, to tell this acolyte that she was wrong. She feels her instincts telling her to fight back, the roar of a beast threatening to spill out past her lips.
But she doesn’t. After all, what would a lone hunter’s words do against years of tradition and doctrine?
So instead, Mumei nods and walks away, an animal with her tail tucked between her legs, the offering in her hands heavy like stone.
-X-
When Mumei returns home, she sees Kronii sitting in front of the dying fire pit. The Warden looks up from the flickering embers, the warm orange glow coating her patient face in an ethereal light.
Mumei’s heart hardens in her chest and sinks to her gut, taking her gaze with it.
It never crossed her mind before, but…maybe she doesn’t deserve Kronii’s company.
“What’s wrong?” Kronii phrases it as a question, but Mumei knows it’s a command.
“Oh,” the hunter timidly starts, “um, at the temple…”
“I can’t hear you,” Kronii interjects. “Come here.”
Mumei hears the soft sound of foliage rustling and sees that Kronii has shifted to the side. The Warden pats the ground next to her, a silent invitation.
Mumei hesitates for a beat, but ultimately she accepts it. She makes an effort to tuck the venison underneath her cloak.
“So what happened?” Kronii asks. “You didn’t give me an offering tonight.”
“Ah.” Mumei feels a small and bitter smile tug on her lips. “Something happened.”
Kronii says nothing, but Mumei knows she’s asking the hunter to continue.
“An acolyte was at the temple, and she seemed upset I was giving you this as an offering.” Sheepishly, Mumei reveals the venison underneath her cloak. Kronii takes it and unfolds the wrapping. While it still smells divine, Mumei knows it has grown cold and tough as the night went on.
“It looks good though,” Kronii says as she inspects the venison. “How come she didn’t let you put it on the shrine?”
“She said it was scraps. Trash. That you deserved better. And that you deserved to be called by your proper title.”
Kronii gives a shrug. “I don’t really care much for things like that, honestly. Besides….”
She looks at Mumei, and stares straight into her eye. Blue meets brown, the heavens meeting the earth. Mumei swears she can see history itself engraved in Kronii’s eyes, vibrant and alive, constantly shifting and weaving with every passing second.
How beautiful.
“You once told me that I give you meaning,” Kronii continues. “In all honesty, I think the opposite is true. You give me meaning. Because you understand me. Because you interpret me. Because you listen to me. And you were the one who helped me understand that. Not them. So if you ever doubt where you stand in our relationship, despite what those robed idiots say in their stone walls, just remember this.” She reaches out to cup Mumei’s cheek. Her skin is smooth and cool like the marble of her statues, and yet a warmth thrums underneath, an undeniable sign of Kronii being alive. “I’m here with you. Not them,” Kronii quietly adds.
Mumei swears she forgets to breathe. Her hitched breath dies in her throat, and her mouth is open, embarrassed and flattered at the same time. Red floods her cheeks as her brain struggles to find words to say.
“R-right,” is all she manages to say, but she can barely hear herself over her thundering heartbeat.
Kronii pulls back her hand, the smallest of smiles on her face as she laughs, a quiet and breathy laugh that reminds Mumei of spring birds as her heart flutters.
“Let’s eat then,” Kronii says.
Without another word, they split the venison between them. Mumei goes inside of her hut and fetches two pieces of stale bread she shares with Kronii. After, she stokes the fire for a bit, coaxing the embers to grow back into flames just strong enough to heat up their small meal. They eat silence, the crackling of the flames and the rustling of tree branches filling the gap.
As they eat, Mumei realizes this is the first time in a long while she shared a meal with someone.
A part of her wonders if Kronii feels the same way.
That same part also wonders if, somehow, someway, in the midst of all the people Kronii has surely seen come and go, this is the first time the Warden has been able to connect with someone and interact with mankind the same way the other Goddesses have.
The thought makes Mumei’s heart ache; what a lonely existence it must have been.
But at least now they have each other, sharing the humblest of meals with one another, basking in the heat of the fire and the warmth of their company.