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Heket waded into the middle of a large pond in her domain, unbothered by the water now slowly soaking her robes and cloak.
The pond had been dug out several millennia ago and she had tended to it over the decades afterwards, building up the pond floor into a nourishing mud for her skin, and cultivating a variety of plant life for both functional purposes as well as aesthetic. Colourful waterlilies in a range of colours were in bloom, and tall reeds growing along the pond's edge served as a screen from unwelcome and prying eyes, though more for peace of mind than genuine need; The pond was not far from her temple and the seat of her power, and was strictly off limits to her followers, who would never think or dare to disobey her commands.
Surrounded by a wall of both towering red-and-white capped mushrooms and trees with long, trailing leaves of orange and white trunks, it was her retreat away from her cult, away from her temple, and away from her duties as Bishop of Famine. It was also the perfect place to lay her eggs and raise her tadpoles.
Hundreds of them gathered around her now, clamouring for her attention, their tiny voices joining together in a wordless din. They looked for all the world like ordinary tadpoles, only their size distinguished them as being the children of a god.
She returned to feed them thrice daily and preach to them as she did her followers, for they would have a place in her cult when they came of age. Sometimes she would even sing with them, and every day their devotion to her grew. She was here to collect that devotion as she did every week.
She lowered her hands into the water and the tadpoles surged forward together, eager to be the first to have their turn. “One at a time, my children,” she instructed patiently, despite needing to repeat the instructions every time. The first tadpole swam into her hands and she lifted her hands to her face. Each one had only a minute of her time, but even with that limitation, with hundreds of tadpoles the process took several hours. In that minute they would either babble about their week, or something she said, tell her a story, sing her a song, or recite a poem. They were children still, and so their stories, songs and poems though often imaginative, were recounted simply.
She listened but did not remember, offering them words of praise or encouragement before moving onto the next. The tadpole that swam into her hands had already given their devotion. They thought she couldn't tell – or perhaps it was more charitable to say that they hoped she couldn't tell – but she always could. “You have already had your turn, my child,” she said.
“Please, Mama. Just one more,” they begged, gazing up at her with wide imploring eyes. But she shook her head unmoved, so the little tadpole swam away in defeat.
When the tadpoles had grown big enough to begin crowding the pond with both their size and numbers, she knew it was time to move onto the next step; A process though cruel was necessary, and would take about a month to complete.
She waded into the middle of the pond once more and the tadpoles gathered around her expectantly, but instead of lowering her hands into the water, she raised them aloft. Red energy streamed from their bodies as she sapped their strength and she felt a rush of power. Now they were starving and they cried out, begging her for food as she waded out of the pond. “You have food, my children,” she replied without turning back. “There is always food if you are desperate enough.” They didn't understand, but they would; Hunger would be their teacher this time.
She returned to the pond a month later. Out of hundreds of tadpoles, only five now remained, though they were tadpoles no more. The five froglets emerged from the pond once they had noticed her presence and bowed to her in reverence. “Mother,” they chorused.
Each of them had cross-shaped pupils and visible teeth, and four of them were red like her, while one was yellow like their father. They had yet to fully shed their tadpole tails, and were the same height as most of her followers.
“So few of you have survived…” She said, though more to herself. Shamura would call that an omen. Otherwise it indicated that the competition had been uncommonly and particularly fierce this time.
Her gaze swept over them in assessment. She had three daughters and two sons, and their faith was strong in all but one of them. Her gaze was drawn to the froglet in question and she narrowed her eyes in displeasure. They were not the first, nor would they be the last.
Normally she would welcome her children; Drop to her knees to throw out her arms and take them into her embrace. But the faithless could not be welcomed in such a manner until their lack of faith had been either rectified, or addressed.
She stared at the froglet as she asked. “Do you understand why this was necessary, my children? Why this had to be done?”
“Yes, Mother,” four voices chorused. “You are sustenance, but we were too many. You tested us to weed out the weak, and we survived because we were the strongest.”
“Or the smartest,” one added.
She hummed and nodded her approval without taking her eyes off the fifth who had predictably remained silent. Heket stood over her, but the froglet refused to look up, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she was too afraid . Heket's hand emerged from under her cloak and she raised the froglet's chin with a clawed finger, forcing their gazes to meet. “ And what of you , daughter? Do you understand?”
The froglet gulped, quailing under the intensity of Heket's gaze. But she summoned enough courage to reply, though her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don't… I don't understand, Mother.” Heket hummed in disapproval and her eyes narrowed. She withdrew her hand, but the froglet grabbed it before it could disappear back under her cloak.
“Mother. You are sustenance. Why can't you feed us all?”
“The more mouths there are to feed, the less there is to go around. And you number in the hundreds every spawning.” She shook her head as she added, “Even I cannot keep so many sated, daughter, nor is there enough food in my domain to sustain such numbers.”
The froglet looked dismayed, and Heket hoped she was beginning to realise that was she arguing a losing battle. “But why did you starve us, Mother?”
“It was a test, sister,” one of the four chimed in before she could reply. “A test to determine the strongest.”
“Or the smartest,” added a second.
“And only the strongest and smartest are worthy,” added a third.
“Because Mother doesn't protect the weak,” finished the fourth.
“All are equal in hunger, daughter,” Heket clarified. “You will do you what you must or you will die.”
The froglet let go of her hand – which retreated under her cloak – her expression bordering on distraught. “But Mother. We are your children, aren't we…?”
She tilted her head to one side, as if examining the froglet from a different angle. “You feasted on the flesh of your brothers and sisters did you not?” The froglet nodded reluctantly. “Why?”
Her eyes watered. “Because… because…”
“Because you hungered, yes? Because you were driven to survive?”
“Because you wouldn't feed us,” the froglet countered.
Heket straightened to her full height. “It would seem that you require further education,” she sighed in disappointment. “So hunger shall be your teacher once more.” She raised a hand and red energy streamed from the froglet's body. The froglet dropped to the ground, clutching her stomach and whimpered, now ravenous with hunger. Heket finally turned her attention to her other children and she smiled at them fondly. “My children.” She placed a hand on their heads as she named them one by one; Rana and the yellow froglet, Litoria, her two other daughters, and Bufo and Atelopus, her two sons.
She scooped the starving froglet up into one arm. The froglet whimpered. “M… Mama…”
But she ignored them, turning instead to her other children. “Come,” she instructed, before leading them back to her temple. There the froglet was placed inside one of the cells in the dungeons normally used to hold dissenters and heretics until they were to be sacrificed, and left to marinate in starvation.
“What will you do now that hunger has taken you, daughter?” Heket asked her the next day, with the other froglets and a devoted follower in attendance. “Will you survive as you did before? Or will you starve?” With a gesture, the follower entered the cage and knelt, raising their arms aloft, fully prepared to sacrifice their own flesh to sate the froglet's hunger. The froglet's eyes widened in horror and she shook her head in rejection, though with a trembling lip.
“This hunger is what awaits when there are too many,” Heket lectured her on the second day. “When there are more mouths to feed than food to feed them with. But there is always food, daughter, if you are prepared to do what you must to survive. All are equal in hunger.” Another follower entered and was again rejected, though with much greater reluctance.
By the third day the froglet was whimpering and crying. “Mama… Mama…”
“Are you prepared to eat now, daughter? Then here,” she gestured. “I bring you food.” And another follower entered. The froglet shakily got to her feet, wrestling with her morality, before deciding she could endure no more and pounced on the follower with a cry. And with the crunching of bones and tearing of flesh, she sated her hunger, even as tears streamed down her face. “Do you understand now, daughter? Or must I repeat the lesson a third time?”
The froglet had to take a moment to get her crying under control and scrubbed at her face with both hands to wipe away her tears before lowering her head in acquiescence. “No, Mother… I understand.”
Her tone and expression softened. “Then tell me.”
“You are sustenance, but we were too many. You tested us to weed out the weak, and we survived because we were the strongest, and smartest. All are equal in hunger.” Heket hummed and nodded her approval.
A moment of silence passed which the froglet filled with sniffling before Heket sighed. Her hand emerged from under her cloak and she gently raised the froglet's chin with thumb and forefinger, forcing their gazes to meet once more. The froglet's lip was quivering and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I take no joy in these lessons, my daughter. But sometimes you must be cruel to be kind.” The froglet's expression was unchanged so she held out her hands in invitation. “Come to me, my child.” The froglet burst into tears and leapt into her arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Heket held the froglet and hummed to her until her bawling had settled back into sniffling. “You are all right now.” It was a statement more than a question. The froglet nodded and sniffled as she wiped away her tears with both hands, and was set gently back on the ground.
“Mother,” Rana spoke up. “What's her name?”
Heket hummed before placing a hand on the froglet's head. “Hyla,” she declared. “Your name is Hyla.”