SOPHIE

Sophie didn’t want to admit it, but she had to: she was having fun.

When was the last time she’d actually allowed herself to have fun? She couldn’t remember.

Their unlikely group of independent women and nobles had spent a couple of days at the Zhou estate, preparing supplies, talking, and planning their trip. They didn’t really know what to expect in the upper mountains—finding the Moon Goddess’s old sanctuary and the cult that tended it—but Sophie’s Insight kept nudging her forward. It grew louder with each step, and it told her this was the path.

That’s how she found herself with her companions on a set of self-powered river barges—magically reinforced—gliding upriver under a shimmering projection field that spared them the need to row. It was a sweet bit of mage-tech engineering you usually saw only on larger vessels; the array work drew too much power for smaller craft.

She decided to ask who built it even though she already knew.

When she asked about them in the most nonchalant way she could muster, the Zhou house staff laughed and told her it was Master Ethan’s doing. He had designed the mana-flow glyph arrangement to draw ambient mana—pulling current straight from the water—and route it safely so the array wouldn’t overload.

The explanation made her smile. It was another reminder of how truly brilliant Ethan was. Most mana-driven vehicles—whether flight, ground, or other types of machines—required a mana source, usually mana crystals or living vessels, which were actually other humans most of the time. A magic transportation system that could pull mana from the environment was unprecedented.

That man and his mind.

“Do you know how far the actual Gate and fortress are?” Emily asked, settling beside Sophie at the bow and pulling her out of her reverie.

Sophie shook her head. “Sort of. From the intelligence my people were able to gather, I’ve got a rough idea.” She produced a map and traced a finger across it. “Somewhere up here—about sixteen clicks into the lowlands in one of the valleys that sit at the base of the cliffs not too far from the river. Apparently there is a high concentration of mana there. I don’t know what to expect, but your brother and father have worked in this region. I doubt there will be organized resistance. It’s possible we run into a monster or two. The southern mountains are full of them. This range is probably the second wildest place in the Empire—second only to the Forgotten Lands of the Fifth Ring.”

“I think you’re right about that,” Emily said. “When Ethan, father, and Caleb were younger they'd explore ruins up here. Demons from the old war a thousand years ago did a number on this area. They never mentioned having problems with mana or chaos monsters, but that could be because Father never told us, so as not to scare me, Ryan, and Elise. Though based on traveling here now, it’s surprising the chaos patches haven’t spread.”

Sophie nodded. “It’s likely the ley lines keeping the chaos energy at bay. The Umber Line runs just east of here. Strong lines keep the vegetation and mana anchored. Chaos isn’t stronger than mana, but it can degrade it if the source is concentrated—and no one really knows the source of chaos energy.”

Vivian sat down beside them. “So, besides the guardian, what do we think we’ll find in this Gate?”

“It’s unclear,” Sophie said. “We know this shrine belonged to a pantheonic goddess—more personal than the high-portfolio gods. At one point in history this goddess was interactive with her followers, if you can believe writings from a low-level priestess from five hundred years ago. If my guess is right, she is probably a dominion-level deity. More flexibility than the Veiled or Worldforgers--probably mid-tier if they are showing up regularly in front of their followers..”

Vivian gave Sophie a look. “You actually believe in a Tiered God Theory for divinity?”

Elise tucked her cloak under her knees. “I don’t follow. ‘Tiered gods’ means what, exactly?”

Sophie angled the map so the river light caught it. “Not all gods are created equal. Think… strata an spheres of influence.. The greater the cosmic remit, the more rigid the mantle—the metaphysical job description a god can’t shrug off.”

“Wait. Back up—you’re using words I don’t understand,” Emily said. “What do remit and mantlemean in that context?”

Sophie smiled. “Think of a deity’s mantle as the office or position. The remit acts as the scope of office.”

Emily and Elise exchanged looks, clearly confused.

“Start at the top,” Sophie said. “The Veiled are on top of the cosmic food chain and act are custodians . Actually the Veiled and Custodians are often interchangeable to the common vernacular. They don’t ‘rule’ so much as uphold and maintain the fabric of the existence. If the world were a mechanism, they’d be the ones creating the structure and keeping the mainspring from snapping—these are the beings that allow the physical, spirtiual and mental in all it's iteriations to exist while allowing fundamentals concepts like force, gravity, and the soul to develop from other sources. They keep cosmic powers like mana, divine power, and chaos energy in check so they don’t annihilate each other. They don’t answer prayers. They don’t send omens. They don’t get involved with the cycle of life, judgment, afterlife, reincarnation, order, or destruction. They exist as structure so the rest of us can exist.”

“So more like an embodied concept than a god,” Emily offered, eyes bright. “One rules; the other maintains the rules.”

Stolen from NovelBin, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Not perfect but close enough,” Sophie said. “ the Veil are existence itself. Below them are the Worldforgers—embodiment gods with jurisdictions that cut across plains of existence: these are the heads of pantheons, gods of life, death, oceans, seasons, the afterlife. They’re not abstract like the Veiled; they actually shape cycles and systems. They can manifest and do meddle, when they do, mortals feel it. You've heard of the Kingdom of Camlot across the sea right? ”

Emily nodded.

The White Father is a perfect example of Worldforger -- they are doctrinal, follow aposlitc lines and actually confer authority ane power through a priesthood succesion plan.

The group was listen rapply at this point.

“What about the Moon Goddess?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sovereign or Dominion god,” Sophie said. “A step below the Worldforgers. Powerful enough to bind trials, cut oaths, move tides on the soul rather than the sea. A more flexible mantle, high agency, far more room to interact without liquefying a mortal’s brain. A dominion goddess can say ‘prove it’ and leave you a Gate with rules, guardians, and a pass/fail condition. It is believed that the first Dmoinion god assigned the first contract for divine power and the first regenerationg gate for the development of mana users in all varities.”

Vivian crossed her arms. “And below that?”

“Patrons,” Sophie said. “These are the gods of cities and ones that are elevated and created to be gods through saint rights. These are the gods that appeal to higher gods and will listen when you actually speak their name. They bless, curse, and are often the source of divine power for priests. I am told these types of gods can actually die and can pass on a divine core, which supposedly operates like a mana core. Patrons have narrower remit, high intimacy. Then you have Avatars and Echoes—shadows, masks, or fragments a higher god throws into the world to act without fully descending.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “So… the higher you go, the less… human they are.”

“None of them are human. Even the ones that ascend, if you believe that nonsense. Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as them being less available,” Sophie corrected. “A Custodian can’t show up to your harvest festival. If they move consciously toward a single moral, entire worlds are affected. A Patron can, because their mantle is small enough to move through reality without breaking.”

Vivian shook her head. “It’s still poppycock. We can’t verify any of this.”

Sophie lifted a brow. “We can infer. Structure implies hierarchy. You’ve seen what happens when chaos touches mana without a ward. We call it a bloom—mana lattices shear, intent misfires, spells cannibalize themselves. Now imagine that without a Custodian keeping the ratios honest.”

Emily shivered. “So if a Custodian falls—”

“You don’t get a dark age,” Sophie said softly. “You get a world-natural-science problem. In theory, mana surges, divine mantles blow their banks, chaos colonizes anything that isn’t nailed to a ley line. Scholars call it a Destructive Confluence.”

Vivian shook her head. “There is no proof that would happen. It’s never been observed. It’s pure conjecture at this point.”

Sophie snorted, rolling her eyes. “Mana, divine power, and chaos energy shouldn’t exist and act the way they do. Sure, it’s conceptual, but the calculations are solid, proven, and reproducible. Someone keeps these powers in conceptual check. It’s the only way for people to explain the behavior of the three.”

Elizabeth tapped the map. “And gods or goddesses like the Moon Goddess are believed to be the ones that could leave living systems, create rifts, and manifest the Gates?”

“The dominion gods are believed to be the ones that create systems that persist,” Sophie said. “Trials that only open for an age, oaths that still bite centuries later, ward-logic that adapts to intruders. Bloodlines that are tied to a single magical effect. Dominion gods build programs. That’s why her shrine could potentially test intent and return a result that the world respects.”

Vivian made a face. “Respect? Rocks and runes don’t command respect.”

“Tell that to an Oathbrand,” Sophie said. “Ever seen a liar’s tongue turn to salt? Or a blade that refuses to cut its sworn bearer? Artifacts exist for a reason, Vivian. Magic has been learned by mortals, but older, more powerful versions of magic items have been found. That is the best explanation the community has come up with to explain them.”

“And you think this Gate is one of her programs,” Elizabeth said.

Sophie nodded. “Signs fit. The upper tier of the gods aren’t interested in creating programs to evolve mortals. It makes sense that if there is something that affects mortals it comes from a god or goddess that actually interacts with us.”

Emily glanced upriver. “What about… etiquette? If tiers are real, are there rules for us?”

“Three,” Sophie said, counting on her fingers. “One: ask questions if a god or goddess approaches. They don’t lie, but that doesn’t mean they don’t omit the truth. If a trial is tuned for mortals, then you can assume it’s for the mortal benefit, but that doesn’t mean the higher being doesn’t have an agenda. Two: answer the grammar of the place. If the shrine asks for ‘truth given under chill,’ bring honesty and cold, not bravado and fire. Three: don’t borrow against a mantle you don’t understand. Accepting a dominion boon can chain you to its portfolio. Though that last one might be hard in this circumstance, as we actually need a boon from this goddess.”

Vivian’s gaze sharpened. “Moonsteel.”

“Exactly,” Sophie said. “It’s not rare because it’s hard to smelt and bless. It’s rare because Moonsteel has to be blessed by divine power. Dominion alloys prefer coherency: intent that doesn’t wobble, wielders who won’t lie to the edge they carry. That’s why we need you—cold-aspected, oath-stable, under the limit. The metal won’t tolerate a furnace that cheats.”

Vivian held her stare. “And the guardian?”

“Spirit-level, bound to the trial’s remit,” Sophie said. “If I’m right, this won’t be a simple fight of strength of arms; mana will be tested. It will run deeper. At least, that’s what the journals of those who have overcome a similar trial describe—but really, there’s no way to know for sure.”

Elizabeth blew out a breath. “Comforting.”

“Comfort is a Patron’s gift,” Sophie said. “We came for a Dominion’s.”

Vivian looked away, jaw set. “All of what you are saying is still unproven.”

Sophie’s mouth tilted. “Then let’s go prove it.”

One of the Zhou house guards approached and saluted. “My ladies—Princess Sophie, Lady Vivian, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Emily—we’re about to leave the main channel for the tributary that leads to the ravine turn Her Highness marked. It’s less charted. We recommend you move to the inner cockpit. Fewer eyes.”

“Take us in,” Sophie said.

The guard nodded and walked off. The watercraft eased their heading, and the projection field cooled to a dim, river-green hush as the waterway funneled tight. The banks pinched. Then the world reared up—sheer walls of stone soaring on either side, knife-straight and damp with hanging gardens. Water ribboned down in silver veils; mist clung low over the current. Shadows moved in the ledges—long-tailed shapes and wing-beats slipping between pockets of sun. The river deepened to an ink-dark lane, its surface broken by drifting logs and the slow blink of eyes just beneath. The canyon swallowed their sound and gave it back in echoes. Somewhere ahead, the Insight pressed again—soft, insistent, inevitable.