From Thuringwethil's lips, Kaen learned truths about the world that were never written in any mortal lore.

Eru Ilúvatar, before the shaping of the world, had already brought into being the holy race of the Ainur.

In those earliest ages they possessed no flesh, only endless life and the power of creation—each in their own fashion.

Then came the Great Music.

Ilúvatar gathered them all and set forth the Song of Creation. From its harmonies was wrought the vastness of the universe itself.

The Ainur were then sent into this new cosmos, descending upon Arda, to shape and perfect it according to the great themes of the Music.

From that moment, they lost their freedom. Their wills were bound to the notes and measures of that Song.

Many among the Maiar grew restless beneath this yoke, and some turned their allegiance to the mightiest of the Valar—Melkor, who had not yet taken the name Morgoth.

With him they rose in defiance of the Music, and under his command drove the other Valar and Maiar from Middle-earth.

In the new order they forged, there was light and darkness, yet both were soon replaced by something colder: a voice that whispered only destruction and dominion.

Melkor turned even upon those Maiar who had once served him faithfully but whose thoughts strayed from his own. Some he banished beyond Middle-earth; others he destroyed outright.

Through his shaping, some Maiar became Balrogs, others were twisted into the great wyrms.

It was in this age that Thuringwethil bent the knee to Melkor.

Once she had crafted winged creatures to embody freedom—birds that soared unbound across the skies. But Melkor's darkness twisted them into blood-drinking bats, and thus she became the First Vampire.

Despair took her. To her eyes, the fate of a Maia was always chains—whether bound by the Great Music or shackled by the will of the Valar.

So when the War of Wrath came, she seized the chance to flee. She withdrew into the Misty Mountains, hiding from the eyes of gods, determined to escape all fate.

Until she met Kaen.

In him, she sensed something no Maia should have—a destiny beyond the Music.

And it was then that Eru Ilúvatar Himself came to her, granting a new charge:

—Guard Kaen Eowenríel, and in exchange, gain true freedom.

For Kaen, this was nothing short of fortune.

Not only had he gained a guardian of unimaginable power—he had, in a way, received the Creator's own sanction to dwell in this world.

As for Eru's words—that Kaen was a reality beyond His binding—Kaen could only guess at two reasons:

First, that he was a traveller from another world. By the laws of the "primary world theory," his origin might be from a reality above Arda's, making him immune to its laws.

Second, that he bore the mysterious Mount & Blade panel—his "system"—a thing even the Creator might regard with caution.

Beyond these… Kaen could not fathom what else might stay even the hand of Eru.

…..

The sun rose, spilling light over the Misty Mountains, scattering the shadows and driving dark creatures back into their holes.

Kaen stood in the sunlight. Thuringwethil stood in the shadow.

And there, the two began their pact.

She stepped forward. As the sunlight kissed her form, her body burned with white fire, like paper meeting the flame.

Her voice, low and solemn, wove the words of an oath:

"I, of the race of the Ainur, forsake my past, forsake my name. Beneath the gaze of Eru Ilúvatar, I become the guardian of Kaen Eowenríel, and open a new chapter of fate."

Kaen answered in kind:

"I, Kaen Eowenríel, accept your guardianship. From this day forth, my freedom shall be your freedom, my light shall be your light—unbroken and unyielding, unto eternity."

From deep within the mountains came a sharp, piercing cry.

A vast swarm of black vampire bats rose into the air, streaming toward them, encircling Thuringwethil in a living vortex.

The white flames spread, bursting into a blinding radiance that forced Kaen to shut his eyes.

When he opened them again—

The dark swarm had changed. Every bat was now a white bird, wheeling in the brightening sky.

Thuringwethil's body was being remade in a column of holy light—bone, sinew, vein, and flesh knit together with impossible speed. The radiance wove itself into garments of purest white, feathered with streaks of silver.

For the Maiar, the form they took in flesh determined the reach of their power.

This form, Kaen thought, was… perfect.

Bathed in light, circled by her white birds, she descended to stand before him.

"How is this form?"

"Exquisite," Kaen said without hesitation.

"Then will you give me a new name? I cast away the old—let this be the beginning of my new fate."

"Gladly. From this day forth, you shall be called… Artemis—a name for nature, and for freedom."

Artemis—no longer Thuringwethil—took her towering godly frame of two and a half meters and enfolded Kaen in her arms.

From this moment, their bond would be closer than brother and sister, closer than husband and wife, closer than mother and son.

No deceit. No betrayal. Only duty, and a loyalty that would not break.

…

The power of Artemis faded slowly, and the frozen world began to move again.

The sentries blinked in confusion, finding that the night had vanished into day.

"What in the—? When did the sun come up?"

"Feels like I just shut my eyes!"

"Was last night's sun working overtime?"

The dwarves of the company stirred, faces creased in sleepy puzzlement—until their eyes fell on the sight before them.

Kaen stood in the sunlight, embracing a goddess-tall figure wreathed in holy radiance, white birds singing above.

The sight struck them silent.

The King's Guard dropped to one knee, heads bowed in reverence.

The dwarves stared, awe-struck. At barely one meter forty, they already looked small beside Kaen and his towering guards—but this?

Even Bilbo Baggins, not yet a meter tall, whispered in disbelief:

"Is she… a goddess? How can anyone be that tall?"