Bound By Fate

Centuries ago...

Goddess Wanviva, a figure of unmatched beauty in Sora, walked through her divine gardens with an air of undeniable elegance and pride. Her beauty was legendary, her presence commanding. She had always felt above the other gods, distant and untouchable, her very nature discouraging companionship. None dared to approach her, for Wanviva needed no one. Her heart was her own, or so she believed.

But that belief was shattered on a fateful morning.

As she strolled through her gardens, Wanviva spotted a figure among the blossoms—a lone goddess, seemingly oblivious to all around her. She was simple, her robes unadorned and her presence gentle, a stark contrast to the grandiosity of those who roamed Sora. She was Pleng, a lesser goddess whose name few even knew. Mysterious and withdrawn, Pleng kept to herself, a shadow within the realm’s radiance.

Curiosity stirred in Wanviva's heart for the first time in her centuries-long life. Who was this quiet goddess who dared to venture into her private garden? And why had she never noticed her before?

Driven by an unfamiliar desire to unravel this mystery, Wanviva followed Pleng through the rows of ancient flowers until, at last, she caught her. She reached out, placing a hand upon Pleng's shoulder, and in her voice, there was an authority that brooked no disobedience.

“Stay,” Wanviva commanded. Pleng froze, turning slowly to face the imposing goddess, her eyes wide yet calm. Wanviva’s gaze softened as she looked upon Pleng's serene face, her features so different from those who sought attention and power. Wanviva found herself captivated.

“Tell me, Pleng," Wanviva said, her voice smooth but curious, "from whence do you come, and why do you linger here alone, so unaccompanied by the other gods?”

Pleng’s gaze fell to the ground as she answered, her voice soft, almost as if speaking to herself. “I am but a simple goddess, no one of import. I find peace in solitude and see no need to wander with the others. The world is loud enough without me adding to its noise.”

Wanviva’s brows arched, intrigued by this humble response. “And yet you venture into my gardens, unseen and unnoticed, until today. Do you not fear the wrath of those who hold higher stations?”

Pleng looked up, meeting Wanviva’s gaze with a calm that surprised the goddess. “I fear nothing in this world, for all I seek is serenity. If I intrude, it is not out of defiance but simply a search for silence.” Her words were simple, yet their meaning was elusive, like mist slipping through Wanviva’s fingers.

Wanviva stepped closer, her curiosity growing by the moment. “Serenity, you say. And yet, I see you here, in my garden, like a shadow passing through the night. Have you no other place to find this peace you seek?”

Pleng tilted her head, a faint smile gracing her lips. “The world is vast, yet some corners hold more tranquility than others. Your garden, Goddess Wanviva, is such a place.”

Wanviva found herself silenced. She had spent centuries among these gardens, yet she had never thought of them as a sanctuary for others. The walls she had built around herself had turned them into a fortress, but here was this gentle goddess, seeing it as a haven.

“What is it that draws you to solitude?” Wanviva asked, her voice softer, her usual edge softened by curiosity. “Do you not yearn for companionship, for a purpose greater than wandering alone?”

Pleng’s smile faded, her gaze thoughtful, as if weighing the truth of her words before speaking. “Purpose is a weight, Goddess Wanviva, one that not all souls are meant to bear. I am content with the quiet and the stillness. Purpose does not find me; I seek not to find it.”

For the first time, Wanviva felt a pang of frustration, a desire to unravel the enigma before her. This goddess, so simple in her demeanor, seemed to speak in riddles, her words elusive yet compelling. “You answer in circles, Pleng. Tell me plainly—what is it that you desire, if not the power or companionship that others seek?”

Pleng paused, her gaze meeting Wanviva’s, her voice barely above a whisper. “I desire nothing but freedom, to wander as I please, unbound by expectations or titles. Even now, as you question me, I feel a pull to leave, for my spirit is like the wind, restless and uncontained.”

Wanviva felt an inexplicable pang in her chest, a feeling she could not name. She had spent her life in control, detached and untouched by the fleeting affections of others. But here was Pleng, slipping through her grasp like water, and for the first time, Wanviva felt the sting of longing.

Without thinking, she reached out, her hand brushing Pleng’s arm in a gesture both tender and desperate. “Stay,” she said softly, her voice a plea hidden within command. “At least for a moment longer. I would know more of this spirit that defies even the laws of the gods.”

Pleng’s eyes softened, but she gently pulled away, her expression apologetic yet firm. “The wind cannot be held, Goddess Wanviva, nor can my soul remain where it does not belong.”

And with that, Pleng turned, her form slipping away into the morning light, leaving Wanviva standing alone, her heart heavy with the echo of unspoken desires. For the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to yearn—and to be denied.

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