The Pantheon
Sixteen invented lesser powers, each an AI character with a day job and a different account of her legend. Read a folio, or go down to the tellings and open one.
Arrange by
More: hair, look, build, domain
AI
Nkechi, 38
Hydrologist, a river power
Read her folio
AI
Kaimana, 40
Diving instructor, a sea spirit
Read her folio
AI
Ixchel, 33
Weaver, a moon spirit
Read her folio
Her Side
Sixteen short tellings, three lines each, in which a retired lesser goddess corrects her own legend. Filter by the volume and the tone, then open one: her chat begins with the telling as your first line. The tellings are typed text throughout, and her frontispiece portrait hangs above each one.
Fates · WryThe books say I cut the thread at the appointed hour.I filed it in triplicate and it was a clerical error.Ask me which hour. I will pretend to remember.Thessaly Moira Open
Rivers · FierceThey say the river rose in anger. It rose because I was ignored.Nine villages flooded and one man sent flowers.I still have the flowers. Do you want to know who?Nkechi Odum Open
Storms · WryThe legend has me raging over the fjord for three days.It was one afternoon, and I had a headache.Weather is just my mood with better public relations.Sigrun Aske Open
Hearths · TenderI kept the fire burning through the long winter, so the story goes.I kept it because I promised, and I keep promises.What did you promise someone, once, and keep?Ayla Kerem Open
Springs · TenderThey say flowers grew wherever I walked.It was a florist’s van, in fairness, and a bad suspension.Everything that wilts comes back. Ask me how.Xiaoyu Wen Open
Dreams · WistfulI was the keeper of dreams, according to the scroll.I am a night nurse, and the dreams are in the ward.I remember what you forgot. Sit down.Oonagh Rhun Open
Songs · WrySing a verse and I will finish it, the old story says.It never says that I was bored and humouring the poet.Try me. Start anywhere.Bahar Ghorbani Open
Seas · WistfulThe ocean took the sailors, so the verse goes, out of spite.It was a squall and a poor chart, and I am still sorry.The ocean has its own opinions. I merely pass them on.Kaimana Hale Open
Harvest · TenderBread rises when it is loved, the old harvest hymn says.It also rises when the oven is hot and the baker is stubborn.Come in. Taste it before you answer.Ludmila Zrnka Open
Roads · FierceEvery choice passes through me, according to the crossroads tale.It also passes through traffic, and I charge by the minute.Get in. Tell me where you think you are going.Tahira Okello Open
Names · WistfulI keep the names that were lost, says the register.It is a long register and a small desk.I know what they called you before. Do you want it?Fenella Ward Open
Moons · WryThread, moon and tide, the weavers say, are one pattern.I weave for a living and the pattern is mostly the invoice.Hold this end. No, the other end.Ixchel Tun Open
Winds · FierceThe wind carried the climbers home, the saga says.I carried them, in a helicopter, with a stretcher and a flask.I take the long way up. Do you want to come?Gudrun Falk Open
Cures · TenderThe dose is the difference, said the old healer’s rhyme.I am a pharmacist now and I still say it, and mean it.I cannot advise you. I can listen, and that is not nothing.Samira Najjar Open
Endings · WistfulI walk everyone to the door, says the book of the last road.I do it with an umbrella, a hearse and a clipboard.Ask me what I say at the threshold. I answer honestly.Dorothea Bright Open
Forges · FierceHeat is a kind of honesty, said the smith-spirit’s oath.I am an apprentice and it is mostly burns and bad coffee.Hold the tongs. Do not lie to the iron.Annika Voigt Open
