The ocean nymphs gathered in a wide circle around Catherina, their voices hushed in reverence. Their shimmering, seafoam-colored robes glowed faintly under the soft silver light of the rising mist. They stood in solemn formation, awaiting the moment their goddess would once again perform her priestly duty.

  Catherina, the Goddess of Mist, stepped forward, her bare feet sinking slightly into the damp sands of the secluded isnd. She inhaled deeply, feeling the pulse of the sea in her very being. As if answering her silent call, the ocean exhaled warmth into the cooling twilight air. Slowly, tendrils of mist coiled upward, spiraling into the sky. Bioluminescent particles hidden within the mist caught the st traces of sunlight, reflecting a celestial glow across the water’s surface. The mist, infused with divine energy, rose like an ethereal veil, merging the heavens and the sea into one boundless expanse.

  A collective gasp rippled through the gathered nymphs. Their admiration was palpable.

  “How beautiful,” one whispered.

  “The grace of the Goddess Catherina,” murmured another.

  For now, her divine power could only manifest within this lost isnd, but even here, it was a miracle. A spectacle woven by her will, her presence, her essence. This was her domain.

  Catherina let the mist drift, her gaze lifting toward the sky, where the twilight deepened into night. And then she felt it—the shift, the arrival.

  The air thickened with divine presence as darkness unfurled above, bnketing the heavens in an endless abyss. Nyx. The Primordial Night had arrived, her power sweeping over the world with effortless dominion. It was not something seen, but felt—a weight, a presence, an all-encompassing truth that swallowed the lingering glow of the setting sun.

  Catherina clenched her hands, her fingers curling into her palm. She longed for that kind of power. The kind that did not flicker but consumed, eternal and unchallenged. One day. One day, she would stand beneath the heavens not as a lesser god stuck to a single isnd, but as a being of undeniable might. A force of nature. A goddess worthy of legend.

  “Your Grace.”

  The voice drew her from her thoughts. Sidney, one of her mother’s closest friends, knelt before her in the mist-den sand, her silken hair cascading over her shoulders.

  “Thank you for your boundless grace, Your Highness, Goddess Catherina,” she said with deep reverence. “For tirelessly performing your priestly duty, blessing us with the sight of your divine mist. Your Highness shall one day ascend, far beyond this isnd, so all the world may witness the splendor of your creation.”

  Catherina tilted her head slightly, her grayish-blue eyes studying the kneeling nymph. Her lead-colored hair swayed with the ocean breeze. She exhaled, a soft sigh carried away by the wind.

  “Drop the honorifics, Sidney,” she said. “You were my mother’s closest friend. 'Goddess Catherina' will suffice.”

  Sidney, still bowing, did not move.

  “Thank you, Goddess Catherina, for your generosity,” she responded, voice unwavering.

  Catherina looked at her for a long moment before shaking her head slightly. This is how it must be. Though she still clung to fragments of her past life, she knew that the name she bore now was not merely a title. It was her very existence. And with divinity came distance.

  She turned her gaze toward the ocean, where the mist still shimmered with the echoes of starlight. Her memories of Earth had already begun to fade, like ink dissolving into water. What had once been sharp and vivid now felt vague, like a distant dream slipping from her grasp. She remembered the crash, the sudden impact, the cold void that followed. But the details? Faces? Names? They were becoming mist themselves.

  It was inevitable.

  Gods possessed perfect memories, their minds untouched by time’s erosion. But she was not born of divine lineage. Her soul had crossed realms, and so the remnants of mortality still clung to her. For now. Eventually, Mnemosyne’s divine influence would take effect, and all that she had once been would disappear.

  Would she mourn it? Could a goddess even feel sorrow? She wasn’t certain.

  Yet, as she stood there, gazing at the sky where consteltions twinkled through the mist of her own creation, she felt something deeper than sadness. A quiet acceptance. A knowing.

  Her past was fading, but she was not lost. She was becoming.

  The sea whispered in the nguage of waves. The mist shimmered in the night. And for the first time since her birth, Catherina whispered back.

  “I will ascend.”

  The nymphs continued their hymn, their voices carrying across the isnd. The mist thickened, coiling into shifting patterns that mirrored the consteltions above. Catherina raised a hand, letting her fingers trace the glowing vapors, molding them into something new—symbols, visions, fleeting glimpses of what could be.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the isnd, the ebb and flow of divine energy within her. For now, she was stuck to this pce. But one day, her mist would drift beyond these shores, seeping into the world beyond. One day, her name would be spoken not in whispers, but in awe.

  And when that day came, the heavens themselves would bear witness to the rise of the Goddess of Mist.