For the first time, Lin Xiang truly felt the weight of faith. As the once-young girl—now an old woman—recalled a life filled with sorrow and endurance, and as the deities she had trusted for so long finally arrived to escort her soul beyond the veil, there was a beauty in that moment so profound it left one breathless.
Perhaps suffering, after all, could refine a soul into something rare and luminous.
All things must find their place. A believer's spirit often reached the other shore before the god who guided them—a sacred covenant between deity and devotee.
Lin Xiang had always kept her distance from belief, accepting Mazu's counsel only as a temporary measure. After all, a newly revived god was like ripe fruit—tempting to those desperate for power. To sacrifice another deity was to reclaim vast reserves of energy.
Yet now, having witnessed faith's quiet, steadfast strength, she found herself rethinking her wariness. Faith did not merely take—it protected. It cradled the soul. To accept worship was to assume responsibility; to neglect that duty invited divine retribution.
The crimson glow of the spider lilies faded as the soul departed, leaving behind only a faint, lingering fragrance carried away by the night breeze.
After a long silence, Lin Xiang spoke. "I have seen someone extraordinary—one who may be key to the coming war between old and new gods."
Mazu smiled gently. "Then go where your heart leads."
With a nod, Lin Xiang turned and vanished into the darkness.
At her antique shop, another visitor awaited.
A tall, golden-haired woman with deep-set eyes stood at the threshold. The riverine essence within her stirred memories of distant kin in the Greek world—but upon closer inspection, Lin Xiang quickly dismissed any resemblance to the Oceanids.
At first glance, this goddess resembled a water nymph born of streams and springs. But when Lin Xiang met her gaze, she saw no warmth—only cold indifference, the detached gaze of a predator surveying prey.
She suspected this being might be akin to the Sirens. Upon brushing against her divinity, an instinctive revulsion rose within her.
Fate whispered softly, revealing glimpses through waves and song.
In the vision, the goddess sat upon a rock, combing her golden tresses with a jeweled brush. Her white gown clung to her form, dampened by the river's embrace. She sang—a melody so enchanting that sailors, spellbound, steered toward her without hesitation, only to crash upon hidden reefs and perish beneath the current.
The truth was clear. Smiling, Lin Xiang addressed her.
"Daughter of the Black Forest, mistress of the Rhine—you've come far. Why do you tread upon my sister's and my domain?"
There was no mistaking her identity.
This was Lorelei—the river siren of Germanic myth.
A temptress whose songs led men to ruin, she stood in direct opposition to Mazu and Lin Xiang, both guardians of safe passage. Her unexpected visit stirred both curiosity and caution.
"I bear no hostility," Lorelei replied, meeting Lin Xiang's gaze. "In truth, I seek your aid."
Lin Xiang raised a brow in surprise but gestured for the goddess to enter. Without hesitation, Lorelei stepped inside, offering a pouch of gold coins as a gift.
Legends spoke of treasures buried beneath the Rhine. That she carried such wealth was unsurprising. Lin Xiang accepted the offering graciously, placing the coins in a display case before serving tea.
"You understand our customs well," she remarked with a smile. "Among us, generosity is its own language."
Lorelei, however, had little patience for pleasantries. She took a single sip before setting the cup down.
"I beg you—help me find Giselle!"
Ah, Giselle—the spectral muse of German folklore. Said to have perished from a broken heart, she became entwined with the vengeful spirits known as the Wilis. These phantom dancers would lure unfaithful men into eternal dances until they collapsed, lifeless.
Her tale lived on through ballet, ensuring she would never be forgotten.
Both daughters of the Black Forest, Giselle and Lorelei shared a bond woven of song and sorrow. In such uncertain times, mutual protection made sense.
"I summon many to her dance each year," Lorelei continued, voice tight with worry. "But this spring, she never came."
"I asked every god nearby—none know what has become of her."
Lin Xiang grew solemn. Giselle was no mighty deity, lacking the strength to defend herself. If she had vanished, the odds were grim.
"Where was she last seen?"
"At the mouth of the canal," Lorelei answered. "She often haunted the port, feeding on the despair of wandering sailors."
Though reluctant to reveal the darker side of Giselle's nature, she spoke openly, knowing the risk of offending sea protectors like Mazu and Lin Xiang paled beside her desperation.
What struck Lin Xiang most was not Giselle's vengeance, but the depth of loyalty between these two goddesses.
"I will ask my believers to keep watch," she said carefully. "But no more."
She strongly suspected Giselle had fallen victim to a fading god seeking renewal. The port was a dangerous place—a nexus of cultures, beliefs, and desperate deities willing to kill for survival.
Out of respect for their bond, Lin Xiang would offer limited aid. But she would not risk enmity over a stranger.
Lorelei had expected rejection. To receive even this small promise brought relief. With grateful farewells, she resumed her search.
Curious, Lin Xiang sought Mazu's insight on the port's affairs.
Instead, she received a stern warning.
"Avoid the docks at all costs," Mazu cautioned. "The forgotten gods gather there—hunting each other without mercy. Worse still, horrors born of modern fear also dwell in those shadows."
"We have an understanding. They do not harm our worshippers—we do not intrude upon their hunting grounds."
"To break this truce is to invite war from both sides."
Mazu's words peeled back a corner of the world's dark underbelly. Urban legends spread by the internet had taken form, feeding on fear. Children's nightmares gave birth to gods of terror. This world ran deeper than she had imagined.
Much deeper.
The fifteenth day of the first lunar month arrived, bringing with it the glow of lanterns and the warmth of celebration to Chinatown. Streets adorned with red banners and shimmering paper lights bustled with joyous crowds. At the Mazu Temple, believers came in endless streams, offering incense and prayers beneath the watchful gaze of the Sea Goddess.
Lin Xiang closed her shop early, eager to join the festivities at the temple. Mazu, rarely seen openly among mortals, stood beside the old caretaker, serving steaming bowls of sweet rice balls to the faithful.
Relieved of his duties, the elderly caretaker retreated inside, leaving Lin Xiang and Mazu to work in seamless harmony. One by one, the waiting crowd thinned.
Among them was a woman named Wang Zhaodi—her face pale and drawn, eyes heavy with weariness. She passed her bowl of rice balls to her three daughters. The eldest, barely a teenager, gently fed her mother a spoonful.
Though not yet forty, years of hardship had aged her beyond her years. Lin Xiang noticed immediately and prepared two more bowls.
"Zhaodi, have some too," she urged gently. "Even on a joyful night like tonight, we must all share in the blessings."
Zhaodi's past was etched into every line upon her face. Born into poverty, she had been sold by her parents to human traffickers so they could afford passage abroad—while her younger sisters were scattered, she alone had been bought back by a fellow countryman, becoming a child bride.
Though life remained harsh, she had escaped the brothels that claimed so many prettier girls. For years, she toiled endlessly to earn her place in her husband's home, bearing three daughters—but no sons.
When her husband remarried under pressure from his mother, Zhaodi and her children were cast out. Left with nothing, she found odd jobs through the community support network, raising her daughters with quiet dignity and gratitude, never forgetting to thank those who helped her along the way.
Grateful for the offering, she accepted the bowls and sat with her daughters on the temple steps. Lin Xiang ruffled the youngest girl's thin, yellowed hair with a smile.
"Xiaoniu," she whispered, "remember to bring the bowls back, alright?"
The little girl nodded solemnly, puffing out her chest with childish determination.
Back at the serving table, Lin Xiang stacked bowls while Mazu washed them side by side.
"I think I finally understand why you won't fight," Lin Xiang murmured.
Mazu smiled faintly but said nothing. Soon, Xiaoniu returned with the empty bowls. Instead of handing them to Mazu, Lin Xiang filled three more and placed them on the table.
"Go get your sisters. Eat together."
Across the courtyard, Zhaodi waved her hands frantically. "No, we can't accept this!"
Lin Xiang gently stopped her. "Don't be silly. No one else is taking these now—the rice balls will go bad if we don't eat them soon."
Under the weight of her daughters' hopeful gazes, Zhaodi relented. Lin Xiang handed each girl a pair of chopsticks. Tempted by the scent of sesame and sugar, the children gave in quickly.
As they ate, Zhaodi tried to help wash dishes, but Mazu stopped her with a firm hand. Lin Xiang quietly offered her another bowl. In this rare moment of peace, the weary mother allowed herself a brief respite.
Curious, Lin Xiang leaned toward Mazu and whispered, "I've always wondered—where did the house you gave me come from? And all these free rice balls today? The donation box doesn't seem nearly full enough."
Mazu replied just as softly, "Most comes from merchant donations. Captains often return here after safe voyages to fulfill their vows."
Sea trade was a profitable venture—and as its guardian deity, Mazu certainly never lacked offerings.
Just then, the caretaker brought out bamboo strips and glue, settling on the temple steps to assemble sky lanterns. Intrigued, Lin Xiang lit an incense stick and placed it within one of the paper frames.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a dusky orange sky. Against this fading light, the tiny flame flickered—a fragile beacon in the vastness above.
Elderly devotees clapped like children, craning their necks to watch the ascending lanterns. Lin Xiang's act set off a cascade—soon, more lanterns filled the sky, and families spilled from their homes, transforming the temple grounds into a bustling fair.
Vendors called out, selling snacks and toys. Laughter and chatter filled the air, rich with the scent of frying oil and roasted chestnuts.
The caretaker worked feverishly, assembling lanterns while Zhaodi and her daughters helped paste paper onto the frames. For a fleeting moment, Lin Xiang felt as though she had stepped into a festival from her homeland.
A sudden pop shattered the illusion—a popcorn vendor had opened his kettle. Children shrieked with delight, darting past Lin Xiang as adults scolded them playfully.
The caretaker soon ran out of lanterns, counting his earnings with a satisfied grin. He handed half the money to Zhaodi, ignoring her protests before practically shoving it into her pocket and pushing her outside.
Nearby, a group of elderly scholars sipped tea and recited poetry.
"The eastern wind at night unfolds a thousand blossoms,
And showers the stars like rain..."
Children mimicked them mischievously, mangling the verses with thick foreign accents. The elders sighed, shaken by the distance time had placed between them and their roots.
A cluster of masked figures approached, bowing respectfully before Mazu and slipping silently into the crowd. One lingered just long enough to meet Lin Xiang's gaze—an unspoken question lingering between them.
The celebration reached its peak. Fireworks burst overhead, scattering embers of color across the night. As the final sparks faded, laughter still echoed in the air.
Then—
A scream tore through the revelry.
Zhaodi came barreling through the dispersing crowd, wild-eyed and desperate.
"Has anyone seen my daughter?! Who saw my child?!"
The joy evaporated. Lin Xiang and Mazu exchanged glances, dread settling in their chests.
Stepping forward, Mazu called out clearly into the night.
"God of Wealth! Where are you?!"