Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, was a deity of duality within Celtic myth—both savior and seductress. She had gifted Excalibur's scabbard to King Arthur, yet also ensnared Sir Lancelot in her enchantments. Balor, wary of her power, would not dare deceive Lin Xiang with outright falsehoods.
Lin Xiang suspected greater forces at play behind Giselle's disappearance but chose not to press further. With a regal nod, she departed The Heart of Night , leaving Barón Samedi's shattered glass and Balor's wary gaze in her wake.
The so-called "Southern Gods" were no singular entity, but rather a coalition led by the Maya Feathered Serpent, Quetzalcoatl. His worship endured in Mexico, Honduras, and Guatemala—deeply rooted, unshaken by time. Yurona, too, had become one of them—a weeping specter drawn into their fold.
If the Feathered Serpent himself had orchestrated this abduction, then it was not merely a conflict between gods—it was a declaration against all foreign deities encroaching upon their sacred lands.
When Mazu learned of this, her expression darkened. "There is more at work than mere retaliation."
She did not fear the Native pantheon, but the thought of being used as a pawn in an unseen god's design unsettled her deeply. "The indigenous gods have preserved their faith and land for centuries. Why provoke war now?"
After a pause, she resolved, voice firm. "But if they seek battle—we shall give them one."
At her command, the local land spirits spread word among the Eastern gods—conflict loomed once more.
Yet Lin Xiang's thoughts remained fixed on the missing girls. She volunteered to hunt down Yurona. Compared to her, the Weeping Woman was but a minor threat—an urban legend given form. Mazu, though concerned, granted her blessing.
First, she sought out Lorelei.
Upon hearing of Giselle's capture, the Rhine nymph frowned. "We never trespassed upon their domain. Perhaps Giselle hunted where she should not have gone."
Lin Xiang said nothing. Even ghosts had limits—until someone pushed them past it.
"Yurona will know where she was taken," she mused. "She is one of them."
And so, an uneasy alliance formed. Lorelei promised to track Yurona's trail—in exchange for help capturing her.
Lin Xiang suspected Lorelei would seek aid from Odin, the Allfather shared by both Norse and Germanic traditions. Desiring an introduction, she agreed to accompany her.
Together, they arrived at a secluded forest path paved with smooth stones. Beyond the trees stood a grand villa, glowing with warm lamplight. Inside, rabbits—dozens of them—hopped about freely.
A goddess descended the stairs, draped in a radiant green gown that shimmered like spring leaves after rain. Her golden curls spilled over her shoulders, and her smile held the warmth of dawn.
"Lorelei," she greeted fondly, "you've brought company."
Lorelei curtsied deeply. "Oestara, I bring news of Giselle. But to find her, we must first locate Yurona."
Lin Xiang understood immediately—this was Oestara, the Germanic goddess of light and spring, now known as the Easter Bunny's divine origin.
Yet something was different. The goddess who now embraced her bore the aura of renewal—but also compromise.
"I hear the tides in your voice," Oestara murmured, brushing lips against Lin Xiang's cheek. "You carry the scent of the sea—the realm of fate itself. And you are welcome here."
The goddess guided both women into the garden, where rabbits carried trays of tea and sweets with uncanny grace.
"You needn't be cautious," Oestara reassured. "I may walk among the new gods, but my roots remain deep in the old ways."
The rabbits scattered, carrying messages to hidden corners of the world.
"Rest easy," Oestara told Lorelei. "My scouts will find her soon enough."
Lin Xiang studied the two goddesses. Oestara had seemingly betrayed her kin, aligning herself with the modern world. Yet Lorelei trusted her without hesitation.
As if sensing her curiosity, Oestara offered an explanation while pouring tea. "Why accept the mantle of Easter? Because it was always mine."
She spoke softly, her eyes dimming. "Long before the cross-shaped gods came, my followers celebrated life's rebirth on the Sunday following the first full moon of spring. Though many abandoned my name, the tradition endured. My people gave me new form—not out of rejection, but remembrance. So I became Oestara, Goddess of Eggs and New Beginnings."
Lin Xiang felt a pang of guilt. It was not loss—it was adaptation. A survival strategy few old gods could afford.
Quickly, she shifted the conversation. "Your bunnies are quite clever."
Lorelei stiffened mid-sip. Lin Xiang realized her blunder—Easter bunnies, after all, emerged from eggs. Not unlike Giselle, who returned each year through vengeance.
The awkward moment lifted when the rabbits returned, chirping excitedly as they gathered around Oestara's ear.
The goddess' face grew serious.
"They found her," she whispered. "Yurona hides near the eastern marshlands, close to the city's edge."
Lin Xiang rose at once. "Then let us go."
Oestara placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Wait until nightfall. The dead move best under moonlight."
The three goddesses lingered in the garden, the scent of blooming lilies filling the air.
"You worry for the girl," Oestara observed gently. "Not just because she is yours, but because you see yourself in her."
Lin Xiang flinched. She had been displaced, reshaped, rewritten—just like Giselle.
Oestara smiled. "That is why you can save her."
Moonlight spilled across the lawn.
The hunt was about to begin.
Oestara rose swiftly. "Yurona hides in the caves of the forest park!"
Lin Xiang and Lorelei set down their teacups without hesitation, setting off into the night.
Rain-fed clouds loomed over towering spruces, their trunks rising like ancient sentinels. Beneath them, ferns carpeted the earth, and mist coiled thickly at the mountaintop.
The higher they climbed, the deeper the silence grew. Few ventured this far—only rangers on patrol and the occasional hiker braved the solitude of these woods.
Lin Xiang stepped lightly upon the moss-laden ground, tracing her fingers through the fog. Threads of Fate wove invisibly around them, cloaking their approach from Yurona's awareness.
As they neared, the unnatural stillness became undeniable. Even birds avoided the area surrounding the cave. No insects chirped. A heavy, damp scent of decay clung to the air.
At Lin Xiang's silent command, the mountain springs reversed course, flowing backward in obedience to the Sea Goddess' will. Hidden among the trees, karmic threads wove an invisible net.
Lorelei was the first to act.
Her golden tresses gleaming, she sang—a sorrowful melody that drifted into the cavern's depths.
From within, footsteps echoed. One by one, children emerged—eyes vacant, limbs stiff—as if drawn forth by the river nymph's call. Even Yurona faltered for a moment, ensnared by the song's enchantment.
Oestara moved swiftly, shielding the freed children behind her radiant form. Her glow barred Yurona's desperate attempt to reclaim her stolen souls.
The goddesses sought capture, not death. Yurona, sensing the trap closing around her, turned to flee—only to find Lin Xiang stepping from the mist.
Though veiled by fog, the web of causality pressed against Yurona's instincts. She hesitated, retreating cautiously.
Behind her, Lorelei advanced. Before her, Lin Xiang stood unmoving. And beside them both, Oestara waited like dawn ready to break.
Encircled, Yurona had little chance.
Yet she did not hesitate.
With a scream torn from the depths of sorrow, she lunged straight at Lin Xiang—as though sensing the weakest link in the chain.
But the move had been anticipated.
Had they only wished to kill her, Lorelei alone could have done so. But capturing her required precision. Too much force, and Yurona might perish willingly—reviving later under the right conditions. Too little, and she would slip away like water through cracked fingers.
Lin Xiang raised her hand. A jet of water, long prepared, struck Yurona full force, sending her tumbling back into the circle.
The goddesses tightened their formation. Lorelei's song never ceased, clouding Yurona's thoughts.
Again and again, Yurona tried to break free—each time thwarted by Lin Xiang and Oestara. As minutes passed, exhaustion claimed her. Her steps faltered. Her vision blurred. At last, she collapsed to the earth.
Lin Xiang acted instantly, binding the weeping specter in unseen chains of fate.
Surveying the unconscious deity, she severed what little divinity remained within her. The drowning power meant little to Lin Xiang—she handed it to Lorelei without ceremony.
Following the karmic tether between them, Lin Xiang peered into Yurona's memories—and beheld Giselle.
Yet the true mastermind behind the abduction was not the Feathered Serpent as expected—but a goddess clad in pink, moving with the exaggerated grace of a film star beneath an unseen spotlight.
A Media Goddess.
Ruler of news and narrative, she wielded the terrifying ability to rewrite recorded history itself. It was likely she had manipulated Yurona, using the legend to amplify its reach.
Lin Xiang's mind sharpened. If the New Gods were now interfering directly, then caution was paramount.
Oestara's expression darkened, though her position among the old gods left her hesitant to speak.
Lorelei crushed her golden comb in fury. "No matter who stands behind this—I will bring Giselle home."
"Then I leave her to you," Lin Xiang said, nodding toward the bound specter before turning away.
Oestara hesitated, as if wishing to say more. Yet in the end, she simply sighed, stepping aside as Lin Xiang led the rescued children back down the mountain.
Each child bore unseen divine ties—deities from countless cultures awaited their return. By returning them, Lin Xiang gained favor across pantheons. And with Yurona's defeat, Lorelei would surely seek Odin's aid next.
Conflict between Old and New was inevitable.
Back at the Mazu Temple, Mazu listened in grim silence.
"This is a dire sign," she murmured. "They are undermining our very foundation."
She handed Lin Xiang a phone. On the screen flashed Amber Alerts—posters, billboards, television broadcasts all displayed the missing children. Text messages flooded nearby residents with photos, names, and contact details.
A perfect performance.
"A classic case of cry wolf ," Lin Xiang spat bitterly. "Now mortals will credit media, not gods, for the rescue."
Indeed, no matter how the children were found, their families would attribute their survival to technology—not divine intervention.
The New Gods devoured belief recklessly, blind to the consequences entwined within every prayer.
"They reap what they do not understand," Mazu whispered. "And soon, they shall reap ruin."
Lin Xiang's eyes burned with cold fury. "Let them feast—for now. But even the brightest flame burns out fastest."
For in the end, there was no escaping karma.
"No deed goes unanswered," Mazu said softly. "Only the timing remains uncertain."
Somewhere in the city, the Media Goddess smiled—unaware that her own hourglass had begun to run out.