Intervention and Debt When the River Bends

Posted on Tue Dec 16th, 2025 @ 5:11pm by Patin

848 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Beholder
Location: Celestial Temple

The Celestial Temple received Patin the way a storm receives lightning, not with surprise, but with a long, patient inhale.

The mists tightened. Harmonics flattened. Time stopped pretending to be playful.

Patin stepped out of the fold brushing snow off one boot she hadn’t been wearing five minutes ago. She looked pleased. That alone annoyed them.

You intervened.

“I adjusted,” she corrected. “Intervention implies panic. I was calm.”

You reversed a weapon’s discharge. You altered trajectory. You equipped mortals.

She shrugged. “Everyone likes a party favor.”

The air cooled. Not temperature, intention.

You invoked your title.

“Prophet of Chaos and Boom,” she said brightly. “You gave it to me. I’m just… using the tools.”

Silence followed. Dense. Evaluative.

You altered the river. You will now explain why.

Patin’s smile softened. Not vanished, just… folded.

“Because you were going to let her die,” she said. “Don’t dress it up as nonlinearity. You watched the blast form. You felt the probability collapse. And you waited.”

We do not meddle.

“And yet,” Patin said, stepping closer, “you allowed me to.”

The Temple rippled. That landed. You exploited allowance.

“No,” she said gently. “I demonstrated consequence.” She paced, hands behind her back now, teacher’s posture whether she meant it or not.

“You want to know why I stepped in? Because love doesn’t survive as a concept. It survives as action. Messy, biased, wildly unfair action.” She glanced upward. “You’ve learned that one already. Vol. 47A, if memory serves.”

The mists shifted, uneasy. You presume equivalence.

“I presume benefit,” she shot back. “She lives. Your river continues. And now you have new data.” She stopped, turned, met the whole impossible chorus head-on.

“You didn’t stop me because some part of you wanted to see what would happen if the universe bent instead of broke.”

A long pause. Then, quieter, You teach us by disobedience.

Patin smiled again, smaller this time. “See? Learning.”

The Temple exhaled, reluctantly amused, undeniably changed. The debt remains.

“Of course it does,” she said. “Learning always costs.” She waited.

You will remain.
You will teach.
Not as indulgence…
But as necessity.

Patin’s grin returned, sharp and delighted. “Careful,” she said. “That’s how you end up with homework.”

The mists did not laugh. But they did not deny it either. The Temple shifted again, slower this time, like something choosing its words with care.

We permitted the correction…
…because the thread does not end with her.

Patin’s posture changed. Not much, but enough. The swagger eased out of her shoulders. Her hands stilled. “Go on,” she said quietly.

The mists parted and reformed, not into chaos now, but into sequence.

She carries continuity.
Not only of blood.
Of choice.

Patin’s jaw tightened. She already knew the shape of this truth, had felt it hum beneath her ribs long before the Temple gave it language. “She’ll have another child,” Patin said. Not a question.

Yes.

A breath escaped her, half relief, half ache. “Good,” she murmured. “She’s good at loving fiercely. The universe could use more of that.”

The vision shifted again. Skygowen. Stone. Wind. An unease that didn’t explode, didn’t announce itself with fire, just… waited.

There is a trial approaching.
Not of survival.
Of faith.

Patin went still. “Faith,” she repeated, tasting the word like it might cut. “That’s a dirty test.”

It will ask her who she trusts.
What she believes when certainty is denied.
Whether devotion endures without proof.

Patin’s expression darkened, not with anger, but with something closer to fear. “That’s cruel,” she said softly. “You know what belief costs her. You know how many times it’s been used against her.”

We know. We understand cruel.

She looked up then, eyes sharp, wet, incandescent. “And if it breaks her?”

The Temple did not answer immediately. Then she will not face it alone.

Patin swallowed. Her voice dropped, stripped of humor, of bravado.

“I can’t fight that for her,” she said. “I can stop bullets. I can bend time. But faith?” A bitter huff of breath. “That’s an inside job.”

Yes.

She turned away, pacing now, boots echoing softly against infinity. “Just… don’t make it pointless,” she said at last. “She’s earned better than a lesson that only hurts.”

The mists warmed, infinitesimally. So have you.

Patin stopped. Concern lingered in her eyes as she stared back into the visions of Skygowen, already calculating, already worrying, already caring far more than she would ever admit aloud. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if you break her on purpose…”

She glanced back, a familiar dangerous smile flickering at the edges. “…we’re gonna have words. Loud ones.”

 

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