THE DARKNESS GUIDED HER.

  Black cloth and gold metal adorned her skin, and as the goddess walked through the courtyard, the shadows seemed to reach out for her. They seemed to cry out for her, but she took no notice. She had a mission. The immortal soon found her destination, a two-story building that watched her impassively. The architecture reminded her of her own youth, millennia ago when humanity was still in its infancy.

  How things had changed since then.

  It took her little effort to slip inside, and her sandaled feet made no noise as she padded through the dark halls. The cat sleeping on the back of the couch raised its head as she paused in the living room, golden eyes blinking at her. It stood, stretching itself before padding over to her and meowing softly. Gold glittered around its neck.

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  "Thank you," she murmured, scratching the cat's ears. The cat meowed again before jumping down from the couch and padding out the open front door.

  Isis continued on.

  She found what — who — she was searching for shortly. The infant lay asleep in her crib, barely breathing. The goddess reached in to gently pick her up, cradling the babe against her chest. This stirred the babe, and when her eyes blinked open, they were completely white. Isis hummed in gentle sympathy, shifting the babe to one arm. "This is not your time, my dear," she murmured. "You have much yet to accomplish."

  The babe coughed in response. If she had been stronger, she might have cried, but she had no energy left. The White Sickness had driven her to the brink of death, and it showed. Her parents had begged Apollo, Thoth or any god of healing to heal her. Their prayers had drawn Isis' attention, and she had come to answer.

  Isis spent the night, and many thereafter, healing the child in her arms. In time, she grew stronger, and her parents began venerating Isis more and more.

  By the time she was two, Merit Kingsman was fully and divinely healed.

  She was five when she understood just how unique that made her.