One of the theories that I intend to run by my Lady in my compilation of these so-called Godsrain Prophecies is that they may be warnings of some kind. This is a relatively new addition to my admittedly large list of potential reasons for their existence, which range from sensible hypotheses to outlandish theories, including one recent concern that this has all been a test by my Lady to discern whether I am trustworthy and analytical enough to handle some of her more complex research needs. I know she would never do such a thing, in truth, but after a particularly vivid dream (involving my being back in one of Lorminos’s classes and asked to deliver a talk about a research paper I had somehow forgotten to do), my anxiety briefly took hold.
The warning theory is of particular interest to me because it reflects an ongoing scholarly debate about the ability to prevent a true prophecy. As noted in Beyond Aroden (which I believe I have already mentioned in these pages), there are some who believe in the Fate’s Chain theory, which holds that any action taken to prevent a foretelling only hastens its speed and effects. Conversely, others believe that all prophecy presents the opportunity to exert free will. In the words of one notorious scholar, “those who lie down in front of the hooves of prophecy instead of taking the reins of their lives deserve to be trampled to dust, even if only metaphorically.” Fiery words, and ones I am not sure I believe, but given the gravity of this particular set of prophecies, I do like the idea that this might be an opportunity to shift the course of the future.
–Yivali, Apprentice Researcher for the Lady of Graves
The Death of Desna
The thing about journeys, especially the good ones, was how easy it was to lose track of the past. Hard to move forward while looking behind you. Desna had always believed that. Each new night, each new step, had something new to offer up—a bit of knowledge to excite her, a dark horizon to invite her, a way for love to keep her grounded as she wandered from place to place.
But something else was out there. A threat that she’d forgotten from the void between the stars, seeking only to expand its brutal, ceaseless silence. Not an enemy that could be caught or stopped forever, but something she’d held at bay as it consumed star after star, by making them anew as she had done since the beginning. Back then she’d set the stars like jewels, each a perfect piece of art, and now they were a chorus that only she could truly hear, gentle bells that softly chimed and brought new hope to dreamers.
Except with so much journeying, she’d let the task slide down her list, forgetting to replace the stars that steadily winked out. She hadn’t heard their quiet ringing slowly growing quieter, as something more than silence brought new fury to its form. And by the time it reached her ear, that music wasn’t quite as rich, and starlight twinkled that much less, and butterflies flapped weakly. Absence had turned to abscess turned to deep vulnerability, and what was of the past became the killer of the present. In one fell swoop of emptiness, no longer held back by her lights, something of the Dark Tapestry she thought she’d left behind took her and Cynosure as one, and with her all the stars that filled the skies above Golarion.
Desna was loved by many, and all stepped up to play a part and try to build a new world in the space left by her death. Cayden Cailean raised cups “to Desna and to freedom” (though he stayed still for many months, sometimes with Kurgess by his side, drinking to his memories and running up his tab). Shelyn offered welcome to those who sang in Desna’s name, collecting songs and poems so she would not be forgotten. (And when they sounded out of tune, as if something was missing, she called them Desnal melodies and blessed those who repeated them, ignoring art’s new promise for the haunting elegies). Sarenrae sought her vengeance but had no one to strike out against, and so she turned to healing in its place (by never letting hurt inside, and building walls around her heart she dared Shelyn to climb).
No one could prove the daytime light was any different than before, but even on the fairest day, there was something in the air—a stagnant sort of thickness that weighed upon the spine. Scouts moved slowly, and travelers lingered though they knew to hurry (to get themselves to safety long before the starless night). With no means by which to navigate, sailors called off voyages, reduced to tiny odysseys that kept the shore in sight. And while the feeling dissipated, slowly easing day by day, everything about the world felt dormant for a time.
Even as the pace picked up, no stars returned to fill the sky. At night, only the moon shone down, and paths forward could change in ways unlucky and impossible; more often did travelers disappear from the shadowed roads ahead. And while some blamed her ancient nemesis, Ghlaunder, who was emboldened by Desna’s demise, or Zon-Kuthon, who reveled in the new depth of the darkness, only Desna would have known that what killed her waited, determining its next advance, growing in the spaces left within a starless night.
Do the stars and their keeper, Desna, truly protect the Universe from some fell threat that hides in the darkness beyond them? May the stars shine forever, if so!
The Dark Tapestry? It has been some time since I thought about that void of space, which has long been reported to be the home of godlike beings far beyond my comprehension. Maybe this is why I am the most intrigued about Desna’s seeming knowledge of the place and its dangers. It is the first I am hearing of a potential connection, though that may simply be because I do not attend the right discussion groups. Whether or not this prophecy turns out to be true (or, again, maybe a warning that my Lady might be able to give to Desna to prevent this outcome), I will add a note about the possible link between Desna and the Dark Tapestry to my collected papers covering her works as a deity. I am not sure when or if I will have the time to publish any of the works I have begun to write, or if there will be room in my papers for all of the data I now have, but I am glad that I have at least begun collecting information. If these prophecies make nothing else completely clear, my own takeaway is this: it is important to understand what you know (and don’t) about the gods.
About the Author
Erin Roberts has been thrilled to be able to contribute a few small threads to the fabric of Golarion in the pages of books like Lost Omens Firebrands, Lost Omens Highhelm, and Lost Omens Travel Guide. In addition to her work for Paizo, she freelances across the TTRPG world (and was selected as a Diana Jones Award Emerging Designer Program Winner in 2023), has had fiction published in magazines including Asimov’s, Clarkesworld, and The Dark, and talks about writing every week on the Writing Excuses podcast. Catch up with her latest at linktr.ee/erinroberts.
