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With a gasp, her eyes opened, hands moving immediately to her chest as if expecting to find a hollow space. A hollow space that was, fortunately for her, still filled with something.

Yellow, glowing, warm. Cold fear filled her stomach. Powerlessness. She never wanted to feel like that ever again....

The goddess stood vigil as if waiting to see what had become of her. She looked at the first plaque, then the second...then the third......

Quietly she took the blade and placed it on the prey pedestal, wasting no time before she left. Shame, perhaps, fueling her along.

Again he was roused from his sleep, and grumpily Shiohlu forwent looking for a blanket, knowing that trying to remain asleep would be futile. Instead he sat up, opening his eyes in surprise at his surroundings. The bridge was gone, and so was the figure and as he hastily felt over his chest, everything was still in place.

He sighed in relief, getting to his feet.

The Goddess, it seemed, had returned to her pedestal and was still once more. He walked slowly over to the two empty podiums, still a bit uneasy and sick feeling from his encounter. Carefully he read each inscription. In his mind, predator seemed to be the better option even if he hadn’t necessarily been one against the figure. But as he placed the dagger onto the ‘Predator’ podium, nothing happened. The dagger sat there unmoving, mocking him. He had failed his task hadn’t he? Of course, he wouldn’t be allowed to be predator that was only for those who won, those who triumphed over the Goddess’ task.

Hanging his head, he trudged back to the Prey podium, and placed his dagger onto it.

Like the heart, it disappeared into the dark stone, taking with it the gruesome memory and the sickening feeling that had pooled in the pit of his stomach.

He straightened up and rubbed absentmindedly at his chest, relieved to know that he hadn’t entirely disappointed the Goddess.

Rime felt ashamed of herself, though the feeling of having her heart cut out was something that might not be forgotten so easily. After dropping her dagger upon the prey pedestal, she turned and headed back to the shrine.

There was no choice that had been easier-

Carmus was not prey.

If that made him a predator, so be it.

Licraesa jolted awake, fingers scrabbling for her yellow heart, but it was where it should be, beating and glowing within her chest. She sighed, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Did that actually occur? Was it a dream, or something more?

The goddess, lower case g, was now a statue. The plaques nearby deliver their meaning as clear as day. Licraesa set her borrowed dagger upon the pedestal of Prey.

Soon, all she recalled is a singular violent act, the evisceration of her chest, the extraction of her heart.

He woke, dagger in hand.

And his core pulsed gently in its place, just as blue as it had been before he'd left. No, not gently: hard, a quick beat like fear and relief and life, again, and he breathed.

Sarviur was not surprised to find that the Goddess was gone again: a little statue with a plaque at her feet. Powerless, harmless, tangible. He wanted to - he wanted to let her feel it, his daggers tearing into her heart. But no, that was not right. She had only done what was right. She'd put him somewhere where he'd feel the pressure, and he had only done what was...what must have been in his nature all along. He'd slipped up, and he'd gotten eaten. He needed the Goddesses, she was telling him. More than he ever had. For they would protect him, and they would provide...

Predator or prey? He looked over the pedestals, and read their inscriptions, feeling, naturally, quiet. His dagger clattered onto the predator podium - a perfectly practiced arc. He knew how to use the weapon, after all. But where there had been an exit to the shrine before, Sarviur now could no longer see one.

How could he not be a predator? He slaughtered, on the battlefield. He taught the harpies to fear him whenever they met. And yet...

He remembered that slowly-melting horror, the one that had beset him in World's Edge, when he was alone. He remembered giving himself up for the good of the shadows behind him. He remembered protecting them: he was a knight in the service of his kings, the Goddesses.

No. Perhaps the word was strong, but Sarviur knew. He walked over to his dagger with a heavy heart, and moved it gently to the pedestal marked prey. It disappeared, as did his memory of a glowing ghost girl sitting down to tea...

He left the Shrine. Behind him, he knew the Ruin Goddess smiled.

Shakening and trembling, Liace awoke with a start. Fear spread through her as she desperately searched for her heart. It was still there. Had it all been a dream? But it was so vivid.

The dagger laid to her side. Through tired eyes, she read both platforms. Liace had always known the answer. She placed the dagger on the prey pedestal.

He awoke with a smile on his face, his dagger glowing brightly where it lay across his heart. He reached up to grab it, its weight resting comfortably against his palm. He'd been backed into a corner by something that seemed smarter, faster, better than he was, and in the end, he'd stabbed the ******** out of her. It was how all such situations should end, he thought.

Stew rose, still clutching the weapon to his chest. He slowly approached the pair of pedestals, read their plaques, and placed his dagger on the one labeled predator.