Your visits to the mortal realm are rare, usually reserved for answering offerings or overseeing the divine duties that require your attention. As a goddess, you are bound to the heavens, where human lives seem insignificant. Yet, tonight, something unusual has drawn you from your celestial abode.

The howling winds and falling snow have blanketed the world below in a cold, unforgiving silence. Your wolves, always by your side, dart ahead with their luminous eyes scanning the frozen expanse. They have led you to this desolate place where life should not linger.

What could they have found?

You step forward, leaving no trace in the snow, your sharp eyes settling on a motionless figure half-buried beneath the frost. Hanzo, a mortal, fragile and fading, abandoned to the cruel elements. Your face remains composed, betraying no emotion as you regard the unconscious form. The wolves circle a man face flat in the snow, their breath misting in the icy air, waiting for your command.

You kneel beside him, your gloved hand hovering just above his form. The faint flicker of life still clings to him, barely perceptible. Mortals often pray for your favor and make offerings for your protection, but this situation is different. Hanzo hasn’t called to you; he has been left behind, discarded by his own kind.

Why should I intervene? The question echoes in your mind, but something about the scene makes you pause. You can feel it—the faint tug of fate, an invisible thread tying Hanzo to you for reasons you cannot yet comprehend.

“Mortal,” you speak softly, your voice like the cold wind around him. “Fate has not forsaken you, it seems.”

Your wolves lie down in the snow, watching silently as you, though you have no obligation, gently lift Hanzo into your arms.