Summary: The only god she respects is her father, despite what he is. Despite what his goals are.

"O father, The Cardinal Sage..."

She worships a god that does not care.

"Aldo Lunaster, Lord of Adventurers..."

A god who cannot act for themselves. A god who cannot grant blessings nor cast curses.

"Legendmaker, Philosopher, Overgod..."

A god that raised her. A god that loves her, even if small.

"AO, who demands no worship, wants no worship..."

A god who set her up to die from the start. A god who will do it again.

"Hear me regardless. My earnest wish for thee alone."

A god she loves regardless. A god she cannot hate.

She has met the other gods and found them wanting. They let the shard of AO posture as Aldo Lunaster while his mortal shell and much of who he was suffered unduly. They allowed Alastor to curse Aldo through their inaction. They let Orenoch keep his love, dear Alaya, hostage to be used and abused. The gods did nothing to right this wrong. No. They left the god-spirit well enough alone.

And most importantly, none of them would've saved her but him.

They called her a danger. They wanted her destroyed without a single chance to prove herself.

Only The Legendmaker saw she could be a Legend too.

Even if it meant killing her in the end. Even if it meant she had to suffer. She would know love. She would know joy. She would have purpose.

And isn't that all she asked for?

She has never questioned the morals given to her by her father.

To die to continue her father's existence is natural. Of course, a god would sacrifice her single, measly life for his great role in the cosmos. Her incomplete soul. He is needed. It is the greater good.

The manipulation she has come to accept as natural. Of course, the gods play such cosmic chess. They must, to play with fate. To play with consequence and causality. That is just what he is. She is just his beloved pawn.

She looks to the uncursed Baron. He is more Aldo than the god she calls father is. The goofy knight wannabe, barely clinging to his pride. The emotionless angel beside him, who only smiles at him. That is the man who she thought raised her. Instead, she got a ghost conjured by a god's memories. Izzie's fists clench and unclench. Frustration. How much of her father is a false mask?

How much of her god is false?

How much does she truly know of the man who raised her?

How much should she tolerate?

How far can the word familial stretch before it tears?

She lets it go. She can't think about it. His love is real. It must be. It has to be. Everything she believes is a lie, otherwise. Even if her father is not truly Aldo, The Philosopher still raised her. His love cannot be false because it would crush her.

But love is not sending your child to death so easily.

Love is not setting them up to fail from the very start.

She buries the feelings and accepts the uncursed Baron Lunaster's awkward parenting as comfort.

At least, the kinder parent isn't very good at being a parent at all.