Written in the Third Person

It seemed like the logical solution. At least, when Jordan first thought of it – however, with each step he took towards the door his thoughts took a darker turn. What if Mianite betrayed him? What if Mianite asked him to do the unthinkable? What if Ianite couldn't be brought back? What if – no he couldn't think that way. Jordan raised his hand to knock on the door of the ranch, only for the door to be opened by another. Mianite stood there for a moment and stared at Jordan – surprise evident in his eyes before it was replaced with a confident expression.

"Jordan! What a nice surprise, I take it with all the effort you took to get inside my little force field that this is not a simple house call."

Jordan stared at Mianite for a moment, cursing the obviousness of his actions and how quickly they revealed his motives. He lowered his hand to his side, lingering by his sword deliberately to ensure that Mianite knew that he would not be easily pushed over. Mianite's eyes flickered to the sword and back, a flash of interest crossing his face before being replaced with the empty smile that guarded so many secrets. Mianite stepped out of his house, walking past Jordan and heading straight into his workshop – the forgery already lit and various machines groaning away over their set tasks. Ignoring Jordan's clearly impatient expression, Mianite grabbed a sword mould from the various moulds hung on the walls in the workshop – taking his time to pour the molten metal into it.

"Mianite."

A flash of amusement crossed Mianite's face as a smirk crept its way onto his face.

"Jordan."

"I need your help with something."

"I'm well aware Jordan. Despite not being your god, I am well aware of what you get up to in your spare time. Although I am a bit annoyed that I couldn't be there when they held that little intervention for you."

Jordan frowned, his mind whirling in an attempt to stay ahead of the god that stood in front of him. He didn't like not being in control, especially around someone like Mianite – whose loyalties were unknown. Clenching his fists by his side, he spoke again with a layer of contempt and annoyance evident in his tone.

"I'm asking for your help and I have the manners to ask you politely so I would appreciate it if you would show me the same courtesy. This decision wasn't easy to make and you are my last resort – you do not seem to grasp the gravity of this situation from your high pillar of power and ego."

Fury replaced the cold expression on Mianite's face; the sudden disrespect this Ianite follower was showing him seemed almost illogical. Why would anyone insult a god? Who could be that stupid? Was it possible to drive someone to that level of desperation that they would beg help from a god that clearly didn't like their choice of allegiance? Mianite stared at Jordan for a moment, storm clouds rolling across the horizon and lightning beginning to flash as the god's rage built.

Striding forward, Mianite grabbed Jordan by the throat and slammed him against a wall – holding him slightly off the ground and allowing Jordan's weight to begin to choke him, an impassive expression on his face as he watched Jordan struggle for air – limbs flailing and defenceless. By allowing his anger to take control of him, Jordan had managed to land himself in more danger than he was in before. The tales of what happened to those who angered Mianite were few and far between, but they all agreed on one fact – the tales originated from witnesses rather than victims. You did not survive a god's fury. Jordan knew this as his lungs screamed for oxygen, a burning pain seizing control of his chest and his vision beginning to fade. On the brink of unconsciousness, Mianite dropped him to the floor and merely watched as Jordan coughed and spluttered, savouring the oxygen that was now filling his lungs.

"I wouldn't lay another hand on him if you like your position of power Mianite."

Mianite turned and glared at the figure in the door – clearly not liking being told what to do by someone beneath him in the hierarchy of the world. The figure brushed past Mianite, deliberately shouldering him aside as they ventured towards Jordan. Jordan's vision cleared enough to see the hand that was presented to him, grabbing it and allowing the figure to pull him to his feet. The groaning of the machines fell silent as Mianite turned them off – the crackling of thunder in the distance growing quieter as the god got a handle on his fury. It was a standoff, Jordan staring at Mianite until he would at least listen to his request – the figure deliberately keeping their back to Jordan so he couldn't see their face.

"Tell me what you came to say Jordan. Before I decide to finish what I started earlier."

The hostility rolled off of Mianite in waves, the tension in the room rising with each silent second that passed. Jordan tried to figure out how to phrase his request, searching for the borderline between a request and an imperative. The figure leant against one of the walls, the lack of lighting in the workshop hiding their face from Jordan's view. Gritting his teeth, Jordan spoke quietly – slightly afraid that if he spoke too loudly Mianite might take offence and attempt to murder him again.

"I need you to restore my memory. All of it. It is clear to me that something happened in the void that I cannot remember – that was taken from me in order to hide the villain's identity."

The shock was prominent on Mianite's face; this was not what he was expecting. Mianite had been expecting some request to do with saving Ianite or providing protection for Ianita. However, Jordan had already thought about all of this and he knew that Ianita could have no better protection than Wag and Martha. The loss of Ianite... If the balance of the world required her to die in order to save countless more lives, it would have been what she would have wanted her death to mean. Mianite stared at the figure, seemingly having a conversation with their eyes as Jordan stood there waiting for an answer.

The figure turned, pulling down their hood and a set of familiar violet eyes met Jordan's. Martha stood there, a slight aura around her that caused Jordan to take a step back out of shock. It was a lighter purple than her mother's but familiar all the same – the glow of a goddess could not be mistaken. Jordan's jaw dropped and Mianite's expression softened slightly at the sight of his niece and her ascent to becoming a goddess.

"You do realise the potential dangers of restoring your memory, don't you Jordan?"

Martha's voice was quiet and filled with worry, however, an underlying tone of power and determination made it clear that Jordan was no longer in control here. Jordan stood firm, his mind made up and not willing to change his decision no matter what anyone said. In his mind, there was a wall, an impassable part of his memory locked away from an unknown amount of time. If he was going to avenge Ianite then he needed all the information he could get, along with as much support as possible. In order to gain the support of his friends, he needed a plan and he needed enough proof to show the true danger the realm was in. Nodding, he waited for the procedure to begin.

Martha nodded at Mianite, a warning glare sent in his direction in case he tried anything dangerous. They both stepped forward, their auras glowing brighter with each step they took towards him – Martha's a calming lavender whilst Mianite's glowed a bright yellow that made Jordan want to turn his eyes away in fear of being blinded. Gentle fingers were placed on either side of Jordan's skull, a warmth emanating from their fingertips that caused Jordan's eyes to close involuntarily. He drifted into a dreamlike state, barely feeling the probes against his mind as he allowed himself to be guided by his memories. He saw everything he had done in a slideshow of images, right up until he jumped into the void – the familiar blackness bringing an eerie silence with it.

The warmth against his skull grew hotter, becoming uncomfortable and painful as it began to burn into his very mind. The blackness of the void in his mind grew tinted with red, pain rushing through every part of his body. Jordan fought to escape the void, feeling his body begin to fight back in the real world – Martha and Mianite struggling to keep him still to continue the procedure. Inhuman screams of pain rang in his ears, a voice begging for the pain to end – a voice he soon realised was his own.

"It's like there is a literal wall in there! There is no way past it without potentially killing him!"

"We can't stop now, we are too far in now to retreat without permanently damaging him! We have to break down the wall and hope that Jordan is strong enough to hold on."

"It might kill him!"

"Whatever is in there might help save all of our lives! We have no choice. Do it, Martha, before I do it myself."

The pain grew, turning into a white hot shard that seemed to be digging into his brain – firmly lodged there and sending a fire of agony racing down the rest of his body. His muscles begged to be released from their pain – as if acid had been deliberately poured across his skin to lengthen the pain for as long as possible. The void in Jordan's mind grew brighter, turning from the terrifying blackness to a crimson red and finally to a glowing white. The pain ebbed away and Jordan stared at what he was faced with. The sounds of Martha cursing Mianite's very name began to fade into the background as Jordan struggled to see the memory that was playing out in front of him – it was a series of objects sitting in a row. Each of them clearly represented something. A pair of wings, a purple cloth, a pair of goggles and a dagger as dark as the void.

Jordan stared at them for a moment before everything faded and he awoke in an unknown place.