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‘And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, frankly. There are many, many terrible stories of Hada being absolutely horrible. I’m surprised you aren’t more familiar with them.’

Truthfully, he was. He just hadn’t wanted to jump to conclusions. Just because Hada might’ve been a big ol’ jerk a hundred times in a row didn’t mean he couldn’t still be a nice guy on that hundred and first time, right?

Ibai made the rare decision of keep that thought to himself. He had a rather strong feeling that the Weaver either wouldn’t understand or would try to argue with him. Or maybe both.

And they’d already gotten sidetracked quite a bit.

“Welp. Alright, then. So who were these three other gods that the Library was dedicated to?”

‘Makirë, Ettol, and Xixa.’

He had to pause and think about those, trying to recall anything he might have ever read about them. “Xixa... is the Goddess of Secrets, yes?”

‘That’s right. If one were to believe in her, then it’d be a reasonable thing to think that she would make great use of a place like this.’

“Yeah. All the more to reason to think that there are plenty of juicy secrets here, waiting to be uncovered.”

‘True enough. But Xixa was also known as the Goddess of Darkness and the Goddess of Beauty. So if you’re trying to read something into her supposed involvement, then perhaps you should take those monikers into account, too.’

“Hmm. ‘Kay. What about the other two, though? I’m not as familiar with them. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of them, even.”

‘No? Perhaps that is not surprising. They are both rather odd and mysterious figures. Makirë was known as the Goddess of Wonder, Youth, and the Stars. Ettol was known as the God of Impulse, Deceit, and Rebirth. The stories about them are always quite strange.’

“How so?”

‘Well, Makirë, for instance, is frequently depicted as an elderly woman with a very childish demeanor. She is regularly abrasive and even cruel--much how children can be. But her tales often involve helping people come to terms with some horrific truth--and then providing some manner of comfort or aid. I remember one story in which she appears before a man who is terminally ill. She makes him relive many important moments in his life, showing him his own ugliness and mistreatment of others, chastising him ruthlessly and tormenting him psychologically with impossible hypothetical quandaries. And yet in the end, she accepts his apologies, restores him to youthful vigor, and then takes him with her to visit a new world among the stars.’