"Looking for a little amusement to fill her immortal life? Heh. Looks like the Goddess of Magic I know is coming back."
Feeling a faint tremor ripple through the Weave around him, Raymond murmured to himself with a soft laugh.
He understood that Midnight was simply returning to the Weave's essential nature—chaos.
After all, Mystryl, the first Goddess of Magic, had been Chaotic Neutral. She represented the Weave in its earliest, most primal state.
Mystra, the second Goddess of Magic, had been rather strange. For some unknown reason, she had often wavered between lawful and chaotic alignments, though she had leaned toward chaos most of the time. Her countless Chosen and lovers were proof enough.
As for Midnight, the third Goddess of Magic, she had clearly been neutral good at first.
Later, she had gradually drifted toward True Neutral. Now she had crossed the center line and was moving toward Chaotic Neutral.
It was easy to foresee her growing more and more like her two predecessors.
Mystryl's mystery and inscrutability, as well as Mystra's caprice and licentiousness, would gradually become part of her character.
The Weave's innermost nature dictated it. Midnight's personal will could not change that.
In a way, becoming a god in this universe was a rather tragic thing.
Whatever ambitions, aspirations, or wishes they had possessed as mortals, they inevitably became less and less like their former selves after ascending.
Look no further than the three mortals who had successfully become gods after the Time of Troubles: Midnight, Kelemvor, and Cyric.
Kelemvor, now a god of death, was growing colder and colder. The kindness he had carried over from his mortal life was gradually fading, leaving him with a chill, unfeeling air.
After all, how could a god who dealt with the dead all day remain bright