Wisdom

Wisdom had long abandoned the race of humans. Too taken were they by their base desires, their superstitions, their pettiness, to seek her guidance properly. It mattered not, in the Grand Scheme. Humanity was but one minuscule aspect of creation, and when it slipped from her hands and into the hands of her daughters, Wisdom hardly noticed.

For endless time, Wisdom considered all aspects of her Husband’s work. His was the ‘could’, while hers was the ‘should’. While his creative mind spun out galaxies of possibility, Wisdom tempered his urges with metered thought and insight. It was her role, her lot. All things had a place and meaning, and she was no exception.

And yet…

Before her daughter appeared, Wisdom could sense it. A change had begun, something new, something powerful. At first she could not tell from whence it was emerging, but then she turned her eyes where back to humanity, to the race she had forsaken. There. It lay in that realm.

Potential.

Possibility.

But this was no act of man, not alone at least. There had been an intervention, of sorts. One of her own kind had twisted the natural order. Her Husband’s scent was on it, but it was not his work. She needed to consider her feelings, decide whether this change merited reengagement with the humans. But before she could, in the realm of loneliness that Wisdom had planted herself, something new, yet something familiar.

“Mother,” Justice said, appearing close at hand, the physical form that she had chosen slipping away as all things in the space that she had created, “I seek your council.”

Since her birth, her inception, Justice had always been Wisdom’s chief disciple. While her sisters played with the mortals, learning their powers, their kingdoms, young Justice would sit at Wisdom’s feet and listen to her mother puzzle out reason and prudence. She alone amongst the younglings understood that without reason, creation would not hold. The bonds that held all things fast, each new dream of her Husband, would be fleeting were it not for Wisdom.

"Child," Wisdom breathed, so long since she had used a voice that could be another that it surprised her to hear it, to feel it, "What has washed you up to my shores? Has your Father been rash in his imagination?"

"Not Father," Justice's essence answered, "Me. I've stepped into the the life of a mortal, a human. My sisters were eating him alive, and I..."

"Have they not yet learned that their base nature will only lead to ruin?"

"Oh, they've begun to learn," Justice said with a chuckle, "But things are moving more quickly than I'd thought they would. I can see the scales of the universe, the balance, but I don't have insight that you hold. Please, Mother..."

"The humans inhabit the kingdoms of your sisters," Wisdom said, "I will not interfere."

"There's a change coming, and the kingdoms of my sisters have begun to fall," Justice said, "This mortal holds the potential for a shift, something I am unsure of. Something big."

Wisdom's spirit quickened at the mention of the change. She could sense it growing, creeping. If unchecked, it could be dangerous. Yet she had no appetite for the disappointment the mortals wrought upon the steel of her hope.

"No," she said, "I care not for their world."

"Soon it won't only be their world," Justice said, "this human, this Tim Thompson, he's already in our world. Father has allowed him for now, but that might change. I mean to stand with him, but there will be consequences, and I seek your guidance. If Father acts without you, without Wisdom, all of creation could suffer."

Wisdom paused. Perhaps there was something here after all. Something to explore. For the briefest moment, Wisdom once again opened her heart to possibility.

"Come," she said, pulling the essence of Justice into her for communion, as it was in the beginning, as it one day would be again, "we will sit, and we will decide what must be done."