Dawn broke over the horizon, yellow beams peering through between the moving mountains in the far distance. The evening dew began to settle atop the pinkish straws forming the fields of sugargrass around a small, primitive clay hut with straw and stick roofs. The clay on this hut looked middle-aged, discoloured in areas where maintenance had necessitated new clay or straw. Numerous extensions and additions had been made over the years as well, a larder attachment and various sheds surrounding the house. As the first rays poured in through the doorway and glistened through the linen curtain covering it, a few of the shapes laying on a woven straw carpets stirred to life, awakening the rest. The first head to lift off the ground was feminine, with the soft, lean features of Xiaoli - though a little wrinkled and saggy with age, long alabaster hair flowing down over her shoulders much in the same way it had done for most of her life (except for that short period in her teens that she insisted nobody bring up). She rubbed the remaining sleep out of her eyes with two fingers and smacked her lips. She looked out the doorway to meet the blinks of sunlight and began to shake the shoulder of the shape next to her.

“Wen-wen,” Ai said assertively. “Come on. It’s morning.”

Wenbo sucked in a breath and groaned himself to a seated position, the blanket covering the whole family moving along with him and away from everybody else. The smallest of the shapes curled up and began to mutter. Wenbo gave the closest one a smile and patted his shoulder. “Alright, Qi, you heard grandma. Time to get up.”

The little boy curled up even tighter. “Don’ wanna!”

Wenbo chuckled. “You and me both, son, but grandma’s word is law in this house. C’mon now.” He took Qi gently by the arm and hoisted him up so he sat. The boy gave him a surly stare, but slowly got to his feet, adjusted his long tunic and walked outside. Next to where the now-standing Ai had laid sat a fourth figure. “Dad?” he went as he rubbed his eyes.

“Yes, Ren?”

Ren tried to subdue a yawn, but was alas unsuccessful. “Did-... Did you see which direction he went?”

Wenbo shrugged. “Think he went left towards the beck. Ai, dear, did you see if he brought along a pot?”

Ai looked down next to the doorway where there stood a few pots of varying sizes. The frown on her face already answered Wenbo’s question.

“Alright, he forgot. Cai, could you go get some water for porridge?”

A fifth shape next to Ren sat up, revealing a sixth shape up against the house wall. That sixth shape let out a long groan and sat up, two fists rubbing a pair of groggy eyes. Wen Cai, granddaughter of Wenbo and Ai, made a wry frown and got to her feet, quickly wrapping her linen robe around her a little tighter as she walked past her parents and grandparents out the doorway, bringing a tall pot along with her. Wenbo followed her with his eyes as she left and then gave his son and daughter-in-law a shrug. “Did something happen?”

Wen Ren’s wife, Naran, sat up and combed her hair with her fingers with pursed lips. “I think she had some difficulties with that Khublai boy last night. She didn’t tell me much, but given that she’s been together with that possé quite a bit lately, I think that’s what happened.”

Wenbo nodded and scratched his cheek, looking up at Ai who wore a slightly amused smile. “Young love is always just as fun,” she giggled.

“I don’t love him, granny,” Cai muttered as she pushed the curtain aside and placed the pot down next to the hearth. “In fact, I think he’s a big, fat jerk.”

Wenbo hummed. “I’d say he’s on the leaner side, myself, but--”

“Shut up, grampa! You know what I mean!” Cai shouted. Qi rocketed to his feet and stormed over. The shouting elicited weak cries from a small crib at the far end on the straw carpet and Naran went over to soothe its inhabitant.

“Wen Cai! You will -not- speak that way to your grandparents, is that clear?”

“Oh, snapping-- Ugh! Just leave me alone!” Cai screamed and went outside again. Qi thundered after, shouting, “Young lady! Listen here--!” Their shouting faded into the unintelligible and Ai sighed with a shake of the head.

“Every week, there’s a morning like this,” she muttered. Wenbo chuckled.

“Now, now, she’s around that age now… I still remember camping outside for days with Chaggie whenever you got like this, way back when.” He gave Ai a playful wink and she returned it with a wry grin.

“Oh, ha-ha. I wasn’t -that- bad, was I?” She went over to the hearth and began to stack small branches of dry mushroom wood and various other kinds.

Wenbo hummed. “Well, there was that one time when it took you a whole week to calm down after I kissed Bayarmaa on the cheek when she finally managed to finish her play.”

Ai snickered. “You totally deserved that. I was your girlfriend and you’re not supposed to kiss other people than your girlfriend.”

“She’s my sister, Ai.”

“So am I, silly.”

Wenbo rolled his eyes and giggled. “It was only a kiss on the cheek.”

Ai furrowed her brow and sighed. “A kiss is still a kiss, Wen-wen. I hope that week in the woods made that perfectly clear.”

Wenbo looked over to Naran who was nestling their youngest, Hao, at her breast. She gave him a confused look. “Take notes,” he said. “This is how not to act proportionally.” Naran nodded slowly, evidently not having paid attention to the conversation. Ai gasped.

“How not to act proportionally?” Ai said with feigned shock as the fire settled in the hearth. She reached for a black-keeled bowl, filled it with the water from the pot and then scooped rice into it from a nearby bag until the water covered the rice with an approximate ratio of six to one. She peered into the bag and frowned. “... Not to kill a good laugh, but could you go to the larders and fetch some more rice, dear?”

Wenbo sighed and nodded. He pushed himself to his feet, straightened out his robes and pushed the curtain ‘door’ aside. As he stepped into those pinkish fields, he gazed to the four winds to survey the beautiful land:

To the north passed one of the great moving mountains, its lethargic pace in reality much faster than many other natural movements. Wenbo momentarily remembered the day Chaggie and he had gone there for their little adventure. He had never quite been the same since, his dear brother. He wondered if it still haunted him, that experience.

To the east were endless pink plains glistening in the heliopolis, broken up only by a special field rather close to their huts, its stalks quite different from the surrounding sweetgrass and flowers. There were stalkplums, a plump, yet awfully hard grain that really was closer to a root in taste and texture. It made for a somewhat dull flour that had to be washed thoroughly before use, but once washed, Ai made the most delicious pancakes with it. Around the stalkplum fields were also smaller fields of vegetables like carrots and cabbage.

To the south was a swamp, but as opposed to what one may think of swamps, this one was extremely important. It was here that they had used the knowledge bestowed upon them by Xiaoli to cultivate the local species of wild rice, something they now ate basically every single day.

To the west, he saw the dots of houses and patches of fields much like his own. The rest of his kin and extended family had settled all over the plains, each carving out patches of land to support their families on. His eight children had all built their houses close to his and regularly came over to visit. Wenbo sucked in a joyous breath - this truly was an idyllic existence.

As he made his way towards the larder, he stopped by the house’s shrines. Nine shrines had been built along the western wall of the house, each honouring a god that had aided Hermes on her travels across the world. In order from left to right, there were shrines to Narzhak, a flat stone labelled with the god’s name adorned with rust sand and a wooden club; Kalmar, a labelled flat stone upon which laid the dry bones of a hunted quoll; Li’Kalla, a labelled flat stone with a small spot of soft fur on it which one could boop with a finger; Ashalla, which was not a stone, but a bowl filled with sea salt and sand from the distant shores; Shengshi, which was a bowl of river water from the nearby beck; K’nell, which was a number of flat stones stacked to look like the platform of Limbo as described by Wenbo’s parents; Eurysthenes, which was a flat stone with various bones and threads to represent puzzles; Arae, which was a stone covered in the names of Wenbo’s whole clan; and Abanoc, which was a roofed basket of prayers written on bark.

Wenbo bowed before all of them as was the morning routine for him and went on to the larders. There, he grabbed a large sack of rice and turned around to see Cai approaching. He gave her a curious look and set the sack down on the ground, running his hand through his black hair. “You feeling better, dear?”

Cai didn’t say anything, but grabbed the sack of rice, swung it over her back and went towards the hut. Wenbo stood scratching his hair, but put on a satisfied smile. Ren came towards him along the same path his daughter had gone and nodded at his father.

“Did you manage to calm her down?” Wenbo asked.

Ren shrugged uncertainly. “Eh, ‘calm’ is a generous word. She’s not shouting anymore, but she is far from happy. I really wonder what that Khublai boy did.”

Wenbo smirked. “Temüjin was always a bit of a prankster and it wouldn’t surprise me if some of his grandkids picked up on that trait. Maybe he made a joke that didn’t quite hit the mark.”

“Heh… Yeah, maybe.” Ren rubbed the side of his blue-speckled nose and looked towards the fields. “Shall we get some work done before porridge is ready?”

Wenbo followed his gaze and nodded. “Yeah, it’s almost harvesting season now. Ought to keep a keen eye on the plants to make sure they don’t rot right before they ripen.”

“My thoughts exactly. I’ll get the spades.”

Wenbo watched his son run off with a proud smile on his face. The spades had been left over at the house of his second eldest daughter, Meihua, however, so it would take some time for Ren to return. Wenbo chuckled to himself - he could take some time off before work; he had earned it, he assured himself. The aging dreamer descended the hill and wandered through his fields. In the distance, the heliopolis kissed a small hilltop enveloped in a blanket of pink grass. It was there that he, ages ago, had married his wife in the same way his mothers had married. Now it was his favourite little spot to ponder and nap. He took long strides up the gentle curve of the slope and reached the top with a whistle on his lips. He found the indent in the lawn where he usually laid and settled down.

The wind caressed him motherly; the skies were clear as day; the light of Heliopolis casting out its rays - all was perfect in the moment.
“... Wenbo…”

A voice on the wind pulled Wenbo out of his idyll. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at his farm below. “... Snap, Ren’s quick toda--”

Ren was not in sight - nor was anyone else.

“... Wenbo…”

The dreamer slowly rose up, his head rubbernecking to the four winds. No, no one else could be seen. His eyes suddenly fell upon a nearby bush. It danced gently in the wind, almost beckoning him closer.

“... Wenbo…” the voice called again and Wenbo approached the bush. He held out his hand and touched the branches.

“... H-hello?” he said to the bush quite carefully.

“... Wait, what are you doing?” the voice went. Wenbo recoiled from the bush and looked around.

“Look, Temüjin, wherever you are, this is not funny! We are much too old for pranks!”

The voice hummed. “This is, most assuredly, not a prank, Wenbo.” It was at this point that Wenbo realised an oddity in the voice - it seemed to toss direction to the wind, coming from both everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. What was certain, however, was that he heard it - and it was speaking to him.

“Come now… Do you not recognise the voice of your grandfather, my child?”

Wenbo blinked. “I-... I have no g-grandfather - my mom was the first of her kind, and-and… My mother was--” He cut himself off, his heart freezing momentarily. For as many seconds as he could, he made great attempts to remember age-old lessons on humility and courtesy taught to him by his mother. He planted his palms in the soil, sat down on his heels and lowered his torso.

While there was no vision of the creature speaking to him, Wenbo could almost hear him smirk. “... Ah… So you recognise me after all…”

Wenbo took a second to dab the sweat forming on his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. “What does His Lordship wish of me-... No wait, wish of this one?”

There came a flat hum. “He Bo, make a note to contact Xiaoli about her priorities when raising her children, would you?”

Wenbo blinked. “Your Lordship, with all due respect, who is He Bo?”

“Oh, my,” Shengshi went, “I was not supposed to think that. Quite a long day today, you see - pardon me for a moment, would you?”

There was silence. Wenbo sat up, feeling his heart in his throat. It took him several moments to stabilise his hyperventilation, but just as he had managed to calm himself--

“Right, right, pardon that,” the oily voice of the snake excused. Wenbo froze again. “Right, where was I…” There was an audible purse of lips, then a gape as a lightbulb flashed. The tone shifted, the oil in the voice growing thicker and darker. Wenbo could feel the stern eyes of the River Lord upon himself, like two reptilian orbs glaring down on him through the ether itself.

“... Wenbo, son of Hermes, son of Xiaoli - hark at your Lord, for I bring to you a great mission and a great gift.”

Wenbo remained unmoving in the grass, his mind clogged with awe and confusion. Eventually, he managed to produce the word: “.. Wha-...”

There came a sigh. “... Yes, I know this may seem confusing to mortal minds - I will admit that it is my first time, as well - talking to mortals this way has a tendency to cause, well…” There came another pause. “Shall I just elaborate, then?”

Wenbo barely blinked and slowly nodded. The snake took a deep breath. “So be it. Wenbo, yours is among the oldest and most well-established tribes of Dreamers. The tribe of Wen is legendary among your people as the first to sport three generations - making you the very first grandfather among your people.” There was a pause. “Your mother has spoken highly of you - she says you are an inventor and crafter bested only by your parents, and that your house is the greatest among your people…”

Wenbo looked down the slope at his shack and furrowed his brow. “... I don’t think--”

“Oh, seize the humility, son (do not actually seize it, by the way - it is quite appreciated). Your mother would never lie to me - she is me, after all. She also tells me you are quite an adventurer and explorer, and have composed numerous works of art and toolwork over the course of your life - even going as far as to invent the sickle to make the stalkplum harvest simpler… My, you truly are gifted, son.”

Wenbo sat back up onto his heels and tried to gather his words. “M-my Lord, this is all quite humbling, but--”

“It is praise - it is supposed to be. Again, I appreciate the humility you show. It truly is a symbol of good character, that. Now, hark once more, for your mission is this: Take your family, the whole tribe, along with whomever wishes to join along, and bring them all to the southern tip of Tendlepog; there, I will meet you personally and bring you to your new home…”

Wenbo blinked. “... Our… Our new home?”

One could almost hear the nodding. “Yes, Wenbo… A land fat with ripe fruit and sweet water; a land where the winter keeps no one hostage; a land where all your wit, might and unity with be tested over and over again, only to strengthen like stone under pressure and heat. Settle here permanently, and your mission shall be completed.”

“T-tested, my Lord?

“Indeed, young one, and here is where the great gift comes in - should you and your tribe accomplish this task, I will bless you and your whole lineage with eternal prosperity for as long as the blood of Wen runs through the veins of a dreamer.” There came a pause. “I will never let you starve nor your crops fail, and wherever you walk, wealth shall appear in abundance. Your cups will never empty and your guests will never leave thirsty. All this and more, I, Shengshi, promise you and your kin, my child.”

Wenbo swallowed and looked distantly at the ground below. A time passed. Then another one. In his head, he heard occasional hums and lip smacks from an increasingly impatient god. Once more, Wenbo looked down to his home where he now saw Ren looking for him. He sucked in a shaking breath and inclined his head forward as he sat. “I… May this servant have some time to discuss this gift and mission with his siblings and family?”

“Naturally,” the oily voice allowed. “I will be expecting your reply at your earliest convenience.”

Wenbo nodded, but as he did, a question popped into his mind. He heard the call of his son below the hill and suddenly fumbled his words as he tried to formulate the sentence. “Your-your Lordship! How do I contact you?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Wenbo feared the god had broken the channel. Then the voice came. “When you are ready, go to my shrine by your house and pray. I will hear you and we will converse further from there.”

Wenbo blinked down to the distant wall of shrines and nodded slowly. “As You wish, my Lord.” Then the mighty presence disappeared and Wenbo noticed just how fatigued the whole experience had made him. Breaking the hillside came a winded Ren.

“Dad, couldn’t you have waited for me?” the son said and then immediately shifted his tone towards concern. “Dad, is everything alright?”

Wenbo looked at him with anxious eyes. “Come, my son - we must gather every dreamer we can find. Our Lord summons us.”

Bring me worthy souls

The curator drifted through the frost coated halls of the vault of souls, its eye like central core and two stone limbs pushed through the corridors by gentle gusts of wind. It had been given instructions by the goddess who dwelled high above to find her volunteers for a noble cause. It was joined by many other curators carrying out its task, who drifted through the halls for souls fitting Azura’s specification. As they did so they had to navigate around the newcomers to the vault, blue, green and purple Armonia. The constructs of song and stone had entered along with the first massive batch of souls and now patrolled the halls endlessly in search of intruders or stood as silent unmoving sentries at various key locations. If the curators were capable of feeling annoyed, the presence of the brutes getting in the way of their work would likely have frustrated them to no end. As it was the curator simply floated around the short guardian standing in the way of its next shelf and then set to work.

Its small hand grasped a crystal and lifted it upwards in front of its eye. A small projection of the person it had once been formed. It asked its questions and found the soul unwilling to assist the goddess's cause. It put down the first and picked up the next, and attempted to bring out the consciousness of the soul but received only a fractured static image of a person instead of a perfect one. It screamed mindlessly when asked the questions. The Armonia standing behind the curator turned at the sound, then its eyes began to follow something the curator could not see skittering away from where it had picked up this crystal. There was a loud crack as the armonia suddenly lashed out with the whip it had in place of a hand. The chain of levitated Luft Stone held in glowing purple Verse struck a point of the wall, smashing the spider sized Soul Fiend responsible for corrupting the soul in the curator’s hand to a thousand pieces. There was a moment of stillness as the Fiend’s shattered remains fell from the wall onto the shelf, the very corruption that had given it life making it far more fragile than the crystals it had been made to infect. Then the curator and Armonia returned to their duties as if nothing had happened, just as their kind did every other time this happened.

Orvus’s infestation had been contained but not exterminated. The Armonia could not recall all the various times they had shattered the mites and see that they needed to perform a thorough bug hunt if they where to be rid of the pests. Instead they simply dealt with them as they saw them and driving them into the shadows whenever their numbers grew to large to remain hidden.

The curator put down the infected crystal, ignorant as to why it had screamed so madly, and picked up the next which turned out to be a wholly unique specimen.

---

The void soul awoke and yet its world stayed dark. Then the darkness told it a story about the death of a Selka named Lekika and her life after that death. Then the voice spoke directly to it.

I have completed the machine that I told Lekika about, one that will craft forms that remember more and suit their wear’s perception of self better. Yet it is still not a life suited for all. It is not a solution to death. Its aim instead is to bring back extraordinary people, who have the knowledge, will and strength to help me overcome death and the challenges of a cruel world. To aid both the living and the dead find peace and happiness. If you have something you can give to the world, wish to ensure that none die as you did or simply have the will to live and a desire to help then I would be most grateful if you offered your aid to this cause.

Then it became silent and awaited the soul’s decision, the power of the curator allowing them to remember much as an Armonia would.

The soul sat in contemplation, the strangeness of the entire ordeal washing over it for the first time. Indeed, it could not remember how it ended up here, yet it was, and now it had a way out. It could feel that there was a certain weight at hand, that it no longer tarried in the old dark, beset by hungry flames. This was a new dark, a quiet dark, and one that would simply not do.

“Take me to this ‘machine’, then.” It said, with eagerness in its voice. Anything was better than whatever it was now. And that was simply the truth.

It will be done. Remember, sleep, and then you will awaken anew. They were told, and so they did.

---

Awareness blossomed once more, and they saw themselves, a small crystal of many colors that they somehow knew contained their entire being. It was suspended in an endless void filled not with hungering nothingness but rather with potential, ready to stir ideas into existence with but a thought.

Picture in your mind’s eye a vision of yourself spoke the machine and offer it to the void.

It looked upon itself, and saw what housed its being in the nothingness. A crystal. A soul. Its soul. That had been the method of salvation. Then it pictured itself as it had been before the shattering, before the void swallowed it whole and into the darkness it went screaming. Then it tapped into the potential, and came again as it had looked, but not as it had been.

Light erupted into the void, or perhaps it was song or ideas that were merely being conceptualised as light. It was impossible to tell. Regardless, it became surrounded by a sphere of spots of light, from which long ribbons of Verse emerged, beams of glowing energy escribed with musical notation, which wrapping around their soul to form a cocoon. This cocoon slowly solidified and then, once partially set, began to morph into the shape of a body. Appendages sprouted from it and features began to slowly emerge until it had formed a rough glowing outline of its old form. Then it solidified, song turning to stone and metal filled with verse that seemed yet malleable even as they solidified. The souls awareness became doubled, seeing through eyes at the same time as it saw its entirety. The body shifted slightly as it did so, compensating for some of the differences between what it thought it had looked like and what it had actually been like to live inside its own head.

Now you may adjust as you see fit to craft perfection. the machine informed him.

As the voice commanded, so it was done. It grew in height, it’s face becoming a mask of black, featureless, yet it could see with clarity. It’s body grew, shaping itself to what it wanted, and what it desired most. Red Verse began to fall from it’s back, like a crimson cape, as well as several dots of crimson along it’s arms and chest. It’s body, once fragile, became a construct of metal and stone. Flexible and powerful as it ever had been. The being, he was born anew.

Once he was done, the machine knew. The external awareness dropped away and then he truly awoke for the first time in an eternity and saw the world without eyes. Looking around he found himself standing in a vast antichamber surrounded by a cross between an orchestra and a mechanical spider. Dozens of limbs ending either in claws, scalpels and chisel or with instruments such as flutes and violins hemmed him in while he stood at their center atop the small podium where he had conducted his way into existence.

Moments after he awoke the assorted machinery pulled back and away from their masterpiece, folding itself up against the ceiling of a large room made of polished sandstone coloured rock. A soft light pervaded through the room with no obvious source. The rooms only occupant was another being like him. Her form was tall, lithe and distinctly feminin in shape while a cloak of feathers every color of the rainbow that grew out of her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Part way down that cloak transformed into a pair of wings that she had wrapped around her waist to form a feathered dress. Her face was reminiscent of a bird, with three armored plates forming the shape of a beak at the bottom while numerous scales formed a crest at the top. A single small opening in the center of the face gave the impression of an eye, while two openings at her ears and several at the end of the crests also leaked red Verse, all of it blending together to form a semi transparent visor that covered the upper half of her face.

The stranger stepped forwards and, while offering him a hand to help him step down from the podium, told him ”Welcome back to the land of the living.”

He looked upon the female, with a mix of interest and disgust. He had never seen such a strange curiosity before, then again, (and it was at this point he looked down at himself) he was different as well. Far too cold, but such a feeling was only welcomed by him. He also did not feel alive, but he did feel aware, and that was all that mattered.

With a faceless stare, he looked at the bird woman again and reached out a hand. Hesitantly, he almost pulled his hand back, but then he took the stranger’s hand, and stepped down to be eye level with her. He let go, flexing his hands as he did so, it was a strange feeling to be in a physical form again. He had no recollection of what it felt like anyways, but he could tell something was slightly off. It would take some time getting use to.

He then spoke aloud, “And do I have you to thank for such a gift?” his voice modulated with a silvery undertone. It was delightful to hear.

”I am Azura, one of the many Gods of Galbar who has, hmmm, taken custody of the souls of deceased mortals.” she explained, before turning to leave, the goddess walking with a spring in her step he noted, through a door in the chamber while gently beckoning him to follow ”If you’ll come with me we can walk and talk so you can get used to those new limbs of yours.”

“I see.” he said quietly, standing still for a moment, digesting her sentences. He then began to follow, his legs unsteady as he went.

”Now I imagine you have a lot of questions, but if you could tell me a bit about yourself and what you know already first It will be easier to fill in the gaps.” she said, as they made their way down a long incredibly gently curving corridor. As they walked they passed a few rooms filled with bizarre contraptions and odd looking science experiments working with gemstones and some kind of dust suspended in glass jars. Once they left those behind however, every room he happened to glance in was empty.

“Firstly, I must thank you, Goddess Azura. Long did I weep in the darkness, cast aside by all. Save for the flame that hungered. Then the madness did set in, and I wrestled with myself for control. I fear the worst would have passed did you not save me, and I must conclude that you healed me as well. I no longer feel the degradation of my mind, the twisted whispers in the deep.” He paused, looking into an empty room, before continuing. “For that I am grateful for your compassion and for giving me a… Second chance at existence. But where are my manners? I am Rignol, son of… Well it doesn’t really matter anymore, I suppose. My past now only exists within my memories. If what you say is truth, and from what I can remember, I am very far from my birth place. As such, I shall keep what I know to myself for the time being, just until I know exactly what this place is and all of its people. I’m sure you can understand that, Goddess Azura.” He said, smiling somewhere deep down inside.

The goddess took it in stride, and in fact seemed delighted by what little he had told her about himself, emitting an emulation of a gasp ”Then you are a Void Soul like us gods.” she exclaimed ”Don’t worry, while I am a little jealous of your memory of where you came from, I won’t pry too hard. This is, after all, something of a fresh start for us all. Now, that does mean you have an awful lot to catch you up on. That’s good, in a way, because we need to make sure the adjustments to memory capacity I made based on Lekika’s experiences are working as intended. You recall her story and how to remember things right?”

“Of course Goddess Azura. This ‘Lekika’ was but a paving stone on the path of knowledge. Her experiences were necessary so that I could prosper, and so that those that come after me, shall prosper as well. Memory is a strange thing in this form, but even now I am growing. In no time at all, remembering will be as easy as it was. Now, if you would be so kind Goddess Azura, I would enjoy hearing about this world and the Gods who walk upon it.” he said, touching the wall as he walked.

”Excellent, excellent.” she responded ”It would be my pleasure to teach you Rignol., and please, call me Azura.” Then she theatrical cleared her throat despite not having one and then began ”In the beginning there was nothing Galbar, a dark world covered in an endless sea, its creator, the Architect, who sat in his palace on high...”

Hujaya skipped into the village and told everyone she met of the marvellous meeting she had just had with Delphina. Many in the tribe had seen Delphina once, when she had gifted the tribe with music and listened to their first performance, but the goddess appearing to a single mortal was something that had been unheard of since Ippino. Many shared in Hujaya's joy at this blessing that had been bestowed. However, not everyone was convinced.

"Why don't you show us this... new trick of yours, eh?"

Hujaya stood still and stared out across the horizon, humming a soft tune and plucking idly at her lyre. The sky was overcast, but the earlier storm had rolled further inland. There were no squalls in sight, although squalls weren't exactly easy to see.

She furrowed her brow. "Hm. I'll have to find another storm spirit first." The words of Delphina repeated in her mind: 'Show all my strength through you.' She nodded her head. "Yes, I'll find a storm spirit and bring it here. Then I can show you all the power Delphina has gifted me."

The man who had challenged Hujaya smirked and whispered something to another man beside him as Hujaya set out on her little quest. She took a freshly fired fish to eat as she walked out of the village in the direction of the receding storm. For the first few hours, all seemed well as Hujaya walked, improvised on her lyre and composed a few new lyrics. However, as the sunlight grew dim and evening approached, Hujaya was yet to find a squall and she was growing anxious. She could not bear to return empty-handed, for that would humiliate herself and Delphina. Yet it would soon be nightfall, and Hujaya had not brought anything besides her lyre, not even food for dinner. She did not relish the thought of being hungry and alone in the dark.

Hujaya came to a puddle. She knelt down beside the puddle, cupped her hands and scooped up some water to drink. As she looked at the ripples in the water, Hujaya bowed closer and pleaded, "Oh Delphina, please, I need to find a squall. I need it to show people your gift. Please."

With her prayer spoken, Hujaya felt as if a burden had been lifted from her chest. She rose back to her feet and continued walking. It was only a few minutes later that she spotted a rocky hill through the trees and realisation came to her. The clouds could not properly see her down on the ground beneath the canopy of the trees. She needed to get higher, where the sky could see her and hear her. She climbed the hill and hauled herself on top of a boulder at its peak. The landscape which unfolded around her was rather dreary, under grey skies with the sun hidden behind clouds. She could see the smoke rising from her village's bonfire, the one which had been started by Ippino so long ago. To the east beyond the trees she could see the ocean, and although it was no brighter than the sky above it the sight of the sea gave Hujaya a spark of hope.

Hujaya lifted her lyre and plucked a few of its strings. She scanned the horizon around her and thought that a louder instrument would have been better for this. She shook her head and dismissed the thought - it was too late to find another instrument. She would have to make do with what she had. Hujaya took a deep breath in, then sung as loudly as she could while keeping in tune.

"Come to me, squalls, come to me,
Then happy I will be.
Come to me, squalls, come to me,
To one who loves the sea.

"I have been looking for long,
So now I sing this song.
Come to me, squalls, come to me,
Then happy I will be."

Hujaya continued to sing these verses as the land around her sunk into the darkness of dusk. The chill of the night pricked at her skin, and her voice was starting to waver in exhaustion. Yet, just as hope seemed to be slipping away, she felt a breeze whip around her. A squall had arrived. Quickly, she adjusted her tune, adapting to the preferences of the squall she had found until its movements settled into the rhythm she set out. Then, with the squall enthralled, Hujaya walked down the hill and back towards her village.

Her trek through the forest was mostly in darkness, with only enough light filtering through from the Lustrous Garden for her not to trip over every branch and root. The squall snaked around Hujaya, rustling the trees and sprinkling her with precipitation. Hujaya took care not to trip or falter, for to do so would be to lose control over the squall. And having spent so long trying to attract it, she did not want to risk losing it.

Throughout the walk home, Hujaya had been playing a simple melody on her lyre, something just to keep the squall's attention while being simple enough to play continuously. But for her arrival, she would need to put on a show, one which would impress her tribesfolk enough to be worth the disturbance at this hour of the night. As the clearing in which the selka lived came into view, Hujaya shifted her melody and began to hum, bringing the squall closer to her. Her gait became a skip, and the squall synchronised with her movements. The selka who were on watch for the night, along with those yet to fall asleep, saw Hujaya approach. One of them nudged a sleeping selka awake. A watchman gave her a wave, which she returned with a nod. But she did not speak, for her focus was on synchronising with her squall. Then, as she came to the perimeter of the village, Hujaya skipped forwards with four claps then broke into song.

"Praise to Delphina, for I have returned,
Now I can show you the tricks I have learned.
Awake now in this hour of the night,
To look and see a most marvellous sight."

Selka stirred and woke, pulling back blankets of furs and watching Hujaya dancing in the light of the bonfire.

"With my singing I can command the breeze,
For the storm spirits my song does appease.
With a word and a note I make it blow,
The wind obeys and follows where I go."

A strong wind blew around the camp and spiralled around the dancing Hujaya. Blankets flapped in the wind and a few awed gasps came from the audience.

"With my singing I can command the rain,
For that is part of Delphina's domain.
My somber melody makes the clouds cry,
For my goddess has control of the sky."

Rain suddenly fell about the camp, eliciting a few surprised shrieks from some of the selka. Hujaya danced and played music for a little longer, pulling the squall around the village in a dance mirroring her own. However, she noticed that the squall avoided getting too close to the bonfire - perhaps it was worried about drying out. Hujaya figured that it might have been possible to coerce the squall closer to the fire, and she might have created a more stunning show that way, but that carried the risk of the squall breaking from her control and potentially harming the village. So instead Hujaya slowed down her song.

"Sadly my song must now come to a close.
I must now send my squall to its repose.
I end my song with a sweet lullaby,
And I say to the storm spirit: goodbye."

There was stillness in the camp as the wind and the rain stopped. There was stunned silence from the selka. Hujaya turned around to look at everyone's faces. With the grace of a performer, she stepped back and took a bow. There was a moment's silence, then applause.

---

The next day many of the village's musicians asked Hujaya if they could be taught what she had been taught. And remembering Delphina's words, Hujaya took them on as apprentices. She tested their musical talent, keeping only the best and sending the others away. She showed them some of what she could do. She told them of her encounter with Delphina. She reminded them of the teachings of Ippino.

But there was another thing. This was a powerful gift she had been given, so was not to be shared lightly. Delphina had given her responsibility along with this gift, and this responsibility needed to be passed on to all others who learned the gift.

Hujaya stood in a circle with her three apprentices. Pyouroff was an older man, good with percussion. Kaleo was a male singer about Hujaya's age. Sulingu was a girl younger than Hujaya, only in her teens, who played the flute. Hujaya had carefully selected these three based on their musical talent and their piety.

"You want to be Stormbards like me?" Hujaya asked.

"Yes," the three selka replied.

"When Delphina taught me this talent, she also gave me a responsibility. Likewise, if you wish to share this talent, you must also share this responsibility."

Hujaya received affirmative gestures from her apprentices. "Now, repeat after me. I promise to always worship Delphina, who gives me my strength."

"I promise to always worship Delphina, who gives me my strength."

"I promise to use my power and skills to show Delphina's strength, and to create beauty wherever I go."

"I promise to use my power and skills to show Delphina's strength, and to create beauty wherever I go."

"I promise to teach others as I was taught."

"I promise to teach others as I was taught."

Hujaya clapped her hands together and smiled. "By making this oath, you are now Stormbards, and I can share with you the gift of speaking with squalls." The three selka cheered and patted each other on the backs in celebration. "Now, gather your instruments. Our first task is to summon a squall."

They set off on their task. Over the weeks their training and practice continued, for even Hujaya was still learning about how to control squalls and what she could do with them. And word of the Stormbards and their talent spread through the tribes of the Hyummin and Grottu.

An ocean of red sweet grass stretched as far as the eye could see. Here and there a small divet formed from stampeding trees pocked its flat surface, collecting water and thirsty wildlife. The expert eye knew that if you ever saw a swarm of cloudlings huddled by the ground, that an unseen puddle was hiding behind the mound. It was with this knowledge that Altansarnai decided to leap over the swarm, her leather boot slamming into the plush ground on the other side. She shot a black eyed look behind her, a sharp smile forming on her face: she was right.

She pumped her arms and pushed her legs forward into a sprint. Since childhood she had grown tall, her limbs retaining a good amount of muscle despite her longer frame, easily pushing her run forward. To compliment her athletic activities, she wore close fitting garments, keeping her shins and arms free to the Tendlepogian air, just like her mother would. The similarities didn’t stop there; as age took her, her face took on the sharp angled jaw of Hermes, as well as her high cheekbones and flat cheeks -- she was the spitting image of her mother, save for her messy blue hair that whipped behind her.

”Pop!” A cloudling with dark grey fluff whipped by her.

“Oh, I see,” Altansarnai huffed between running breaths, she craned her neck, finally giving attention to the runner chasing her.

“Even Dumpling is faster than you!”

“Snapping thing can snapping fly!” Chagatai swore between gritted teeth, his larger build struggling to keep up, sinewy legs pushing harder. The man exhaled and gulped in a large breath.

”Zzt!” Dumpling protested.

“Shh!” Altansarnai suddenly stopped, a large herd of trees blocking her view forward. A few of the adult trees turned to her idly, but then went back to sipping at a rather large puddle. Chagatai huffed as he came jogging to her side, slapping his hand on her shoulder.

“Where is Temüjin?” He said between breaths.

Altansarnai patted his hand before shrugging it off, “I told him to meet me here.”

“The big puddle?” Chagatai cocked a brow, getting his breath back, “Specific.”

“He knows the spot,” Altansarnai rolled her eyes.

Chagatai crossed his arms and looked about, “So you saw a new herd roaming the area.”

“White coats,” Altansarnai scanned the area, “White as snow. I never saw a Tree-Eater like that before.” She turned to him with enthusiastic eyes, “Do you think they will listen to you?”

The man rubbed the back of his head and tried his best to look humble, “Well, I don’t see why not.”

“I only ask because nobody else seems to,” Altansarnai snuck in a smile.

“Certainly not you,” Chagatai shot his own smile back.

“Woah now, let’s tie it off here,” Altansarnai held up a hand, “If I’m going to be verbally kicking your ass, I would rather do it where others can share in the fun.”

“Respectable,” Chagatai nodded and looked forward, his eyes squinting against the midday heliopolis in search of the white Tree-Eaters. He made a face, “Now you are sure that it wasn’t just a really light coated one?”

“When I say it was as white as Mother Xiaoli the day you nearly shattered her favorite dishes on my birthday, then you better believe it,” Altansarnai gave a curt nod.

“So about as white as you the day you said you could handle that pack of devils just fine but then I ended up having to come save your proud ass?” Chagatai raised a brow.

“You’re about to see red in a minute,” Altansarnai shot him a look, “But yes.”

“Now when you say red, do you mean as red as-”

“Chaggie!” Altansarnai snapped through a smile and the man gave a self-satisfied laugh. Dumpling popped alongside him and Altansarnai gave the cloudling a faux-hurt look.

“You two are seriously going to cause a stampede with all that noise!” came a hushed whisper. Approaching them in a low squat came Temüjin along with his twin daughters Chinua and Borte. Trailing behind them again came Khublai, Temüjin’s eldest grandson. Chinua and Borte looked at Altansarnai with wide, awe-rich eyes and bowed. “G-good afternoon, auntie,” they greeted in unison, their matching purple noses wrinkling as the heliopolis light shone them in the eyes.

“Oh hi--” Altansarnai gave a high pitched greeting, leaning into Temüjin suddenly, whispering harshly, “--you brought your kids!?”

Temüjin shrugged. “As soon as I told them what I was doing, they insisted.” He leaned in a little closer. “You know how much Chin and Bort look up to you - please just give them this.”

“Right,” Altansarnai wrinkled her nose in the fashion she did whenever she felt guilty, or was lying -- badly. She stood up straight and smiled, Chagatai pinching the bridge of his nose.

“A few steps back,” He whispered behind her, Altansarnai adjusted her smile accordingly.

Chagatai shook his head and shimmied past Altansarnai and Temüjin, “Well, give your uncle a greeting too, yeah?” He poked Khublai’s cheek and then looked at the twin daughters of Temüjin.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

They both gave him a nod that offered little more than an acknowledgement of presence. Temüjin shook his head. “Hey, show my brother some respect, huh. Do it properly, you’re way past twenty, for K’nell’s sake…”

Chinua wrinkled her nose again, though not due to the light. Borte looked away. Then both went, “Hello, uncle Chagatai.”

“K’nell knows I’m glad Bataar isn’t here to see this,” Chagatai muttered loud enough for Altansarnai to crack a smile. He stroked the striped mountain tiger cloak hanging off his left shoulder and nodded, “Well let’s go see these white Tree-Eaters then, Altan?” He turned to his wife and she nodded, her smile fading.

“Right.”

“White tree-eaters?! Woah!” Khublai grinned from ear to ear and poked Chagatai eagerly for attention. “Those exist?!”

“I trust that they do,” Chagatai assured him, “But let’s find out.”

The young boy tugged even more ecstatically at the man’s cloak. “Hey! Will you wrestle a tree again and use it as bait for them to come out? Will you?”

Chagatai looked over at Altansarnai proudly and the woman rolled her eyes -- but was clearly amused. The man shook his head, “No I think we should just try and watch them for now, there is no telling what they are thinking, or what their temperament is.”

“Well then we shouldn’t burn too much of the shadow clock,” Altansarnai nodded, and turned about.

“Do you remember where they were?” Chagatai asked.

“Of course, I just have to get oriented,” She muttered as she continued to spin, the trees taking up most of the view.

“Mind if I try something?” Chagatai folded his hands behind his back.

“No need,” Altansarnai pointed past him so quick she nearly hit his chin, “Over there!”

All eyes immediately followed her finger, a fresh set of hoofprints having bent the grass and turned the dirt.

“It’s probably theirs,” She explained.

“A fantastic observation, auntie!” Chinua exclaimed while Borte rose two cheering arms into the air, a tiny Dumpling popping along. “When do we give chase?”

Temüjin crossed his arms over his chest. “We need any vines to capture them?”

Altansarnai held a smug look and Chagatai shook his head. The man then turned to the others, “No vines needed, we don’t know this herd -- I’d rather avoid upsetting them right away.”

“I hate to admit it,” Altansarnai piped up, “But Chaggie is right, if we scare them off now they may never come back.”

“Exactly,” Chagatai nodded, Dumpling suddenly zipping into his long alabaster hair, “We will take it at a jog, and slow down as we approach.”

“Good call,” Altansarnai winked, somewhere between genuine and sarcastic.

“Twice in a row,” Chagatai started to follow the tracks, “Frightening.”

Temüjin nodded. “Then you’ll do your thing, brother? The chat with the beasts?” Khublai stood with saucer-like eyes looking up at Chagatai. “Will you?” The boy echoed almost pleadingly.

"I hope to," Chagatai turned back and nodded, "See if we can't strike an arrangement."

The jog was long and quick paced, but with trained breaths the dreamers managed to follow the tracks in near silence. Only the huff of Khublai could be heard as they pushed further, avoiding large tree herds and one stormling swarm of cloudlings, probably enraged at a tree-eater or the like.

Finally on the red horizon a sheet of white formed, causing Altansarnai's eyes to widen with glee, as if validating that they are indeed real. She put a hand up and dropped to a crouching walk, the others quickly doing the same. Chagatai quickly approached her.

"White as you said…" his voice trailed in wonder.

"I told you," Altansarnai jokingly sneered, and Chagatai gave her a stiff push, nearly knocking her over. She shot him a look and he smiled, melting her own look into a grin.

“Woah!” went Khublai through heavy breaths, his energy somehow reigniting his vigour regardless of fatigue. Chinua and Borte clapped excitedly for Altansarnai and Temüjin surveyed the herd intently. He pulled at his alabaster facial hair and furrowed his brow. He turned to Chagatai and gave him an upwards nod. “You want to head in first, brother?”

"Probably the best idea," Chagatai nodded. He slapped a hand on Altansarnai's back as he passed and scurried through the taller sweetgrass, keeping his knees bent and ready.

It wasn't long before one of the massive white heads of the Tree-Eaters reared from a puddle of water and looked right at him. Slowly all the others also lifted their heads from their drink.

Chagatai looked behind him, his group well hidden in the sweetgrass a stone's throw away. There was a loud snort and Chagatai turned back to the beasts. His ears twitched with understanding.

"I mean no harm," Chagatai answered, "I have never met your herd before, I was just curious."

There was another snort, almost dismissive but often heard from the Tree-eaters. Having no natural predators made them easy to stand near, so long as they weren't surprised or spooked. Chagatai smiled and turned, waving his hand at his hidden comrades. The first to appear was Dumpling, the little grey cloud zipping out of Chagatai's hair. Second was Altansarnai, Temüjin by her side and the twins a little too close behind her with Khublai on the side.

"They are even more beautiful up close," Altansarnai smiled and put her hands on her hips. She took in a deep breath, "Gotta love that musky smell tree-eaters always bring."

Borte held her nose while nodding ecstatically, interrupted by Chinua slapping her hand away with a warning glare. Khublai gave his grandfather a smirk, one which Temüjin returned with a slightly bewildered smile. The little boy then snuck up to a tree-eater cow, likely being noticed all along by the surly creature. Temüjin quickly realised what the boy was up to, but it was much too late.

Khublai clenched and unclenched his hands before squeezing tightly the udders of the cow and pulling.

Immediately the tree eater was enraged, it's hind leg bucking out, smashing into Khublai's arm with a resounding crack and sending the boy toppling. The herd all moaned loudly and the enraged female suddenly charged, eyes blinded with rage. It snapped its mighty jaws threateningly, heading right for Chinua.

As the beast bore down on the woman it was suddenly knocked off course, the body of Chagatai slamming into the beasts side. Caught off guard, the top heavy creature was knocked off its feet, the muscled dreamer wrestling it all the way to the ground. The female roared but Chagatai's grip held like steel, the two bodies colliding into the ground with the dreamer on top. The tree-eater snorted and Chagatai snorted back. There was a surprised grunt and the rest of the herd snorted in response.

While Chagatai spoke with the entangled female, Altansarnai rushed passed the onlooking herd, her knees skidding across the sweetgrass as she came to a halt by Khublai's side. The little child howled and cried as Altansarnai prodded his arm. It was evidently broken. Temüjin and Borte came rushing over, Borte taking her son in her arms carefully. She gave him a stern, sobbing warning not to do that again before she rose and carried him away from the herd. Temüjin squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them free of exhaustion. “See, Chinua, this is why I told Borte not to bring him along…”

Chinua was still white as the wool of the tree-eaters, her mouth whispering the final verses of the psalms Bayarmaa had written for the gods some years ago. Temüjin groaned at his daughter and turned to Altansarnai with a grateful nod, then to Chagatai. “Is she listening?”

"She regrets not killing your grandson, but she's listening," Chagatai's eyes never left the female. Slowly the largest of the herd, an old grizzled male, came trotting up to the scene and stomped a wide hoof next to Chagatai. The dreamer turned his head and snorted defiantly at the beast. The beasts rose on its hind legs and pounded its front hooves into the ground below with a thwack.

Chagatai looked down at the female and then up at the male. Slowly he rose to his feet, the female scurrying back to its feet before trotting off no worse for wear. The male locked eyes with Chagatai, and the dreamer let out an aggressive snort, arms spread wide, palms open.

"Chagatai," Altansarnai used his full name, worry threaded her voice, "What on Galbar do you think you're doing."

"Challenged," Was all Chagatai managed, his focus completely on the bull.

"Yes you are if you think you're a match for a bull tree-eater," Altansarnai hissed, "Get out of it now."

But it was too late, the bull charged. It opened its massive maw so wide it could swallow clear to Chagatai's shoulders if it wished. The dreamer twisted his foot and as the bull came close, he juked to the side, his hands snapping out for a grapple. The weight of the bull yanked Chagatai to the ground, throwing him into a clumsy roll as the beast charged past.

Before the bull could loop back around, Chagatai was already back on his feet, a taunting snort exiting his nose. Chinua had run over to her sister to aid her nephews recovery - she also seemingly cared a little less for tree-eaters now. Temüjin looked to Altansarnai with a frustrated shrug. “He can’t bring that thing down alone. Should we distract it, maybe?”

Altansarnai’s eyes locked onto Temüjin’s and she barely whispered, “Forgive this.” Her eyes darted to Khublai, her yell shaking from her throat with anger, “What in snapping K’nell’s name where you snapping thinking?” The kid was nearly blown back from the rage of her voice, her eyes still a crystal calm.

Mid-charge the male’s head turned in surprise from the outburst, Chagatai taking advantage. The dreamer flanked to the side, his wife’s fury still being unleashed on the broken boy. Chagatai managed to curl his arm as he approached the now slowing down male, its attention steely on the enraged Altansarnai and screeching child. With a deft swoop, the muscled man swung himself onto the beasts high back, one arm wrapped around its neck.

The beast’s eyes widened as it began to buck. Chagatai squeezed, wrapping his other arm around the beasts neck as well. Hoarse bellows broke from the beasts lips, its herd watching anxiously as Chagatai held on with his life.

“Get ‘em!” Altansarnai yelled from the side, a tear ridden Khublai behind her with his mother and aunt.

Chagatai snorted into the beasts ear, his face a beat red and sweat dripping from his brow. The beast snorted back and then suddenly buckled it’s legs, dropping to the field below. Chagatai’s eyes widened, managing to maneuver himself safely off the beast as it quickly rolled in an attempt to crush him. Scrambling --covered in grass stains and sweat-- the dreamer suddenly got an idea and as the beast rose again to battle him, a gaping roar on its maw -- he shoved his entire arm in.

The males eyes widened with surprise as the dreamers hand snaked down its throat. The beast gagged and backed off, coughing out the fist of the man. A scratchy snort came from the surprised beast, the tree-eater threatening to hack up mucus.

“Well… that’s one way to do it,” Altansarnai gave a confused clap, but the beast and Chagatai remained focused, their eyes never breaking from each other. Chagatai snorted, the beast responded. Chagatai slowly circled the beast, a predators look in his eye. The male stood its ground, head cocked up and maw open wide.

Snort.

Chagatai snorted back, his bruised hands lowering. The beast began to lower its head as well. There was another snort. Temüjin blinked at the two of them and Altansarnai wrapped a loose arm around his shoulder.

“He’s got him now,” Her eyes were glued on the fight.

“Well, snap. Who’d’a known wrestling and snorting could make for conversation?” Temüjin mumbled with a scratch of his head.

“Oh please, that was my entire wedding,” Altansarnai laughed, the two fighters now standing aloof. Slowly Chagatai walked up to the beast and held out a loose fist, the beast met him the rest of the way and with a gentle headbutt, the two began to walk to the herd.

“If anyone… IF ANYONE,” Chagatai yelled, his voice audibly strained as he followed the male, “Pulls another godsdamned udder, I’m going to beat them with a tree.” The male bellowed in what could have been a laugh.

The two turned back to the group of dreamers, the herd now behind them, just as curious as the onlookers.

Borte and Chinua shrank a little and looked down at the tearful Khublai. “You hear that, Khubby? Granduncle says grabbing udders is bad. Will you do it again?”

“N-...” A sniff. “No,” the boy sobbed.

Temüjin shook his head in disbelief. “The fact that you need to be told that,” he muttered. “So, what happens now?” he asked Altansarnai.

The woman shook her head, “This is a first-””

“The dominant has invited me to the hunt in the evening,” Chagatai answered, “Impressed by my endurance -- I agreed. Our tribe and his herd will become friends, the old fashioned way.”

He stepped between Temüjin and Altansarnai, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Is the dominant still looking?”

“Nuh-” Altansarnai snuck a glance at the male, who was now tending to the young female that was tackled, “-no.”

Chagatai collapsed to the ground, “Phew.” The man breathed heavily, face down. His hands gripped the sweetgrass and a tiny Dumpling peeked out from his hair.

Temüjin slid over and pulled out his waterskin. “Here, you’ve deserved it, brother. How’re you doing?”

The man blindly waved his hand behind his back, eventually snagging the skin. He tipped it up and slide the nozzle under his face -- there was a loud guzzle and smack. He lifted the waterskin straight into the air. Altansarnai took it from him.

“Oh, he’ll be okay -- right Chaggie?”

His aloof hand formed a thumbs up and then fell back to the grass below. There was a low muffle and then Chagatai rolled to his side, “Altan… Altan!”

“What what!?” The woman furrowed her brow.

“We have that,” He rubbed his fingers together, “weird paste-”

“The numbing balms?” Altansarnai corrected.

“Yeah! --At home, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m going to need an entire Mother Xiaoli style bath of it, side order for little Khublai over there,” He craned his neck to look at his great nephew, “And a splint -- we need to go Wenbo’s.”

“I can set it,” Altansarnai looked over, “It’s a big one, should be easy.”

“Nah, nah. I brought him along - I should at least fix him up when he acts stupid,” Temüjin sighed and picked up a relatively straight stick off the carcass of a tree-eater’s prey. He unfurled his knuckle-bindings and squatted down by Khublai, splinting up the arm firmly and neatly. Borte and Chinua gave him sheepish smiles, only to receive a head shake in return.

“... I could have set it, dad,” Borte mumbled.

“I’m sure you could’ve, dear,” Temüjin said absent-mindedly and brushed Khublai’s white hair. The boy gave him an embarrassed look. “There - that’ll teach you to know when to prank and when not to prank.”

“Saved by a broken arm,” Chagatai said as he gingerly stepped over, as if nursing a bruised leg, “If not for that I’d be putting you to work for just as long as that bone’ll take to heal. He looked over at Chinua, “You alright?”

Chinua nodded slowly. “Y-yeah… Thanks, uncle… Sorry for not really helping.” Khublai sat between her and Borte with a quivering lip.

“What were you supposed to do?” Chagatai dismissed her apology, “It’s not every day you get charged by a tree-eater.”

“Nor is it every day you fight one,” Altansarnai pinched her chin, standing off to the side as her eyes sized up her husband, “I don’t know if I’m more impressed, or pissed that you did it.”

“As if you wouldn’t?” Chagatai defended and Altansarnai shrugged. The man shook his head, “Right, let’s head back and rest -- we have a long hunt later today…” His eyes fell on the twins, “All of us.” Then fell to Khublai, “Well most of us.”

Khublai sobbed again and Borte soothed him. Temüjin grinned. “Yeah! I’ll have Ansong whip up something while we wait - her stalkplum stew is the finest there is!”

“Well I don’t know if her’s is,” Altansarnai checked a fingernail.

“Oh it is,” Chagatai nodded vigorously and Altansarnai scowled, the two sharing a playful glance. The eldest dreamer rubbed a bruised arm, “Well no point putting it off then, let’s go.”

Borte scooped her son into her arms and the group walked off, stomachs growling and bodies aching.

The young Fire Spiritus gently drifted along in the air, making its way from one Familial Tree to the other. It took its time investigating the Tree, circling around it until it finally landed on a small branch. It then began to flare up and envelop a part of the branch with its body, burning away as if to cut the branch away from the tree, and the branch began to fall to the ground. The little Fire Spiritus did its best to hold the branch in the air as it began to consume it, slowly absorbing it into its body and burning away at it while the ashes fell the ground. The branch was soon gone, and it did a twirl in the air, content at a good meal.

The Fire Spiritus shot up into the air, drifting once more through the air. It passed another Fire Spiritus, who had been tending to another tree. They gave each other a passing glance, but otherwise paid no attention to each other. Then, the first Fire Spiritus stopped and turned its head, noticing something grand. Trees much larger than the ones it been previously tending to / snacking on. It flew towards them, its feeling of curiosity overtake anything else it was feeling. It stared intently on a branch, even as it landed upon it. It knew that it wanted to consume the wood, to take in whatever it had and use it as its fuel source. Just as it was about to begin, though, a pair of clawed hands enveloped it and began to lift it up. It began to panic briefly, desperately searching for a way out, until the hands began to open up from above, and the Fire Spiritus was greeted with the sight of Arae.

“What are you doing here, little one?” Arae asked it, holding the little Fire Spiritus gently in her cupped hands. “Your job doesn’t extend all the way here. Go back now.” Arae then gently lifted her arms and thrusted the Spiritus back into the air, but it continued to stare at the tree it wanted to burn. Arae looked at where it was staring, and was hesitant on what she should do. The tree in question was, of course, her own Familial Tree, and definitely was not one to toy with lightly. Still, she didn’t have the will to just outright say no to the young Fire Spiritus. Sighing, Arae said, “Ok, fine, you can have one small piece, but after that, you need to leave, ok?” The Fire Spiritus didn’t respond; it didn’t possess enough intelligence to really understand exactly what Arae was saying, but it realized that it just needed to wait and it would receive.

Arae went over to her Familial Tree and cleanly snipped off a small stick with her claws. Giving the piece of wood to the Spiritus, Arae watched as it lifted to stick above itself and burned away. Soon after it was done, it remained still for a second, then flared up with a higher intensity than ever before. Its form rapidly grew from the palm-sized creature it once was to a more humanoid form. Tendrils became arms and legs, flames extended from the head as if to resemble flaming hair. The resulting figure had a rather feminine appearance, complete with a slender body and gentle appearance yet accompanied by an energetic demeanor.

As soon as the Fire Spiritus’ transformation ended, Arae felt something grow within her as well. Something… warm. Left uncontrolled, it seemed as if it would burn fiercely, but a small amount of guidance made it feel soft and gentle. Her instincts told her what had happened. She had gained a new field in her power. Its name… Hearth.

Before Arae could dwell any further on the matter, images and voices began to flash in her mind. The light and warmth of the fire behind her. The blurred smiling faces of people she could not recognize, yet felt so familiar. Their endless chatter and loud laughs. As more and more information filled her head, she began to realize what she was seeing. More accurately, what she was remembering. It was a memory of her former life. It was a happy time, during a meeting/party of the pantheon. There was food and drink aplenty, much of it cooked up by Arae herself, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it.

Arae involuntarily shed a tear, and then sighed as she shook her head to clear her mind, placing a hand over her eyes. It seemed like even though Arae wanted to leave the past behind, it had decided to catch up with her instead.

“You… pain… creator?”

With a wave of her hand, Arae began to say, “No, I’m just- what?” Surprised, Arae lifted her head up and found the flame creature with a tilted head, seemingly concerned for Arae. “Did you just… speak?”

“Speak… yes,” the flame creature said. “Your wood… the best. I… have more?”

“Not yet, little one,” Arae gently refused. She could see the flame creature’s disappointment, and gave an apologetic smile. “You can’t have too much at once. Next time you can have some, I promise.” This perked her back up, and she gave Arae a hug around her neck. Arae could not help but notice that the flame creature’s body was not hot at all, but just warm enough to be comfortable, as if sitting next to a fireplace or hearth. It felt… surprisingly nice. After the flame creature removed herself from Arae, Arae said, “Little one, you are in need of a name. Maybe… Kris will do.”

“Kris…” Kris repeated, thinking about it. Her final response to Arae was another hug, and that was all Arae needed to know how happy the young Istal felt about her new name.

“Fuck off,” said Chopstick Eyes, waving her arms briefly around her head before wrapping them back around her skinny chest, shivering despite the weight of her bright green sukajan. The wintersprites didn’t let up, and they crowded closely around the shimmery fabric, fighting for space on her bomber hat and perching in neat rows on her chopstick eyes.

“FUCK OFF!” she yelled, waving more arms. The sprites dispersed, momentarily, frightened of being torn by the vigorous motion, but a few brave souls came back, borne on the winds of love.

Chopstick really regretted building that hundred-yard-tall blueice sculpture of herself.

The sprites had their own sculptures to attend to, though, and in time their numbers diminished enough that they were less of a problem. It was in this relatively unbothered state that Chopstick started to notice the unicellular plants that dusted the surface of the ice in a fine rain, and the sculptures of ice that the buoyant winter-spirits would never have naturally found a model for, being rather unable to submerge.

Levitating plankton, sculptures of narwhals. Chopstick was more than willing to accept that she wasn’t the spiciest mi goreng in the supermarket, but she had a good idea she knew what was up. It wasn’t long before a flotilla of flying squid passed close enough to prove her right.

Chopstick Eyes was riding her very own levitating orca by the end of the hour.

It was Azura’s work, for certain, and Ashalla’s. They must have collaborated hard on such a sea. Chopstick let the orca take her where it would, playing with one of the last remaining winter-spirits. It was curious, given the connection, that the sprites and the algae were driven by entirely different modes of photosynthesis. Chopstick dusted the spirit with patterns in green, gold and red plankton, then set it off back to the ice. Perhaps the coloured lineage would stick around and make some use of the symbiosis; perhaps its newfound requirement for trace salts would be its end. She didn’t know.

She was just taking her mind off the fact that Li’Kalla was nowhere to be found.

The blue, fresh waters she had smelled from miles away were here, dark dots marking the melt ponds where the ice was warmest. But no rain. The water here was just an emergent phenomenon, void of intent. Later she would have to voyage south again.

Until then, she could at least examine the source of that endless, lilting melody waving down from above.

She flew on.

---

The rain belted, sliding off broad leaves and strengthening the roots upon which Chopstick stood. Her saw rasped back and forwards, the noise deadened by the sound of the endless tropical streams flowing down off her hair in hot rivers. She’d given up on clothes a while ago; fashion was one thing, but even raincoats were just extra weight. Bangles and jewellery would do her just fine.

Never again.

She’d made a mistake; she’d lapsed and been burned for it. The wood was piled up in huge stacks and she carted it off to the build site by hand. No, nothing good had come of it. She’d find some other way to ameliorate her bad reflexes. Sleep wasn’t the answer.

She began to nail the planks together, the ring of her hammer the only sound penetrating the rain. Liv huddled up beside a forest-lantern in a small shelter, moodily looking on. Memories of the Bazaar’s construction were vivid, though working in the Galbarian elements was far more difficult. She had gloves to help her, this time, but she used none of them. Alone. She would do this alone.

The longer she worked, the longer she had to think about what she could do next. And it held back the memories of the night she’d woken up.

Bang, bang bang, went the hammer. She’d cleared an enormous space for this project, and already it felt far too small.

A tap on the shoulder.

“What?”

The glove pointed. A visitor. Chopstick reluctantly put down her hammer. Liv crooned.

Strangers coming o’er the strait.
A new thing for this bird.
Come now, goddess. We’ll be late.
Your call has been answered.

Well, time for lunch, she thought, flexing her wiry shoulders. She stroked Liv’s head and took her on shoulder. Wonder who it is?

---

She awoke with a yawn, a long stretch following before opening her eyes. The sunlight beamed in through the window, causing her to squint as she adjusted to the light. There came the sounds of birds chirping, and fragment aromas of lilac and honey wafted through the room. Slowly she sat up, opening her eyes wider to see… An unfamiliar room. The walls were too dark, as was the furniture, she tilted her head to look down at the sheets. But upon the furs, she saw something even more perplexing. Her hand was black. Pitch black, with small pinpricks of light, like freckles. She gasped, and looked at her other hand, and it looked much the same. She flung back the covers, and found herself wearing a white dress she did not own, and beneath it, her skin was black with twinkling freckles.

Her breathing quickened, as she moved her inky black legs to the side of the bed. She stood up, far too tall then she knew herself to be and quickly walked over to the tall, standing mirror in the corner. What she saw looking back at her was alien. She recoiled, and fell backwards with a thump as she stared at the glowing white eyes looking back at her. She blinked, rubbing her eyes as she did but nothing changed. Her amber eyes were gone. Gingerly she touched her face, felt her lips, nose and cheeks. Then she ran a hand through her long mane of black hair, streaked with dark reds, and mahogany, and much like her skin, it twinkled with small pinpricks of light… Not unlike the stars.

“O-O-Orvus!” she called out, her voice much the same as it had been, to her relief. With shaky legs, she supported herself with the bed frame and stood up, slowly taking in her form in a new light. She undid her dress and let it fall to the ground as she stared at her twinkling body. She looked like a night sky and she did not know what to think.

Then there came a knock at the door, and it swung open quickly, to reveal a woman that had the same eyes as her. She was very tall, her hair purple hues and dotted with stars. Her lips turned into a smile and it was then Rowan realized how modest she was. She screamed, covering herself with her hands as the other woman recoiled.

"S-Shut the door!" She yelled and the woman did just that, followed by a muffled "Sorry!"

It took her but a quick second to get the dress back on and then she walked over to the door, glancing at the mirror one last time. Hesitantly she let her hand touch the cool knob and turned the handle. The door opened with a creak and she peered through the slightly opened crack to stare up at the woman from before.

"Hello Rowan, glad to see you finally awake!" she said sweetly, clasping her hands together.

Rowan frowned, she was completely bewildered by how she looked, it was just so strange. She was also surprised that it wasn’t freaking her out in anyway. She felt as if she should scream in fear, but that was not the case at all. If anything, it felt like she was dreaming.

“W-Who are you?” she said in a shaky voice, her hands tightly gripping the door.

”Oh, my name is Laurien.” the woman said, bowing slightly.

”Laurien…” she murmured aloud. It was an odd name, for an even stranger person, but Rowan quickly shoved those thoughts away. ”What’s going on? Where am I? Where’s Orvus and Ava and Lily?” she said quickly, her voice full of motherly concern.

Laurien cocked her head to the side, and gave her a soft smile. ”Relax, take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. You are in a safe place. Orvus had to leave to the… Uh… He had to go somewhere, but he should be back soon. As for Ava and Lily, they are outside, playing with my sister. They are quite safe, and have been dying to see you.” she said gingerly.

Rowan’s frown relaxed at the mention of her family, but she still had lingering questions. Slowly she opened the door more and eyed Laurien up and down. She wore a light dress, yellow in color that went down to her thighs. The woman was… Very developed and quickly did she make eye contact with her. ”I mean no offense when I say this, but why do you… Why do we look like… This? I’m so confused, and I feel as if I should be panicking or afraid, but all I feel is a mild annoyance that I don’t know why I’ve suddenly changed.” she said afraid.

”I think it would be better if Orvus explained it to you. Just know that what your feeling, or the lack of what you are feeling, is natural in this case. You, Ava and Lily are very special. Something like this has never really been done before.” she paused, slightly frowning. ”I’m sorry, It’s hard to explain, but, come on, Let me show you around. I promise, nothing here will hurt you whatsoever. I know this might come as a slight shock, but this is your new home after all.”

Rowan stood silently, thinking about what exactly her husband was going to tell her to make the strangeness go away. She let out a sigh through her nose, and put her hands through her hair before putting on a fake smile for Laurien.

”My new house huh? Sure, sure. I’d love a tour, I guess. Um, first, I’d like to see my kids. Are they… Are they like us too?” she asked, opening the door fully.

Laurien nodded. ”They are. Both have taken to the change very well. Come on I’ll take you to them.” She said, beginning to walk down the hall. Rowan watched her go, then gently put a foot outside the room and began to walk after her. The tall walls were a dark stained wood, and they reminded her of her old hair. The smell was rich, and pleasant and the day was quite warm, humid even. Laurien glanced back at Rowan and smirked. ”It's not the first house he's built here, but I think you’ll find that this one fits.” They then walked down a long, open staircase with bare walls. Rowan’s eyes went wide as she looked out at the spacious room below. It held all the comforts that she was familiar with, and more it seemed, hidden in every nook and corner. The centerpiece of the room was a fire pit along the entire back wall, made of brick and mortar. Suspended above it was a giant, black sword. Once they reached the bottom, Rowan stopped and took it all in on level ground.

”Rowan?” came Laurien’s voice. Rowan blinked and then looked over at the tall woman. She was standing in front of three large windows. ”Come see.” she said, waving a hand over. Rowan answered her summons, and walked to stand in front of the middle window. Outside, there were three figures laying down in the tall grass, watching the clouds roll over. The middle figure, a woman of glowing white wearing a blue dress, as she pointed up at the sky. Next to her on either side, were two smaller figures of deep purple. Mixed with swirls of lighter purples, and pinks. Their hair looked almost identical to their skin, save that it glowed intensely. Her daughter to the right of Arya was dotted with stars, but her daughter to the left, had none. Just like Laurien.

Laurien’s voice then broke her intense stare and she blinked. ”Her name is Arya. Ava and Lily have taken a liking to her. She’s always been good with children, I think she enjoys their curiosity, or they remind her of herself. The funny thing is, she’s older than all of us combined.” Laurien lulled softly.

Rowan looked at Laurien with a raised eyebrow, but she said nothing more. Her attention fell back to the trio. She could hear her daughters giggling and she couldn’t help but smile at the sound. She could tell them apart just by the sound. Lily, who was on the right, always giggled the most and for the longest. Ava, who was on the left, was more reserved with her laughter, but when she did open up, it was always genuine and pure. Rowan quickly swiveled her body, then jogged to the front door. Her long gown rustling in the breeze as she bounded across the patio and down the steps. To the side of the house she went, and when she turned the corner she stopped and shouted happily, ”Ava! Lily!”

In an instant two small heads shot up, followed by Arya’s own. Ava and Lily then squealed with delight, as they rocketed to their feet and in her direction. Rowan barely had time to bend over before they tackled her onto the ground in a heap of hugs and kisses.

“Oh momma! You’re finally awake!” came Lily’s excited voice as she nuzzled her head into Rowan’s right shoulder.

“I was so worried mom! I didn’t think you’d wake up!” Ava said, her voice emotional and on the verge of tears as she hung onto Rowan’s torso with a solid grip.

Rowan couldn't help but smile at the display of affection. It felt good to be hugged and even better that they didn't not seem to care how she looked and neither did Rowan. They were her daughters after all. And as the girls kept talking, beginning to argue over who missed her more she suddenly went, ”Shhhh. Shhh my darlings. I’m here now.” Rowan murmured as she caressed their faces. ”There's no need to argue.” she said with a laugh. She then sat up and held them both in her arms and lap as they sat. Her eyes fell upon Arya, to see her approaching with a beaming smile.

"I'm so glad to see that you've finally woken up, Rowan! I've been dying to meet you, but don't worry, Ava and Lily have kept me plenty company as we've waited. They're such beauties." she said, her voice pleasant and soft.

Rowan nodded at her as she gave her girls a squeeze. ”Thank you, Arya. It’s very nice to meet you too.” she said with a kind smile. Arya opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the girls.

"Arya says she's going to take us flying mom!" Lily shouted, squirming with joy.

"Yeah! Like the colorful birds." Ava followed, trying to whistle like the parrots did as she twirled her hair with a finger.

”My oh my. Flying?” she said looking at Arya with skepticism. What did she even mean by that? People didn’t fly.

”Soon girls, soon. I just need permission from your parents, especially your mother.” Arya said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Please please please mom!” The twins said at the same time, jumping up from her lap to stand before her, hands folded in want. Their eyes were big, and hard to resist, but how could she even tell them that people didn’t fly? Why had Arya put such a notion in their head. A shadow then briefly fell across the sun, and she looked up to see Laurien floating down. Her jaw fell open at the sight, as her girls began to ‘whoop’ with delight.

”Wha… How?” she said dumbfounded as Laurien landed with a childish smile plastered on her face.

”I’ve always been able to, since the first day of my creation.” she said proudly, crossing her arms. ”Arya can fly as well, and one day, you three will be able to as well.”

Both the twins then began to jump around Laurien, asking how and when, but the tall woman just laughed. She was bewildered to say the least, but Arya extended a hand and she took it. She stood up, slightly taller than Arya, and said, ”Well… Is it safe?”

”Of course! We are both excellent fliers when it comes to passengers. I’ve had my fair share of them.” Arya mused as they watched the girls try to bring down Laurien by grabbing onto her legs. As Laurien feigned falling over, Lily began to shout victoriously and Ava asked Laurien if she was okay. Temporarily forgetting her worries, Rowan began to laugh, covering her mouth as she did.

As she tried to compose herself, She turned back to Arya and said, ”Well, alright. As long as they’re safe.” Arya nodded, then smiling she turned to the girls and began to walk over saying, ”Oh girls…!” Followed by excited shouting and ‘thank-yous’. It was strange, she barely even knew Arya and Laurien, yet she felt completely at home with their presence and not a bad feeling was in sight. She let out a small, happy sigh as she watched them all.

”Rowan?” came a familiar voice, from behind her. She perked up, and turned around to see… She blinked. The voice of her husband came from a figure she had never seen before, standing next to the corner of the house. She brought a hand to her mouth as she gasped. Though his body was much the same as hers, he looked drastically different than the girls. He began to walk forward, his eyes in a smile, for he had no visible lips. But about halfway to her, he stopped, probably noting the look upon her face. He shied his head away, as if embarrassed or ashamed.

From behind her, Lily’s voice broke the awkwardness. “Daddy’s home!” she exclaimed, running past her mother. Orvus looked to Lily, and his eyes sparkled as he bent down with open arms.

Ava quickly followed in her sister’s footsteps saying, “Dad, dad! We’re going flying with Arya and Laurien!” And he embraced their daughters just as he always had, and Rowan lowered her hand, as her heart fluttered.

”Is that so?” he said, patting their heads as he stood up, ”Now, I hope you girls behave for the two of them. And Lily, remember to not squirm. Go on then, I’m sure Arya and Laurien would love to tae you. Now perhaps?” he said, the words conveying a different meaning.

”Of course! Now will work, come on Lily, you’re mine!” she said, jumping into flight. She then quickly snatched up Lily, who began to scream again with delight.

”And that means, Ava is mine.” Laurien said, placing a hand upon Rowan’s shoulder. She gave her a wink, before letting go. In a couple of strides she stood before Ava, who looked nervous.

“W-Will you go slow?” she asked quietly, looking down at the ground as she kicked the dirt.

Laurien bent down onto her knees and with a free hand she lifted Ava’s chin up. ”Of course Chickadee. I’ll go as fast or as slow as you want. Now come on, we can’t have Lily and Arya have all the fun, now can we?” Ava nodded fiercely, and in one motion, Laurien grabbed her around the waist and they began to float up, slowly. Ava began to giggle, and Rowan watched them disappear over the horizon.

Slowly she let her gaze fall upon her husband, who looked at her with sorrowful eyes. She took a deep breath, then began to walk towards him. He blinked and began talking. ”I know this must all be a shock to you and why wouldn’t it? Waking up in a strange home, full of strange faces, none of which you remember.” she was halfway to him now. ”I didn’t know how you would react, to… All of this. Well I hope? I wanted to be here, but I was called away by one of my… Siblings.” she raised an eyebrow, but continued walking. Closer now. ”You probably have so many questions, so much confusion and for that I am sor-” she placed a hand upon his face, and he shivered at her touch, briefly closing his eyes as she sighed. He placed a hand over her own and said, ”Please say something.”

She opened her mouth and gave a small smile. ”What happened to your face?”

---

An eruption of water spouted from the Pantheon’s lake, spraying drops of water everywhere in the nearby area. “My lady! Lady Arae! This is urgent!” Serenis yelled out atop Kree, desperately looking around for Arae. Spotting her sitting at the base of her tree in her human form, Serenis had Kree land nearby and quickly dismounted, kneeling down towards her. “ Lady Arae, Goddess Azura has-“ Serenis was about to report before Arae interrupted. “Spread a message across Galbar about the ultimate fate of souls and using ‘soul crystals’ to escape their fate?”

Serenis was shocked that Arae had already known. “H-how did you-”

“You are my Avatar, Serenis,” Arae answered. “You have been my eyes and ears during your time in Galbar, so I learned this the same time you did. Honestly, this message of theirs does explain a great deal. Azura has gathered a rather negative reputation among many of my siblings, yet shares a rather close one with Asceal. It’s possible Asceal already knew of this beforehand, perhaps even aided in it, but that’s not important.”

“I have also noticed many crystalline Familial Trees among the various groves. They don’t grow very well, many just breaking off pieces of themselves as they grew. The Fire Spiritii don’t take kindly to them either,” Arae remarked.

“The what?” Serenis asked. Shrills and squeaks could be heard from above, and the two looked up to see Kris and Kree looping around each other in the air, clearly having a ton of fun. “My Lady, who… or what is that?” Serenis asked. “That is a new caretaker, Serenis. Her name is Kris, and she’s an Istal. You two should have a chat later. Right now, though, we have a bigger issue to attend to, remember?”

“Uh, yes, of course,” Serenis stammered out. “But… what should we do about this?”

“You will stay here in Spekatha, Serenis. I will have a chat with some of my siblings. It seems I am long overdue a meeting with them,” Arae said, taking on a solemn tone of voice.

“Bu-but my Lady, I-” Serenis was interrupted when Arae put a hand on her shoulder. “You are needed here in Spekatha, Serenis. Someone needs to look over the trees, and this is a good opportunity for you to be acquainted with Kris and the Fire Spiritii.” Serenis could tell that this was not the main reason Arae wanted her to stay in Spekatha, but she couldn’t find a reason to argue back. “Yes, my Lady,” Serenis said. Arae instantly transformed into her dragon form, launching herself into the air and nosediving into the Pantheon lake, spraying more water around the surrounding area as she traveled through the Gateway. Serenis stared at the lake for a few seconds, and then turned to watch Kree and Kris still playing with each other in the branches of Arae’s tree. It seemed like there would be things to keep her busy after all.

---

It had been fifty-seven years since his encounter with Shengshi and the Angels on Dragon's Foot.

Kalmar stood on the beach of his island in the Hunting Grounds, a wooden pole in his hands, his finger resting on a strange mechanism. From that mechanism came a string, running along the length of the pole before dangling with a hook at the end. A worm had been tied to that hook, still alive. Kalmar looked upon it was an expression of mild sympathy, before swinging the pole back and casting it forward. The mechanism spun as the hook flew, landing far out into the lake with a distant plop!

Now, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

There was a sudden tug, and Kalmar quickly began reeling the line in. The fish fought and struggled the best it could, but there was no escape, and it was dragged closer and closer to shore, until finally it was out of the water and dangling before Kalmar's eyes. The God pulled the fish from the hook and inspected. It was rather large, with blue scales, and it wiggled desperately in his hands. "Interesting..." he said aloud.

He threw the creature back into the water.

It was an... unusual method, to say the least. There was no strength required, no cunning, no intellect. Just patience and vigilance. It was an idea that had occurred to him in the time since he returned to his sphere, fifty-seven years ago. There were only so many ways to hunt creatures before one got bored and had to experiment. Satisfied that this was a success, he returned and began the walk home.

All in all, the time had been uneventful. He had returned to his sphere to rest and think, leaving Vendral behind to guard Kalgrun's northwestern corner. Only occasionally would he venture out, for one reason or another. He had trusted that his avatar, his allies, and his guardians would keep him up to date on anything he needed to know, and nothing of note had occurred. Some new creatures had begun to arrive on his land, coming through the gateway. Trolls, griffins, direwolves, as well as some strange winged creatures made of ice and snow. They had all immediately dispersed into lands that they preferred. Meanwhile, some of the animals from Kalmar's sphere had already found their way out, and it would be interesting to see what effect they had on Kalgrun itself.

After much walking, he finally arrived back at his house, and opened the door. He rested the fishing pole against the wall, and looked to the left, at three shelves he had carved by hand. On that shelf were wooden figures, of the various gods, individuals, and beasts he had met. They had all been carved by his own hand - a skill he had ample time to naturally perfect.

The top shelves had the gods. Phystene, Parvus, Ashalla, Asceal, Melantha, Chopstick Eyes, even Narzhak and Shengshi. His gaze hovered over Melantha's carving, and he felt a certain sense of longing. She had not contacted him in all those years, and he couldn't help but worry as to why. But he did not seek her out. He had told her to take as long as he needed, and attempting to force a decision would only serve to kill his chances.

The lower shelf consisted of exceptional beasts. Fenris, Vendral, Gorm, Shynir, the Slippery Soul Serpent, and even the creature that had attacked Fenris.

The middle shelf was of the exceptional individuals he had met. Arryn, Arya, Hermes, Xiaoli, Makab, Eline, Akam, Liana, Karamir. Arryn had kept him up to date with information - some of the news was good, while some was bad - but he had not seen any of them in decades. He wondered what became of them - Karamir in particular. Years had passed and not once had Karamir reached out to him. It was clear now that Kalmar would need to be the one to take initiative, and he would need to do so soon.

There was also the news Arryn gave him. Of Azura and Asceal's shortsighted scheme to 'rescue' souls that were already dead, in the hope of finding a solution that might not exist. Could he even trust Azura's intentions? That was not something he was willing to gamble on. Still, he would need to find more information before acting rashly - he had already seen the damage wrought by Sartravius's armies, and knew the senseless cost of war. He already had a rough idea of the souls were being held, if the Alma's flight patterns were anything to go by, so it would not be hard to investigate the source.

Yet the troubles didn't stop there. Arryn had reported another incident. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of Selka woke up screaming, reeling from various horrors they had seen in their dreams. Kalmar had dreamt once before, and it had been a pleasant experience, so he had to wonder what caused the change.

He sighed as he set himself down on a wooden chair, padded with furs. He had been gone from Galbar long enough, he knew. The isolation had given him time to contemplate, to readjust his stance and his priorities, but he knew it could not have lasted. There was so much to do, and he needed to get started.

Suddenly, he tensed. Someone was trying to enter his sphere...

---

Arae had never been within another god’s sphere before, not counting the times she slept and entered the Palace of Dreams. Before, she hadn’t been sure what to expect from Kalmar’s, but its first impression was a lot more mundane than she had anticipated. Other than the fact that the land she found herself in was a ring atop mountains, the ring itself housed a rather mundane, but also comfortable, forest.

Still, this was not the time for aimless sightseeing. She had come to meet Kalmar, God of the Hunt, and her journey led her here. She knew this meeting had been long overdue, and hoped to gain some more information about their siblings’ wellbeings and activities. Arae soon found Kalmar’s trail leading to a small wooden house, and Arae was quick to descend towards it, transforming into her human shape as she landed. Raising her hand, she proceeded to knock on the door three times with her middle and index knuckles.

”There you are,” Kalmar’s voice spoke up behind her.

Arae quickly spun around to face Kalmar, her back against the door, her expression one of shock before sighing as she soon calmed down. “Hello, Kalmar. I am Arae, the Goddess of Family. Honestly, I had been hoping to meet you sooner, but many things had come up, and… well…” Arae began to trail off. Kalmar studied her with a subtle impatience, but said nothing.

Clearing her throat, Arae quickly gathered her thoughts and continued, “I wish to talk about our siblings, what they have done and such. In particular, Azura, Vakk, and Orvus. I hope you can spare me some time.”

Kalmar nodded grimly. ”Of course. Let’s go inside,” he said, gesturing for her to move away from the door.

Arae complied, and followed Kalmar inside the house. She soon found a chair and sat down on it, then proceeded to ask, “I assume you already know about Azura’s plan involving ‘soul crystals’ as an alternative to Katharsos’ cycle of rebirth?”

Kalmar sat down on a chair across from her. He waved a hand, and the fireplace was set alight. ”I do,” he said, ”and they aren’t an alternative,” he added quickly. ”They don’t replace the cycle, they only stop it.”

Arae locked her fingers together nervously, already unsettled by what the soul crystals seemed to be doing. “I fear for the souls inside of them. They don’t grow while they’re inside those crystals. They don’t die, either. If they have any sort of awareness left within them, then I fear for their minds as well. No being should have to go through the feeling of losing their mind, losing their sense of self,” Arae said apprehensively. “Many of our siblings don’t seem to take very kindly to the idea, either, though Asceal might be supportive of it.”

Kalmar nodded. ”I know she is. She tried to turn me against Katharsos once, and it was she who went with Azura to help steal and crystalize all the souls,” he sighed. ”I never met Azura, so I don’t know if she can be trusted. There is power in souls, and having that many lie dormant in one area under the protection of only one or two gods seems a bad idea. She may have a purpose in mind other than what she says, but even if her intentions are good, some other less noble god might be able to seize the souls for themselves. And even if her word is true and nobody stops her… what if she can’t develop her alternative? There is only a finite amount of soul ash. Once we run out, no new souls can be created, and all life will end,” he shook his head grimly.

Arae shivered at the thought of using souls for power. The idea was terrifyingly repulsive to her, and she couldn’t imagine that kind of freedom being robbed away. The other problem they faced, all life ending, was just as bad. All the work everyone had put into creating Galbar, being wasted.

Arae shook her head, trying to purge her mind of such depressing thoughts. It would do no good to ponder the worst case scenarios; solutions had to be created. “Something must be done,” Arae finally said. “These soul crystals should not- no, cannot continue to exist.”

Kalmar read her expression, and seemed relieved that she shared his concerns. ”I agree. And I think I know where Azura might be keeping them. If you want, we can go there together and try to find more information. Maybe even take action, if we can.”

“You do?” Arae asked incredulously. “Hmm… action should be taken, but I’d rather it not involve violence. Perhaps if we convince more of our siblings to join our cause and confront Azura and Asceal, we could get them to see our point of view and convince them to give up their endeavors.”

Kalmar shrugged. ”It wasn’t hard to find out the location. I had my avatar and my guardians watch the Alma closely. Every time they take a soul, they always head in roughly the same direction, no matter where in Galbar they are.” the Hunter shook his head. “And no, I wasn’t thinking of violence. I don’t want another war. We could go there right now and try to find more information. If Azura isn’t there, we can try to return the souls to the Pyres. If she is there, we try to reason with her. If either course fails, then we can bring in the other gods.”

Arae nodded. The sooner this issue was resolved, the better. Arae just hoped that Azura and Asceal were willing to hear them out. “Before we act, however,” Arae began. “I still need to ask a couple more things. One: what happened to Vakk? It was simple enough to tell that he was making quite a few enemies among our siblings, but to be reduced to a state of near-death by Shengshi, K’nell, and Eurysthenes? What in Galbar did he do?”

The question gave Kalmar pause. ”Wait… near death?” he asked, with raised eyebrows. ”Shengshi told me he was dead. Permanently.”

“He was certainly close to death, but definitely not dead,” Arae reported. “From what I can tell, he seems to be recovering, too, but that’s about all I can tell. So what exactly happened that led to this?”

Kalmar frowned. ”Most of what I know is only what I heard. Vakk attacked Li’Kalla, and somehow turned her into some sort of monster. K’nell found out, somehow, and sent messengers throughout Galbar to let everyone know. My Avatar heard from one of them, and passed the information on to me,” the Hunter explained.

”Meanwhile, Vakk believed that one of K’nell’s creations, Hermes, stole something from him. He sent a beast to capture her, but while it was following her trail one of my own beasts drove it off. Later, Shengshi told me that Vakk tried to personally kill Hermes, so the three gods killed him instead. Either Shengshi lied to me, or they didn’t do a good enough job.”

Arae racked her memory, trying to remember what had happened after she found Vakk’s Familial Tree in that sorry state. Slowly, she began to recall. After a period of time, while it had been recovering, it had started becoming… not Vakk’s tree, yet it was at the same time, as if it were trying to become two different beings. Arae remembered not being able to make heads or tails out of it. At the same time, there was a slight change in Eurysthenes’ bond with Vakk’s. It seemed inconsequential at the time, but it was the only one that was different from all the others. “Maybe… Eurysthenes might know something,” Arae mumbled her thoughts out loud.

”Or K’nell,” Kalmar said, not knowing the true significance behind her words. ”But if Vakk is still alive, and everything I heard about him was true… he will need to be dealt with.”

Arae nodded, unsure of whether or not she should’ve clarified, but ultimately decided against it. She wanted to see for herself what Vakk was like, and having too many sides take action might lead to someone finishing the job on Vakk. Arae decided to change the subject, saying, “What about Orvus? He seems to be in a much happier state now than he was before, and if I recall, you seemed to have had a part in that. What did you do that caused this?”

Kalmar furrowed his brow. ”Did I cause it?” he asked, sounding confused. ”Orvus tried to kill Phystene, and then threatened to kill the rest of the gods and fray the world’s souls. I told him that if he didn’t change his course, I would kill him. That was long ago; I heard nothing of him since. Are you saying he listened?”

“Perhaps he did,” Arae said, smiling. At least there was some good news to share. “I think he’s grown quite a bit. His relationships with many of our siblings are quite healthy, or at least not as bad as they were before, and he even has two daughters. I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

”And how do you know all of this?” Kalmar questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Arae tensed up, stunned by Kalmar’s sudden question. “Umm… that’s a… a bit of a personal question, there…” Arae said hesitantly, before sighing and continuing, “...I suppose I have to tell someone eventually, and you seem trustworthy enough to share it with.”

Arae stood up from her chair and began to pace back and forth, explaining, “This is the power of my Sphere. It watches and maintains all familial relationships in Galbar… no, maybe even in other spheres too. The moment a strong familial relationship is formed, or if a child is born, things like that, my Sphere records them as trees and lakes. I use them to read everyone’s emotional and physical states, and their relationships with everyone else.”

Kalmar frowned, and took a few moments to digest this information. ”My sphere tells creatures when they need to eat,” he said, rather flatly, before leaning forward. ”How much do you know about me, then?”

“Mostly that you are well respected by many of our siblings,” Arae said. “It’s why I chose to meet up with you first before anyone else. Well respected, but not exactly well liked. I thought this to be that you were the most rational of our siblings, and wouldn’t be afraid to give out even unpopular opinions if it provided the most benefit.”

”That is how I view myself,” Kalmar mused. ”It’s almost as if you knew exactly what I wanted to hear.” His frown deepened, and then he sighed. ”You don’t seem to have abused this power, at least. Just be careful about what you reveal to others.”

“I would never abuse power,” Arae promised. “Power is something to be managed, not misused.”

”Good,” Kalmar nodded. ”So Vakk, Orvus, and Azura. Was there anything else you needed to discuss?”

“No, I think that was it. Thank you for your time, Kalmar,” Arae answered, bowing.

Kalmar rose to his feet. ”We’re leaving now, then?” he asked.

“Unless you have something you wish to add,” Arae answered.

He shook his head. ”I don’t. Let’s go.”

---

---

Upon returning to Talemon Ikarus was faced with mortal life on Galbar. They were in a poor state and even as Ikarus witnessed the blessings of the divine upon them it was still unclear to their success. Since their meeting near the Giant's Bath Ikarus has stayed out of the way from the comings and goings of the others tending mostly to his own studies, if he was to remain he would need to prove his worth more than granting one blessing to one Mortal. For most of his days he sat isolated from the world deep in meditative thought allowing the Mana around him to flow as he felt himself become a central focal point of the natural Mana. He was not sure how long he had been sitting like this when a curiosity somehow broke his concentration. A mortal, a Pygmy as he heard Any call them, standing at his feet staring up at the Great Wyrm.

"Why do you stare mortal?"

"You are strange great spirit."

'An odd choice of words for one that you call "Great Spirit." ' mused Ikarus.

This one was different. It seemed not to necessarily bend to conformity of its life. While still beholden to Anu's reign and carries itself to his standards, there was a difference in his soul almost. Peering into what Mana held for this creature, Ikarus saw that this particular Pygmies Mana reserve was more than the others that he had witnessed in and around Talemon. He was neither exceptionally taller or stronger than his kin but his mind seemed sharper than the rest, as far as he could tell. His hands were thick from attending his duties and his fur seemed especially thick almost like an extra layer of minor protection.

"What is your name mortal? Has your King granted you a name?"

"This one is called M'Bani...Great Spirit"

This time a proper kowtow was given, almost as if it finally dawned on him that he was to still show respect to this newcomer as he was to his king. Something that Ikarus was not used to dealing with. 'Let us see what potential he has.'

"Alright M'Bani since you find me strange you shall work for me now. I have many things to do and I will require someone to serve these needs. Come, there is much to do."

Grabbing M'Bani and taking off towards the center of Talemon in view, and to the surprise of many. Placing the confused pygmy down Ikarus gathered a view of the area including Tal Eren sizing up the scale of what was around him. An idea had been dancing through his thoughts for a time and it was time to test the limits of what his imagination could do.

"M'Bani, you serve a mighty king, a being of mighty creation. There is, however, a limit to what he can deal with. Your king can only deal with matters directly within his view but the people as a whole will need protecting and for all his strength he won't be able to be everywhere simultaneously."

Channeling the Mana in the area and infusing it with his own personal supply Ikarus began creating a field of invisible force around the city. The pale blue energy formed around the perimeter of the city and slowly grew into a crested dome which peaked over the caster. As it grew M'Bani began to see the strangest sight, as the dome grew it appeared that whisping smoke moved through the barrier itself billowing and flowing. Taking shapes of hands and strange symbols that he had never seen as if the Great Spirit was imparting some deep and unknown thing. M'Bani was utterly moved by the sight. When he was finished Ikarus peered down at the gawking mortal as he searched for the words to convey his astonishment.

"G..Great Spirit….what..is this?"

"This is a barrier that should protect those unable to fight and secure the buildings that we have erected. These people are now my people, these buildings my buildings. I want to see them stand for eons to come. Is this something that you feel like you wish for as well?"

"Yes Great Spirit!"

"Then we have much to do my apprentice. There are an infinite mysteries to solve and we have a people to protect. First go and tell the King what has happened here and what we have accomplished, next we need to see the extent of what this barrier can handle. Go now."

With the giddiness of a child M'Bani ran off towards Tal Eren to report the amazing things he had seen. This thing...this barrier, it should protect the people against simple threats but enemies have a way of growing stronger as soon as defenses are put up. The thought this barrier may eventually fail one day was already causing the Prime Magician a great deal of stress. They spent the rest of the day testing the limits of the barrier to see what it could withstand. While he was certain that the deities would be able to easily disintegrate such a small thing the mortals of this world should not be able to penetrate so easily. Back at his sectioned corner of Talemon Ikarus gazed at his creation and had to smirk even if it was internally, this was the first thing that Mana had produced that could produce tangible results and he couldn't help but be pleased with himself. This was going to require more research.

---

She stood upon the beach, watching the waves crash into the shore. The smell of sea salt was strong here, and the noise of the sea was oddly comforting. There was a slight breeze caressing her face, and blowing her hair back as she looked out into the far distance. Dark clouds were on the horizon, which meant a storm was brewing, but Rowan knew one had already landed. In her heart, and mind it raged on.

Not three days had passed since she and Orvus had spoken at length about everything. It came as a surprise when she found out the truth, the real truth behind it all. Her appearance, her emotions, her confusion, her children, Arya, Laurien and her husband, Orvus. He was a god, he… He created Arya and Laurien from but a thought and brought herself, Ava and Lily to life from a dream. A dream. She could hardly wrap her mind around it.

Galbar, the place she found herself in, was the material plane and her world was another reality entirely. She grew up there, she had friends and family there, and she met Orvus there. It felt real, and Orvus had assured her it was. Yet Rowan could not shake the feeling that something was missing. A part of herself, perhaps?

She was simply glad that Ava and Lily did not have to be burdened with such knowledge, not yet anyway. They lived in ignorant bliss, what more could a mother ask for her children? They were happy, and that was all that mattered. Arya and Laurien were no different. She was very fond of the both of them, and perhaps one day they would call her mother, but she knew that title belonged to two others. Regardless of that fact, Ava and Lily and began calling them sisters, and that warmed her heart when things felt so wrong.

Then there was this new appearance. Orvus had told her why the change had to take place, and that he was sorry he did not ask for permission. She wished he had. She did not have a problem with how she looked, she simply missed her old self, and her hair. And she missed her husband’s face. She found it fascinating that one could speak and be heard, without lips. But then again, he was a god after all, whatever that meant. That was the thing she could hardly believe most of all, that the man who was simply a farmer, had the power to create with a mere thought. She smirked, wondering what Hank would have to say about that.

But she found that coming to terms with what was truly real and only half real, was personally struggling. Maybe she was still in shock from such revelations, or maybe she did not know what to do with her new found life. But slowly, like the lapping of waves over and over again, she began to understand that it wasn’t so different. Like her world, the ocean still crashed into the sand. There were similarities. She could still be a mother, a wife and a friend. There was no changing that, it was her duty to look after her children, to protect them and watch them grow and learn. She could be a wife to her husband, and all that entitled, and she could be a friend to Arya and Laurien, for they were already practically family. It would take her awhile to really fit in, but she was confident she could.

”There you are.” Came Orvus’ voice. Rowan turned around to see her husband walking towards her, coming in the direction of the large house. He wore nothing still, much to her chastising. Even though he had no… Parts to show, one couldn’t help but try and not be modest to the world.

She gave a fake smile, ”Here I am.” she said enthusiastically.

Orvus tipped his head slightly, and hunched his shoulders as he walked to stand next to her. They both turned to face the approaching storm. ”You don’t have to pretend to smile, Rowan.” he said, turning to look at her. ”We both know you were never good at it. I can tell something upsets you, what is it?” he asked gently.

She sighed, and looked over at him, ”Pretending is all I can really do right now, after everything you’ve told me. I hardly know what to think, Orvus.” she said, leaning her head into his shoulder. Orvus then put a comforting hand around her waist. ”Something still feels like it’s missing. Like a part of me is out there somewhere. Are you sure you brought me over whole?” she mused, only to be met with a long silence from her husband.

”Orvus?” she said, moving her head back up to look at him. He did not look back at her, and his eyes expressed pain and her heart sunk. There was something else. ”What is it? Tell me.”

”I cannot. The answer to your question is… It will only bring you pain, Rowan.” he said sadly, finally looking into her eyes.

But she was adamant. ”No, you need to tell me, regardless. I beg you, please. Please. Maybe it can make me feel whole again.” she said, her voice breaking.

Orvus took both her hands in his own and sighed, ”For you to come to this world, to be brought to life. To live forever. I needed to… Make a sacrifice.” he said, his hands began to shake. ”I did not want to, believe me when I tell you this. I wanted everything to be as it was, but that could not be the deal. You… We... Are no longer capable of having any more children.”

Rowan began to rapidly blink, and she averted her gaze. She let go of his hands and held herself tightly. ”Ava and Lily too? They can never have their own children. We can never be grandparents?” she said, hurt.

”Yes. They will grow, but never be able to have children of their own. I am so, so sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid of what you would think of me.” he said, reaching out to her, but she pulled away. She looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness.

”The fact that you think I would think less of you, make me so angry. How could you even think that? Why wouldn’t you just tell me sooner? Did you really think I would hate you for such a decision? We have children already, I would have understood, but now…” she paused, her mouth slowly opening as she began to shake her head. ”There’s more isn’t there? You would have told me, instead of me asking, if that was all that I was missing. What else are you keeping from me, Orvus?”

”Rowan, please. You don’t want to know.” he said softly.

”You don’t get to make the decision!” she said angrily. ”Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like a part of yourself isn’t there? Tell me. Tell me right now.” she said sternly, crossing her arms.

”I do understand. I understand better than most.” he said angrily, before sighing. ”I had to take one of your memories away, and replace it, for your own sanity. I did not want to see you in so much grief because of my decision.” He took a deep breath. ”You… You were with child. Our baby, could not be brought over. So I decided that the baby… would be best-”

”Don’t say that word.” Rowan interjected, white tears falling down her face. ”Don’t you dare!” she said crying. ”How could you! How could you be so selfish? Did you think I wouldn’t find out! How dare you!” she said, covering her mouth as her world came crashing down. It all made sense now, the part of her missing, hadn’t been her after all, but their unborn child.

”Rowan I-” Orvus began.

”Go away.” she whispered, removing her hand. ”Leave me alone!” she shouted at him. Her husband blinked a tear, before he shot off into the sky, leaving her alone. She fell to her knees and gripped the sand before her as she wailed in grief.

---

It was later, on the cusp of the storm arriving did she a teary eyed Rowan hear footsteps coming from behind her. Soft steps, one that walked delicately. Still gripping her knees, she brought her head up to look who it was, hoping it was anyone but Orvus. And to her great surprise, Arya’s concerned, yet gentle face gave her a smile in return. Rowan turned her head back to the sea, her gaze unblinking as she kept thinking about that child of hers, and the life he or she could have had. Arya said nothing, but sat down next to her and watched the sea as well. The two stayed like that for a long time, as lightning flashed in the distance. The rumblings of thunder followed afterwards.

”Do you… Do you ever feel like you don’t belong? Like, your entire life wasn’t what it was supposed to be and yet-” Rowan began to say.

”And yet we live it all the same. The good and the bad, the ups and the downs.” Arya mused lightly, ”I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere, for the longest of times. I was always trying to find a home, somewhere I was wanted and loved. It took me a long time, and I met people along the way that I care for dearly, but it wasn’t until I met Xiaoli, and Hermes on Tendlepog did that I felt those things. They are my mothers and I have siblings, and nieces and nephews but I left… A part of me didn’t want to, but another part of me knew that the world was out there, waiting to be seen. A new life, one that I chose.” she paused thoughtfully, as Rowan turned her head to look at Arya. ”I know you didn’t have much of a choice coming here, or how you came here, Rowan. I know dreams better than most do, and even if that life you lived was beautiful, it will pale in comparison to this one. Dreams are just that, dreams. Are hopes and aspirations, what we desire, what we can’t live without. That was why my father dreamt of you, because deep down, he desired the same thing I wanted. He wanted to feel something, anything, he wanted to be loved. And you do that for him. His decision wasn’t easy, and for that, I am truly sorry for your loss Rowan. I’m not a mother, but I know what it’s like to lose those that we care for, that’d we’d do anything for.” she finished with sad eyes.

Rowan felt comforted by her words, they felt good to hear, and even better to know that another knew what she was going through. ”Who did you lose? If you don’t mind me asking.” she asked softly to her.

”My crew. I was on a ship for awhile, doing a quest for K’nell, Lord of sleep and dreams. Suffice to say, our mission failed and I was the only survivor. I miss them.” Arya said, wrapping her arms around her knees. Rowan’s heart grew sad at her tale, and she put an arm around Arya’s waist as she scooted closer. ”I’m sorry for your loss, Arya. I can’t even imagine…” she let her words die in her throat, and looked back out at the ocean.

”Thank you, Rowan.” Arya said, leaning into her shoulder. The small display of affection was welcoming and Rowan began to relax. ”I was angry at father for the longest time. Ages in fact. I thought he truly abandoned me, and that he did not care but as time went on I learned that the world wasn’t always as we saw it. There came a day when he finally told me why he let me go. It wasn’t because he hated me, or that he didn’t care, it was because he didn’t think he was good enough for me. But I forgave him for it, because deep down, he needed me. He’s done terrible things Rowan, most of which was before he had the dream about you, but now, I don’t even think he could willingly hurt anyone. Least not intentionally, he’s still working on it.” she said with a laugh. Rowan could not help but give a small smirk.

”Do I even want to know what he’s done?” she sighed.

”No, I’ll leave that to him… Just be patient. He’s come along way, but with any journey, we start somewhere. Usually as a different person by the time the journey ends. I like who he is now, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he’s had you, Ava and Lily.” Arya said.

”That’s… That’s good to hear, Arya. I just… I don’t even know what to say anymore. My husband is a god. I’m in an entirely different world. I have all my memories save the one I want most of all and I look and feel so different then what I was before. It’s just a lot to take in.” Rowan said after a moment of thought.

Arya pulled away and sat up, then took Rowan’s hands within her own. ”It’s okay. This is new to all of us, I don’t believe something like this has ever happened before. We can get through this, trust me. I will help you, and Laurien will help you, and we will help out with the children. It’s only been four days since you’ve been awake, after all. No one said you’d figure it all out in a day, dear. And you don’t have to. All that matters now, is that you go at your own pace. Okay?”

Rowan nodded, agreeing with Arya. A part of her felt like a young woman again, being giving the same motherly advice from her own mom. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. ”You’re good at this, you know and with children, but you are right. When… When do you think he’ll be back?”

”Orvus? Oh, I think he's flown off somewhere. He'll be back in time. But for now, let’s hurry up home before the storm comes in.” she said, helping Rowan stand up.

And they did.

---

The morning heliopolis cast its gold over the red fields of Tendlepog and a stirring wind leapt the grass into a waving dance. The sky was still painted pink from the dawn, and the clouds were saturated with that morning golden glow only the early and very late can enjoy -- and on the horizon peeks of a child’s blue began to bleed into the sky.

This scene hung openly above a flat rock amid the fields. It was an old stone, and on it sat a dreamer, one black panted leg over the other. A draping coat blossomed behind him, his eyes a striking silver, cornered by experienced wrinkles. His lips were a line, serious, and his alabaster hair was combed and long.

His fingers slid down the neck of a stringed instrument, causing a tiny squeak of friction. The hollow of the instrument, a wooden dome, sat in his lap, the neck sticking up past his left shoulder. Slowly the dreamers eyes closed and he sucked in a long silent breath through his lips -- exhaling it just as quietly through his nostrils. As the last puff of air escaped him, his finger plucked the first string over the hollow, announcing the music to come.

One string, two string, a quick strum, a new sound. He raised a single eyebrow as he strummed, eyes closed. The wind seemed to play alongside him, rustling the grass in such a way as to compliment the slow thoughtful plucks and suddenly bursts of sound. The vibrations resounded over the field, caressing the dreamer’s body in the melody. His fingers moved as if independent of each other, lifting and plucking in perfect rhythm. The clouds seemed to part, heliopolis itself attempting to listen.

Across the field, two dreamers stood -- one man and one son. Golden speckles adorned the face of the man as he watched on, his ears melting into the music. The musician seemed to pay them no mind, his hands as graceful as the song and just as the song hit its zenith -- an angelic voice called out but the musician’s lips remained sealed.

It swirled between the trio, dancing along with the sweetgrass as it sang -- “A wistful-simple thought...” The voice trailed with the sorrowful music, fingers strumming.

“...Crest o’ morning dew ‘mid a nest...”

“...Since birth it has been in your chest...”

“...Sorrow on the wind...”

“... a whisper from within...’

The voice called out, holding its notes in tandem with the increasing volume of the music. Slowly the music began to fade, only to suddenly belt -- the voice yelling out as a crystal chime raveled in the notes of the instrument.

“...Your wind is howling...”

“...The land is fouling...”

“...Thoughts of old...”

“...For the new, sold...”

The musician shook his head slowly with the rhyme of the strings, the voice pleading with the ears of all the dreamers.

“...A simple-wistful thought...”

“...Close your eyes as taught...”

“...Cancer of time flies...”

“...Old feelings will again rise...”

The strum of the instrument picked up and the voice howled with it, foregoing the chime of heaven and taking on the voice of the wind--

“...A simple fruit, a tiny seed -- in your chest since birth...”

“...A scary thought, a sad idea -- it waits for you...”

“...It blooms, a weeping flower -- it knows the truth...”

“...It knows that you don’t remember...”

“...Yet you still feel it...”

“...You were there before...”

“...And now you are here-after...”

“...Was your birth a death, is your death to be a birth...”

“...Who is to say, save a flower...”
“...A wistful-simple thought, lost in the puddle of reality...”

The instrument jerked and the music faded away. The gold speckled stared in awe, his eyes a runny pink, a tear stain on his cheek. His son looked up at him and the two took a tentative step closer to the musician.

“Who are you?”

The musician slowly opened his eyes and stood up. The silver eyes of the man were sheened with unfallen tears. The sight caught the others by surprise and then swallowed their breath. With a voice, as if strained from singing, the musician simply said.

“...Close your eyes with me and pray...”

His voice fell to almost a whisper as the dreamers did so, “Hear what the seed has to say.”

The wind blew.

The grass rustled.

The sun’s heat fell on their heads.

Two hearts suddenly thumped.

Heliopolis hung in the centre of the sky like a great pyre, but the miniscule heat it provided at this time of day did not dull the sharp knives on the frozen wind. Like only the most traditional of Wuhdige winters, there was little else in sight but ice and snow wherever one looked. Even some of the trees, which in all other parts of the year stood taller than three selka, were now completely buried underneath layers upon layers of white. The Wuhdige had grown accustomed to winter - no, that wasn’t the problem. Winter to a selka was just the time of year they had to huddle a little closer when they slept. If anything, it felt nice to fall asleep hugging your family.

No, the problem was the fragility of the ever-sprawling burrow diggings. A few years ago, it had not been a problem at all - sure, a few would be buried under the snow and there would be great efforts to dig them out again - especially if there still were Wuhdige inside.

However, now, demand was simply too great. Jotokan, Selenu and Duhwah lead both combined and divided efforts to aid those in need, prioritising saving Wuhdige trapped in caved-in burrows. This year was unlike any that had preceded it - more burrows than ever before had collapsed, leaving a staggering number of Wuhdige locked in prisons of snow until they either were saved or the fresh air ran out.

In the chaos, more and more Wuhdige flocked to the Home Cave, which already was beyond full and unable to house more. Jotokan would wake up every morning to the sound of shouts and outcry from angry tribesmen- and women outside the cave mouth, furious that the cave would not be shared. So it was that Jotokan went down to the beach at dawn and begun to pray. The Wuhdige pantheon was perhaps not the most extensive, consisting of primarily four deities, but he knew old Yop, God of the Sky and of Throwing Things Really, Really Hard, had a finger on this weather-induced pie plate, whatever a plate was.

“Ol’ Yop… This is, uh, Jotokan speaking. Listen, we’re having a really bad time right now. Houses are going poof and fluff every day and more and more Wuhdige ain’t got a home no more. Please, You Who Throws Things Really Hard, we know you throw snow, too - could you, uh, please just stop throwing snow for a little bit? Just so we can redig and rebuild?”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Jotokan wondered if he had been too impolite. Then, he saw a strange form on the horizon - a selka? No, no, it couldn’t be. It was much too big… And it glistened in the heliopolis?

The distant figure was walking across the ice sheet. It paused in its walk and seemed to look towards the coast. Then it turned and moved towards the coast; its movements seemed natural, but it was approaching at an astonishing pace. The blue-white figure had seemed small when standing on the horizon, but closer up its enormous scale was unmistakable. With a few more strides the figure had made it to the coast.

The figure was made of solid ice and stood about fifty selka tall. The figure was vaguely selka-like, in that it had the right configuration of limbs, with effeminate curves in the icy body. Despite the vast size, the ice sheet had no trouble supporting the figure. The figure bent over, bringing her face closer to Jotokan. Frozen eyes stared down at the selka, waiting.

The chieftain looked about as frozen as the figure in front of him, and more and more selka were gathering around or running away from the marvel. Duhwah and a few of the braver ones came running to the front of the crowd with club-like ice taps and bone-tipped spears, hollering and roaring. The champion threw Jotokan a spear and the chieftain broke out of his panicked stupor to rise up and grab it. He clutched the oak shaft hard in his furred hands and pointed the tip towards the massive figure.

“Is-... Is that you, Lugo?” he said carefully.

The figure stared down Jotokan a few moments longer. A chill ran down the selka’s spine and over his scalp, and a shiver ran down from his head to his toes. The icy figure’s eyes glanced briefly at the spears and clubs, then she straightened up.

“Is this how you greet a goddess?” roared a voice like an avalanche.

The selka nearly collectively dropped their weapons as the voice like nature’s wrath thundered across the beach. Standing there shivering more out of fright than freeze, only a select few voices dared whisper uncertainly to one another: “Goddess? I thought Lugo was a man.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is - is, uh, is this Alae, maybe?”

“No, no, no - Alae’s not icy - she’s… Uh…”

“It’s a super-lady!”

“Shush, you!”

Jotokan broke the mumbling silence and raised a pair of surrendering hands in the air. “We’re-... We’re sorry, tall one! We mistook you for a… Uhm… A not-goddess! Please, we ain’t meaning to be mean, we just wanna protect our families! Ain’t everyday we see a massive monst--goddess, ‘s all!”

There was a disgruntled huff from above, accompanied by a chill breeze. “Now that you are aware, I expect a proper greeting.”

The selka looked at one another. Gulps of anxiety bounced through the crowd. Then a hand was raised in the centre of the crowd, followed by a sweet, “hello!” Quickly, the others followed suit, and soon, the whole crowd were waving happily and greeting the ice giant as a friend.

“It appears you have much to learn,” said a voice like freezing water, “First, respect. I am a god and you are mere mortals, thus you should not greet me as an equal. An appropriate form of greeting towards someone who is your superior is to bow.”

The selka once more exchanged glances. Then slowly, they shuffled apart to give each other some more room before bowing in disunion, looking more like ocean waves on a stormy day. Jotokan bowed twice more to make certain he got it right. “Did we do it right?”

“It was adequate,” said a voice like crunching snow. She then looked inland. “You had a need,” she stated.

“O-oh, you heard that? S-so…” Jotokan eyed her up and down, then turned to Duhwah with a shrug, receiving one in return. “I guess Lugo is a woman after all, huh.”

“You fight against the snow and ice to make your homes. However, homes may be built from snow,” the goddess said. A massive arm gestured behind the group of selka, who turned to see that a dome of snow had appeared. There was a hole at the base of the dome large enough for a selka to crawl through, and the interior was large enough for a selka to stand in.

The selka jumped into each other’s arms, while some of the more curious cubs waddled inside for a looksie. One came out and said, “Is warm in there,” then put her hand in her mouth in a shy manner. The selka, yet again, exchanged glances.

“It is insulating. It is structurally sound if built properly. And it is within your capacity to build, if I teach you,” said the goddess.

Jotokan dug about in his vocabulary for adequate words while he bowed. “Th-thank you, great and powerful Lugo! It ain’t been easy this winter, so we are really thankful for your help!” He made a small frown. “Would you like anything as payment if you teach us how to make it? We got lotsa fish!”

“Lotsa fish, lotsa fish,” the crowd echoed happily.

“Offerings of fish are an appropriate expression of gratitude,” the goddess said. “However, there is another thing you can do. I seek beauty, and currently your homes are undecorated. I can show you a way to decorate your homes and produce beauty.”

“Beauty?” Duhwah inquired with a scratch of the head. “How’d we go about doing that?”

“Like drawing on the home cave walls?” Aloo suggested, backed up by a shrug from his little sister Kulee.

“Or making fish bone sculptures!” Julo proposed.

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Well, no, but it’d be fun to try!”

A small smile curled up the frozen lips of the goddess, and a light burble echoed from within. “What I will teach you shall help in that. Before that, I shall show you how to make the snow houses. First, you must find appropriate snow, a layer of hard-packed snow which ideally formed in a single snowfall…”

---

“Ugh, yuck! Not in the face!”

“But you look so pretty with it!”

Selenu drew a few more circles and lines of yellow across the young girl’s face, though her defiant movements made them a little squiggly. The paint was composed of fine clays and cave water, the sources of which had been revealed thanks to Lugo’s blessings almost a year ago. Since then, the walls of Home Cave had flourished with colour and joy, with stories and pictures. Each clan had made a symbol to represent and distinguish themselves, mostly because they thought logos looked pretty sweet and gave an even greater sense of identity beyond common names and relatives.

Kulee finally managed to wave her mother’s eager hands away. “Alright, alright! Can I go now, please?”

Selenu sighed. “Fine, but make sure you let the paint dry before you go playing in the snow!”

“Yes, mom!”

Kulee ran into the snowy outside - there, the whole tribe were going about their day with games, paintings, fishing or maintenance of the whole new kind of home - the igloo. Thanks to these domes of snow, the families of the Wuhdige no longer suffered great cave-ins in their burrows, although asphyxiation had been a problem before someone thought to put air holes in the top. Apparently, smoke wasn’t very good for the common selka.

The selka around the camp were all thoroughly painted in browns, reds and yellows. Kulee kept an excited jog down towards the beach, where Jotokan, Duhwah, Julo, and other patriarchs were gathering for the weekly offering. As had become the norm, all who sacrificed to Lugo painted onto themselves stripes and rings of the most precious paint on the island - lapis lazuli. According to the grown-ups, the champion Duhwah had to travel all the way to the southern tip to find this divine, blue rock, braving dangerous beasts and vengeful Elu raiders. Even then, the stone was apparently incredibly hard to find.

Jotokan lifted his arms into the air. Kulee hid behind a snowmound and did her best to peek over without exposing too much of her bright yellow face. The surrounding patriarchs all grabbed a fish and lifted it into the air. The chieftain spoke, “Oh, great and colourful Lugo! Once more, the Wuhdige present to you a weekly meal so that you may eat again!” The patriarchs all put down their fishes, dipped one hand each into the many surrounding bowls filled with brown pigment mixed with wolf fat. With the paint, they drew neat little drawings on the flanks of their fish of what they had done that week: Jotokan drew a rough approximation of a selka pointing at other selka building a mound-- no, wait, that’s an igloo; Duhwah drew himself lifting another one of himself - only the other self was flexing; Julo drew a selka looking out to the sea - or, well, a pear next to some squiggly lines with a fish underneath. Each patriarch then stood up and held the fishes up high once more.

“We once again really ‘preciate the nice and amazing gifts you have given us! We hope we’re making the kind of art you wanted!”

With that, all the fish were lobbed into a large hole in the ice, where they floated awkwardly for a moment before a few went over with sticks and pushed them underneath. The patriarchs nodded at each other, satisfied with another good sacrifice. They shook hands and all went about their business once more - except for Jotokan.

Kulee peeked over the mound once more. The adults had dispersed - but what she had seen had been awesome. Oh, she couldn’t wait to join in on the sacrifices one d--

“BOO!”

Kulee flew into the air like a thrown rock and landed on the other side of the mound. Where she had knelt stood Jotokan cackling wildly. The little girl gave her father a surly frown. “Paaa! That was mean!”

“What? Can’t take a little boo every now and then?” Jotokan teased. “You gotta be ready for anything if you wanna be a true Wuhdige.”

Kulee got to her feet and let out a “hmph”. “Pa, when can I join the offerings? I wanna draw drawings for Lugo, too!”

Jotokan’s smirk faded and he put his hands on his hips. “Only the family pas can make the offerings, so it’ll be your brother Aloo who does it when the Spirit Bird comes for me.”

Kulee frowned. “Why it gotta be like that?”

“Well, all life gotta pass on, you know, and--”

“No, I mean, why just the pas?” Kulee inquired.

Jotokan furrowed his brow. “W-well… That’s how it’s always been.”

“No, we started offering to Lugo less than a year ago, pa - why can’t we change it?”

Jotokan sighed and knelt down beside his daughter. “Look, Kulee - in Wuhdige tradition, the boy does all the heavy stuff, like lifting and offering, and the girl does all the not-heavy stuff, like foraging and baby-sitting. That’s how it’s been for a long time now - ever since gramgrampa Tokuan.”

Kulee seemed unsatisfied. “But why it gotta be like that? Ma’s really strong - she could probably lift rocks like you.”

Jotokan wrinkled his nose. “W-well, because, uhm-...”

“Why, pa?” Kulee repeated.

Jotokan sighed again and looked to the Home Cave. “Tell you what - I’ll think about it, how about that? You can’t just break tradition like that - gotta have a good reason.”

Kulee knew her father well enough to know that such a response meant the discussion was over. Quietly, she nodded and followed her father inside.

“Pa?” she asked as they entered the cave.

“Yes, Kulee?”

“Why is offering heavy work?”

Jotokan hummed. “You ask a lot of questions today, huh.”

---

The black wolf of Kalgrun prowled through the undergrowth as his hide warped and stretched underneath the strain of his muscular form propelling him forward. Roog had grown over the last few decades as he remained on Kalgrun, fostering the race of wolves that he had sired. For nearly eight decades now Roog had wandered across the entire face of Kalgrun, reincarnating the corpses of wolves he found while offering the mercy of a swift demise to those he found at the end of their lives, suffering alone and without purpose. It was a simple existence but one that Roog took to with humble grace; it was his purpose, the one he’d been created for, and his wanderings left him plenty of time to do as his other creator had bade.

It is my choice.

The Wargs had become numerous, though by no means outnumbering the other predators of Kalgrun, and had by then become stable enough to sustain their population through natural reproduction. Roog had, more than once, ruminated on the idea of his creations becoming completely independent of him in their organic imperative to survive and propagate their species. In fact, it seemed only the first three wargs he had forged had any major interest in him once they had been grown to proper, adult sizes. Most would remain with their creator until such time as a sizeable pack had been formed and then would simply leave, following an alpha into the dark depths of the great pines of Kalgrun.

This perpetual creation and loss had at first saddened Roog fiercely, providing to him an immediate perception that the pleasures of this world were, in the end, quite fleeting. But as Rahn, Lumi, and Dis remained at his side that sense of loss was quickly subsumed into a greater sense of purpose and fulfillment. Roog had decided, quite fairly so, that he had left his creators in much the same way and this was simply the order of things. By now Roog had postulated that his original creations remained with him out of a desire to keep their creators company having seen early on how losing his pack had affected him.

It was then unsurprising that once more Roog travelled with but himself and his three original creations. Just recently a new pack had dispersed into Kalgrun, this time near the frost covered mountains in the North, and Roog had allowed them to go with little fanfare. With that pack Roog had now released well over a thousand of his kind into the wilds over the last decade had begun to find others in his wandering unknown to him, born to parents that he had never known. Occasionally he even found the burnt out husks of a Warg, slain by some unknown offender or consumed from the inside out by the black flames that partially constituted their form. These ashen grave markers were a particular point of consideration for Roog as for the first time in his life he could empathize with the feelings of those left behind from his work. An unfortunate realization, to be sure.

“The hunt nears its terminus,” mused Roog, the lone speaker on Kalgrun Roog knew of beyond that of his itinerant fath- creator, Kalmar. He had become prone to moments of self-discussion as a tool to hone his mind and keep the fraying edges of animalism born of his lupine blood at bay. Though his children could not speak in the same sense they understood him well enough and were able to communicate in their own way in return. It wasn’t a perfect solution but it served Roog well enough.

As Roog entered the copse of trees where his spawn had followed their prey. By the sounds of liquid gushing onto rock, leaf, and grass and the metallic smell of hot blood it was made quite evident that they had been successful. As always the three wolves waited for him, watching his eyes and allowing him to take first pick of the carcass; Roog had never taken them up on the offer and likely never would. The creator of the great wolves did not need to eat nor did he have any interest to partake in that particular curiosity. He knew Kalmar would take part in that oddity of natural life, of course, as he had found the corpses of the few monstrous beasts he had slain well carved and with no waste of materials that could be used. To Roog the idea was notably grizzly and admittedly repulsive to his sapient mind. To the little howls in the back of his mind, however, the idea of blood and meat and cracked bone were supremely enticing. Perhaps it was that feeling that made the act so opposed by his thoughts in the first place, Roog had considered.

“I will not partake,” Roog spoke in his ethereal voice, deep and gravelly, “Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

Roog grimaced slightly as his three progeny dug into the carcass with pleased abandon, tearing meat with ease as blood and gristle sizzled off their faces. It was a grizzly display to watch and one Roog found he was no longer able to stomach. As he plodded away from the carcass and its pleased devourers an unmistakable scent caught his attention. It was a pungent reek of rotting gore that cloyingly stunk of the unmistakable horrors of malicious intentions; ghouls. During his travels across Kalgrun he had learned much of the creatures and had rapidly discovered a great deal of disdain for their misbegotten kind. It was clear to him that some divinity had acted upon their bodies to warp them so and had matched with equal fervor a corruption of their minds. They were bound for cruelty, even if they weren’t intelligent enough to realize it yet, and Roog had taken it upon himself to end their suffering and the suffering they would cause wherever he could as quickly as possible; the meal his spawn had so happily begun would have to wait.

Roog’s howl shook the very trees around him, wilting leaves and flattening grass as he trumpeted the battle cry of the end. With that he was loping across the fields and between the trees of his homeland, his brood braying their ascent to the hunt once more before going silent in their pursuit. Another scent caught Roog’s nostrils, fainter still but equally distinct; one he did not know. It smelled of troll but changed, with just as much divine meddling as that which the ghouls had suffered under. He would have to be cautious, he reasoned, for it seemed there was some other creature afoot worthy of his attentions.

---

Elsewhere...

The signs were obvious. A pack of slaughtered trolls, stripped nearly to the bone, killed in the most painful way possible; some likely still alive while consumed.

Gorm grunted at the sight. The two dozen or so trolls that had come to follow him stood nearby. All of his original pack members were now dead, and it was their descendants who travelled beside him. Over the years they had wrecked a terrific slaughter, trimming the ghoul population down greatly. Gorm didn’t much like the taste of ghoul, in truth; instead preferring the vitasaurs created by Phystene, which had been made to feed beasts of his size.

He could identify the tracks at a glance. The footprints, the broken branches, the bloodstains… it was far from subtle. The massive troll closed his eyes and mentally reached out. He slipped into the viewpoint of a bird, then a wolf, then a bear, then another bird, until at last he finally found it: the viewpoint of a ghoul. Three companions, east of his position, and still heading in that direction. Likely the same group that had hunted these trolls.

He slipped out of the Sight, and grunted again. “Follow,” he commanded his pack, before loping through the woods, flattening bushes and toppling trees in the process as he followed the trail.

---

The sounds echoed across the forest for any creature of considerable sensory aptitude to hear them; something large was coming and it did so with little care for its surroundings. It was no doubt the creature he had tasted on the wind and he knew immediately that it could pose a threat to his kind if it so desired. The pack of wargs and the Great Wolf himself turned from outright speed to cautious stealth, slowing their advance as they rolled through the forest like a wildfire.

It was clear that the Ghouls had caught the sounds of crashing trees and were alerted to the monstrous creature on their tails and had doubled their pace as well, forcing Roog to keep his pack moving at a speed he considered risky if he intended to keep his presence hidden. The threat this beast posed needed to be considered and weighed properly and Roog wouldn’t risk his progeny over a conflict he could not win. It was clear from the creature’s size and smell that it was something of an oddity and one worthy of considerable attention. The faintest sounds of snarling could be heard as the wargs tasted the two groups on the wind, their hackles rising as a blaze consumes brush.

“Caution,” he called out, maw only open as much as necessary for the noise to emanate from his throat, “We are not alone.”

The auditory and olfactory trails provided by the two travelling creatures were rapidly closing in on one another and Roog could tell that they would make contact soon. A scrabbling creature at the back of his mind clawed at the inside of his skull, demanding to be released. Roog whispered the creature back into the depths of his mind with a calming phrase, reminding himself that his actions were his choice and his alone. Despite this his heart pounded with a raging excitement, pumping black blood throughout his veins in a ferocious hunger.

The fight would happen soon, Roog could tell, and he knew full well that the group of Ghouls and Trolls would meet each other first; a consequence of Roog’s slowed pursuit from caution. Despite this Roog intended to be on the scene fast enough to intercede if he found the conflict to be between two undesirable groups. His wolves were now out of his sight, spreading out in a line as they neared with their hunted quarry.

---

Gorm, meanwhile, had sped well ahead of his own pack - benefit of his superior size. He had little use for stealth or subtlety in this case, and he knew he would never catch up with the ghouls if he limited himself to the pace of a troll. Four ghouls he could easily take on alone - all he had to do was follow the trail.

But then the trail split four ways. They had heard him coming, and decided it would be better to split up than exercise safety in numbers. Rage threatened to overwhelm him, and the giant troll punched the ground in frustration, creating a small crater.

Gorm took a moment to collect himself, and the rage passed. No matter. He could hunt them down one by one. And so he picked the northernmost trail, and followed it.

---

The scents diverged and Roog almost offered a word of praise to the creatures; it took a lot of thinking to realize they should split up in the face of predation that would and could easily slay them all. The great beast that hunted the Ghouls had sped ahead of its pack of trolls that followed in its wake and Roog was confident he could reach the ghouls and their hunter before the trolls could.

His pack swept across the treeline rapidly and with deadly silence born of the coming demise their presence promised. The trolls fell swiftly behind them and now the vast entity that smelled of troll and divine meddling was between them and the ghouls that were rapidly splitting up in all directions. Now came a challenge. Roog howled out his intentions and the pack diverged; exhausted and overfed ghouls were easy pickings and as the massive beast hunted one his pack would hunt the others. Rahn would break off on his own while Lumi and Dis, practically inseparable, would hunt together. This left one for Roog and the Great Beast before they met up for their own potential confrontation; if Roog was lucky, his pack will have returned to make it all the easier.

With that they all bolted in numerous directions, picking up speed as they disappeared into the undergrowth at the expense of their previous stealth. Roog surmised that the creature they hunted was his equal if not his better on the hunt despite being the creation of the Hunter God. The thought crossed his mind of a similar forging but quickly dismissed it; surely he would’ve been made aware of such sibl- creations. Nevertheless, the beast’s uncanny ability to keep on the exact trail of its prey despite making them aware of its presence early into the chase was noteworthy and Roog had no intention of underestimating a potential foe.

---

Gorm’s quarry did not get far. Using his sheer size and weight, the enormous troll cleaved a path through the forest to get to it. As he neared, the Ghoul suddenly wheeled around, preparing a mad counter-charge against its much larger assailant.

It was a simple enough matter for Gorm to reach down, lift the creature with two of his fingers, throw it high into the air, and then catch it in his mouth as it fell back down. The Troll grinned to himself in satisfaction, and then slipped into the Sight to locate the others…

He slipped into the eyes of a massive wolf. Not what he was looking for. But wait… something was different. This was no direwolf. And there were others like it, running alongside.

The beast’s eyes which now served Gorm burst through the undergrowth with a surprising level of speed paired with a deathly silence. It was fast, considerably so, and seemed to only brush lightly against undergrowth leaving its trail of sound noticeably quiet. Despite this the Ghoul had caught its scent and was running now at breakneck speed, for a Ghoul, though it only succeeded in making its position more easily determined.

The warg closed rapidly, bursting through the treeline into a small glade where a gentle stream cut the forest in half. The darkness of the canopy strangled most light pouring down over the river but the eyes of the wolf easily cut through the gloom to peer directly at the ghoul now turning to face its hunter. In its place the warg left only air, having slipped back into the shadows that its dark hide easily blended in with. The ghoul spun, letting out roars of anger and confusion, while the mighty wolf quickly circled the choked clearing.

From behind thick and gnarled roots burst the great wolf, leaping through the air just as the ghoul turned to face it. Thrust out paws struck the ghoul in the chest, driving it to the ground, and knocking the wind out of it. With the fight literally driven from its body by the weight of the horse sized wolf, the Ghoul weakly slashed with taloned hands at its attacker. The vision of the wolf jerked back, deftly dodging the clumsy blow, before surging forward to tear out the beasts throat in a wave of arterial blood. In an instant it rose, disinterested in feeding on the vile fiend, and loped right back into the woods towards its kin.

Gorm had seen enough. He returned back to his own senses, and sniffed the air. The creature’s skills were impressive, and there were dozens in the area. One scent seemed… different from the rest, and far more powerful. Familiar, somehow. It was enough to give him pause, but not for long. He had been tasked to guard this region, and so he needed to learn more about these new arrivals.

So without further ado, he loped off in the direction of the familiar scent.

---

Roog’s own quarry had taken a confusing path far more intelligently than its kin; realizing the likelihood of being outrun, it seemed to have determined the best choice was to wrap around its pursuer and then go back the way it had come. If Roog didn’t despise Ghouls for their vile nature he might have truly respected this particular individual. Nonetheless, what had to be done would be by Roog’s own maw.

The creature had entered the massive goug torn into the forest by its pursuer, giving its flight an easy route backwards and a clear indicator of where its enemy had ran off to. Roog, of course, was not so unsubtle. He prowled at the edge of the destruction momentarily, eyeing the Ghoul for any signs of something worthy of note or pause. Finding none he burst from the treeline at ridiculous speeds and with one fell crushing snap his jaws took the head from the ghoul. His maw opened and allowed the head to fall just as the body did the same, tumbling to the side as the head rolled into the crook of two fallen trees.

Roog immediately realized his mistake, having tunnel visioned himself into his hunt rather than keeping his senses wide. Though not directly on top of him yet the beast that had initiated the hunt in the first place was closing rapidly. Roog turned and saw the monstrous troll charging right back down the same path it had made during its initial charge and Roog’s hackles rose like an inferno as he bared his fangs; by his creators, Roog swore in the depths of his mind, he had never seen a troll so thoroughly vast before. Ready to strike back at the oncoming marauder Roog paused, eyes widening as the familiar scent seemed to become ever more intoxicatingly present as the distance between these two titans of Kalgrun became ever smaller. This troll, Roog could now tell, was the work of his own creator Kalmar.

“Stay your charge!”

The massive creature skidded to a halt, stopping mere steps before the divine wolf. The giant troll loomed over him menacingly, looking down with an unreadable expression, before sniffing the air. Then, using its left arm to support his weight, the beast’s right hand slowly lurched forward, clearly intending to pick Roog up.

Roog’s eyes only had a slight moment to relax as the troll seemed to ignore his initial calm to attempt to pick up the wolf that blazed before him. Roog snarled threateningly as the creature’s huge hand closed the distance and every instinct in his mind told him to fight. Those roars had to be quenched and coaxed to dormancy even in the face of this vast threat as Roog, determined to try and end this conflict with a creation of Kalmar’s before it came to one of their deaths. He left back, closing the distance with a half-smashed tree trunk in a blur as a wildfire jumps between fuel. He howled in the face of the beast even as his human voice poured from his wide open jaws in a waterfall of noise.

”Continue this at your own peril, creature,” roared Roog, his voice booming across the landscape with divine efficacy.

Gorm halted, paused for a moment, and then lifted his arm off the ground so he could rise to his full height. His muscles tensed, and breath flared from his nostrils. “Gorm strong,” he spoke is his rough bestial voice, “you small. Gorm belong; you don’t. Explain, or leave.”

”All things face their demise, Vast-Troll, no matter their size” echoed Roog, hackles still licking the air as flames while his moonlit fangs were bared threateningly, ”I belong as I was forged here; Kalgrun is my home by right as a creation of Kalmar and Katharsos.”

Gorm tilted his head, and his expression was almost thoughtful, as if searching deep in his mind for a memory. “Roog?” he ventured at last.

Roog’s maw closed and one fuzzy brow above a bright bronze-gold eye rose in confusion; he had not said his name, he had thought? He stared at the immense troll for a handful of moments before nodding, his jaws creaking open ever so slightly to speak. ”That is my name.”

Gorm nodded slowly. “Why you here?” he asked.

”I wander Kalgrun and give hunt to creatures such as this. The fiends deserve a just end.”

Again, Gorm nodded. “Good pupper,” he complimented.

Roog grimaced at the terminology used to refer to him but let it slide. It was clear this creature had poor control of language, at least compared to himself, but he was the first speaking creature he had met in over decades; he’d take what he could get.

”I must know, Great-Troll, how you know of me? Are you a creation of Kalmar as well, as I have guessed?

Yet another nod. “Kalmar talk of you… tell Gorm no attack Roog.”

”So we are kin,” Roog’s head rose from its lowered position, all sense of threat gone, ”And it seems our aims align. I had hoped conflict could be averted and it seems our creator has already predicted this chance meeting.”

Alas, the chance meeting was soon interrupted, as Roog would become aware of two more presences in the area. One he would know well, for it was one his creators, while the other was completely foreign; though Roog could tell they were both equal in power.

Kalmar was the first to appear, dropping from the forest canopy and landing into a crouch on the ground. He rose to his feet and brushed himself off. “Roog, Gorm.” he greeted with a stoic nod.

Roog twisted to face his creator who had arrived just as Roog would’ve expected; he was the God of Hunters, afterall, and Roog doubted he could’ve found the man-god even if he had been trying. His head dropped in a mock bow as all wolves did before their pack leaders before rising up to greet his creator.

”This is a bountiful day,” he called as he hopped down from his perch on the half-shattered tree trunk, ”I get to hear voices beyond my own twice in many decades.

“You better make that thrice, then,” a female voice sounded from just behind the tree trunk, with Arae in her human form walking around it to reveal herself. “It is a pleasure to meet you two, Gorm and Roog. I am Arae, the Goddess of Family,” Arae introduced herself with a warm smile.

Roog stared on almost dumbstruck as the events unfolded in front of his eyes; numerous decades had passed since he was left on Kalgrun, alone, and now there were Gods and Beasts alike pouring out of the woodwork to greet him. He supposed he should be thankful for this respite from the monotony of his continent but it certainly seemed almost gratuitous at this point. Despite that thought he was pleased to at last have others to speak to and would take all of the new found chances to meet other sapient creatures with gusto.

”Thrice it shall be, Great Arae,” responded Roog, giving the same bow he had to his creator. He had never seen any man-creature before other than Kalmar and this new one gave Roog much to ponder; they looked nothing alike and though Arae was the more acceptable to look at Roog found himself confused by the numerous differences in their forms. Nonetheless, speaking took precedent to considering humans and their confusing shapes. ”I am humbled by this meeting. And though I am not in any way displeased to meet others and to see my creator once more, I must ask; why are you here?”

Gorm, for his part, simply nodded at Arae - apparently it was his default response to meeting others. He lowered himself back down to rest on his arms, no longer feeling the need to make himself intimidating, and waited for someone else to speak. Kalmar, meanwhile, approached the ghoul Roog had slain and knelt to inspect it more closely.

“Truth be told, I’m just a tagalong with Kalmar,” Arae admitted. “I still have some business to take care of with my brother, and I decided to help take care of whatever he needs me to do while I’m still around. Beyond that, not much, really.”

Kalmar rose to his feet. ”A clean kill,” he said, referring to the ghoul. He looked to Roog. ”There is much to discuss. First: what have you been doing since your creation?”

”I have seen much of Kalgrun and kept to my duty as Katharsos directed,’ Roog practically smiled as his head rose proudly above his shoulders as he continued to speak of his time, realizing immediately that his particularly crowning achievement was in line with what Kalmar had advised, ”And I have followed your wishes; the choice was mine. I forged from the dead direwolves a race to call my own; Wargs, fa- creator. They are mine.”

Kalmar nodded. ”I am aware of your creations. You made them well. But what I want to know is this: do you know who Azura is?”

Roog considered for a moment, looking back to his creation and trying to remember if such an entity was mentioned. All that returned to his mind were memories of the warning given to him by both of his creators; not all gods were good and by the tone at which Kalmar referenced Azura, they might fit such a description.

”I do not, creator, though I expect I shall soon.”

Kalmar glanced at Arae, before looking back to Roog. ”Azura is the Goddess of Wind,” he revealed. ”She disliked Katharsos’s cycle and decided to interfere. She stole countless souls from his sphere, and is trying to convince mortals to voluntarily surrender their souls to her so that she can hoard them, until she finds an alternative to burning. Or so she says - not every god can be taken at their word. But if she continues to take souls without giving any soul ash back, then eventually we will run out, and all life as we know it will end.” The Hunter explained grimly.

“I believe Azura has good intentions, but ultimately what she is doing is creating more problems than it is solving,” Arae added. “The end of all life as we know it is definitely not a situation we want to be in, and it is why she must be stopped.”

Roog looked on with a furrowed brow, seemingly displeased with each and every new piece of information given to him regarding this Azura and her plotting. Her actions were in complete opposition to what he had been set to task to support. Even considering his likely predetermined bias towards the cycle of Katharsos, the idea of being forced into a permanent form and held at the whim of a God was deeply disgusting to him. All of this was exacerbated by his own creation, having naturally started his own creation by absorbing soul ash into the torn eye of the Great Wolf Fenris.

”I see . . . this cannot stand; the works of Katharsos must be supported at all costs and any attempt to subvert the cycle must be opposed. What is your intention, gods? I trust you share my distaste for this.”

”I think I know where the souls are being held,” Kalmar said. ”We are going there to find out what Azura is doing with them, and possibly put a stop to it. I ask you to come with us.”

Roog seemed to lose himself in thought as the question was asked, a request that would be world changing for the demi-god. The idea of leaving Kalgrun, his home for the last few decades, was one that could not be considered lightly. Despite this, his duty was clear and this Azura threatened all that his Heavenly Father had wrought. Just as importantly, it was his Cthonic Creator who now asked him for aid. He would make for a poor creation if he did not assist, particularly in an effort so important to maintaining the world Roog had created his own progeny in. Resolve burned behind his golden-bronze eyes.

”Without hesitation.”

”Good,” Kalmar said, before shifting his gaze to the massive troll who remained silent. ”Gorm, the ghoul population has been thinned to the point where they are no longer a threat. I’m calling off your hunt. You will remain here and continue to guard the area.” Then he looked back to Roog, and to Arae.

”As for us… we head north.”

It was a rainy morning over the Nanhese third of the Foot; patches of the woods were drenched and dripping, heavy streams pouring off the colossal fronds and leaves up top and crashing into the soil below like falling pebbles. The monsoon seasons were always exciting to the snake, for no other time of the year did the forests blossom so magnificently and the rivers flow so rampantly. The Beihese bumblebees, already heavily resistant to water and mud, buzzed about in docility despite the downpour, bringing soggy pollen along with them in neat little socks around their hind feet. Much like these industrious little creatures, the snake also found himself outside of shelter, taking in the damp view around his ship. On his lap was his guzheng which notes were both flat and sharp with weather wear. It wasn’t exactly pleasing to the ear, but the snake’s thoughts focused on other matters.

“Say, He Bo?”

The head servant, the snake’s personal butler, took one step forward from under the roof of the tower top and into the rain, his silk robes soaking instantly. “Yes, My Lord?”

The harp strings quieted and the snake lifted his head, still gazing outwards across the jungle. “Are you content?”

The servant raised a brow and bowed. “Why, yes, this servant is perfectly content, My Lord.”

The snake pursed his lips. “And, if I were to order you to speak frankly, would you repeat the sentiment?”

Before He Bo could answer, the snake added, “While I trust you wholeheartedly, worthy servant, I will remind you that I -can- see your thoughts if I so wished.”

The servant bowed again. “Once more, this servant declares its utmost joy in living for its Lord and its Lord’s family and guests.”

The snake nodded. “Good, good… But do the other servants aboard feel the same?”

“Naturally, My Lord,” He Bo said. Shengshi looked skeptical and tapped his temple twice to remind him. He Bo wrinkled his nose a little and cleared his throat. “Pardon, My Lord - force of habit.” He paused, rubbing his hands together nervously. “There… There is a… Clique, so to speak.”

“A clique?” the snake inquired.

He Bo nodded solemnly. “A most shameful band of naysayers and enemies of morale, all of whom have expressed heretical opinions of life aboard this sacred vessel - and of His Lordship’s leadership.”

The snake blinked and frowned curiously. “I see… Have you a number? How large is this clique?”

“Not large, thankfully - they number a measley one hundred or so. In a mass of ten thousand, they are but radical stragglers.”

“What castes do they belong to?” The snake put this harp aside and turned to face the servant.

“All four, My Lord, though the majority of their numbers are of the Strong caste.”

The snake sighed. “As to be expected - naturally, those who have been deemed unfit for other professions beyond those of warriors, logisticians and deckhands would rank highest in dissatisfaction. How large is the fraction of the Strong in this clique?”

“This servant confesses it may not know as much as His Lordship would like it to - though it estimates that the Strong number roughly a third of the clique’s total members. At least, according to the rumours.”

The snake hummed. “Does this clique have a name?”

“Officially, no - they have yet to garner anything but infamy and punishment, and is thus undeserving of any name beyond “the clique”.”

The snake nodded once more. “He Bo,” he said after a moment.

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Bring them to me - all of them.”

He Bo’s eyes went round for an instant, followed by a frown and a bow. “At once, My Lord.”

As the servant went off inside, the snake intertwined his fingers. He looked to the north, towards the distant peaks of Qiangshan. A thought entered his mind.

The currents below Jiangzhou reversed. The ship sailed north.

---

As usual, it did not take long for the snake’s will to be done. Soon his veranda hosted all one hundred and eleven “cliquettes”, which were further surrounded by another line of servants armed with bags of salt. The snake had attempted to express his disapproval for the weaponry, but his creations were much too insistent that they were needed. In the end, not even a god could win against the fanaticism of their followers.

The snake surveyed the small crowd. The white gi of the Strong did indeed dress the bulk of the clique, but among them were also silken robes of the Noble and even leather and linen of the Skilled. The black robes and hat of the Wise, however, were nowhere to be seen. It could perhaps be reasoned that the Wise were the highest caste, and took part in many of the governing decisions aboard the ship. In many ways, they set the premises for how well off they were themselves, and while several of them were the pinnacles of morality, Shengshi loathed to recall that there had been cases of corruption in the past - right underneath his own nose.

He was not invulnerable to failure, and this clique proved it.

“Welcome, dear servants,” the snake opened. All one hundred and eleven servants fell to their knees and kowtowed, although one was particularly lax about it - almost spitefully so. The snake eyed this particular one with a hard eye and beckoned for him to rise.

“You, who take so lightly to addressing your creator - what is your name?”

The servant rose, face resolute, but hands quivering. His hair and beard were unkempt, similar in sight to wild vines and bushes. The sand he took for skin was partially muddy and his gi was dirty and loose were the others had dressed in their finest clothes. In a voice tinted with fright, he spoke, “This… This servant is named Kai Shi.”

The snake rolled the name around on his tongue and hummed in a voice like thick, black oil. “May I ask what brings you to act in this manner? You, who did not even comb your hair before you came to me; you, who did not even don clean dress before the ascension up my tower; you, who have chosen to take a skin mixture which not only disharmonises your very look, but also makes you unfit for both sand-skinned and mud-skinned tasks. What brings you to act in this manner, I repeat?”

Kai Shi blinked, his brow dripping with the nervous moisture. A moment passed before he answered. “This servant wishes to protest,” the servant responded.

He Bo, who stood behind him, stuck a gloved hand into his bag of salt, but Shengshi held up a hand. He Bo sucked in several seething breaths, freezing out of sheer obedience. The snake eyed Kai Shi curiously, then the rest of the clique.

“Do all of you share this mission?”

Save for one or two headshakes, the rest all nodded. The snake hummed and asked, “What, then, is it that you wish to protest?”

The clique all looked to Kai Shi whose face now carried a faint sheen of defiant pride. “With all due respect, Your Lordship, these servants are unwilling to wait any longer to battle for the fate of their souls - His Lordship promised them fifty years ago to take up arms against the vile Wind Demon, but for all those years, all they heard was “preparations take time”. Then…” He paused and the snake hummed.

“Preparations do take time, and--”

“Then there was the failed experiment--”

The servant fell forward screaming, his back covered with snow white. In an instant, He Bo and two other servants had ripped the shabby gi in half and smeared his back with copious amounts of salt. Kai Shi laid there on the deck, surrounded by his frightened clique and a vengeful wall of fanatics. “You do -not- interrupt His Lordship, you maggot,” He Bo spat.

The snake scowled. “Stand down,” he thundered and slithered through the crowd over to the squirming man. With a slight twist of his hand, he extracted the salt from his body and collected it into a small, white pebble in his hand. “He Bo - you and the others may leave.”

He Bo blinked. “B-but My Lord, they--”

“-They- are guests in my tower, and whatever they say, I am certain I can handle. Now, please, leave us.”

With hung heads, the loyalists entered Shengshi’s room through the veranda doors and descended into the palace. Only the one hundred and eleven cliquettes remained with the snake now. He hummed pensively. “Does this happen often?”

Kai Shi looked around and many of his companions nodded solemnly. “Our peers do not take kindly to our views, Your Lordship. His Lordship is our creator, after all, and to speak against Him is, well… Heresy.”

The snake pursed his lips and tugged at his beard. “An unfortunate devolution of blind loyalty - one I am guilty in fostering. Interruptions are uncalled for, yes, but nothing to salt a person for, even if it was me you interrupted.” With a dismissive wave, the snake clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Does anything else upset you about life here?”

A second servant rose, this one dressed in the Noble caste long tunic of a cleaner. She bowed. “My Lord,” she began, “This servant confesses to heretical thoughts - a wish to live off the Jiangzhou.”

The snake held up a palm. “Tone down the self-accusations of heresy. To want to live somewhere else is not heresy. Though I must ask, is it the ship that bothers you, or my leadership?”

The servant’s lips quivered and she appeared petrified. The other servants tipped deeper in their kowtow. She stuttered, her lips forming words without sound to back them up. The snake nodded. “I see.” He sucked in a breath. “It is odd how one changes throughout life - and how one remains the same.”

The servants eyed him curiously. The cleaner blinked. “My Lord?” she said.

The snake sighed and shook his head. “I still have ways to grow as a master, I see.” She scowled momentarily. “I confess, much to my own shame, that I am absolutely livid within. A part of me wants to curse you all - pluck you apart grain by grain, drop by drop, until the spirits within you gives out. Such ingratitude, such disloyalty…”

The servants shook collectively. Some broke into tears and wails. Others laid themselves as flat as they could and chanted prayers of forgiveness. Kai Shi gave the cleaner a look of pride, even as his lips shook and his eyes flowed. The cleaner herself clutched her chest as if a pang of guilt had blown a hole in it. However, the snake raised a hand and the wailing seized.

“However, I have already made this mistake once, punishing ingratitude with suffering… Or twice - at this point, I do not quite recall the number of times I have gone against my own teachings, which either says to me that my teachings are naive - or that I am a moralless despot.” He looked outwards at the recovering, sniffing crowd. “I free you all from any punishment based on your utterings against me for a whole minute. Any insult, any criticism - I will take it all.”

The servants looked at one another.

“Well, go on, then.”

“You tyrant!” the cleaner shouted. The snake recoiled a little.

“Well, that is perhaps a little--”

“Populistic liar!” Kai Shi roared.

“Alright, alright, I will accept that one, but--”

“You never practice what you preach!”

“His Lordship is a foolish drunk!”

“Slaver! Despot! Blind coward!”

“Since when have I been a coward?!”

“Alliance breaker!”

“Yes! That one I absolutely agree wi--!”

“You think lifting crates for eternity is a life?!”

“At least let me finish, but alright, alright, valid point.”

“You are selfish and arrogant!”

“Oh! The minute has passed!” The crowds fell silent, all of them suddenly feeling the stings of fright and fear as they inspected the shocked snake. The god, however, merely scratched his temple and hummed. “Good heavens, no one has spoken to me like that since Kalmar. Hearing it from mortals is, in all honesty, utterly infuriating.” He sucked in a breath. “I gave you my word, though - no punishment regardless of the words spoken. I confess, however, you went a little beyond my expectations, to put it mildly.” He patted his chest. “Wow… Do you really all feel this way?”

The crowd unanimously nodded. The snake deflated.

“I… See. Well,” he sucked in a breath, “I suppose I will give you leave to find yourselves a new master.”

The servants’ eyes all went wide. Kai Shi stepped forward. “... Really, Your Lordship?”

The snake nodded solemnly. “Well, yes, keeping you here is, well… What a tyrant would do, is that not so?”

The servants looked at one another. Kai Shi frowned and bowed. “These servants are incredibly grateful, but… Where would they go?”

The snake sighed. “You cannot live without a river nearby… As it so happens, I know of a place that will be fitting for you. A cradle in which to start anew and explore your newfound autonomy.”

With that, the ship which had arrived at the Giant’s Bath, soared off into the sky eastwards, carried on a constantly changing and renewing river.

---

The ship floated down over a green streak in the endless oceans, topped with white peaks along almost its entire length. To the north and west were faint islets, and the mainland beneath shone with colourful woods which seemed to emit their own lights.

Istais.

The ship landed on Lihe River, a section by the foot of a mountain, and a staircase flooded up along the hull, connecting the deck to the shore. The servants had all gathered on the deck before the group of one hundred and eleven that were standing before the staircase. The snake wrinkled his nose, looking reluctant. However, he then turned to the crowd behind him and shouted commandingly, “If anyone wishes to go with them, they will be allowed to do so unspoiled. Know, however, that this will be your only chance to. Any later attempt to join this enclave will be considered desertion, punishable by death.”

The crowd remained steadfast. He Bo gave the snake fanatically loyal stare. The snake nodded at him and turned back to the leavers. “So be it, then. My servants, as generosity is the greatest feat of a lord and king, I will grant you one final gift before you part.”

The snake waved a hand. There, in the mountain wall above them, stone and sand seemed to blow away on the wind. Iron formed into red roof tiles that topped tall stone towers and houses, stacked along the cliffsides into a grand and great temple. All the servants stared in awe. Between the tall buildings ran a river made of glacier runoff. It was perfect. With one exception.

Kai Shi looked up at Shengshi. “My Lord, forgive this servant for asking, but how will they keep warm? The mountains are cold and their bodies will freeze come winter.”

The snake nodded. “Worry not, for the temple will never reach temperatures below freezing. As long as you remain in its vicinity, you will never turn to ice.”

The servants looked at one another and grinned. They fell to their knees and kowtowed, with Kai Shi in the front.

“Thank You, Your Lordship. While these servants may leave Your sacred vessel, they assure His Lordship that they will remain faithful to him with prayer and sacrifices.”

The snake nodded. “Very good. You are free to go.”

And so the servants ran excitedly down the stairs and hurried off towards the temple. As they disappeared from the view of those aboard the ship, He Bo turned to Shengshi.

“My Lord, a temple which will remain warm despite the season… Yet that will be encased in snow most of the year - is that not just a prison?”

In a voice like oil, the snake replied, “Perhaps.”

---

Kai Shi in his dirty rags led the enthusiastic group of servants towards the foot of the mountain, and as they began to climb, the cleaner who had introduced herself as Tu Shui, poked the leader on the shoulder. Kai Shi turned to see the grinning face and chuckled. “What?”

“Well, now that we’re free, what should we call ourselves?”

Kai Shi hopped over a small stone and reached out to help Tu Shui, frowning all the while. “Call ourselves? Why, we’re servants, aren’t we?”

Tu Shui returned the frown. “No! Not anymore! We’re free, Kai! Free to call ourselves whatever we want!”

Others echoed her words and cheered. Kai Shi hummed. “Well, alright. What should we call ourselves, then?”

One in the crowd raised her hand. “How about the Free?”

Kai Shi shook his head. “No, it’s too simple. Besides, including a ‘the’ in our name makes it hand to conjugate.”

Another hand. “Liberated!”

Kai Shi wrinkled his nose. “How would you even pluralise that? More liberateds? No, no. Next one.”

Tu Shui raised her hand with a cheshire grin about her face. Kai Shi nodded for her to continue. “Liberite.”

Kai Shi pursed his lips in thoughts. Many others nodded. “Liberites, huh,” the ragged man mumbled. He mouthed the various forms of the word and nodded weakly. “Yeah, could work.”

“Also, we will from now on address each other as friends, family. No more of this servile nonsense,” Tu Shui declared. Kai Shi motioned for her to slow down.

“Woah, calm down now. We’ve only just gotten our freedom.”

“So? What is there to keep from the ancient customs aboard the Jiangzhou? Ranks? Castes? Out with it! We are equal - you and I are equal. He and she are both equal. Uniforms, too--” The crowd gathered around and cheered her on as she ripped the tunic from her body and stood there for all to see, her sand-covered body glistening in the light of Heliopolis. Kai Shi blinked skeptically, but Tu Shui was soon lifted above all and carried up the mountain to the song of cheers and praise. The ragged servant tugged at his unkempt beard and sighed.

He hoped at least some tradition would remain by the time they got to the top.

The water hummed its low tone in Toraph's ears. His heart beat a slow pace in his chest and head. Such was the peace at this depth that even the distant sound of the waves crashing on the shore carried its muffled sound under the surface.

The water was safe, they were taught. You move faster there.

A shape ahead made his whiskers twitch. He opened his eyes and his arm shot forward as a reflex. The satisfying texture of fish skin rupturing carried up the shaft of his spear. The struck creature did not get to thrash twice before Toraph kicked forward and caught it between his teeth.

Toraph silently cheered as he swam upright. Already, his brothers Wass and Anboor had noticed his catch. Anboor, a slightly bigger selka with an upturned brow that always looked a little confused, wended through the water with a bright smile and pat him on the back. Wass, a paler and lighter weight tall selka, congratulated him similarly and pumped a fist in the dim light. Under the light, the three of them all had the same pattern of large dark blotches on their fur, such was the breed of the river mouth tribe. Toraph shook his spear triumphantly in the water happily before spreading his limbs out and down to propel him up towards the sun.

He felt the pressure in his ears drop as the watery, sparkling daylight welcomed him. The silhouette of a small raft tied by a reed cord leading towards shore cast a shadow down into the murk.

Toraph broke the surface. Water ran off his head and the open air noisily hissed in his senses in spite of the wind's softness. He looked down from the bright blue sky to hand the limp fish from his mouth into the basket fastened onto the raft. It plopped onto a pile of various sea life, from shellfish, to some of the tastier varieties of kelp, to even a small brown shark curled up around the edge – Anboor was lucky to catch that one.

Toraph took a satisfied breath. He was the youngest of his brothers, but his fishing skills were improving every day. They would have enough today to feed the family tonight. With the extra catches, they could sacrifice some land food to Delfeene in the water, or even bury a few fish in the earth for Kirwon.

Then something toothy wrapped around Toraph's ankle.

"Yaaagh!" He yelped and looked under the water, only to find Wass' grinning face rising up to the water's surface beside him, having just let go of Toraph's foot. The look on Toraph's face made bubbles erupt from between Wass' teeth before he could even laugh into the open air. And laugh he did.

Toraph sighed with relief. "Gods, brother, I was about to spear you in the face!"

"It was worth it!" Wass replied between his laughter. "You make a funny sound when you get surprised! You have since you were a pup in mum's arms!"

"Pffah, shut your mouth!" Toraph shot up and locked Wass' head in the crook of his arm.

"Hahaha! Lemme go! Lemme go!" Wass flailed his arms around just long enough to get purchase on Toraph's middle. Toraph was twisted up and away. The two wrestled and laughed for only another moment.

They stopped when they heard a voice calling out from the shore. They righted themselves to hear it again.

"-booor! Toraaaph! Come here! Waaass! Come!"

"I think it's Uncle Phorek," Wass commented.

Toraph looked to Wass. "Do you think we're in trouble?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I'll bring in the raft, you go get Anboor."

Right on time, Anboor broke the surface of the water with a dying octopus writhing in his mouth. "Whatch goinge onge?"

---

The three brothers hauled their catch up the beach by the river mouth. Uncle Phorek quickly met them to help, excited enough to speed his older bones faster than the brothers could ever remember.

Toraph could not help but catch some of Phorek's excitement. "What's got you jogging around like that, Uncle?"

"Oh! Yeah, forgot to say, got so excited." Phorek chuckled. "A k'night is here."

The three brothers' eyes lit up.

"A k'night from downbeach?" Anboor asked in his deep, simple voice.

Uncle Phorek snorted. "They're all from downbeach, boy! Everything upbeach is monsters, remember?"

Anboor flared his whiskers. "There're k'nights upriver, though…"

"That doesn't matter!" Wass interrupted. "What's the k'night's name? Is he going to kill a monster?"

"Or help us with work?" Anboor asked.

"Or show a big new idea?" Toraph added.

Uncle Phorek filled his chest, raised a finger – "Don't know." – and frowned. "But he said he's staying for a bit, so he might do all of those things. Or none of 'em. We'll see."

"Wait," Anboor asked again. "Only one k'night? He's walking about on his lone?"

Phorek turned to grin at Anboor. "Heheh, just wait 'till you see'im."

Wass slapped a fist against Anboor's arm. "Why do you have to ask questions so much?"

---

The uncle and the brothers approached the village just within the tree line. A mottled clump of grey dressed in rawhide bits made up everyone in the village, gathered by the central fire, crowding the tallest and broadest selka Toraph had ever seen. He could only make out the top of the huge man's shoulders and head, painted with bright pink paint that had dried in rivulets from the top of his head. Toraph could hear his resonant voice from where they were walking.

"…so I ask him what he wants me to do in this big new idea of his. He pokes me so hard on my ribs that he almost broke me, but I could see on his face he was just making fun. He says to me 'go get Yimbo, tell the big guy to head upriver, 'cos there's folks there being bullied.' And he adds 'don't forget to teach the folk at the river mouth some new tricks, 'cos they're going to need the tricks for what comes next.' I ask him what's coming next, he shrugs 'n' says 'if I told you it all, some of it might not happen and maybe worse things, they'll come and fill the gap…'"

Toraph was a hand shorter than all the adult men. He had to shove his way through to see the man. It was a k'night, evidenced by the well-notched club he leant his tree-trunk arms on while he spoke. He also looked like he could tear trees as thick as his arms out of the ground with his bare hands. Over his shoulder was a big round disc of wood with cords to hold onto it and around his waist was a skirt of long brown leaves.

"What's his name?" Toraph whispered to Aunt Tephi next to him.

"His name's Gralph. He's just telling us what Kirwon told him to do."

"He spoke to Kirwon!?"

"Shh!"

Gralph the giant k'night, still smiling, gave Toraph a glance and then continued. "I already got Yimbo on his…or her way out here, so I figure in the meantime I'll teach you a couple'a interesting things I learnt from downbeach about making landfood with dirt and rotten fish."

The crowd let out some oohs.

"Wehey now," Gralph raised a palm. "It ain't like making a hut or a basket. It takes some time 'cos the food's gotta grow out of the ground on its own. Hey chief, what seeds you got?" He called to Chief Korrcac to his left.

"Uh, let's see," Korrcac counted off his fingers. "Few peas, dark lentils, a bunch of flax we were going to make a soup from, uh…Enpha?" He asked his wife.

"The berries we got have seeds in 'em. Same with the other fruits, like the squashes. Big chewy seeds, some too hard to eat, though."

Gralph gestured up happily. "The dry stuff'll do. It's past the raintime in these parts so a good time to make 'em grow. Grab a fistful of each and some old fish, I'll find a good spot."

---

The process was oddly simple. After getting Korrcac to grind the old fish into a smelly pulp with a couple of rocks, all Gralph did was find a spot on the inland edge of the village, dug a few small holes, stuck the fish slurry in them, stuck some seeds into each, and covered the holes with soil again. When he stood up straight again, everyone stared at the holes expectantly.

"That's the complicated bit all done," Gralph said. "Those seeds will sprout little plants which'll eat the fish and drink the water that comes by. When they eat, they grow, but it's real slow, so you gotta make sure no beasts come and eat the plants when you aren't looking."

Gralph grinned. The villagers looked less certain, rubbing the tops of their heads. The whole process seemed dirty, smelly, and slow.

"Heheheh, guess this is going to be on the more relaxing side of fun," Gralph laughed. "Tell you what, I got more exciting stuff. Whoever wants to be a part of that, go back to the fire and wait while I talk to the chief about something."

The most of the younger selka along with the less patient of the adults mumbled and turned around towards the centre of the village, including Wass.

Only Toraph remained, squatting in front of one of the filled-in holes with his hands on his knees. Anboor noticed and turned back around to approach him.

"You see something, brother?" Anboor asked. "It'll just be some grass soon."

Toraph didn't take his eyes off the disturbed dirt. "How much grass do you think'll come out though?"

Anboor turned his head towards those going back to the fire. He shrugged. "What does it matter? We catch more fish every day than the seeds that'll be on a few hole's worth of grass."

"Nah, brother, I'm just thinking." Toraph turned his head up to look at Anboor. It was a curious look. "Seeds like he stuck into those holes. They keep a long time, right?"

"Yeah," Anboor said slowly, narrowing one eye.

Toraph glanced away nervously. "What if…if we had a lot of seeds, we could grow more landfood like this all we wanted, as long as we could make the holes. And we've always got fish scraps for them. We usually just stick the fish scraps in the sand anyway to sacrifice to Kirwon. Why not do this as well?"

"And where're we going to get lots of seeds?" Anboor crossed his arms. "If we had that many seeds, we could just eat them whenever we want anyway."

"We grow them, like this. You get it?" Toraph gestured to the soil. "We eat some, we grow more, we eat some, we grow more, so it goes round, then we won't be too hungry if there's not much seafood to find."

Anboor cocked his head. Toraph could hear the stones in his mind grinding together to make the logic fit. Or, at the very least, ask another inane question that he could have worked out by thinking for just another two seconds. "Well…" Anboor cocked his head. "You can try. Just don't skive off from helping get food normally, okay?"

Toraph smiled. "'Course, brother."

---

Gralph's talk with the chief was done in private on the beach. The ones left to wait by the fire were not tempered with patience in the first place, but the time they had to wait caused a number to disperse on their own.

Ever curious, Toraph looked at the conversation between the chief and the k'night from a distance. It was only Anboor's advice that kept the young man from walking up to them and asking what was taking so long. Toraph could not quite tell from his distance, but the chief had a face like a cliff while Gralph spoke. Unmoving.

When the time finally came, many of the waiting selka were napping or performing chores around the fire. Wass had been waiting there since the start with his legs crossed and his hands holding up his cheeks.

Toraph shook him awake.

"Hey, what do you want, Toraph?" Wass' eyes slowly opened. "We already got our haul for the day."

"Were you dozing?" Toraph asked. "Gralph's coming."

"I was not-" His eyes suddenly bulged. "He is? Wh-where?"

Gralph's heavy footfalls stopped nearby. The huge k'night hefted his bone club over his shoulder – it was covered with so many deeds that Toraph was not sure he knew a number to count them all.

"Right." Gralph's voice made them all shut up. "You waited this long, I ain't gonna pretty this up. Upriver, there's an adventure to be had." Gralph pointed his club south. "'Bout a day behind me, I got k'nights from downbeach. They are my k'nights. The K'nights of Red Horizon. Kirwon needs us to help up there to help with something we ain't seen before." He pointed three fingers at the small group gathered. "No more than three of you will come with us, if you pass our test. Any questions?"

Cousin Phoram furtively raised a hand. "What's the thing that needs your help for, Gralph?"

"Don't know," Gralph answered. "That's part of the fun. All I know is I need good k'nights."

"What's the test?" Wass called out.

Gralph chuckled. "A test of courage and determination. You'll need to be quick and brave."

Toraph knew Wass' grin. It was the grin he showed when he knew what was ahead of him. Toraph smiled as well, for Wass was the quickest, bravest, and most stubborn in the tribe that Toraph was aware of.

Gralph spoke louder. "So, who wants to try out tomorrow?"

Just about everyone raised their hands and answered in unison. "Yeah!"

And so the next thing it knew was rising. The rising that air does when the tide goes down: caused not by ascending, but by something else receding. Also to note, not a rising in the physical sense. It, in fact, was lying face-first on the ground.

A thin layer of water that covered the ground had seeped into its form, making the body as waterlogged as the mind. Seeped, cold, heavy, somehow both overlarge and flat.

The walls were not walls so much as millions upon millions of fine needle-points, each facing toward This One. Some of the closer ones had worked their way in, sticking through it, curving downwards to brush the floor.

It had been wondering why it couldn't move. It willed the needles back, focusing millimeter by millimeter. A retraction slower than time, but only if time were a bit faster than it otherwise was. But who knew anymore? After all, last it knew..

In fact, last it knew was when Vakk, the other half of it, fell.
It remembers This striking hard.
It remembers leaving.
And it remembers rising.
But the needles hadn't moved, and it still lay face first in a pool of water, surrounded by fog.

It recalled how it was made of tiny pieces, and flattened. It moved like water around the spikes. And perhaps they could sense this, as they rushed. As it moved, so the spikes did, and each sent tingles through it, provoking it to move faster. Ever faster, through the thickening fog, and out the other side, crashing into a deep lake.

Quite a change. Eurysthenes welcomed not being stabbed incessantly. It lay in the water for long enough to wash ashore a small Island.

On it was a nice wooden hut.

---

”It’s not your fault, Michallis. There was nothing you could do. It was just... fate.” Minerva said coldly, her voice betraying her words. She rested a hand upon a figure covered in a long cloth. Even though the sun shone brightly down upon them in that clearing, she felt no warmth. Only a biting numbness that ate at her heart like some sickness. Michallis fared no better.

The man, who at one time stood so high, with a twinkle in his eyes at all times, was cast lower than she had ever seen him before. He sat a ways away, as if afraid to get any closer. His posture was slumped, and he was coated in dry blood from fresh scars upon his chest, arms, and legs. His clothes were in tatters, but he wore them all the same. He looked vaguely ahead of her, his eyes glazed over, ringed with red. He looked awful. So much so, that she could barely hold her own gaze upon him.

She looked down at the small silhouette underneath the cloth. Gently she pulled back the cloth, to reveal a small pale face of ten years, with little pointy ears and small stubby horns. His hair was black, as were his tiny scales. But his eyes were shut, and they would never open again. Tears ran down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut, but the image had been implanted into her mind forevermore. Death had never been so cruel. She lifted the cloth back up and over Kellin’s head, before opening her eyes again.

”But it is my fault, Minerva.” came Michallis’ hoarse voice. She snapped her gaze to him, beginning to shake her head. ”No it isn’t.” she retorted. Michallis then leaned forward, fresh tears streaming down his face as he balled his fists. ”If I hadn’t wanted to take him hunting, this wouldn’t have happened! We should have stayed home, like you said, but did I listen? No, I didn’t… And… And now he’s gone. Because of me...”

Minerva blinked and then snarled as she stood up, her own left fist balled up as well as she pointed a finger at her partner with her right, ”You don’t get to take the full blame! Stop trying to burden yourself with both of our guilt. You know I’m just as much to blame as you are. I could have went with you, I could have kept him home and and… Just held him in my arms just like when he was a baby. But I can’t do that now, because I wasn’t there to protect him, to protect the both of you. And that, Michallis, is my fault.” she said, before bursting into tears again. Slowly she fell onto her knees, placed her head atop her son’s chest and wept again, gripping him tight. Michallis bowed his head further, and said nothing else, even if he had words to say, she would not listen. Much like himself, she was just as stubborn.

And the entire world grew silent as it listened to the lamentations of a grieving mother.

---

It was later did they at last bury their child underneath a lonely tree. In time, it’s roots would cradle their child like they had, but now for eternity. They did not speak to each other, even when Minerva tended to Michallis’ wounds, down at the stream. Neither of them ate that night, in their expanded tree house, nor did they share in warmth as they slept. Minerva tried at first, but sleep would not find its way to her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. Only when the moon hung dimly in the sky overhead did she get up. Taking a single blanket, she walked softly to her Kellin’s room. And in the dark did she lay herself upon his bed and took comfort in his scent. It wasn’t her baby, but it would do. It had to.

---

Michallis found himself in the nightmare again. It haunted him ever since that fateful day. Over and over again, he was powerless as he watched Kellin die. He tried, in vain, to prevent his son from dying but no matter how hard he tried, nothing ever changed. Then he woke up, alone with the sun barely rising. Things just weren’t the same.

It had been two weeks since that fateful encounter in the woods and he was slowly recovering. He was still sore, but the bruises were starting to fade. Slowly he sat up and quietly got out of bed. He walked to Kellin’s room, like he always did in the mornings, to see Minerva’s sleeping form. She barely left the room anymore, causing him great alarm, nor had she said anything to him since. Every time he tried to initiate a conversation, he was never given any sort of acknowledgement. It hurt him, but he understood.

He moved past the door, and into the food stores. Everything was running low, for he had been too injured to do much of anything. Perhaps it was time to change that. He grabbed a slice of dried meat, and scarfed it down. Then he moved over to a rocky bowl, nestled next to an assortment of clothing. It had been a lucky find one day, out exploring. Michallis then bent over the bowl and used his hands to splash water on his face. When the water settled, he was shocked at his appearance. He was gaunt, his beard unkempt and overgrown. A droplet of water then rolled into his eyes, causing Michallis to shut them tightly as he fumbled around for a towel. When his hands finally found something dry, he used it to wipe his face of any excess water. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at a small leather shirt. Kellin’s shirt. His brow furrowed as the weight of emotions came crashing down around him again. He shook his head quickly, suddenly aware of just how many things in their home were of their son’s.

He began to breath quickly and muttered, ”No. Not today. Not today.” as he placed the shirt back down. He needed to get out of there, and since they needed food, he used that as an excuse. He grabbed Minvera’s spear, for his was gone and made his way down the tree. Everything was a reminder of his son, but perhaps he’d lose himself in the forest. For a time.

---

”Minerva.” came a strange voice. ”You need to wake up.” And she thought for a moment, half asleep, hardly registering. But as her mind broke away from dream weavers, she realized that it was not the voice of Michallis.

With a start, she bolted upright in the bed, covering herself with her blanket as her eyes groggily focused upon a tall figure of black and stars, standing over her. Instinctively she shouted, ”Michallis!” but there came no thundering reply and she was afraid.

”He is not here, Minerva. But do not worry, I mean you no harm. I am Orvus, father of Laurien.” the god said.

At the mentioning of Laurien’s name, Minerva relaxed slightly. She had not seen the woman for a very long time, she had almost forgotten what she looked like. But the appearance of Orvus jolted her memory. She lowered her blanket slightly, and narrowed her brow at the god. A god. It was crazy to think about, to even wrap her head around. She had no idea what to even do. ”Why…” she said meekly before clearing her throat, ”Why are you here?”

”I apologize for the intrusion into your home. I have only come to see if you still occupied this area, for Laurien’s sake. I owe my daughter many things, and she desired to know what became of the ‘Dragonborn’ as she called you. So here I am.” he said.

”I see.” she said quietly, ”And where is Laurien?”

”She resides in the Eye of Desolation. A place, far from here. She wished to come herself, but out of the two of us, I travel much faster.” Orvus said again.

”Well, um, here we are. Doing great.” she said with a fake smile.

The gods eyes narrowed slightly, before turning to a mix of concern and sadness. There was no doubt in her mind then, that he knew. There was no lying to a god, was there?

”Your heart weighs heavily with loss.” he said, bowing his head slightly. ”This place, now only a reminder of what was and what could have been. I know this grief, this pain and no one should have to fight it alone, else we be consumed by it entirely.”

She blinked back tears at his words and nodded slowly. ”Then how… How do I make it go away?”

”Time. And loved ones.” he said.

And Minerva’s thoughts turned to Michallis, wrapped up in his burly arms, safe and secure. She closed her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. She knew not what to do, but nod in agreement again. She knew a part of her wanted nothing more than to blame Michallis, and another part of her wanted to hate him for the loss of their son, but she knew she couldn’t. It was irrational for her to think she could ever blame him for the accident, or ever hate him for what he couldn’t have done. Her grief was shared with him, after all.

”You know.” Orvus began, ”Perhaps it best if you come with me. The both of you.” he finished, rubbing his chin.

Minerva cocked her head to the side as she looked up at the god. ”Go with you? To this… Eye of Desolation?” she said thoughtfully. ”But… This is our home.”

”A home is a people, not a place. And Michallis is your ‘people’. Despite its name, the Eye is a good place, and you won’t have to be so alone anymore, out here in the middle of nowhere.” he said softly.

It was true, she could not imagine herself anywhere else without Michallis and as much as she enjoyed this tree of theirs… It would never be the same again. ”I… I need to speak with Michallis first. I can’t make a decision without him.” she said.

Orvus nodded in agreement. ”Of course. Speak to your husband. He arrives now.”

Husband? Was that he was to her…? She shook her head and got up. Before leaving the room, she looked back at Orvus, who said nothing, before making her way down the tree. Michallis’ voice was not far behind. ”M-Minerva! What are you doing!” he shouted, dropping the carcass of a deer to his feet.

She smirked, before saying, ”I’m coming down to see you, of course.” and when her feet touched the ground, she turned around to see Michallis standing before her. He still looked awful, but not nearly as he had been. She probably looked no better. There was silence between the two as they looked over one another again, and took in each other’s scents.

Then they both began to speak, before going quiet. Michallis gulped and said, ”You first.” Minerva was about to tell him to go first, but thought better of it. The dragon girl scratched her head before saying, ”I’m… I’m sorry for ignoring you, Michallis. I just… Needed to be alone.” she said, looking to the ground.

”There’s no need to say sorry. I… Understood.” the man said as he shifted awkwardly.
Minerva looked back up at him, ”There is though. You’re hurting just as much as I am, and what did I do? I shut you out, Michallis. I can’t imagine how I would feel if you did the same to me. It’s selfish, and I’m sorry.”

Michallis opened his mouth to say something, but instead gave a small nod. That wasn’t like him, but she found it strangely warming.

”There’s more. You are my love, Michallis. And I am yours. The only way we can…” she paused trying to come up with the right words. ”Make the pain and sadness and grief subside... Is by going through it, together.” she said, a tear falling down her cheek.

”Minerva.” Michallis gasped softly, before moving towards her. He then embraced her, in a tight hug and Minerva did the same. They stood like that for a long time, before Michallis pulled away, still holding onto her and said, ”I’m so sorry.”

”Michallis.” Minerva said, putting a hand on his face. ”It was an accident. If you can’t accept that, then we will never get anywhere, my love.” she whispered. Michallis leaned in to her hand, and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then said, ”I’ll try.” before opening his eyes once more.

”There’s one more thing, Michallis.” Minerva lulled, half closing her eyes. ”Do you want to move?.”

Michallis furrowed his brow. ”Move? But where would we go… Kellin is… buried here.”

”I know. But we always promised him we’d go on an adventure. As a family.” she said misty eyed.

Michallis’ brow relaxed and he nodded. ”Okay. Yeah. Just… Where would we go?”

”The Eye of Desolation.” she said with a soft smile. And as Michallis kissed her brow, she knew everything would be alright, in time.

---

“The Elus have settled here.”

Duhwah pointed at an encircled spot on a crude map painted on a dry wolf skin. Jotokan rubbed away some of the warpaints on his face in thought, inciting a frustrated groan from Aloo who had drawn it. The chieftain looked up at the champion with a furrowed brow.

“That’s pretty far from the ol’ Julu camp… Ya sure they’re that far away from Hohm?”

Duhwah gave his younger brother Dohn a look and the younger brother passed a nod back. “Yeah,” Duhwah affirmed. “Every time we’ve gone to fetch bluestone, they’ve always attacked from the south - Dohn here did some checkin’ up and found a small camp in a small crag by the beach.”

Jotokan pursed his lips and nodded. “Did they see ya, Dohn? And did ya see if they had anyone standing guard? Egii or Egoo?”

Dohn shook his head. “Nah, chief - ain’t seen none’a them. Don’t think they saw me either, though. Was pretty well hidden.”

Jotokan nodded and clapped him proudly on the shoulder. “Aight, boys - tonight’s the night. Eel ‘n his brothers have stolen their last bluestone. We’re goin’ over to their camp and we’re gunna make them stop for good.”

The twenty-five selka present all raised their spears into the air and sounded a thunderous, “YEAH!”

It had been another six months since Lugo’s visit to the Wuhdige; a prosperous year had passed and unveiled a growing infection in the wound that was the Elu family’s relationship with the rest of the tribe. After their departure from the Home Cave settlement, which the chieftain had decided to rename Hohm for simplicity’s sake, a long time had passed without any sort of contact - the Julus had not exactly been keen on it, after all, and Jotokan had conveniently also quite felt like postponing the meeting. Still, it had to be done, and as relationships soured further and further due to the increasingly bolder raids by Egii, Egoo and the other Elu hunters, the task had only necessitated greater and greater preparations. Finally, however, they were ready - with twenty-five strong, all painted with red handprints on their faces over the eyes, on the pectorals and on the biceps to honour Killon the Red, and with spears pointed with deer bones, they were fully prepared. Each would bring along a pack of fired fish and some pears and apples as to not go hungry. Anything beyond the ration, however, would have to be hunted personally.

Jotokan felt a nervous itch pester his gut. He would be the first Wuhdige chieftain to lead a band explicitly to police one of his fellow clans - a proud clan from which his very wife descended. No mistakes could be made - the spears would merely be for show, yes. No, no Wuhdige blood would be spilled today.

With some kisses of farewell from their families, the twenty-five selka set off on a disorganised march into the dark of night. The walk to the old Julu camp was long - nearly a day long, even for a fast walker, and the Elus were even further away. The thought of a long march drilled at Jotokan’s motivation, but he would be the last to snow it externally. As the body paint dried out, the band took to the sea water to give their aching feet some rest. Making certain to remain within the cover of night or underwater, they swam as a pack of sea lions, scanning the beach for prey.

As dawn of the second day approached, Dohn quickly dove underneath, followed by the rest. Under water, he signed a signal they all knew - fire. Jotokan peeked over the surface; indeed, an orange blink flickered on the beach and as Heliopolis cast its rays onto the white sands, its shadows painted a crag in the cliff - fitting Dohn’s description perfectly.

The chieftain and the champion brought the warriors onto land - they all made themselves as small as possible as they snuck into the cover the beach-side forest once more. As they inched ever closer to the camp, it became clear that the Elu either didn’t have the capacity or the foresight to post guards. The dawnlight was drastically shortening their time - soon, any glance in their direction could unveil their approach. Luckily, though, it seemed that the Elu had yet to wake up. Although, come to think of it, their camp was awfully quiet.

“WAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

Jotokan and the others rubbernecked towards the hillside, where a band of thirty selka armed with wooden clubs and sharpened sticks came charging down towards them. In the front were Egii and Egoo, flanked by two other males that were complete strangers to Jotokan. The chieftain was stunned at the frightening display of their ferocious charge, their bluestone-painted faces glistening in the morning light.

“Joto! Joto!”

The chieftain turned to face Duhwah, who grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. “What do we do?!”

Jotokan blinked and swallowed - the charge was but a hundred metres or so away now. It was clear that they had no peaceful intent in mind - their force outnumbered them by five and their war cries and banging of weaponry against the ground and trees displayed no other message than bloodlust. While he had promised himself that they would return home with clean spears, it was evident that the situation necessitated otherwise.

“Wuhdige! Ready your spears!”

The warriors all gulped and swallowed collectively as they held their spears out front in a shoddy phalanx. The foe charged all the same - in fact, it seemed as though the phalanx egged them on. The Wuhdige spears were better - longer, sharper. Still, Jotokan knew the Spirit Birds would come for a number of them. He tightened the fists around his spear and looked to his brother Joku, his cousin Toko, the champion Duhwah and his brother Dohn. They were all mighty warriors - perhaps the mightiest in the whole tribe. Still, could four great warriors plus twenty militia stand against thirty charging wildmen?

The force descended upon them. With Egii, Egoo and the two strangers leading ahead, they pierced the Wuhdige line at its centre. The line broke momentarily, but the Wuhdige pushed back. One of the strangers took a spear to the stomach and fell over dead on the spot, but his killer was immediately slaughtered by the other stranger, his eyes filled with a fury that only a brother bereaved of a brother could show. In a strange accent, he spoke, “Ye slaughtered me kin - now ye’ll all hang from the pikes!”

Duhwah shoved Jotokan behind him and deflected two incoming strikes from Egii and Egoo, both seemingly determined to end the chieftain’s rule for good. The champion thrusted, scraping up Egoo’s flank with the sharpened edge of his spear. Egoo whimpered and staggered back a little to clutch his bloody side - meanwhile, Egii seized an opportunity. The large selka jabbed the butt of his spear into Duhwah’s face, breaking the champion’s nose. Duhwah groaned sharply and retaliated with another thrust, but Egii dodged.

Duhwah thrusted again; Egii dodged.

Again - a dodge.

The champion grew furious. With a raging roar, he switched his grip into underhand and sent his spear like a harpoon straight into Egii’s chest. The tip exited on the opposite side, but Egii hadn’t fallen. He coughed up a bile of blood and phlegm, grinning wickedly at Duhwah. The champion frowned at him in furious curiousity.

“What?!”

Egii collapsed to the ground, coughed a weak laugh and pointed over Duhwah’s shoulder with a shaking finger. The champion followed the finger and turned, his skin whitening as he did.

There, not too far from where he had shoved him, Jotokan laid slain by Egoo and the stranger.

---

Duhwah did not want to recall the rest of the battle. They had lost utterly. Seeing the chieftain fall had broken morale completely, and the rout had cost them the rest of the force with the exception of himself, Dohn, Julo, Joku and Toko. The others were either dead, dying or had fled too far for them to see.

The pursuers had let them go after half a day’s chase through the woods and hills; still, Duhwah was certain that they were being followed. Currently, however, that was not weighing as heavily on his heart as it should - no, his heart had become a void of guilt and shame. A champion’s prime purpose is to defend the chieftain, and he had become the first one to fail. Not in an accidental way, either - he had failed because of his own temperament and stupidity. For a chance at Egii’s life, he had turned away from his mission and chased the foe into the heat of battle, leaving his leader - his friend - to die at the hands of assassins. He was a disgrace.

“Duh.”

Duhwah looked up with somber eyes. Ahead of them, the camp of Hohm made its presence clear with thick columns of smoke and numerous approaching selka. As the masses inched closer, cries for aid and whimpering made it clear that many could draw the correct conclusion of the battle. Duhwah scratched some dry blood out of his fur, and even as the selka surrounded him and the other survivors, he did not lift his eyes from the ground as he paced ever closer to the waiting, weeping family of the late chieftain.

Selenu inched closer, put a hand on Duhwah’s shoulder and sniffed. “D-Duhwah… Did… Did Jotty make it?”

The champion stopped in front of her and the children and fell to his knees, head shaking slowly. As he suppressed a whimper, he spoke a simple, somber, “no”.

Selenu sucked in a hacking gasp. Kulee leaned into her mother’s side and wailed, while Aloo and Tokkan made hard, futile attempts at locking their tears inside. Duhwah remained on the ground before them, not saying a single word. Around them, the rest of the tribe broke into wails and howls at the loss of their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons.

With glistening lines running down his cheeks, Aloo demanded with grit teeth: “Duhwah - who did it?”

The champion still didn’t raise his head. Instead, he shook it one more time. “It would do you no good to know, son - trust me, rage is a bad thing, and not one you want controlling you.”

He sucked in a breath. “We must ready up now… The Elu could attack any day.” He rose to his feet. “The Elu have new friends - we thought we would be double their men, but they overpowered us with more than we had. They’ve gotten in contact with another tribe - one that isn’t Wuhdige.”

The crowd gasped and looked at one another. It was true - the Elu had only been about ten males when they left. For them to be thirty, they would have needed a powerful ally. Frightened chatter broke out among the selka, speculations and conspiracies filling the air. Duhwah thundered, “Shut your yaps! We don’t need to start a hunt just to know who dunnit. All we gotta know is that they are many and that they are dangerous. We gotta ready the camp for an attack.”

The selka blinked at him. “How do we do that?”

Duhwah sucked in a breath. He took his spear and looked to the direction they had some from. Then, he stuck the butt end in the sand so the spear pointed in that direction at an angle. He then pointed to the spear and said, “Surround the camp with pointy sticks and stuff like this - then make chimes from fish and dog bones and hang them on sinew around this here barrier. Every night, we gotta have guards and stuff. No foragin’ at night, either - all that stuff happens during the day.”

“But how will we catch fireflies, then?” came a complaint from the back.

“Don’t! We gotta defend ourselves now,” the champion declared. He looked around. With a loss of nineteen powerful males, the Wuhdige had been severely weakened.

“We lack the men now, but we gotta do what we can to--”

“I can fix that!”

A muscular woman broke through the crowd into the centre, flanked on the right by a smaller male. Duhwah snorted a disapproving huff of hot air, for he recognised her perfectly. Before them stood Woi’e, the only female family head in the Wuhdige, flanked by her young son Owo. The Woiwoi head crossed her broad arms over a broader chest and gave Duhwah a stern look. “After all, not only men can fight.”

Duhwah grunted. “The tribe will need the females to make and raise the pups. I won’t allow i--”

“But you ain’t chief, is ya?” Woi’e retorted and nodded at Aloo who shrunk. “Jotokan’s oldest boy is.”

Duhwah rubbernecked to look at Aloo. He felt a pitying sensation well up in his chest. Aloo was just old enough, and that was the issue - they could only replace him if he seemed unfit, but Aloo had never done anything to indicate such, and the rules dictated that the champion could not lead unless the chieftain was either dead without an heir or unfit to lead. Duhwah prayed for a second that Aloo would step down - pass his title on to one of his uncles, Joku or Toko.

Instead, however, Aloo slowly straightened himself back up. The afternoon heliopolis cast a red twilight shadow over the youngling’s torso. The boy gave Woi’e a stern nod and then turned to Duhwah. “Duh, we will need all we can get. If Woi’e says she can make the females into warriors, we could get double, no, triple the strength of the Elu. We could crush them!”

Duhwah recoiled at the diction. “Boy, don’t wanna think like that…”

Aloo looked back with raging eyes. “We will beat them down and make them pay, Duhwah. They took our chief, my pa, and so many other good pas and boys!” Woi’e grinned and went over to lift Aloo onto her shoulder. From there, the new chieftain shouted, “We will make them pay!”

The vengeful cheers sounded, and with them, Duhwah swallowed a painful clump of regret. The Wuhdige would prepare themselves for war - and he was not certain it was one they could win.

For safety, the trip through Limbo was short and done very much in the embrace of Xiaoli -- Hermes’ mortal mind barely keeping it all together. With a rush of light, the two suddenly landed on a big mossy patch. Hermes let out a hollow cough, her eyes adjusting to the new light around her.

Her heart quickened, she was in a forest -- just like last time -- except this one was different. Her rush of anxiety quickly turned to curiosity as she looked around: the trees were a lot bigger, a lot older and wider, with gnarled roots that threaded out of the thin mossy ground and branches that lumbered above, darkening the understories. Leathery shrubs and other hardy plants cut out territory among the roots and moss, above them tiny lightning bugs flickered with unusual brightness, giving off most of the grove’s ambient light, but what stood out the most was the wind.

A gentle breeze seemed to cut through the area without end. It was silky and slow, with a thick plant-like fragrance stuck to it and when Hermes closed her eyes and really tried to listen, she could make out gentle chimes -- almost reminiscent to the snapfruit chimes when a stiff wind blew by. Xiaoli followed the sound with watchful skepticism.

“... It might be a trap,” she whispered. “Anything that resembled the real world can be a lure hiding greater dangers…”

Hermes slapped her Narzhakian mace into her grip and held it close, “You’re probably right -- as always.” She smirked at her wife, but her eyes stayed serious, ever flickering while the cloudling in her hair crackled menacingly. Hermes pursed her lips.

“Which way do you think we should go?”

Xiaoli put her hands on her hips and hummed. “... I mean, straight forward is usually not the worst - then again, straight forward may as well be backwards in Limbo…” She snapped her fingers repeatedly as she weighed the multitude of options. “We should stick to a roofed road, still - would rather you not stare at the night sky so much.”

“Afraid I might see something more beautiful than you?” Hermes joked, a tiny laugh attempting to keep the conversation light.

Xiaoli snickered politely. “Close, but not quite - I would rather not have a repeat of the last time you looked up, that is all. I therefore suggest we continue through the woods.”

”Pop?”

Hermes looked as if she was about to say something when suddenly a stuff breeze powered through the trees. The rustling of the leaves seemed to immediately put Xiaoli on edge, her hand rocketing to Hermes’ arm.

“Alright! Let’s get going already - better get this over with sooner rather than later, right?!” Xiaoli said with almost interrupting quickness and pulled Hermes along, keeping a borderline hostile, watchful eye on the canopy above.

“Well hold on, now,” Hermes said as she was tugged along, one hand keeping her club close to her as they blasted through the snapping underbrush, “I don’t think we should just rush through all of this!”

”Zzt!” A crackle erupted from Hermes’ hair.

Xiaoli furrowed her brow anxiously. “Hermes, dear, do you not remember anything? Nothing about the night sky or the… Things that followed?”

“I remember everything,” Hermes insisted, her brow falling, “Horrifying dreams, strange visions while awake, asking K’nell about it.” She twisted her lips as she thought, “I remember he showed me the night sky, it was a test… but what--” She squinted as if trying to force a memory, “I just remember dread, cold shivering dread. The world was empty again.” She shook her head, her long messy hair snagging a few low hangings leaves from their homes as they hurried by.

Xiaoli caressed the palm and fingers of the hand she held softly, her sandy skin giving the move a slightly rough texture. “It’s hard to see from the outside, too… Awful, really. You just stand there, and nothing we do gets any response - unless you start talking gibberish in that odd accent…” She shook her head. “I don’t trust him at all, but I trust the shifting nature of the environment even less. If there’s a chance that the stone ring can help us avoid the night sky, then we should seek it out.”

Hermes opened her mouth and then closed it, “Well, if we are going to do this -- let’s do it the old fashioned way, then.” With a push of her leg she hip checked into Xiaoli, her free arm wrapping around the river-girl’s waist, Xiaoli blushing and smiling reminiscently all the while. Hermes’ sandals fluttered, as if stretching from a long sleep and then all at once the trio sent a shocking boom through the forest, themselves turning into a blur.

The dreamer’s eyes flickered quickly as she zipped between trees and over and under branches. Her eyes drifted upwards, and then as if a needle suddenly sunk into her eyeball, her entire body cringed, a look of terror slicing across her features briefly. Her chest sank and body shivered: a featureless black sky peeked menacingly through the trees -- but in an instant the canopy overtook it once more and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, ever thankful for the speed she was going at.

Quickly a wall of trees came flooding in from the distance as they zipped forward. Hermes quickly slowed down, the trio landing softly onto the mossy floor below. Hermes let her hand fall from Xiaoli as she held a hand up to her chin, eyes scanning the trees before her. They had grown in such a way where each giant trunk was pushed up against its neighbor, creating a palisade of impenetrable trees.

“Xiaoli?” Hermes said almost commandingly, eyes still on the trees.

The river girl gave the wall a frown and voiced a quiet, “yes?”

“It would seem we have bumped into an old nemesis of yours,” Hermes’ eyes flicked over to give Xiaoli a look from the side, a curl on the edge of her lips.

Xiaoli rolled her eyes, but could not help a snort-like laugh from escaping her firmly-pressed lips. “You dumby.”

“Oh!” Hermes turned her head, a wide smile on her face, “I got you! Ha! I knew I was funny.” She rested her club on her shoulder and looked back at the tree. She hummed in thought -- a habit picked up from Xiaoli, “So, my first instinct was to smash it all down, but then I remembered that those branches--” She pointed up to the canopy of the trees before them, “Are all that’s keeping the night sky away from us.” She gave Xiaoli a sideways look, “Pretty clever, eh?”

“Yes, yes, quite clever,” Xiaoli returned. “Do you think we can walk along this wall until we reach something of note?”

“Maybe,” Hermes bit a finger, “Or…” She looked over at Xiaoli, “You could cut us a hole? Just big enough to squeeze through.”

“Didn’t you just say this wall keeps the night sky out?”

“Well,” Hermes put a hand on her hip, “Yes, but a small hole; the trees are pretty big, I’m sure one little bitty hole wouldn’t knock ‘em down.”

Xiaoli gave her a skeptical look, but couldn’t seem to find a good counter-argument. Thus, she drew a small circle in the air before the wall, only to see that the leaves and wood covered by the circle began to rot and fade to dust, leaving a Hermes-and-Xiaoli-sized hole.

“There. That ought to do it.”

“So talented,” Hermes smirked, but her hair crackled with indifference. Xiaoli didn’t pay Poppler much mind and without much more, Hermes trotted in front. The eager adventurer slipped through easily, only having to reposition her club once. The Dreamer stretched her legs, a wet dew brushing against her ankles.

She stood in a dim glade, tall dewey grass of a dark green carpeting the area. Rings of mushroom pocked the ground, and the canopy above was so thick that she could barely see much further, the only source of light being a set of glowing runes that swirled across a standing ring of stone.

She strained her eyes, but she couldn’t read the runes. She took a step forward, the sound of Xiaoli clambering through the hole right behind her. The head of her club fell to the ground as she dragged it behind her, eyes perplexed by the suddenly familiar writing. A breeze snaked through her hair, leaving a soft whisper in her ear.

“Why are you so worried?”

Hermes’ eyes widened, a pang of worry seeping into her chest -- had it always been there unbeknownst to her? She grit her teeth and walked on, but the breeze slipped into her ear again.

”Why are you so mad?”

It was true, she didn’t notice it before, but the coals of a burning rage sizzled in her stomach, pushing a tingling energy out to her limbs. Why was she so furious? It mixed with the worry, turning into a stew of emotion, and yet the breeze lapped at her conscious once more.

”Why do you hold so much?

She looked down at her fist, fingers clenched over the club, her other hand on the hilt of her longknife. She sucked in a breath and let go of the hilt.

“I don’t,” She whispered harshly back, her free hand tentatively touching the stone ring before her. She turned her head to look at Xiaoli, but for a moment all she saw was a flash of furious black eyes. She quickly closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, heart racing. Slowly she opened them again, Xiaoli standing in front of her. Her face had contorted with anxious worry.

“Dear… How are you feeling? You look…” She gulped and took her hand in her own. “Would you like to take a short breather?”

"I'm fine," Hermes nodded and gave a reassuring smile, "Let's just do this and hope it doesn't put me off from adventures forever."

Xiaoli looked as though she wanted to continue asking, but evidently decided against it. She squeezed the hand affectionately and gave her a small smile. “Yeah… Yeah, let’s. Just… Make sure to tell me if you feel anything strange, okay?” Xiaoli then gave the stone circle a hard look. “What do you think this is?”

"Bit of a tall order when everything feels strange," Hermes smirked, the light hearted joke not easing her chest or stomach, "But sure, if anything sticks out -- you'll be the first to know."

"Crackle."

"No I stick by that," Hermes grabbed at her hair before scanning the stone ring. She pondered for a moment, eyes glued on the runes and hand on her stomach; it was curling again. "Time to go through then?"

“Yeah. Stay close - it may affect you like the portal into Limbo did.” Xiaoli’s body took on the familiar dim glow and she placed her palm on the stone, and the whole structure began to hum softly. Hermes’ hand squeezed Xiaoli’s and she gently tugged her along with her to the center of the ring. Wisps of white light zapped from the ring as the two approached the gaping center, snapping off of them like jolts of flaming lightning. Hermes’ face held firm, her stomach groaning with displeasure as the light grew and grew, the tendrils growing more frequent until there was only a blinding white and an electric crackle.

Sensation returned.

The first thing that graced Hermes’ senses was a soft music. It nearly reminded her of the palace, but it was laced with a certain sorrow that hit her heart with a forlorn arrow. It was exotic, it was sad and then her vision came back. It was blurred, with pools of different greys mixing and fading into each other. A warm wetness fell down her cheek and she raised a hand to it. With the back of her hand she wiped her face, collecting a tiny puddle of tears -- she was crying.

She felt the sandy skin of Xiaoli touch her arm and she turned away from the empty grey landscape, finding Xiaoli’s face an oasis in the depression. The river girl pulled Hermes into an embrace and took a deep, shivering breath.

“Here, come here… Did you see anything?”

Hermes pulled out of the hug, “No, I-” Her eyes widened. Behind Xiaoli stood a completely monochrome figure, it looked exactly like her save for long feathery hair. Two dark eyes stared unblinking at Hermes, a flat line for a mouth. In its hands it held a strange instrument with a fat hollow bottom and long neck of two strings. It’s fingers were dancing along the length, while the other hand held a bow to it, plucking the sounds into existence. Behind the figure the empty grey of this world swirled.

Xiaoli turned her head quickly and spotted for an instant a gray shade in the middle of fading. She sucked in a breath and raised her hands in preparation for battle, sand coalescing into a dagger in her hand. However, whatever it had been was already far too gone.

“... What-... What was that?”

Hermes spun around, her sandals making tiny splashing sounds as if she was standing in a puddle -- but all around was just endless grey. She squinted, the anxiety in her stomach balling into a stone and boiling into something else entirely, “I don’t really know.”

Though the empty landscape never shifted, the sounds of the instrument lingered, each pluck causing Hermes’ left eye to twitch. She tilted her head, as if listening to a voice under the music, her eyes rising to look back at Xiaoli, “I think we should keep going...”

”Pop?”

“I don’t know where,” Hermes hissed at Poppler, a stress in her voice. She immediately swallowed and sighed, “I’m sorry, Poppler.”

”Zzt...”

“Let’s just go forward,” Hermes let the head of her club fall onto the ethereal ground as she dragged it behind her, kicking her sandals in what was her best guess for ‘forward.’

“Babe, I-...” Xiaoli began, but stopped herself. She sighed noiselessly and stuffed her hands in the folds of her robe.

“What!?” Hermes spun around, her voice a tad more aggressive than it should’ve been, the music quickening. She ran a hand through her hair and let out a hollow whistle, eyes bouncing off of Xiaoli, “Sorry,” she cocked her head, eyes abuzz with frustration “What do you need?”

Xiaoli’s eyes widened, then jumped away from Hermes, turning to the ground. “N-nothing, it’s fine… You’re right, we should continue.”

“I know,” Hermes said uncharacteristically, “That’s why I said it -- forward, away from here.” The dreamer turned again, her fingers shaking with energy, only tamed by clutching her club tighter.

A pained expression washed over Xiaoli’s face, and her eyes did not move away from the ground for a long while as she followed her wife deeper into the dream world.

A tense silence followed, save for the plucking of the instrument. Each resounding strum seemed to cause Hermes to flinch, her footing quickening into a faster walk. She could almost feel the pain she caused Xiaoli linger behind her, but as it swirled into the furnace that was her stomach, she just felt angrier. Her lip trembled slightly and she tucked it behind a bite, eyes closing with frustration.

Xiaoli, meanwhile, kept a somewhat cold distance from Hermes, as if the raging radiation burned her delicate sandy skin. Her way of walking was careful and somber, her neck inclined forward all the while. The hem of the robe swished airlessly around her feet, dragging across the empty plane of existence. After a while, she went, “Hermes?”

“What?” It came as a snap.

Xiaoli gulped and feigned a smile. “Do you remember when Chagatai and Wenbo stole your quoll shoes and buried them in the vegetable garden?”

“Yes,” The answer was short and sizzling, a dam between Hermes’ growing rage and her voice.

A small snort of laughter forcefully escaped Xiaoli’s nostril. “Y-yeah, it took us a week to find them and by then, they had already begun to mould. You scolded them so hard, and of course Chatagai took the brunt of it because of who he is.” She giggled and smiled weakly. “... He probably still would do that for any of his siblings, or children…”

There was a long pause, save for the music, as if Hermes was digesting the story. The music quickened, and Hermes could feel it in her heart. Her brow furrowed, “Are you trying to make me happy?” Her voice was quiet, yet jittering with energy.

Xiaoli’s mouth flattened out. “Trying’s a good word.”

Hermes looked over her shoulder, her face stern, “Why can’t I just be mad? I never get to just be angry, I-- I--” She closed her mouth, brow slanting, “I’m sorry Xiaoli, but-- can I just be mad?” The plucking twanged and Hermes closed her eyes, letting a slow breath out of her nostrils, teeth clenched. The grey figure flickered, walking next to Xiaoli, plucking away.

“Is that okay?” Hermes asked, the energy in her voice more of an assertion than a question.

“... This is all very new to me - usually I’m the angry one,” Xiaoli admitted. “It just feels wrong - you’re not supposed to be angry. The realm is affecting you, it must be.”

"So I can't be mad?" Hermes huffed, "I can't always be so cheery -- does it have to be the realm's fault? I can't just be mad!?" Her voice raised and she exhaled quickly, "What about me, Xiaoli, why can't I just be pissed for once?"

She stopped and turned to Xiaoli and the musician, ignoring the latter as the music increased yet again. Hermes' face was reddened, her eyes watery with frustration, "I have plenty to be mad about!" Her fist clenched.

Xiaoli recoiled, seemingly unable to really wrap her head around the concept that Hermes could be this angry. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth and thought better of what she had planned to say. Eventually, she just replied with, “Want to talk about it? The things that make you angry?”

"It won't change anything," Hermes defended loudly, "You don't want to hear it anyway."

“But I do, Hermes!” Xiaoli insisted. “Please, just talk to me. Like you always do.”

“Fine!” Hermes’ body shivered with anger, “I hate Galbar, it doesn’t make any sense and the--” She cut herself off, eyes flickering with rage, the music following her thoughts. She clenched her teeth, “It is all wrong, and we have to pay for it -- our babies have to.”

“W-wait, wait, what’s the problem with Galbar? What is it doing to our children?” Xiaoli asked in baffled confusion.

Hermes groaned, “No, what I’m saying is it--” She let out a frustrated grunt, “Xiaoli. I... don’t... matter... to... Galbar. Our... kids... don’t... matter! I made... we made life and we didn’t.. I didn’t.” Hermes furrowed her brow, “Why am I alive if I’m just supposed to go away?”

The music stopped.

Xiaoli’s look flickered around to pin down the source of the silent void that had replaced the music. Feeling anxious moisture on her brow, she took a step closer to Hermes. “Hermes, you’re not supposed to go away - you have a purpose; our children have a purpose. Where are these thoughts coming from?”

“This isn’t about purpose,” Hermes anger choked for a moment, as if snagged on the silence, “I’ve always had a purpose, Xiaoli -- but I am mortal, our children our mortal.” Hermes pursed her lips, the anger resurging, “We aren’t allowed to last forever on Galbar, we are meant to go away -- so why do we even have to live first?” Hermes shook her head, “I’m not a tool, Xiaoli, I’m not a source of entertainment, pity, pride, or even worship...” Her eyes flared and her voice rose, “I’m Hermes, and I don’t want to go away-- I don’t want to watch our children go away.” She exhaled sharply, “And I can be mad about that.”

Hermes looked down, as if the rage was subsiding. There was a soft crackle in her hair and Hermes let out a softer breath. Her eyes seemed to scan something that wasn’t there, as if examining a thought. As she did, the grey world seemed to fade into blackness.

“... Hermes,” Xiaoli said with a somber sigh. “None of us are meant to be around forever. In time, even the gods might shrivel up and blow away as dust on the winds. As all life is born, so it must eventually die so it can power the cycle that brings more life into this universe. It’s tough thinking about death, I know, but-...” She stopped herself, surveying the surrounding void. “... But it’s not coming for any of us any time soon.”

"Then what's the snapping point?" Hermes voice raised but never reached a cord of anger, everything sinking deeper into the darkness. "My original purpose was to experience but I broke that mould, K'nell praised it and I felt good -- only to be told later on that none of it mattered and we all are some... Fuel for a process that I could give a damn about."

The grey flickered back on, and the music began, Hermes' voice having found its energy again, "No, I'm here now, Xiaoli, and I'm alive -- there has to be a better reason for life than some sick ring-a-round or damn life, damn Galbar, and damn creation. There is more than purpose, Xiaoli, there is reason -- and I demand it!"

All at once the grey world suddenly bloomed. Greens and yellows swirled back in -- the smell of wet soil, the creaking of trees. They now stood under a mess of gnarled branches peppered with crab apples. The ground was a short dark moss, and the forest stretched in all directions.

Hermes stood in shock, her anger leaving her with a breath. The figure with the instrument slowly faded away again, its instrument having long since dissolved into nothing. Xiaoli’s now-teary eyes nevertheless took on a skeptical scowl as she surveyed the forest.

“Ugh! I hate this place so much - now where do we go?!”

Hermes furrowed her brow, the anger in her stomach residing slowly. The energy stayed, but the blind anger was gone -- it was a fury, but a different kind. She sighed, the cool forest air swirling into her lungs, "Xiaoli, I--" She stopped."I wish I could say I'm sorry for the things I said, but I'm not-- I am sorry for how I said it though."

Xiaoli’s frustration with the environment subsided as well. She gave Hermes a sad, weak smile and said, “It’s… It’s alright, dear, it’s just… Uncanny, seeing you this way. I didn’t know how to react. I won’t pester you about it anymore, though…”

"I think you should," Hermes countered, "Clearly I have some things pent up..." She frowned, "Do you want a hug?"

“Yes, please,” Xiaoli whimpered and held out her arms.

Hermes sighed and stepped in, putting her arms around her wife. Almost instantly, a voice like escaping steam sounded.

"Ssso, you're the onesss doing all that ssscreaming?"

The two turned, a surprised crackle coming from Hermes' hair. In front of the two stood an animated skeleton, flanked by a nearly identical looking ethereal copy, and a ball of light.





Prestige = 35