---

Weeks had gone by, and when Karamir was not drinking, or eating, or sleeping, he was practicing.

Again and again he tried, on different items or materials, but progress was slow. At first, it had been a struggle to simply produce something on the same level as that same spark. He could levitate a pebble, make plants shake, generate soft breezes of wind, and even create small dust clouds with nothing more than his mind. It was tiring, exhausting work, but with patience and resolve, he persisted, and soon he could reliably call upon the previously mentioned phenomena. Doing anything greater, however, remained rather difficult.

Then an idea occurred to him. Perhaps he was approaching this the wrong way. Maybe he was looking at it too broadly. He was applying himself to every method, many of which seemed to require completely different mindsets. Perhaps, if he focused on one particular spell or skill, he could perfect that, and then move on to something else.

Yes, that seemed far more efficient. At least in theory.

So, he decided to focus his efforts on the air itself. Why not? Air was everywhere; there was hardly a shortage of it. Unless he went underwater, or went too high into the sky... but there was no reason to do that under normal circumstances. So, after realizing the merits the power of wind held, he quickly applied himself to it.

For weeks more he practiced, atop mountains and hills, within the branches of trees, or even while flying in the open air. He used his mana to produce increasingly powerful gusts of wind. At first the attacks were barely distinguishable from a cool breeze, but eventually he was able to send dirt, leaves, or even loose stones flying with a wave of his hands. By then, weeks had become months, and although it felt taxing, he could not deny he was making progress. Still, what he knew now would be useless in any sort of combat situation, and even outside of combat there were few uses for it.

He had to continue, and so he did. In the meantime, he also grew a short goatee, but his facial hair did not seem to want to grow beyond that. It felt strange at first, but he got used to it. Seasons passed, and his skill continued to increase.

One day, one of his sessions was suddenly interrupted.

"Karamir."

It had been decades since he heard that voice, but he recognized it all the same. Standing before him was the god who created him, who bestowed upon him abilities and gifts, who then cast him out into the world to sink or swim, who he hadn't heard from since. "Kalmar..." he said.

"What are you doing?" the God of the Hunt demanded, a familiar frown plastered on his face.

Karamir took a step back. He suspected he would see Kalmar again at some point, yet the arrival caught him off-guard all the same; he never imagined it would happen like this. The aspiring mage took a breath. "I am practicing mana," he said in a calm voice.

Kalmar furrowed his brow. "Mana? What is that?"

"It's an energy all around us," Karamir explained, gesturing with his hands. "Abanoc told me about it. Those who can wield it can perform acts that others can't."

Kalmar stared at him, and then realization seemed to come to the Hunter's face. "I see," he said. "I think I know of what you speak. I never saw much use in it, because there's little it allows me to do that I can't do already, but I suppose that to a mortal it would be invaluable."

Karamir nodded, but Kalmar continued speaking. "Now it's time to address the more pressing issue. Why did you part ways from Arryn?"

"I didn't mean to," Karamir replied, with regret in his voice. "I went ahead, and I was going to wait for him, but I saw a strange structure and decided to investigate. I didn't realize it would take me to some god's sphere, or that Arryn wouldn't have been able to find me there. Do you know where he is now?"

"No longer in the maze," Kalmar answered with a frown. "He believes you abandoned him, after he gave you a gift."

"I didn't mean-"

"That is how he perceived it," Kalmar interrupted. "And he had good reason to. You should have stayed with him. Instead you got separated, and you both went through a great deal of trouble - him significantly more."

"What do you mean?"

"You were in the maze for little more than a week," Kalmar frowned. "Arryn was there for months."

Karamir winced at that. "I... I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. Actions have consequences. Remember that," the Hunter said, his gaze unyielding. "Now, tell me about your interactions with K'nell."

"I was wandering Kalgrun. One of Shengshi's rivers dried up. There were a lot of fish, ready to be taken, so I went in to investigate... then the river refilled, and I was swept into the sea. K'nell's avatar, Diana, pulled me out. I wanted to be away from Kalgrun, to see the rest of Galbar, so I stayed with her until we arrived at another continent."

"And stayed with her after that?" Kalmar questioned.

Karamir nodded. "Yes. The land we arrived at was full of dangers, some even more deadly than what lived at Kalgrun. It seemed foolish to try to live there alone."

Kalmar nodded. "Sensible enough; there is safety in numbers. So long as you don't become too dependent on them."

Karamir decided not to delve into the specific nature of his interactions with Diana, so he simply nodded back. "Time passed, and eventually she decided to bring me back to the Palace. She wanted me to stay with her, but I couldn't; I had to leave. Arryn found me, and did something to fortify my body and soul..."

"Yes, as I instructed. What then?" Kalmar asked.

"I wandered Tendlepog for a few days, and encountered the Dreamers. They allowed me to stay, but quickly changed their mind and kicked me out... because of some 'great change' that was happening. Arryn gave me this cloak, and we went west, until I found the Staircase..."

Kalmar nodded. "That matches up with what Arryn told me, and I have to say I don't understand this K'nell." He shook his head. "What next?"

"I went through... 'the Maze'... and it was horrible," Karamir said, a chill running down his spine. "I thought I would die there, until somehow I ended up in Abanoc's sphere. He gave me some food, some water, told me about what I just saw, and shared some information... about his sphere, about Galbar, and about mana."

"It sounds like you owe Abanoc a debt," Kalmar observed. "So this is what you have been doing after that? Practicing 'mana'?"

Karamir nodded, unsure of what was coming next.

"Good," Kalmar said. "Keep doing it. I'd like to see where it leads; what can be done with it."

"I... alright."

"And one more thing," Kalmar added, his voice suddenly reaching a softness Karamir had never quite heard before. He reached forward and put a hand on the now-taller mortal's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Karamir blinked. "What?"

"The way I brought you into this world, the way I prepared you for it, I made mistakes. I was too harsh, left too many questions unanswered, and some of the questions I did answer were the wrong ones." The Hunter shook his head and sighed. "I made mistakes."

Karamir could scarcely believe any of it. For so long a part of him had resented Kalmar, feeling bitter toward him, for the way he had been treated, and now Kalmar was vocally confirming that part of him was correct. On the other hand, another part of him felt indebted to Kalmar - especially after the suffering Diana introduced him to was infinitely worse, and that part made the apology feel wrong, or undeserved. He wasn't sure if he should be angry, sad, content, vindicated, or even apologetic himself.

His mouth opened and closed. Moisture began to well in his eyes but he fought it back. In the end, Karamir could only offer a weak nod.

"I once told you there was a distinction between a son and a creation," Kalmar continued. "Some would agree with me, others would not. I realize the definition might not be as set in stone as I once believed. If you wish to consider me your father, I will not object."

That only served to make Karamir feel numb. How was he supposed to respond to something like that? He had long since made peace with the fact that Kalmar was not his father, yet suddenly just like that there was a part of him wishing for it. "I... I'll need to think on it..." he spoke quietly.

Kalmar nodded. "Of course. Now, take this." the Hunter pulled a sheathed dagger from his belt, and presented it to Karamir.

"What do I do with this?" Karamir questioned.

"Draw it," Kalmar commanded.

And so he did, drawing a short blade as long as his hand that shone brightly in the sunlight. The hilt was wrapped in thin, yet fine and comfortable leather. It was of an impressive quality... if only it was longer.

And suddenly, it became longer, the blade extending and growing to be as long as his arm, no less shiny or impressive. Astonished, he looked back up at Kalmar. "What kind of weapon is this?"

"It can be any weapon you want," Kalmar answered.

Any weapon?

Karamir imagined it as a spear, and so it morphed into a spear, made of pure metal, the leather extending to wrap around the entire shaft. He imagined it as a bow, and so it became a bow. Yet the bow was useless - it did not come with any arrows, and being metal, it could not bend. He imagined it as a sword again, then turned it back into a dagger, and returned it to his sheathe - which he then fixed to his belt. "This is incredible..."

"And one more thing..." Kalmar reached forward again, and this time touched Karamir's forehead. A sudden chill passed over him, as he felt power flow through his body. "I've granted you a power that is not dependent on mana. I am not just the God of the Hunt, but also the God of Cold. You are now able to shoot beams of frigid cold energy. It should allow you to defend yourself, should your weapon be lost, or your mana unavailable."

"Thank you..." Karamir said.

Kalmar nodded. "Those will suffice to help keep you alive, I think. Now, there is one final matter... it is time for me to create more of you."

"More of me?" Karamir furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"An entire species, capable of reproduction and intelligent thought. You would no longer be the only one of your kind."

Karamir's eyes widened. He would no longer be alone. Well, he had spent most of his life with other people than without, so he hadn't been truly alone in the first place... but there would be more people like him. People who looked like him, talked like him. Who he could lead, or teach. "When... when will you do this?"

"Soon," Kalmar said. "But not here. On Kalgrun. All I require is one of your hairs, and some of your blood. The rest I can do with my own power... hopefully, with aid from my fellow gods."

"Alright, take it!" Karamir said immediately. A hair and some blood were small prices to pay for an entire species. Without hesitation, he extended his hand.

Kalmar then drew the Knife of Friendship, and with it he pricked Karamir's palm. He levitated some droplets into the air, congealed them into a fingertip sized ball, froze it, and slipped it into a pocket. Then he reached forward and sharply plucked a hair from Karamir's head. Neither of these things bothered Karamir too much; minor stings, at worst.

"Now," Kalmar said, slipping the hair into another pocket. "Let's go back to Kalgrun," The Hunter turned around, about to fly away.

"Wait... no." Karamir suddenly objected.

The Hunter spun around and looked at him with confusion. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I... I don't want to go back to Kalgrun yet."

"You don't want to witness the creation of your own species?" Kalmar asked, his befuddlement deepening.

"No... I mean, I would, but..." Karamir sighed. "Let's say I do watch you create them. What next? What use would I be to you, or them?"

"A great deal," Kalmar answered. "You could patrol Kalgrun, help keep them safe, give them advice..."

"But I don't want to limit myself to Kalgrun, or to my species." Karamir objected. "I want to explore the world, to see all that I can. There are older species out there; if they know more than me, I can learn from them. If they know less than me, I can teach them. This cloak gives me the ability to cross continents, while this weapon gives me the means to defend myself while doing so - as will mana, once I get a stronger grasp over it." Ambition burned in his eyes as he continued speaking. "I am in the perfect position to acquire new knowledge, and then pass that knowledge along to those who need it. I will not be like the Dreamers, who hoard their knowledge to themselves and never try to share it or seek anything new." he shook his head. "Dreamers, Selka, Servants, Jotundar... it doesn't matter. I will try to help them all, once I am able."

For several long moments, the Hunter only stared at him... and then broke out into a thin smile. "Good," he said at last. "You found your purpose. A worthy one, too. I wish you luck. Goodbye for now, Karamir." he extended a hand.

Karamir accepted the handshake, and as he did, he felt something cold press against his palm. As he pulled his hand away, he looked down to see a silver ring. He looked up at Kalmar. "Goodbye... 'father'," he said, the word sounding strange and unfamiliar.

Kalmar merely nodded, turned, and began to fly away.

---

---

It had been several weeks since Ohannakeloi had left the Eye and during that time, much had transpired at the Eye. The Marble Star had been explored in its entirety and when the first rain came, its possibilities became unlocked for the Nebulites. Its grandeur and beauty would continue to be expanded upon as time went on, Orvus knew. Furthermore, land was being cleared, fields plowed with stone tools and seeds planted for the coming harvest. In the meantime, Arya had been showing the Nebulites how to hunt food and eliminate waste. They did not have large game on the home island or as the Nebulites were calling it, Nebulan. Thus trips to the other islands were being established and exploration hunting parties were going out at all times. He had also shown his people the Monument of the World Tree and Laurien had… Well she had been there several times.

But as night fell, Orvus found himself back at his home. His daughters sleeping and Rowan had her head leaning against his shoulder as they sat on the porch bench, watching the sun set. Sometimes he forgot he was a God, with a life the life that he lived now. His past self simply felt like a bad dream, yet one who would not slip away so easily.

"Laurien huh," Rowan started, pulling his attention from his thoughts to her. "She seems to be… busy huh?"

”She sure is. She seems happy though, and I haven’t seen her this happy for a long time.” Orvus mused back.

”What if she gets pregnante?” Rowan asked quietly.

Orvus whistled before saying, ”Well, that’s her decision. I’m sure she’ll make a fine mother.”

”Well, having a baby is a lot of work you know.” she yawned.

”Having two at the same time is double the work.” he agreed.

”Say, do you think, maybe we… could try for another?” she whispered under her breath.

Without missing a beat Orvus said, ”There would be no trying, dear, we would have another. Because of your gift.”

Rowan sighed, then sat up to look at Orvus. ”Always a way with words. Now,” she said getting up, ”Come on then, if you’re so sure.” she said with a sly smile, before disappearing inside. Orvus looked up at the moon with a smile, then got up and wandered inside.

---

Later, Orvus sat down at the table with a box. He still didn’t sleep, but stayed in bed most nights for Rowan. Tonight however, he had a strange feeling. He opened up the box to reveal the orb, which he placed there so the girls wouldn’t get ahold of it. He watched, holding his breath to see if it would come alive.

A rune flickered after a short while: ”Hello.”

”Hello orb. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it. I am sorry for putting you away like I did, but with children, one can never be too sure what they might get into. I had to make sure you were kept safe.” Orvus said softly.

There was a pause and then unseen light managed to bend inside the orbs translucent body, a wave of glittering runes appearing: ”Did you miss me?”

”Yes, I’ve missed our little discussions of questions.” Orvus said with a smile.

”Do you like K’nell’s gift?” The Runes shifted quickly, almost excitedly.

”Yes, more than you could ever know, little one. Without you, none of this would have been possible, and for that I thank you.” he said humbly.

”Will you put me back in the box?” The Orb suddenly asked.

”I…” Orvus began to say, confused. ”I can, but why?”

”Is there another option?” The question betrayed the Orb’s potential displeasure with the box.

”Ah I see. You are upset with me over the box. Well, I suppose I can leave you here upon the table, or I can build you a shrine outside. There are many more who you can ask questions too, that is, if they can understand you. Or, how about this, what do you want?” he said, spinning the question around.

The orb seemed to lose is light for a moment, a shimmering of runes appearing as light shattered across its surface: ”What is it like to be alive?”

Orvus leaned in closer to the orb and thought upon it’s question for a very long time. Then he said, ”Such a question is too hard to explain. What if I just show you instead?”

”Can you?” Another question appeared.

”Of course I can, but only if you want it.” he said placing his hands on the table.

There was a thoughtful pause, the orb pulsing: ”How could I not want to be alive?”

”Good enough.” Orvus said, gently taking the orb within his hand. He walked over to the front door and out it, down the porch steps at a quick pace. The world outside was a chorus of night and only a few Nebulites were stirring, chatting to each other or doing... other deeds. He then bent down and placed the orb in the grass at his feet, before standing and backing away. ”This should be interesting.” he mused, cracking his knuckles together.

With a wave of a hand, Orvus willed a soul into the orb, and with it; life. He shut his eyes and focused, for there was much to do. The orb had many different things inside of it, blueprints for life, and those had to be done away with for the orb to truly shine. It was easy enough to isolate the figure he had seen so long ago, and when he did, he imbued it with soul. He opened his eyes, and the orb lit up like a falling star as it grew in size.

It turned to a hot white as it began to pulse and morph wildly. The sound of glass wildly shattering sounded, the flashes lighting up the night around Orvus. Through the blasts of light, a crouching figure was slowly forming. As it became more than a shadow in the sea of light, it started to rise, almost shakily, to two feet. There was another crack of light as it finally stood completely upright. Slowly the light began to fade, leaving the figure alone and in full view.

Standing just under two meters was a heavily cloaked figure. Its shaggy moss covered cloak hid the details of the body underneath and its hood covered most of the head. What wasn’t hidden by the cloak was covered by a faceless mask, two sparkling eyes staring out from behind two tiny peep holes. A pair of gloved hands poked out of the cloak as the figure stared at itself in silence.

”The first step of life, is living. You can do that now. I have given you a body that can never die, but this also means you cannot have children. There is a price for everything. Now, tell me, how do you feel?” Orvus asked, scratching his beard.

A voice came from past the mask, it was strange -- as if somewhere between the voice of an adolescent boy and the raspy voice of a grown woman. It spoke in a funny swooping language that was both as pretty as it was staggered. Orvus figured wisely that it was simply the spoken word version of the runic language the orb used to use, and luckily, he could understand it just fine: “I feel funny -- oh!” There was a very excited laugh, “I didn’t ask you a question.”

”And you never have to again, not unless you want to.” Orvus said, crossing his arms with a smile on his face. ”Now, do you have a name, little one?”

“My name is Orb,” Orb answered with excitement, “Another statement!” There was a heavy breathing that snaked past the mask as the being shivered with delight, “I’m warm. I have a body and it is warm.”

”Yes, bodies tend to do that, Orb. A fitting name, if any. You have life now, what will you do with it?” Orvus asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I can think,” Orb nearly ignored the question in their excitement, “I have thoughts, so many thoughts. I will think about it!”

”Well, that’s good enough for now. Come on, let’s get you a room for the night.” he said, waving Orb over.

“I want to stay outside and look at things,” Orb insisted, “I already have been in a box.”

”That’s fair. Well, you will find many things here, and many people. Come on, I’ll show you around.” Orvus said, walking past Orb.

The runic language pounded with one syllable, “Yes!” The cloaked figure had an almost hopping run as they energetically followed Orvus. And Orvus did just that.

---

Divinely provided protection and reform in leadership had made all the difference. At first, the raiders had mocked the new Wuhdige phalanx, snickering at the bucklers about their left arms. However, as the first waves attempted to break the line as they always had, they found that their spears and clubs struck something other than flesh and bone.

As a single unit, the Wuhdige phalanx, commanded by the newly appointed Shieldboss Woi’e, bashed their plates against the enemy charge, snapping spears and sending clubs straight back at their swingers. The enemy forces quickly fell into disarray as the vanguard was disarmed and dazed. Then, the phalanx broke, with screaming, painted Wuhdige horde unleashing itself upon the broken Elu-Wogweh assault. They donned a new paint now - the red, yellow and dark brown mask of the war god Damasta glistening across their faces as they charged after the routing enemy.

The small raiding party stood no chance at all. What they thought was going to be a quick fishgrab and capture of some berry-pickers had turned into a complete run for the hills. Wuhdige morale had been restored for the first time in months, and the warriors came home to thunderous celebration. Aloft a large group’s shoulders sat the great Shieldboss Woi’e, tearful with joy at the applause in her name. Fires were lit and fish were fired - their victory warranted a feast. Berries were munched, mushrooms were dropped on hot coals and left to cook. Celebratory paints in honour of the Red Boy were drawn on everyone’s bodies and the Wuhdige danced and sang around a great bonfire until the night was old.

As celebrations neared the end and most Wuhdige had fallen asleep in their burrows, Aloo approached Woi’e and patted her on the back.

“You did it, Shieldboss,” the chieftain praised. “You beat back those lumps.”

Woi’e snickered and nodded. “Was just doin’ my job, chief. Party was small this time; might be bigger next time.”

Aloo closed his eyes and bobbed his head. “I’m not worried - you got this. You lead our warriors into fighting, and you do it well.”

Woi’e blushed and rubbed her neck. “Well, uh… That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth,” Aloo insisted. “You do it so well, actually, that-...” He put a hand over his mouth in a teasing manner. “Oop - better not say.”

“Not say what?” Woi’e asked with a frown. Aloo shrugged playfully.

“Keep up the good work and you’ll find out.”

The shieldboss gave him a blank stare. “Can’t you gimme a hint at least? So I can kinda guess?”
“A hint? But then all the fun’ll be gone,” Aloo reasoned.

“Pleeeeeeaaaase?” the woman begged. The chieftain sighed and scratched his chin.

“A’ight, fine - but only the one, okay?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rubbed her palms together in expectation. Aloo hummed pensively and poked at his lips as he tried to formulate a vague hint. Eventually, he raised one finger and said, “It has to do with fish.”

“Fish?” she said in a slightly disappointed matter. “Like, I get more to eat?”

“App, app! Just one hint, remember.” Woi’e huffed. The chieftain gave her a wink and spun on his heel, walking towards the cave. “Get yourself some sleep now! I’mma join your warriors tomorrow.”

Woi’e blinked. “What happens tomorrow?”

Aloo turned and gave her a thumb up. “Tomorrow, we attack.”

Woi’e wanted to protest, but the chieftain had already entered the cave before she could force out the words. She sat herself on a nearby rock and grabbed her muzzle in thought. An attack so soon? The enemy could be expecting it after the victory today. They would have to get the upper hand from the start… Maybe if they…

She kept grumbling over strategies even as she went into her burrow and laid down to sleep alongside the rest of her family. Even as she dreamt, all that flowed through her head were battleplan after battleplan.

---

It would be generous to say it was morning. Already long before dawn did the slick, slippery sounds of warpaint lick through the air like a wet tongue. In nigh complete silence, shields were strapped onto left arms and spears were equipped in the right. Even matte bone tips stood out in the darkness, so they, too, were coated with dark brown paint. The paint was made with thick, greasy bear fat - harvested from a fresh cadaver a hunting party had stumbled upon in the woods. The paint stuck to them like fish oil, regardless of whether they walked or swam. Dawn began to trickle over the horizon, and the war council inside the Hohm Cave produced the only voices in the whole camp.

“... A’ight, so…” the chieftain whispered. “Me and Woi’e will swim around the beach, down to the Elu home, with half our warriors. You, Duh, gonna stay here with the rest and make it look like you way more than you actually are. That way, they’ll think we’re still at home.”

Duhwah nodded understandingly and looked at Woi’e. “Then what? They’ll call our bluff after a while, no doubt.”

The Shieldboss nodded. “After we take the Elu camp, we gonna move back towards Hohm on land, retaking all our hunting and gathering hubs and outside camps. It’ll be risky, but… If it works, we’ll own the whole island.”

Duhwah furrowed his brows. “What if their camp got lots of warriors in it? Or what if they attack with everything they have while you’re gone?”

Woi’e sighed. “Like I said, it’ll be risky. Hohm got good defenses, and we got a breather after yesterday’s win to really gather some food. You can hunker down for a bit - they ain’t gonna get past the spike ditch.”

Duhwah pressed his lips together. “Sure, we could, but what about y’all? What if you run into their big party?”

Woi’e and Aloo exchanged looks. “Well,” Aloo said, “let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

Duhwah shook his head. “This plan sounds dumber and dumber by the second.”

Woi’e nodded. “Yeah, but… It’s the best we got.”

Eventually, Duhwah nodded. “It’s the best we got… Good luck to y’all out there.”

Aloo gave his champion a nod and walked over to embrace him. “You, too, champ.”

Woi’e waited for Aloo with her spear in her hand, and the young chieftain soon followed her out with his own. Duhwah crossed his arm over his chest, the paint in his face colouring his expression quite stern. They would have to succeed - they had not the warriors for another defeat. If they lost this, the Wuhdige tribe would come to an end.

---

It was not before night had fallen again that the Wuhdige warriors approached the Elu camp as they had done two years prior. From the ocean, it seemed that the camp once more was largely abandoned, with only a few selka strolling about. Woi’e looked up at the sky. The night was still quite young - a streak of red still shone in the west. She turned to the warband and motioned for them to swim as far out as they could, until they no longer could see the camp, and go to sleep in the water. She would come later to wake one up and take watch. Aloo and the others nodded and silently dove back underwater to swim further out. Woi’e remained staring and observing the camp. Her buoyancy kept her afloat with minimal effort, so it was a simple task to spy on them from the sea. Among the oddities she noticed in the camp was an odd rack from which hung fish cadavers - and they did not just hang there as if someone had thrown them onto the rack and left them there; no, they hung there deliberately. For what reason would someone hang up a fish to dry out, Woi’e pondered with the subtle scratch of her head. One of the Elu came waddling over to the rack and Woi’e followed her movements closely. The female inspected the many fish, turning and lifting them. Then she took one down and, with some effort, ripped off a dry, flaky piece and nibbled on it.

“... eah, ‘s ‘ood,” was all Woi’e could hear, but she could piece together that this was some method of preparing the fish. Did its flavour improve, perhaps? Or was it so it wouldn’t go bad? She sniffed the air and frowned. No, it certainly smelled like it could go bad. Still, it would be interesting to attempt this technique back home at Hohm.

Then, mid-ponder, she spotted them: Out of the Elu cave came a massive force, greater than any she had ever seen - at least a-... She counted on her fingers, but found she ran out of them much too fast to get a good count. They did not outnumber the Wuhdige tribe, but they certainly outnumbered her force. She dove a little deeper and prayed to Damasta that her war paints were dark enough to blend in with the sea. On the shore, she heard distant chatter and concentrated every fiber of her being into decyphering what was being said. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, the voices were closing in. Woi’e froze completely and shut her eyes, appearing to be nothing more than a small rock breaching the sea surface. The voices were clear as day now, and they spoke:

“... So ye’re sure about this?” the first voice said. The Wogweh accent was like poison to her ears, but even frowning could potentially break her cover.

“Yeah, we gotta do it, R-... Rogan,” the other voice responded, and Woi’e knew it was Egoo, the last great warrior of the Elu that they knew of. The voice continued, “If we beat them down once and for all, we control the island. We won’t have to worry about being spread out too thin anymore.”

Roganweh clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Even so, their defense is too strong. Many will die in the fighting, son. This would’nae have happened if ye--”

“If we had taken time to gather more food during the fall, I know! Y’all have said that plenty of times. Don’t forget, raidin’ was your idea in the first place!”

There came a scoff. “Es not like we told ye ta be dependent on it. Now ye have poked the wolf too many times ta go back. The Wuhdige are angry and the seasons are changing.” A few steps in the sand. “Listen, son - ye don’t have to get yerself killed. Let them get overconfident ‘n come here. Let’s ambush them like last time.”

“We don’t have enough food to wait, Rogan. The trees are picked clean ‘n the seas are fish-free. Winter’s coming soon, like you said, and the only food left is at Hohm. No, we ain’t got time to wait for them to attack. We gotta hit ‘em with everything we got and steal everything they got. They won the last time, but they won’t win against all of us.”

There was another disapproving noise. “Suit yerself,” Roganweh muttered. “But the Wogweh won’t follow ye ta die in the spike ditches.”

“W-what?” Eloo gaped. “What do you mean, you won’t follow us?!”

“Exactly what that means, ye lump. If ye wanna raid the Wuhdige, fine - do it fer all I care. But I’m not havin’ a part in it.” Roganweh’s voice grew a little more distant. There came a furious growl.

“What about our deal, Loganweh?!”

“Es -Roganweh-! Ruh! Ruh!” the Wogweh retorted. “And ye don’t make the demands here, Eloo. Ye’re our vassal, not our ally. If ye get attacked, we’ll come back, but we’re not coming along just ta die - not after what happened last time we raided them.”

There came a thud in the sand. “But… But then how do we beat them?! You have half our boys!”

“We will have some food sent fer ye while ye wait. Maybe tomorrow - maybe in a week.” There came a snort and a clearing of the throat. “Ye should really be grateful fer the help we’ve given ye already. Ye control almost the whole south beach ‘n the Wuhdige are not even shades of what they were two years ago. That ye did’nae gather from the land while ye had the chance is yer own fault.”

A few more thuds hit the sand, likely fists. “You… Dumb-...”

“Careful now, Eloo,” Roganweh cautioned. “Remember who yer chieftain is - and remember his brother.”

Eventually, Eloo responded, “Yes, Roganweh.”

“Good. Wait here until they attack ye and ye can wipe them out as before. We’ll return ta Dun-ar-Wog ‘n prepare yer food fer ye.”

Footsteps disappeared into the night, then were quickly followed by louder, more disorganised footsteps, like a group making its way across the beach. Woi’e dared open her eyes and saw, merely seven or so metres away, the broken Eloo cursing at the sand while in the distance, half of the assembled forces made their way out to sea. The shieldboss nearly wanted to scream with joy, but focused every fiber in her being at remaining still. She heard muttering suddenly, and realised it was Eloo. The mutters grew louder:

“... Wait…? All we’ve done is wait…” Woi’e one open eye saw Eloo strike the sand once more. “No… To the depths with him - with all of ‘em. They think they’re better than us? They think we need them?” He rose up and kicked up a cloud of sand into the water, barely missing the frozen Woi’e. “I’ll show ‘em… The Elu’ll show ‘em all.” He stormed off towards his now very confused host and started barking orders at them. Not much later, the selka set off into the woods.

Woi’e couldn’t believe it. To think the Wogweh had abandoned the Elu’s mission for total control over the island, or at least abandoned them to carry it out on their own! It was almost too perfect. She held her breath. Could this actually be a trap? Had they seen them in the water earlier and proceeded to plant false information deliberately to make them overconfident? Woi’e swallowed. Eloo was perhaps not the sharpest spear on the rack, but Roganweh was something entirely different - arrogant, perhaps, but certainly capable. It wouldn’t be far-fetched for him to think of something like this.

A moment passed as she pondered. She could return to the others and tell them that the time to take the camp was now, and that if they were quick enough, they could ambush the Elu party that same night.

But, and it was a considerable but - what if the Wogweh would then come back and attack them from behind? Perhaps the wisest move would be to return to Hohm and notify them of the divide, perhaps even exploit Eloo’s overconfidence and eliminate the Elu forces from the equation entirely, then proceed to retake the island from the north? Either way, their plan from before was optional now. She swam back to the others.

---

“And they’re gone now?” Aloo whispered. Woi’e nodded. The warriors had taken the news with joy and glee, and already it seemed many were eager to storm the camp. Aloo, however, raised a hand as mutters became mumbles and mumbles became talk.

“Sshh. We ain’t so far away that they can’t hear us,” he whispered loudly. “Now, Woi’e, wha’chu think? This a trick?”

Woi’e exhaled some hot air and shook her head. “I-... I don’t know, chief. It could be either. They sounded real enough, but it’s too good.”

Aloo bit a finger. “We can’t wait, either. They said they would be back with food, right?”

“Right.”

“Darn… A’ight. Duhwah and the others can hold off an attack, no problem. The Elus are few now - no way they can break through. Their camp’s undefended, too, right?”

“Yeah, it looked that way.”

“So if we take it and make our way back to camp on land, worst that’ll happen is that the Elu’ll be gone when the Wogweh get back, right?”

Woi’e nodded slowly. “Riiiight, but--”

“Then we do that,” Aloo whispered smilingly. The others tried to contain their applause to small ripples in the water. Woi’e shook her head.

“We wanna keep what we take too, right? If we take land as we go home, the Wogweh will just sweep in and take it back. No, we gotta swim back.”

Aloo shook his head. “They won’t expect us to attack from behind. And if we kill ‘em all, they won’t have anyone to go back to.”

Woi’e’s mouth flattened out. Many of the warriors nodded in agreement. “Well,” said the shieldboss quietly.

“I say we do it,” said Aloo’s uncle Joku.

“Yeah!”

“Sssh! Keep our cover!” Aloo whispered loudly. “Woi’e, we agree?”

The shieldboss capitulated with a nod. While she didn’t like the idea of slaughter, she couldn’t argue that wiping the Elu out couldn’t solve their problem. The chieftain’s expression flashed a malicious grin and he raised his spear out of the water. The selka dove and made their way to shore.

---

Duhwah sat on a rock, resting his chin on a balled fist. He stared out across the sea and the beach, peeling his eyes at any anomalies in the waves or the trees that the dawn’s rays uncovered. Two days had passed since the war party left and the ceaseless itch of anxiety threatened to wear out the ageing selka’s heart. No one had come to attack them and no one from the outer camps had come screaming for aid. This only led him to fear that the chieftain had fallen prey to an ambush like the one two years ago. Aloo was young still and without an heir, and Tokkan was, well… It didn’t help either that the late Jotokan’s brothers and cousins all had gone with the chieftain. If they had been killed, a family other than the Tokuans would have to take the mantle as chieftain, and frankly, Duhwah doubted the tribe could sustain a battle of succession like that.

Those thoughts were pushed aside, however, for Duhwah soon spotted distant shapes on the sand. Hohm was impossible to attack from the forest - the cliff around which the camp was built was much too tall to climb down from, and it extended that way for just long enough that the forests on top, while good cover, could hardly be considered a proper place to ambush from. Therefore, any attack would either have to come from the sea or the beach. So when Duhwah saw these figures make their way across the beach, he called his retinue to arms. Before long, about twenty Wuhdige stood ready behind the spike ditches, over which had been built waist-high walls of packed sand. They weren’t much, Duhwah conceded, but they kept anyone from jumping the gap, and were therefore just enough. Still, they needed their bucklers to defend against ranged attacks.

However, as the forces drew closer, the retinue began to recognise them. Duhwah’s brother Dohn shouted, “Duh! They ain’t Elu! It’s the chief!” Duhwah rubbed his eyes and, as the warriors in the camp begun to cheer and applaud the approaching victors, Duhwah did indeed recognise the familiar grin of Aloo. Behind the chieftain walked Woi’e, who seemed less enthusiastic, though kept a polite smile. The war paints were neatly complemented by crusted blood on all the warriors’ pelts, and as they entered into the camp over a wooden bridge across the spike ditch, Aloo announced, “The Elu are gone!”

Thunderous applause broke out in the camp and selka embraced and kissed each other left and right. The warriors were picked up and thrown up and down like the champions they were. Aloo raised his blood-caked spear into the air and began to sing praised to Damasta, which many others joined in on. Promises of a great games tournament to celebrate were thrown about, and in the middle of the triumphant joy spreading through the camp, Duhwah went to Woi’e with a concerned smile on his lips.

“H-hey, Woi’e, what’re you sulkin’ for? We won!”

The shieldboss sat with her face in her hands and drew a quivering breath. “We… We killed them.”

Duhwah scoffed. “Well, ‘course you did. That’s what you sent out to do, right?”

“No, you don’t understand,” she whispered in a state of shock. “We killed all of them. They’re dead. Every single one of them.”

Duhwah’s smile faded a little and he let out an awkward ‘heh’. “W-well, they was the enemy, right? They deserve to--”

“And not just the boys, Duhwah - but the girls and the pups, too.”

Duhwah recoiled with a quiet gasp. He turned his head slightly and saw Aloo let out another war cry as he raised his spear to the sound of celebration.

“They-... They were like animals… And we slaughtered them like animals…” Woi’e looked down at her hands. She quickly ran over to the sea to wash them clean, but seemed to scrub and scratch long after the blood had come off. Duhwah took her by the shoulder and pulled her away. She stared at him in terror.

“Woi’e! Listen! You did-... You did your job, okay?”

“My job was… Killing pups, Duh?” she asked with a shrill voice.

“N-no! ‘Course not! But now the Elu are gone and… Well, we only have to worry ‘bout the Wogweh now. We’re… We’re safe thanks to your win.”

Woi’e looked back down at her hands, slowly opening and closing them. She sniffed and cleared her throat, and as she begun to whimper, Duhwah gave her a comforting hug. He shot another look back at his chieftain and prayed to the warm Alae that this would be the Wuhdige’s last encounter with war.

Orb’s stomach rumbled and they lurched over, grasping it under their thick cloak. Their eyes flickered about -- Orvus had left Orb to themselves after a few hours, convinced Orb could handle whatever thing they wanted to do. They now found themselves under a particular tree that Orb had named ‘Tree number twenty-six’ for being the thirty sixth tree in the local vicinity. Orb tapped their mask, the pattern of count being the chronological order Orb had been introduced to said tree.

Orb’s stomach protested again and the cloaked figure twisted with hunger; luckily the mind accompanying the body Orb found themselves in was very well aware of hunger and how to solve it. It would seem that despite Orvus’ dismissal of all of Orbs old pre-programmed blueprints and protocols, the blueprint that Orvus had focused on in their creation came with some... well urges, or instincts -- which to Orb seemed very similar to the programed consciousness they used to have. Orb even got to keep a lot of interesting tools, like language and vast knowledge about their own body. The level of detail that Orb could recall made them wonder if perhaps they were a simulation of a real being somewhere, only now having been made a real clone -- or perhaps it really was just a really good blueprint.

Pinching the bottom of their mask Orb couldn’t help but wonder if the blueprints they had given to Orvus were this detailed or more so -- not that Orb would be able to remember. Their new mind had definitely not retained most of Orb’s past knowledge, which makes sense, Orb supposed, since that knowledge likely wasn’t a part of the blueprint Orvus had focused on. Their stomach twisted and Orb made a hidden face, their raspy voice pounding out in their runic language, “Fine, fine!”

Two hands pumped out of the cloak as Orb did a hopping sprint, remembering the fields of food that Orvus had mentioned during his little tour. The gentle night wind blew through the mossy cloak, but even then it clung close with many folds, keeping the true shape of Orb hidden. Orb pondered it for a moment, thinking about how they looked underneath their clothes and how different that was to their current hosts. A hand came up to pinch the mask and Orb shuddered -- then suddenly froze.

Coming to a skidding halt, two twinkling eyes appraised a big green bush filled with red spheres -- berries. Orb rubbed their gloved hands together, “Berries.” The runic word announced, “A source of food.” They continued, “For my body.” A hidden smile formed, “So it can continue to be alive.”

Looking over their shoulder, Orb made sure they were alone. Satisfied, they shifted their mask up on their face, just enough to reveal a gently angled chin that perhaps betrayed a heart shaped face (while still being able to see). The skin was tanned from exposure, or would have been - Orb supposed, if they weren’t a copy of a blueprint. Two lips curled on the face and with a single hand, Orb popped a berry into their mouth, the red sphere landing on an awaiting blue tongue which quickly retreated with its prize. A happy hum vibrated from Orb’s throat, content with the taste. Quickly now, both hands began to quickly pluck the berries, and in a fit of frustration at only having two plucked at a time, two other hands suddenly shot out from the cloak and began to aid in the foraging until the bush was meticulously picked clean. The lower hands retreated back into the cloak as Orb plopped onto the ground by their pile of fruits.

Orb happily danced their shoulders back and forth while they lazily reaped their reward. One after the other the berries disappeared until only the bare grass was left. Orb patted the ground, searching for any stragglers. The mask slid back over their face and they hissed in runic, “What!? Only thirty-nine berries?” They let out a ‘bah’ and pointed a finger at the bush, “Increase efficiency!”

The bush and Orb shared a silent moment, a gentle night wind blowing between them. The twinkling eyes behind the mask squinted and the bush waved in the breeze. The standoff didn’t last long, with Orb eventually crossing their arms under the cloak. The faceless mask turned up, almost smugly as Orb walked away, stomach not yet satisfied.

It didn’t take long before Orb found themselves in a rudimentary field of tiny sprouts. With twinkling eyes, the figure squatted down to examine the crops. Unsatisfied with their optical study, a gloved hand exited the cloak and ripped a spout from the ground. Orb brought the vegetable close to their mask and rasped loudly, “This plant is not ready for consumption -- I do not hunger for it.” They frowned and slipped the vegetable under their mask. There was a crunch and a loud spit, a glob of saliva and bits of vegetable falling from under the mask. The runic language came back with a disgusted tone, “Def-definitely not ready for consumption.”

Pinching their mask, Orb let their mind wander with ideas. Slowly they started to rub their hands together, the others likely hoard their ready to consume food, they thought, so they can consume it... whenever they are ready. Orb nodded their head, “Very clever.”

With a hopping run, Orb stifled a laugh at their own genius, running directly for Orvus’ house. It didn’t take very long before Orb found themselves before the porch of the cabin. Orb gave the front of the building an appraising look, eyes falling on the door. Twinkling eyes scanned it up and down before a realizing chuckle left the mask along with an announcing rasp, “Ah, a solid wall hinged to another solid wall but with movable parts. Brilliant!” Orb creeped close enough to poke and prod the hinges, “A toggle of wood pegged between round entryways. I will have to remember this.”

Content with their impromptu study, Orb slipped through the door... eager to get their hands on some more food...

---

A stream of sunlight filtered through the flap of the tent, fastened up as to leave the opening clear. Birds chirped outside, the light din of daily life for the Selka filtering through the thin hide walls. Anshumat had taken off the cast on their arm the day before; their arm stiff but no longer painful. The demigod sat up in the tent, not quite wanting to go out and disturb the Selka.

Their clothes had been repaired, the gashes from Shengshi’s abuse sown out. Anshumat had gone out personally to locate the materials; as soon as they had the strength to do so. All the articles were silken, finely-woven. Anshumat had to see to the weaving themselves, as the Selka did not hold the knowledge of silk weaving.

The sound of footsteps came over the others; approaching the flap in the tent. Anshumat looked up to find Artonu poking his head in. The demigod beckoned him in. He came over, undoing the clothing over Anshumat’s chest and checking the wounds once more. After a short while of thought, Artonu finally came to their conclusion.

“It is the worst scarring I have ever seen, yet, in a mere 7 sundowns, your wounds have entirely healed. Your eyes will never see again; but the rest has healed over. I cannot believe it.”

Anshumat closed up the tunic and robe once more, responding merely with, “I cannot believe it just the same.”

Artonu simply shook his head. “The scars will never go away, but it is a small price to pay for such rapid healing. If only I knew how such a thing would come to be.”

The demigod simply slumped their head. “It is a complicated tale. I do not wish to share it now. What lands are around us? I have not gone far; are there other tribes nearby?”

Artonu answered, “That is your choice; for the lands around us, our tribe has left the lands to the north due to the vast populations; we could not survive the territorial disputes for long. We left for greener pastures down here, to the south.”

Anshumat nodded, hesitating for a short moment before saying, “Then I must go. I do not wish to put you in danger more than I already have. My father may wish to punish you for sheltering me, and he would be more than a match for your entire tribe. I thank you all the same for your help; never lose that charity.”

A confused look came across Artonu’s face, and he questioned, “Who is your father, that he may hold the power to annihilate an entire tribe? Who is he to be so vindictive that he would attempt to kill you and track you down when he fails?”

Anshumat opened their mouth, snorting out a sigh, “It is safer for you if you do not know. I am blessed to have met you, Artonu, but I must go. Continue to heal the sick and wounded, and know that you have my thanks now and always.”

Artonu finally resigned their argument. “If that is your choice, you were never our prisoner. Melao enjoyed your company when she joined you on your outings; if you are to go, all I ask is that you give your goodbyes to her as well.”

Anshumat simply nodded their assent, and slowly rose to their feet, far outstripping the comparatively meagre height of the Selka. Stepping out of the tent into the sunlight, they looked around, their blind eyes scanning over the children playing on the riverbank, across the drying racks of food, and onto Melao, showing another Selka how to knap a spear.

She looked up from the task as Anshumat approached, telling the young Selka student to catch up to her later. After the student had run off to practice on their own, Melao stood up and came over to Anshumat, meeting the demigod in the middle.

“It’s good to see you up again. Did you need anything?” Melao offered as the demigod came to a haltering stop a foot away. Anshumat responded, “I will not lead you on; I will be leaving, and in my path none can follow.”

Melao’s face instantly dropped. She rapidly fired out her concerns, “Why? Is something chasing you? Were we not hospitable enough?” Anshumat shook their head immediately, looking down at the ground for a moment before answering, “It is not your fault nor your tribes; my presence here marks a danger to your tribe I cannot live with inflicting.”

A wave of determination washed across Melao’s expression, as she declared, “Then the tribe will face the danger with you. We are not afraid.”

Anshumat said back, “No, your tribe will not. You would not survive.”

The Selka cried back, “Together, we’ll face whatever danger approaches, and together we’ll all surviv-”

The demigod gained a sudden windfall, a fury previously untapped, as they rose their voice, and firmly spoke, “NO. Your tribe will not survive. You imagine the danger as something you can overcome, but it is not. You are but ants in the conflict that lays before me. I broke with my father in my decision not to include you, who are so outmatched as to be less than nothing in the face of the weapons and strength arrayed. I will not turn my back on that decision. I will leave and never return, in the interest of your safety. You will always have my thanks, but I cannot place you into the danger my presence represents.”

A stunned silence overtook Melao, unfamiliar and unprepared for a sudden outburst from the otherwise relatively soft-spoken demigod silencing any resistance she was prepared to relay towards the decision. She watched as Anshumat huffed in dejected frustration, and she did not intervene when the lanky being trudged out of the camp.

Anshumat, for their part, did not look back at the tribe. Their departure bore heavy upon them, and to look back upon what they were leaving risked to break their resolve. As such, it was safer for Anshumat to not dwell upon it. Soon enough, the camp of the tribe was swallowed into the copse of trees at the demigod’s back, and the din of tribal life was replaced by the babble of wildlife and the gentle flow of the nearby river.

As a divine being, Anshumat had little worry for mortal concerns such as sleep or sustenance, and as such, they trudged unstoppingly northward, following the river from a fair distance. The river was a useful navigation aide, but Anshumat was not comfortable willingly remaining close to it; it was the domain of their erstwhile father, and they wished to remain as separated from it as reasonably possible.

They paid little attention to the sun in the sky, they could spot the essence it projected through their vague divine sights glimpsed through unworking eyes, but ultimately the passage of time mattered little to the demigod. A day turned into two, and two turned into five. Anshumat skimmed by the sides of Selka tribes, seeing no reason to disturb them. Ultimately, they did not know where they were heading, but all the same they walked.

When Anshumat came to the northern coast of the continent, they walked westwards along it until they came across a soft beach, blanketed by finely-ground sand instead of sheer cliffs and boulders. The demigod sat down, blindly looking out upon the tides’ ebb and flow. Hanging their head, they lay still for hours upon the edge of the surf.

Anshumat’s ears suddenly picked up a slithering sound. The reaction was immediate as it was hasty, the demigod spinning around and lashing out violently with a lance of divine energy, needled into a deadly point. It arced through the air unopposed, impacting violently with the body of a mere beastly serpent, one of the natural qualities; nothing like Shengshi. It trashed horribly in pain for a moment before expiring, its body beginning to melt under the pure force projected upon it.

The demigod collapsed backwards into the sand, breathing heavily as they stared lidlessly at the liquidizing body of the snake. They slowly calmed down, and bringing their head into their hands, began to reflect on what they’d done. The divine heart in their chest continued to beat heavily despite Anshumat’s calming, its rhythm still demanding the divine being to run as far away as quickly as possible.

The tide washed over Anshumat and the puddle that was the snake, giving a macabre color to parts of the surf as the gore mixed in with the water. Anshumat paid it no mind, feeling no desire to move. With a glance about the land around to ensure privacy, Anshumat sobbed slightly and quietly.

---

Once he was healed, Zer-Du got up and left Asceal's home. For some strange reason his mission was now no longer as compelling as it had been before and he no longer pursued it blindly. Now with freedom and choice, he chose to return to the one place in the world he had found love and kindness. He returned to Ya-Shuur and the island he inhabited, which was called Be'r-Jaz by Ya-Shuur.

After Ya-Shuur bid his new friend, the god with chopstick eyes, farewell, he sat down and stared at the cup she had given him. The drink had not been nice but something about sharing that drink together had been... nice. It had cemented their friendship. He inspected the drink in an attempt to understand its components and then went about trying to replicate its taste. From the forest he harvested cocoa beans and prepared them for...

The god with chopstick eyes had used a term...

"Week."

He prepared them for a week and then went about making the drink. The end result was similar to what the god had made but without the weirdness. It was a bitter drink but Ya-Shuur found that far more to his liking. He held the cup that the god with chopstick eyes had given him and called the drink sudi'shrib, "the drink of friendship".

Leaving the now empty cup and some cocoa beans in his home he then set about trying to craft a sharp implement like the god with chopstick eyes had. He could not find the material anywhere on the island so resorted to conjuring metal and sharpening it with his powers alone, and then he put the metal into a goat horn hilt that he carved at until it was satisfactory. Satisfied, he made a small hole in the hilt and put a thread through it so he could easily carry the knife around his neck. His very own hud-sa! ("Sharp-stick").

Walking back into his home Ya-Shuur looked at the cup and at the hud-sa and smiled proudly. "Fuck!" he shouted with a smile like he had heard the god with chopstick eyes say.

The interior of the cottage was dim, collecting the darkness of night. What little light Orb could find was used to their full advantage, rapidly patting the surfaces around them with their hands in the hopes of finding a container of some sort. A sniff sucked against the back of their mask in an attempt to scout with a different sense. A tiny hidden frown formed, all Orb had managed to do was make plenty of unnecessary noise. They slinked their hands back into their cloak and sighed, anxiously waiting for their eyes to adjust instead.

There suddenly was a loud, scraping noise coming from somewhere further in, followed by hushed whispers. Orb blinked twice, their eyes about halfways adjusted. With careful, strategically placed steps, they made their way closer to the noise.

THUD

Orb winced, their shin smashing off of a chair’s ridiculously thick leg. They closed their eyes as the shock of pain ran up their own leg. Orb’s raspy effeminate voice turned into a squeak, “Why do they have to be so tall?” they pleaded.

The whispers stopped at the noise before continuing on again, this time louder.

“I told you this was a bad idea!”

“Relax, it was probably just… Something falling.”

“No!” the small voice hissed, “That was someone! What if it’s mom! If she catches us, we’re dead, Lily!”

“Relax Ava! It was nothing, nothing! Now, hurry up and get the fruit!”

This was followed by grumbling that was hard to make out.

Orb squinted at the foriegn tongue, not quite understanding the words. Suddenly sinking into a crouch, their long cloak sliding behind them as they snuck forward. Going clean under the very tall table, Orb reached the boundary of the room they were in, eyes now fully adjusted and staring at the two perpetrators themselves.

A chair was propped up against the counter, one of the girls was standing on it, while the other one was reaching for something up in a shelf. Both of the small humans looked identical, and they were still bickering in their foreign language.

With sudden recognition, Orb let out a resounding runic, “Hello!” Eyes twinkling -- Orb didn’t remember much about their time as an orb, but they remembered which blueprints Orvus had put so much time and emotion into. The ‘hello’ had a tone of pride in it, which Orb couldn’t help, feeling a bit responsible for their very existence. Following their greeting, Orb quickly approached the chair, nearly wobbling it as one of their gloved hands grabbed it with excitement.

At the sudden noise, both of the girls snapped their heads to look at what made it, going wide eyed. They looked at each other, then back at the faceless mask of Orb, and then they screamed. The one the chair, quickly clambered up on the counter, getting in between Orb and the other sister, holding her hands out as if to protect her.

The scream caused Orb to throw their hands to either side of their cloaked head and shut their eyes, stamping the sound into a muffle. Peeling one eye back open, Orb peeped out from behind the mask, flicking an eye up at the sisters before opening the other. Orb slowly let their hands fall back to their sides, slipping back into the cloak. A silence hung between the two groups and then with a cough, Orb spoke first in their funny runic language, “Do you know where food to eat is? I require it.”

Upon closer inspection, both girls were identical except for one key difference. The one shielding her sister had freckles all over her face, and the one who looked sheepishly through her protector’s hair, did not have freckles. She whispered something to her sister and then the one in the front spoke, “W-Who are you?”

A mash of gurgles was all Orb heard and then it finally hit them. In their staggered runic, Orb tried to explain the situation, “I can’t understand you. Can you understand me?” As if to mime the words, Orb pointed one gloved hand at them when they pounded out the rune for ‘you’ and at themselves for ‘me’.

Both of the girls looked confused by this and then the one in the back hissed, “Lily, I don’t think it can understand us! We should get dad!”

“I-I don’t know what to do, Ava. Why is it pointing?”

“Maybe… Maybe it’s trying to communicate?” Ava whispered loudly.

“Well what should we do?” Lily said.

“I don’t know, communicate back? Point at you and say your name.”

“Why do I have to?” Lily complained.

“Because you’re in front!”
Lily sighed in annoyance then slowly pointed a finger at herself before saying, “Lily.” Then she pointed at Orb.

“Me,” Orb pounded the runic word out, then pointed at Lily and then Ava, “You,” the runic was dropped, “Lily.” Orb swallowed, this was actually working, at least they think. Tucking their hand back into the cloak Orb cleared their throat, “Food.”

Ava began to say “me” in runic, very badly, while Lily scratched her head.

“I certainly hope not,” Orb laughed to themselves, content with their joke. The laughter was cut short when Orb found themselves to be the only one who was. Frowning slightly behind the mask, Orb flicked a hand out of their cloak and patted the mossy fabric that covered their belly. Orb loudly mimicked the rumbling sounds of their stomach while patting it.

“I think it’s hungry.” Ava murmured.

“I think you’re right. Should we feed it though? You know what mom said about feeding strays.”

“Lily, does that look like a stray to you?”

“Well no… but you never know.”

“Just… Let me grab it a mango.” Ava said, turning her back to them as she searched the shelf again, finally grabbing a hand sized object, orange yellow. She turned back to them and held out her hand from behind Lily, towards orb.

“Oo!” Orb appraised the fruit before snatching it heartily, “Larger fruit, more efficient when replenishing the body.” One hand pinched the bottom of their mask while the other held the mango close -- Orb suddenly hesitated, twinkling eyes flickering over the huddled twins. A secret uneasy smile was flashed and Orb quickly turned away from the twins, hunched and hiding as they swiftly pushed the mask away to take a rine filled bite. Spinning back like it never happened, Orb chewed mirthfully behind their mask, letting out a tiny ‘bleh,’ the chewed rine falling out from behind the mask. Orb continued to chew the more edible bits from their bite. They held the fruit up in their palm, one hulking bite missing, “Other than the exterior, this fruit is full of good tasting energy. My body is likely to continue after its consumption.”

“Do you think it liked it?” Lily asked.

“Well… It ate it?” Ava questioned.

It was then that the sounding of the front door opened and both girls shared a look of horror with one another, saying “Dad” at the same time. Quickly they began to scramble down the chair, moving it back to the table but it as too late.
”Girls…” Orvus said rounding the corner, but stopped when he saw Orb and the twins.

”Oh, hello Orb.”

“Hello,” Orb said, holding out the fruit proudly, “I have pilfered your cleverly stored, ready to eat food from your dream children -- it’s for my body.”

”Well yes, food is for the body, Orb.” he mused.

The twins, in the meantime, were beginning to back away and out the other side of the kitchen when Orvus looked at them. ”And you young Ladies, what are you doing up?”

They both froze, before turning around to face Orvus, standing with their arms behind their backs and faces down.

“Well we… Got hungry again…” Lily started.

“So we went to get a snack and…” Ava continued.

“And then ‘Orb’ scared us.” Lily whimpered.

“So we gave him food, because he looked hungry.” Ava said, nodding.

“And now we’re going to bed.” Lily said looking up with a pleading smile.

Orvus crossed his arms before sighing. ”Alright, go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning about this little adventure.” The girls at once looked relieved before realizing that tomorrow would bring the punishment. Defeated, the two began walking away, Ava leaning on Lily in comfort.

Orvus chuckled then looked back at Orb. ”Hungry are you? Yeah I suppose that would happen. Should have mentioned it earlier. Are you still hungry?” he asked.

The cloaked figure pinched their mask with their free hand, “My blueprint was lacking a full stomach upon creation, it is paining me until I requisition the appropriate solution.” Holding the bitten fruit up, Orb nodded, “This should do.”

"Being mortal means you'll become hungry again you know. Just one of the many perks of life." Orvus replied.

“I know,” Orb insisted, “The instincts of this body have briefed my mind on my desires and needs as a being of flesh. I also require hydration, unconscious meditations, adequate and regular use of my muscles, appropriate (and timely) disposal of excrement, and a continuous intake and outtake of air.” The runic language twisted with enthusiasm, “It will be exciting to explore my limitations and requirements. The mind is equally wanting, requiring social health, emotional balance, and ease in processing stimuli.” A funny little laugh exited the faceless mask, “To think it does all of this at once, how efficient!”

Orvus nodded slowly. "That's one way to put it. Glad you're doing okay. Anything else you need tonight?"

"In addition to my survival requirements?” Orb wondered, a gloved finger scratching at their mask in thought.

"Well yeah, there's more to life than simply surviving." Orvus said, crossing the room and then sitting down.

“Of course,” Orb agreed quickly, “Improvements can always be made.” There was a nigh silent rumble and the cloaked figure spun to face away from Orvus briefly, punctuated by a juicy munch. Spinning back around, the mango was missing a second bite, but this time the inedible rine was already disposed of and on the floor.

“Do you have a collecting area for inedibles?” Orb asked almost meekly, their raspy voice a whisper.

"Outside in the back." Orvus said looking at the rine.

"But- but what about in here?" Orb asked, growing concerned, "A vessel for transporting the accumulating inedible bits from stored ready to eat foods to a proper disposing area?" They placed the mango on the chin high table and laced their fingers together almost pleadingly.

Orvus looked around, then shrugged. "Usually there's a pan we use but I don't see it. The girls must have left it outside again."

“Oh no!” Orb’s voice cracked (or squeaked?),” That won’t work at all.” The blank mask stared at Orvus a moment before Orb suddenly sprung into action. Clambering a hand over all the countertops and flipping through clutter, Orb hummed in thought. Eventually finding some drying flowers and reeds, Orb cut off the pretty ends and appraised the stalks. There was a tentative hum as Orb continued to scan the contents of the room, collecting more rigid sticks, some twine, and thin peels of wood. Orvus said nothing but watched with interest.

Finally, after gathering armfuls of material (at the expense of some of the furniture) Orb found a corner to plop down by. Turning away so Orvus couldn’t see, they set to work. The cloak moved quickly, hiding swift and precise movements. There was a tiny runic swear here and a proud runic praise there, until finally Orb turned back around holding a woven basket.

At almost a scurry, Orb kicked over to the rine they left on the ground. With a pinch and flick, Orb disposed of it into the basket and then looked over at Orvus, dark twinkling eyes peeping from the blank mask.

"Ingenious Orb. I hadn't thought of a basket, it seems so simple in practice now that I think about it." Orvus said, getting up from where he sat to get a closer look at it.

With a single rap of happy claps, Orb nodded, “It is rudimentary but will work while we devise a proper system.” Content with their invention, Orb snagged the mango from the table and began to peel it over the basket. Doing their shoulder dance, Orb wondered out loud, “Maybe a vessel that can take itself to the disposal area.”

"Perhaps." the god said as he stroked his beard. "You should look into this if you are planning to stay."

“Oo!” Orb looked up from their fruit, “Maybe I will.” Orb happily went back to peeling their mango until it was a completely smooth orange lump save for two bites. Turning away from Orvus again, Orb began to loudly chew on the fruit-flesh, humming a gargled thought.

"Good to hear Orb. You will always be welcomed here on Nebulan." he said, crossing his arms.

“Always?” Orb swallowed and set their mask correctly before turning to look at Orvus.

"Of course. After all, your one of the ones whose lived here longest. This is more of your home then even the Nebulites." Orvus said with pride.

“Oh! I understand,” Orb flicked some of the mango’s sticky residue into the basket and patted their gloves together -- fruit gone, “So I’m always welcome, no parameters?”

"Yep, free to come and go whenever you like. We can even get you a home if you want." he said.

Orb shifted to their feet, cloak draping to the floor, “Yes, I want one.” Their eyes scanned Orvus, “What tools do you have?”

Orvus lifted up his hands. "These are my tools, but if you need something, we can make it."

“I need a cutting, a chopping, a chipping, a pounding, a smoothing, and a grabbing tool,” Orb pinched the end of their mask, an excited breath sneaking out the sides, “Maybe more, I don’t know yet!” They tossed a hand in the air and laughed, “Oh this will be fun, let’s go!”

"The world is dark yet. Shall we wait for the light of day?" Orvus asked.

“But- but- but!” Orb protested. The cloaked figure seemed to fidget, attempting to find a clever reasoning, “It’ll go quicker if we start right now!”

"Patience Orb. Normally I would be fine working at night, but now we must be considerate of others who are sleeping. Tomorrow we can start." Orvus said sternly.

Orb’s cloak shifted as if their arms were folding under its mossy curtain, “What if they were all awake, could we do it then?”

"Well yes but we aren't going to wake up the entire area just so we can work. That wouldn't be kind." he mused.

“I’m not saying we don’t invite them to help,” Orb defended with a puff of air behind the mask, “What a better way to wake up than with a big project?”

"No Orb. No." Orvus smiled.

“How do things even get done around here,” Orb huffed incredulously, the cloak shifting, “When two variables including the lack of light and the presence of sleeping beings can delay an important project.” Orb stabbed a finger into their palm as they talked, “What do you suppose we do, then?”

"You could try sleeping?"

“I still have plenty of my daily quota of energy to use,” Orb stood up straight and proud.

"Suit yourself then, I'm going to go make sure the girls made it to bed." Orvus began before saying to Orb, "Behave yourself."

“As opposed to behaving someone else?” Orb’s deadpan delivery made it difficult to tell if they were joking or not.

Orvus sighed before leaving the room. Out of sight, Orb lifted their mask slightly and stuck out a mocking blue tongue.

Letting the mask fall back into place, Orb sighed with frustration before clambering atop one of the oversized chairs. With another sigh they laid their hidden head on the surface, eyes flickering over the wall on the farside of the room.

Orb kicked their feet and hummed as they thought, fun new ideas painting themselves over the walls surface in their imagination. Orb rubbed their mask against the wood as they turned to look elsewhere, suddenly freezing at the scraping sound. Turning to look at the mark left by the movement, a curling smile grew on Orb's lips...

---

Shortly after leaving the Hunter’s Eye, Li’Kalla realized how slow she was travelling. Walking just wouldn’t do. So, in an instant, she grew long, pure white feathered wings and took to the skies.

It didn’t take long to reach her destination after that, with the added plus of not having to lay her eyes on that dreadful island.

Still, even with godly speed on her side, such a journey had its fair share of dull moments, so every now and then she’d stop to inspect a creature that came into sight. Lizards, both small and large; mammals, the rare seal-like savage tribe venturing into new lands…

Eventually she arrived at her destination, the Eye of Desolation, and what she found… Wasn’t what she had expected.

Thousands upon thousands of mortals lived there, mortals whose souls were so pristine that the only possible answer to their existence was that they’d been recently created.

Had someone felt the same way as her? That the world was boring and empty without widespread mortal civilization? And if her scarce memories were correct, these new people had very similar physical appearances to that of Orvus. It must have been him who created them.

She slowed her flight speed to just below the speed of sound, to avoid deafening the mortals with the noise, and flew down to the location ingrained in her memories. A thriving farm. She touched down in the middle of a field of freshly sown green sprouts and waited, watching the shocked figures of the nebulous mortals hesitantly approach.

There was caution in their eyes, as well as awe and wonder. They whispered to each other like children, with several names being dropped; Arya, Laurien, Orvus, Aster, Ion, Vera and many more. Not one dared to approach any closer then the start of the field but a large crowd began to gather around it. Many mixed faces watched Li’Kalla and even more surprisingly, faces that resembled her own. Humans.

It was then that a figure different then the rest came through a parting crowd. She was about the same height as all the others, but glowing white in comparison. Her eyes were pitch black, so too were her arms and she wielded a sword that reflected her appearance. She held a soft expression upon her face, one of surprise and wonder. She stopped at the edge of the field and then gave a slight bow before speaking, her voice soothing and sweet. ”Hello, welcome to Nebulan. Who might you be? Are you lost?”

Li’Kalla pursed her lips, barely holding back a scoff. This lower being who, while not entirely mortal, was still far below her status, dared assume she was inefficient enough to lose her way? Outwardly, Li’Kalla smiled serenely. ”My apologies, I am the Goddess of Rain. Tell me, are you creations of the God of Desolation? I intend to meet him, and his daughter as well.”

The glowing girl tilted her head slightly, her eyes opening up to look at Li’Kalla in a new light. ”Wonderful!” she exclaimed, before turning around to face a few of the mortals. ”Quick! Go fetch Orvus and Laurien and bring them here!” and at her words a majority of the mortals broke away and ran off into several directions. The girl then turned back to Li’Kalla and bowed even deeper, the rest of the mortals following suit. ”Your Holiness, I am Arya, daughter of Orvus. These mortals are the Nebulites, children of both Orvus and Ohannakeloi.” before rising.

Li’Kalla watched as Arya and the remaining mortals bowed again, and she nodded her head in acknowledgement, then while Arya spoke, the Goddess approached her. It was an unnatural gait, one so graceful that at times it didn’t even seem like she was moving at all, and yet she still approached.

Once face to face with the white Firstborn of the Nebulites, Li’Kalla gently placed her hand under her chin and lifted her up to face her. The Goddess in that moment seemed taller than when she’d arrived. Once Arya stood upright, the Goddess gently caressed her smooth, pure face with her hands. The rainwater coating the Goddess’ skin was cool and refreshing, and it left no trace of water on Arya’s skin. If at all the girl felt uncomfortable she did not show it through her smile.

”You’re pure. An exemplar specimen. Tell me, have you found a mate yet?” Li’Kalla whispered softly, her gray eyes shining brightly all of a sudden.

Arya’s cheeks suddenly flushed a light pink and she avoided eye contact with Li’Kalla. ”I-I… Um… No, your Holiness.” she said, sounding embarrassed.

Li’Kalla smiled, and then chuckled and embraced Arya, now whispering into her ear, ”Find a worthy mate, you are too valuable to procreate with just anyone.” And just as easily, she let go and looked around. ”So Desolation has more than one daughter? Is it just you two, or are there more?”

Arya blinked after being embraced and nodded her head slightly before rubbing her arm and saying, ”Well, there’s Ava and Lily too.” she said, ”There quite a bit young now though.”

”I see,” Li’Kalla nodded, ”How young? How were they created?”

”I’m not sure your Holiness. Seven or eight?” she said, blinking again. ”How? Well, naturally I suppose. It’s all a bit complicated, you see, they’re actually from a dreamworld, brought to Galbar. I’m sure father could tell you more about it though.”

”Of course, forget I asked,” Li’Kalla looked up at the sky, then back down at Arya, ”One more thing, do you know what a Nebula is?”

”Why it’s a-” She began before another voice cut her off.

”Li’Kalla!” it said, before a tall man could be seen walking through the crowd towards them. There was a large smile on his bearded face, and walking next to him was another figure. A woman of mahogany hair and striking beauty. Like before, the crowd parted and Orvus made his way to Li’Kalla, stopping before her. Their eye contact was level.

”Sister… Where have you been?” was all Orvus managed to say.

Li’Kalla pursed her lips and, for a moment, her spell of gracefulness seemed to crack. It was only for a split second, but it was evident to all the divines present.

Her composure regained, she smiled back and shrugged, ”I woke up covered in blood in front of the Architect. I don’t remember much before that… But I remember this place, and you and Laurien lived here. Say, you look… Different. More hair and skin than before.” She let her words hang in the air for a moment before turning towards the woman next to Orvus, ”Who may you be?”

The woman looked unsure of herself when addressed but said, ”I am Rowan, your grace. Wife of Orvus.” she finished with a small curtsy. Li’Kalla stared at her for a moment before nodding in response.

”Where do you come from, Wife of Orvus? You must be your nation’s most beautiful specimen.”

There was surprise in Rowan’s eyes and she straightened her posture. ”Oh you flatter me with your kind words, your grace. By far, you would be the countries most beautiful specimen.”

Li’Kalla smirked.

Orvus gave the two an interesting look, his eyes pausing on his wife briefly before turning back to Li’Kalla. ”You have no memory of what happened to the shards or the beast? How strange…” he mused thoughtfully, ”As for my appearance well… I could say the same to you. You look, better.” he said, choosing his words carefully.

”Thank you,” Li’Kalla said curtly, ”And no, no memories about those things. No interest in remembering, either. Tell me, Orvus, did you and Rowan engage in intercourse to create Ava and Lily? How did it feel? Can you des-” Li’Kalla stopped and cleared her throat. ”My apologies, it is the first time I’ve met a God with real offspring.”

There was silence all around them, Nebulites waiting with baited breath to see what would happen. Orvus frowned at the remark, Rowan furrowed her brow at Li’Kalla and Arya stared wide-eyed at all of them. Orvus then cleared his throat, breaking the silence and said, ”All of you, leave.” before turning to Rowan. ”Could you take Arya and go find Laurien for me? Tell her to find us at the grave.” Rowan opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it and looked to Arya. She then held out her arm, and Arya took it as they followed after the Nebulites.

”Come. We have much to discuss, away from prying eyes and open ears.” he said, walking past her.

”Are you saying there are other deities watching us?” Li’Kalla asked, looking around before hurrying to walk beside Orvus.

”There’s only one I know for sure, but mortals are as equally noisy.” Orvus said, as he led her across fields and onto a path leading into the forest. ”I think it is safe to assume that since we’ve last seen each other, we’ve both changed, considerably.” he said as they walked underneath trees.

”Yes, that would be safe to assume. Again, I apologize for what I said back there. I can see now that procreation is taboo in your creations.” Li’Kalla said.

He gave her a side glance before saying, ”Taboo? Hardly, I blessed my people with the ability to go without food for long periods of time if needed. This is at the cost of their Libido, hence no baby bumps, though there are a few. Food is being grown here as we speak, and when it comes time to harvest, well… Let’s just say there will be a boom. I may have… Overdone that feature a bit. They can have intercourse with most other sapient species as it is and produce a viable offspring. But tell me something, since when did you become so fascinated with such things?” he said, rounding a corner.

”I see. And well, I’ve always been interested, haven’t I? It’s only natural to seek knowledge about what works and what doesn’t, so you can ensure your civilization grows stronger with each generation.”

”Silver never made any mention of this.” Orvus said, before breaking from the path and following a trail into a small clearing, blooming with flowers. At the center of the clearing, there sat a gravestone, with the inscription. ‘Silver. Here lies a friend.’

Li’Kalla’s heart skipped a beat. Time seemed to stand still, and pain shot up through her body. Immediately she looked down at her arms and noticed the statue-like cracks in her skin. They throbbed with pain, as if letting her know that digging too deep here would only bring pain.

As if nothing ever happened, time resumed its course and the pain was gone.

”... I don’t know who that is.”

”I looked for you. Over the entire world, every nook and cranny, every peak. I looked into your Sphere and do you know what I found? Nothing.” he said looking at her, ”And yet here you are, another God who’s lost their memories but I refuse to believe that this name means nothing to you, because it meant everything to me.” his voice ringed with a sad note.

Li’Kalla remained silent for a long moment, but finally turned away from Orvus and the grave, ”I remember some things. And you know what? I hate it. I was pathetic, like a child. I refuse to believe that was me. It couldn’t have been. And then it all gets strange. I see so many faces and I hear so many voices. If I try to remember, it...” She winced and held her head together with both hands, ”... It feels as if my head will split apart.”

A hand fell on her shoulder and Orvus said, ”You were anything but pathetic. You and your fragments were simply lost, wanting to be whole. We were so close to that but you’re here anyways. But... I should have went with you, I should have helped to reunite you together but I didn’t and for that, I am sorry.”

Li’Kalla sighed and moved a few steps away from Orvus. She crossed her arms with her back turned toward the God, and spoke, ”Why are you speaking to me as if you know who I am? As if we’ve known each other for a long time, when in truth I only met you just now? ‘Yet another God that’s lost her memory’, huh? That’s what you think I am? A lost child that needs to be guided back home?”

”Listen to yourself! You’re sounding childish as we speak, and you won’t even look at me.” At this remark, Li’Kalla tensed up and then turned to look at Orvus once more, Orvus grumbled as his hand fell to his side. ”But you are right, I don’t know this Li’Kalla, but I did know Silver. She was a mortal shard of a Goddess and she told me everything about her past, and I saw it with my own eyes. There’s a reason you came here, of all places, isn’t there?”

”... I expected to find ruins, indoors spaces covered in centimetres of dust. Perhaps, I thought, I could reform this place into a home. Perhaps, this one nice memory I have is worth treasuring.” She uncrossed her arms and clasped her hands, ”I didn’t find ruins. I found a newborn civilization, as well as a God yearning to be one of them. How lonely, I must say.”

There was a flare of light behind her, and suddenly Orvus floated down in front of her, his godly form expressed into anger. His voice and tone, shifting to match it. ”The only lonely thing I see here, is you, Li’Kalla.”

Li’Kalla smirked, ”Hah! Struck a chord I see, perhaps there was too much truth in those words for you to tolerate. Don’t worry, Orvus, you look much better this way. Pretending to be mortals doesn’t suit us Gods.”

”It’s a pity, really.” Orvus said, ”That the Li’Kalla I knew is dead. Perhaps it’s best in the end. I have a feeling she would only be ashamed of you. Silver most of all, for unlike you, she could tolerate pain.”

Li’Kalla perked up and blushed, ”H-Hey, I can tolerate pain, it’s just-” She sighed and fixed her gaze on the grave. ”... None of it matters anymore, I suppose. You may hate me if you want to, should it help you overcome your grief. ”

His eyes seemed to frown. ”It’s not my grief I’m worried about.” was all he said before footsteps could be heard in the distance. It did not take long to see who it was. Laurien came bounding down the path and into the clearing, stopping as she came face to face with Li’Kalla. Her breathing was quick as she eyed the Goddess up and down. She said nothing however, but she did not move her gaze either.

Li’Kalla chuckled and smirked once she saw Laurien. Her heart raced, and yet she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself. ”Even in this form, you seem to be taller than me, Laurien.”

”You’re… You’re alive? The fragments... It-it worked?” Laurien said hopefully, looking to Orvus who remained impassive, before looking back at Li’Kalla.

”I don’t know. Here I am walking around, so I suppose? I don’t remember much, other than your name, appearance, and a few other things.”

Laurien began to walk closer. ”Oh it’s so good to… To finally see you… Or meet you. I was so worried when… Do you… Do you remember what you made me promise?” she blurted.

Li’Kalla stood still, ”What?”
Laurien tilted her head as she walked closer still. ”You don’t remember?”

Li’Kalla looked away, ”What did Silver make you promise?”

Laurien was before her now, ”That I would return, her knight in shining armor.” Laurien whispered, tentatively reaching out at Li’Kalla’s face. ”Don’t you remember, Chickadee?”

The Goddess stiffened and leaned away, biting her lip. ”I-I’m not supposed to… Two women can’t, you know, do this...”

A hurt expression crossed Laurien’s face as her hand paused in the air. ”W-What are you saying?”

”I’m saying that, uhm, I can’t be seen engaging in r-romantic endeavors with a member of the same sex. I-It’s unnatural, and it serves no purpose. No matter how I-” Li’Kalla hiccuped and she covered her mouth, ”N-No matter how I feel about it.”

Laurien furrowed her brow. ”That doesn’t make any sense. Who’s going to care? You’re a god, you can do anything! Please… I… I…” her voice broke.

Li’Kalla hiccuped again and took a step back, ”Listen- I can’t… I just can’t! I-I… I’d like to but I can’t… Without the possibility of procreation, there is no point to romance and sex… Therefore, two women can’t be...” Li’Kalla blinked rapidly and shook her head, ”I’m sorry.”

Laurien stared at her, shattered. With tears in her eyes she desperately looked for something that was no longer there in Li'Kalla's eyes and after a minute, she blinked and her face hardened. Angry tears fell down her cheeks as she balled her fists. There was a tense moment in the clearing, anticipation in the air. But as suddenly as it came, the tension was broken as Laurien turned on her heel and ran away.

Orvus tried to stop her to no avail. "Laurien!" he called after her, but she did care to respond. Orvus then looked back at Li'Kalla angrily, "Wonderful. Just wonderful."

The Goddess merely sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, ”I believe I am finished here. I will take my leave.” With that, Li’Kalla stretched her long beautiful wings and shot off into the sky with a powerful flap.

Orvus watched her leave, until she was but a distant blip in the sky. He turned to the grave, a tear falling down his cheek.

It was midday over the Branch of the World Tree. The many bird species of the Eye sang their thousand songs, supported by the gentle beat of waves on the beaches. A gentle waft of air tugged at the lengths of star-white hair hanging long over the light pink shoulders of Polyastera there where she sat on a small, flat rock underneath the beautiful canopy. Around her were several others of her kind, enjoying the fruits of the forest and the company of each other. It was a beautiful existence, in many ways - a life of peace, joy and pleasure. However, even now, merely days after their creation, an itch felt brave enough to pester her soul, an itch spurred on by the stories of their species’ moulds - specifically one of them.

“Polly? What’re you getting all lost in thought over?” came a voice and Polyastera snapped out of her trance to look one of her dear friends, a midnight blue man named Pallason. She gave him a smug smile and tilted her head to the side.

“Oh, I was just thinking, about Laurien.”

Pallason and two others shuffled a little closer to her and snickered. “Aren’t we all from time to time? What were you thinking about? You’re going to ask her again?”

Polyastera inspected some dirt underneath one of her nails and pursed her lips. “Mmm… Maybe, though that wasn’t what I was thinking about. Do any of you recall that story she told us?”

“Which one?” one of the others, a girl named Philia, asked curiously and brushed her comet-blue hair out of her glowing eyes. It fell right back, covering her jet black forehead.

“The one with that one god, oh, what was his-...” She snapped her fingers as she tried to remember. “Ah, yes, Shengshi - that was it. Yes, the story about him.”

Pallason tugged at his clean-shaved chin. “... Nnnooo, not particularly well--”

“She means the one about his ship, isn’t that right, Polly?” the third voice proposed, one belonging to Titanon, a well-groomed and handsome man with a near metallic sheen to his skin.

“Correct, Titanon,” Polyastera praised and caressed his cheek affectionately. Titanon snapped his teeth at her hand as she pulled it back, inciting an entrancing giggle. “It’s a wonderful story, when you think about it.”

“What’s so special about it?” Pallason replied absent-mindedly as he propped his cheek up on a fist. Polyastera lied down on her stomach and begun twisting a finger in his hair.

“It was just something about the way she described it: An army of people who would do exactly what you want them to do at any time without any sort of backtalk or refusal; food worlds better than the scraps we’re eating here; and I have no idea what this ‘wine’ is, but it sounds heavenly from the way she described it.”

“Well, that ship -is- the house of a god, Polly,” Titanon reasoned. “One shouldn’t expect less than luxury, really.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Polyastera argued. “Our creator has no such house, and from what I’ve personally seen of the world, there are no magnificent feasts nor numerous servants for us to enjoy.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Pallason asked with a scoff. “It’s not like we were born to be kings and queens of this world.”

Polyastera reached out one hand and cupped Pallason’s chin in a somewhat firm grip, lifting his head to face her. She gave him a sly smile, at which the young man blushed. “Oh, my dear Pallason, I wholeheartedly disagree. We are the -children- of Orvus and Ohannakeloi, made in the image of heroines like Arya and Laurien. Our numbers are in the thousands and the world is ours to explore and govern as we see fit. Look.” She floated neatly off the ground and drifted gently forward to kiss Pallason on his somewhat shy lips. She glided upwards slowly and spun around as she gestured in every direction. “I could travel wherever I wish, without anyone telling me otherwise; I can settle myself down wherever I was, without anyone telling me otherwise.”

Pallason rolled his eyes and shook his head. Philia giggled and leaned her head onto Titanon’s shoulder, who simply kept a weak smile. “But what if you stumbled upon someone who tried to tell you otherwise?” Titanon asked. “For the sake of argument, I mean.”

Polyastera lowered herself back to the ground and crossed her legs so that the upper foot nearly kicked Pallason in the face. She ignored his scowl and went back to looking at her nails. “Who knows? This is why I would like to search for this Shengshi.”

“Oh? You think he can help?” Titanon snickered.

“A god whose existence is bathed in luxury? I think he would understand me perfectly.”

“Well, you might get a definite answer. Guess who just showed up.” Titanon thumbed over to the arrival of one particular individual, and Polyastera’s smile was immediately complemented by a ravenous look. She got to her feet, tossed her hair over her shoulders and made her way over with quick steps that seemed to move her whole lower body. She made her way somewhat forcefully through the crowds forming around the woman before her and emerged at the front with a wry smile.

“Hello, Laurien. Welcome back.”

The tall warrioress immediately turned to Polyastera and smiled hungrily. In two steps she was before Polly, and she ran a finger down her right cheek. ”Hello Polly, looking delightful as always. Are you enjoying the tree?” she asked with a knowing smirk. Her hair was up in a loose bun, held together by a bone clip. She wore the simplest of garments, covering her body in white. She wore a leather belt around her waist, accenting her curvature. She smelled of roses today, not too overpowering but delightfully noticeable. With her came several more Nebulites, who gazed up at the tree and around them in awe.

“What’s not to enjoy,” Polyastera proposed, “though its power will have to be verified at a later date. After all, few of us have existed long enough to see the effects of its fertility blessing - although testing its effect is always fun.” She gave Laurien a wink.

”Good, good. I am glad you’re all enjoying yourselves.” she said, turning to the side to point at the three she brought. She pointed first a Nebulite of blue and purple swirls, his hair black hair was short and star riddled, ”This is Aster,” she then pointed to a female Nebulite of deep red and black, her body riddled with stars and her frame small. She had long, flame red hair, tinged with yellow and orange swirls. ”This is Cassieopoeia, or Cassie for short,” and then she pointed to the last Nebulite. A male of pitch black, riddled with no stars. His hair was the same stark white as Polly’s, and he held it in a bun. His face was the most curious of them all. ”And this is Ion. They were interested in getting off Nebulan, so I brought them here for an adventure.” At the mention of their names, Cassie waved, Aster nodded, and Ion gazed up at the tree before being elbowed by Cassie. He then blinked, looking at Cassie angrily before looking around. Sheepishly he waved at Polly and the others.

Polyastera eyed the three up and down with various degrees of interest. She took a few steps towards Aster and gently took him by the chin. She scrunched her nose a little and stared into his eyes for a moment before calmly asking, “Tell me, dear, when did you last bathe?”

Aster’s face grew bright blue at the remark and he held his arm limply as he avoided eye contact with Polly. “It’s uh… It’s been a bit.”

Polyastera hummed monotonously. “Yes, I can tell. Go down to the beach, have yourself a wash and come back after, thank you very much.” She pushed his face away with a soft, yet quite dismissive hand and moved on to Cassieopoeia, repeating the same grip about her chin. As she did, Aster sighed, looked at Laurien who was silently laughing and then began to quickly walk away, embarrassed. Polyastera, meanwhile, was running her hand up and down Cassie’s cheek with a gentle hum.

“I absolutely adore your colours, dear… However, I know of one who’d love them far more.” She stepped over next to her and pointed towards the trunk where Pallason, Philia and Titanon sat laughing among themselves and eating fruit. “You see that skinny little boy? He is very fond of deeper, more passionate colours. Oh, and he loves an assertive lover - are you assertive?”

Cassie tilted her head to look at Pallason and her eyes grew slightly larger, before shrinking when she looked back at Polly, tilting her head up. Her voice was rich and confident when she spoke. “He’ll do.”

Polyastera smiled and pecked her on the cheek. “He’ll like you.” She then walked past to the final male, as Cassie wandered over to the others, though she didn’t grab his chin. She eyed his hair instead with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment smeared across her face like an ointment. She pointed at the bun. “Loosen that, please.”

The man smirked and tilted his head at her before asking, “Why?” His voice cool.

“Your head shape does -not- complement any sort of form on top of your head; in fact, your wider jaw makes your head look a little like a pear.” She hummed. “If you try, you might be able to make it work with a ponytail.”

Ion crossed his arms and looked at her in annoyance, while eyeing her up and down. He then said smugly, “I’m quite fond of my shape, thank you very much. Maybe you should work on yourself first before commenting on others, especially with a chest like that.”

Polyastera was looking down at her nails. She gave him a glance past her eyebrows. “Hm? Sorry, I was busy not being interested - see, the rule here, at the tree, is the following --” She poked a finger on his chest and smiled smugly. “As long as make it in, you are free to do whatever you want, eat whatever you want and love whomever you want.” She looked at Laurien and sighed. “And the longer it takes for you to be a good little boy and undo that abominable hair-do, the smaller the chances are that I, Polyastera, will allow you to enter.”

Ion opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Laurien whistling. ”Now now children, play nice with one another. Ion, undo the hair. Polly darling, come here.” she said opening up her arms. Ion grumbled something under his breath, but obliged, and undid his hair, which fell down to his shoulders.

Polyastera flashed Ion a smirk before walking into Laurien’s arms and embracing her lovingly. “Sorry about that, dear - I cannot help being so demanding. I am just so used to--...” She pecked at Laurien’s neck. “... Quality.” Ion simply frowned and walked off.

Laurien bent down with a giggle and whispered into her ear, ”Play nice with the boy and you can stay with me tonight.” Laurien then kissed Polly a top her head, squeezed her tightly once more and then let her go.

Polyastera held on for a little longer and gave Laurien a huff as she pulled away. “Oh, I don’t know… I’m promised to Hectore tonight.” She tapped her cheek with a finger pensively. “I might be persuaded, though, if you could tell me a story.”

Laurien raised her eyebrow slightly, as she put her hands on her hips. ”A story?”

Polyastera nodded. “The one about the time aboard Shengshi’s ship, if you could - and please, make it as detailed as you remember it.” She ran a pair of fingers up and down the length of Laurien’s forearm and slowly laid her ear against her chest. “Please?”

The surrounding Nebulites looked green with envy.

Laurien rolled her eyes for the others and smirked before placing a hand on the side of Polly’s head. She twirled her white hair on her finger. ”So theatrical, darling. Whoever could have taught you such things.” she mused. ”What are you planning little one?” Laurien asked softly.

“Oh, a bit of this, a pinch of that.” Polyastera took Laurien’s hand and began to guide her through the crowd. The crowd parted before them, not necessarily out of respect, but simply because most of them understood by now that if anyone stood in front of Polyastera by the time she came to them, she would stop and wonder why there was a wall of air before her. “And,” she continued, “a large handful of ambitions, most of which are dependent on that lovely story of yours. Come, our spot is the best. Pallason, scoot.”

The skinny boy, who was interrupted mid-chat with Cassie, jerked to life and hopped to the side like a well-trained dog, though he did not seem happy about it.

Laurien sat down, leaning back on her hands. ”Hello everyone. Are we enjoying ourselves today?” she said in a sing song voice.

“Immensely,” Titanon said in his gentle baritone voice as Philia drew circles on his chest with a finger. She flashed Laurien a smile. Pallason also gave Laurien a smile, though it had a slightly less enthusiastic air about it. ”Good, very good. So, the story about his Holiness Shengshi huh. Haven’t I already told this one a thousand times?”

“Oh, but you’re so good at telling it, Laurien,” Polyastera pleaded. “Your voice is so wonderful to listen to - intoxicating, even.”

“She’s obsessed about what’s onboard Shengshi’s ship,” Pallason added, receiving a pout from Polly.

“To drop the tease so soon - I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

“Wuh-! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Pallason demanded, but Polly’s eyes had already switched back to Laurien with an awed glint in them.

”With what’s on board…” Laurien said thoughtfully. ”Ah, I see what this is about. Firstly, enough of this atrocious use of his name. If you were to ever meet his Lordship without addressing him properly, he would be most unamused. Deadly even. His Holiness or Lordship will suffice, and that my dears, will save your life and open wonderful things to you aboard the Jiangzhou. So,” she said turning to Polly, ”What is it you really want to know? I must admit, I am not so studied as Arya. She’s lived there you know, but I can try my best.”

“How did you sleep?” Polyastera asked eagerly. “A-and with whom? How much food did you eat? What is wine again, describe it, would you?”

Laurien chuckled. ”I slept in a bed twice the size of me, it was wonderful. But the servants… They are not like us and couldn’t do what you are thinking, darling. As for food, it is endless and comes in all sorts of sizes, and shapes and tastes. Wine is delicious and so relaxing, it tickles your insides and makes you feel, very, very good. But if you drink too much it can make your senses foggy.”

Titanon let out a hum. “What can these servants do, actually? You’ve told us that they bathed you, but did they do anything else?”

Polyastera, meanwhile, seemed to be fantasising about what nature of ‘good’ this wine made you feel.

Laurien turned to Titanon and said, ”They can do a variety of things, anything you ask really just not…” she looked around and pointed at a couple in the distance, ”Just not like that.” Before turning back to Titanon. ”They are very kind, and quite literally live to serve.”

“Wow,” Titanon blurted out. “Hey, Polly, sounds like something for you.” Polyastera smirked back and giggled.

“Why, it absolutely does, I agree. See, Laurien, we were discussing something earlier.”

“You were telling us,” Pallason corrected before receiving an elbow in the shin. Polyastera recollected herself and continued,

“Yes, we were -discussing- a place for ourselves, Nebulites, that would be something like Sheng-... Sorry, His Lordship’s boat. A place were servants would wait upon our every word and we could eat delectable food and enjoy each others’ company for eternity. Wouldn’t that be superb?”

Laurien narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose before turning to Polly. ”Ah, so that’s the real question is it. A lavish lifestyle with servants at every beck and call.” she said, stretching back with a yawn. ”It does sound nice but tell me, does this really stem from my storytelling or is there more behind this still? What your asking… Hmm… It could possibly be done, but you’d have to know someone with the right connections. Someone who knows his Lordship perhaps?” she said, smiling devilishly.

"Your storytelling inspired it, dear - most certainly so.” She winked and then lost a bit of the excitement in her expression. “I suppose you are about to suggest that I speak with Arya, then?" Polyastera said a little dryly.

Laurien frowned, "No, I'm talking about myself. Come on Polly." she said before pouting, "Bless her heart but Arya was always more so on the side of personal freedom. When she was with Shengshi, the servants did not exist as they do now, but still. She respects their culture out of her friendship with his Lordship however. I know you think of her a prude but this lifestyle isn't for everyone."

"I find it a little odd that someone would reject a world of pleasure, but I suppose -some- believe life to be about other things." Polyastera began to teasingly caress Laurien's thigh. "Ssssso, you think you could put in a good word with His Lordship for us? You know how grateful that would make us." In the background, Titanon, Philia, Pallason and Cassie made expressions of similar interests.

"Some do, others don't." Laurien mused as she watched Polly's fingers. "I could help you, my dears. But are you prepared to sacrifice your lives here? And his Lordship will probably ask something of you as well. To get what you want would have a high price I'm sure."

"Life here is fine, dear, but, ugh… We sleep on moss or stone; we eat nothing but fruit while we wait for the crops to grow; and we have to do everything ourselves here," Polyastera complained.

"You hardly ever do anything, though," Pallason protested.

"You know I am much too delicate for the fields, love," she answered, "Titanon is more suited for that kind of work." The muscular male pursed his lips and flexed, summoning a giggle and a kiss from Philia.

Laurien chuckled heartily. " Let me teach you a lesson, dears. To speak with the gods of this world, all you have to do is pray and they might talk to you back." she laughed before getting up and kneeling down in the center of them. She then closed her eyes and dipped her head forward. "Oh your Holiness Shengshi, Lord of a Thousand Rivers, I your humble Servant Laurien, asks for an audience."

The air surrounding the Branch of the World Tree grew a little drier; the nutty smells of fresh grain and the sweet fragrance of ripe fruit permeated the immediate surroundings and several Nebulites looked around for the source with watering mouths; there came a distant trickle, like that of a small stream. A pair of invisible eyes fixated on Laurien and the Nebulites around her, followed by a deep hum.

“He Bo, how many cups have I had today? Only two? I swear, I am seeing multiple-... No, never mind, they’re different.” The voice cleared its throat. “Laurien, my dear - so nice to see you! I was wondering when you would come to me again. How have you been?”

"I've been…" she hesitated for a moment opening her eyes. To any who noticed there was a hint of an underlying sadness in them before blinking away to a soft smile. "Better now that I'm talking to you, your Holiness."

“Oh, you little flirt, you,” the snake teased back. “Now, uhm… If I may ask, who are these surrounding you? Did Orvus make more of you?”
Polyastera, Titanon, Pallason and Philia beamed in awe at the invisible, yet quite easily perceived pair of reptilian eyes. Polyastera in particular rose to her feet and reached out to touch them, looking extremely disappointed to find that there was nothing to grab onto. The snake grunted. “... And what is this one doing?”

Polyastera blinked and sat back down, looking beyond excited at all this. Laurien giggled at Polly's attempt before clearing her throat and saying, "Your Holiness, I am proud to announce that Orvus and the awe inspiring Ohannakeloi have created a species in Arya's and this servants image. They are called Nebulites and they have… Many gifts."

“Many gifts, you say?” the snake repeated. “Elaborate, if you would.”

"Yes indeed. They have a longer lifespan, two forms to choose from, flight, and are capable of reproducing with most other sapients, with a few exceptions of course. The occurring offspring is something Orvus calls, 'human'. They've always been taught to farm, craft, and stone working. Masonry I think it was. Oh and they can go long periods of time without eating at the cost of their libidos, which are very, very high." Laurien paused, then said, "I believe Arya is teaching them how to hunt, read, and write among other things. I have, of course, taught them about the finer things in life." she said smoothly.

“Of course, you have,” the snake praised with a chuckle. “A lifeform capable of reproducing with most other sapient life, hmm? Sounds… Like an interesting quirk. I am not quite certain how it will work in practice, but, well… Either way, that is wonderful to hear - it is good to see that Orvus really has turned himself around and is furthering the goal towards prosperity.” There came a hum. “My dear, as much as I would love to talk with you until sundown and beyond, you caught me in a bit of a precarious moment. Therefore I must be so rude to ask if there is a motive behind this prayer of yours?”

"Ah, of course your Holiness. Well you see, the fine Nebulites around me have taken to heart the story of my time aboard your Palace. They seek to have the same comforts in life, and asked if I would contact you. And so here we are. I believe Polyastera can explain better what she and the others want. Polly?" Laurien said, looking to her.

Polyastera rose back up and curtsied with a wry smile. “O great Shengshi, Lord of the Thousand Rivers--”

“It’s ‘streams’, actually.”

“What?” Polly said, somewhat taken aback.

“Lord of the Thousand Streams,” Shengshi corrected. “Laurien said it wrong, but I did not wish to interrupt her.”

Polyastera scowled momentarily before calming herself again. Titanon and Pallason exchanged anxious looks. Laurien held a hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing. “Forgive me, Your Lordship,” Polyastera apologised, “it was not my intention to mispronounce your title.”

There came a flat hum. “That is nothing to concern yourself about. You heard wrong and repeated wrong - I corrected you. It is no longer a misunderstanding. Now, from what Laurien told me, you seek a life of luxury?”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” Polyastera replied with another curtsy. “We have heard Laurien’s stories about Your Lordship’s ship and her stay onboard, and we wish to live forever like that: servants waiting upon our every order; beds twice-thrice our own size; all the time in the world to enjoy one another’s company. Can… Can this be done?”

A silence chilled the mood, and Polyastera’s smile faded little by little. After a while, she turned to Laurien and asked, “Is-... Is he still here?”

"Oh yes child. He's either thinking about what could be done, or planning to smite us all." she giggled.

Polyastera seemed unfamiliar with the idea of consequences and hummed. “I see,” she said curtly.

A pensive purr reverberated through the air. “That is quite a tall order, young Polyastera - do you have any way of paying for it?”

Polyastera made a frown. “I do,” she answered and tossed her hair over his shoulders once more. There came a monotonous hum.

“That would be?”

“My body, my life, my servitude - you may have all of it if I get to live as Laurien described,” Polyastera proclaimed. Pallason, Titanon and Philia rose to their feet and surrounded Polyastera from behind.

“Hey, hey, hey, Polly - let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?” Pallason cautioned. “Didn’t you just say earlier that we were meant to rule?”

“Yeah, at least take some time to think it over,” Philia agreed. “I’m as eager as you, Polly, but-... I don’t wanna give up my life for it.”

“Listen to your friends, Polyastera,” the snake warned. “Giving your life so easily for a lifestyle you have never experienced is quite reckless, and not in a good way. I will propose an alternative before we engage in any negotiations with your souls on the line, is that alright?”

Polyastera rolled her eyes at her friends and then bowed to the invisible eyes. “Of course, Your Lordship. What do you propose as an alternative?”
“You, as well as any who wishes to come along, are invited to stay at my ship for a single day. If you find afterwards that you cannot live anymore without this kind of lifestyle, we shall negotiate further.”

Polyastera gasped, as did her friends. She began to jump up and down screaming in joy and Titanon had to hold her shoulder to keep her excitement bottled up. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” Polyastera shouted into the sky and started running around the Branch, shouting promises of a luxury stay onboard Shengshi’s boat. Her friends set off into a run after her and the snake let out a small groan.

“You have really made Jiangzhou seem like Paradise to them, haven’t you, Laurien?” the snake’s voice said wearily.

Laurien leaned back and watched the other's excitement. For the briefest moments she had a wicked smile upon her gave before it changed to that of smugness. "I have found that mortal hearts are easily tempted, your Holiness. I simply provided them with a blueprint of luxury and they have added their own wants and desires. Polyastera wants nothing more than to live life deliciously, as do the others. You saw how far she was willing to go to get it. I find it fascinating, such depths of desire."

“Be careful, Laurien,” Shengshi whispered. “Children’s disappointment in parents who cannot deliver on their promises can be quite severe.”

Laurien scowled briefly before relaxing her face, "Oh I know all too well, Your Holiness. All too well." she said, a taste of bitterness leaking into her voice.

“As long as you do…” came a dry reply. “Very well. I will come by to pick you up in the near future. I cannot say exactly when, but keep them occupied while they wait, if you could. Oh, and please do tell Orvus I am coming to visit.”

"It shall be done, your Holiness. We will look forward to your arrival." Laurien said curtly.

“Very good. Until then, be safe - and give Arya my regards.”

"Of course, your Holiness. Farewell for now." she said quietly.

The presence faded out and the familiar scents of the Branch and Nebulite sweat returned. Polyastera had managed to rouse most of them into a wild celebration in honour of the snake’s promise, and laughter and kissing sounded left and right.

Laurien stretched again and began to hum a little tune as she undid her bun. She then began to run her fingers through her hair, much like a harp playing. It was then that Aster returned, a grumpy look on his face as he sat down. He looked around with a curious look on his face and then asked, "Did I miss something?"

Laurien beamed a smile at him. "More than you know, dear." she said with a lighthearted giggle.

The jungle fronds in the distance swayed in the midday breeze. Heliopolis baked against the fur of the sweaty pygmies as their buoyant gait carried them across the yellow savannah of the Knucklelands. They were only ten at the moment, yet even that was roughly ten percent of their whole population. They were armed with sharpened sticks roughly as long as they were tall, and carried them in one hand as they jogged through swathes of golden grass, occasionally mixing up their two-legged jog with a four-limbed gait, though this made it difficult to hold the spear properly.

Leading the warriors was Qiang Quan, himself armed with his own wooden spear, and the great ape Anu, his knuckles thundering against the dry top soil. In the tall grass, a wild boar escaped the pack with several wary snorts. Qiang shot it a glance.

“Your Majesty,” he opened, “it would seem these lands are richer in game than the central Knucklelands - it may be preferable to hunt here from now on.”

Golden disks spared the surrounding plains a cursory glance. He could smell the difference in population here. ”Good observation, see it so and mark out this territory as hunting-grounds.” he breathed. How long will it remain so before we must travel farther yet?

Qiang ordered a pygmy to stab his spear into the soil by his foot, and ripped off a ribbon of white from his admittedly worn gi. He tied it to the top of the spear and watched it dance in the wind for a second before turning to scout the fields some more. “That was the second boar this servant has seen today - it reckons there may be a small number around, though how many is difficult to estimate. I will return with the warband later to survey further, Your Majesty.”

”A small number? Pyres burn me, we cannot sustain this hunter-gatherer lifestyle for much longer, not with our numbers.” the ape growled, his thoughts flowing freely.

“A sound statement, Your Majesty - His Lordship’s aid has accelerated the glorious transformation into a society built on the farm; however, a consistent source of meats and fats will still be necessary. While the boar is perfect for this, hunting it to extinction will help no one.” He hummed. “Let us hope the wise master Zhu Rongyuan has furthered his fishing project research.”

Anu let out a puff of hot air though his nose. ”Indeed, in the meantime though, the boar mustn’t die out. They can’t be that far off from mortals in a way, give them food, shelter and a mate, and they multiply. Surely we can cultivate and harvest them just like crops.” he mused

The warrior rubbed his face in thought. “Perhaps - they may not be quite accustomed to a cage at first, though. Unlike mortals which can be told, lowly beasts are not intelligent enough to understand orders… However, in time, these servants’ research will likely encompass this feat as well, Your Majesty.”

”The things will learn, adapt, or die, they’ll understand that well enough. Make it so.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the servant said with a bow. Ahead of them the Knucklelands came to an abrupt, verdant end as the Nanhese jungle filled the horizon. Qiang Quan sucked in a breath through his nose, spun about and stopped facing the pygmy warband, which also abruptly came to a somewhat disorganised halt. The warrior surveyed the recruits; these had been selected among all of the King’s subjects for their bulk, endurance, ferocity and obedience - they were His Majesty’s finest.

Or, well, they were about to verify whether that was true.

“Warriors, hear me - we have arrived at the training grounds. Before we go inside, the ten of you will make yourselves familiar with your companions - know their names, know their strengths, know their weaknesses. Familiarise yourselves with where you can aid them, and where you can surpass them. Form units of two and two and commence two rounds of wrestling per unit. Begin.”

The pygmies did as requested - they lined up into two rows of five, each pair facing each other. They put down their spears, assumed starting positions and then begun to wrestle each other to the ground. Qiang Quan kept a keen eye on every spar, hawken orbs looking for flourishing talent among the warriors.

“Any thoughts, Your Majesty?”

Slits of gold scrutinized each and every pygmy pair in action, picking out both flaw and strength. [color=MistyRose]”A fine selection of candidates, Qiang. They seem capable.”[color]

Qiang Quan nodded in agreement and stepped over to one pair in particular. The winning pygmy, a large, bulky adult, had its opponent, a lesser youngster, pinned down with both his arms locked in a grip on his back. To finalise the fight, the adult simulated a powerful strike to the back of the head before releasing the youngster, who squirmed free with a frustrated groan. Qiang Quan hummed in approval and turned to the adult. “You, victor - what is your name?”

The pygmy scrambled to his feet, picking up his spear on the way up. He knocked his heels together, straightened his back and lifted his chin, eyes locked in a forward-facing gaze. “This one is named Okonkwo, warleader.”

Qiang Quan inspected the pygmy’s pose, noting that his arms could be a little more firmly pointed to the ground. Still, it was a minor flaw in an overall solid salute. His eyes flickered to the youngster, who rubbed his sore joints self-pityingly. “You did well, Okonkwo - few times have I seen one win so overwhelmingly in such a short span of time.” He clapped the stalwart pygmy on the shoulder. “See to it that the youngster is taught how to wrestle as you do.”

An affirmative snort escaped the pygmy’s nostrils as he nodded. “It shall be done, warleader.” Okonkwo then turned around to school the youngster about his techniques and methods. Qiang Quan smiled proudly and went back to Anu. There, he thundered, “Attention,” and all the pygmies broke out of their stances to stand up. The servant eyed the ten, of which some were bruised and some were bloody. He nodded approvingly. “It is good that you are not soft on one another - combat is anything but soft.” He pointed to the woods. “Today, you will be hunting frog monkeys. For this exercise, you will be divided into two teams of five, forming a marun. In a marun, three spearmen will respectively take the frontline and the side flanks, supported by two spear-throwers in the back who can also protect the hind flank. This formation is essential when fighting in dense woods, for the ability to cover every flank is crucial in environments where the enemy can ambush you out of nowhere. All clear so far?”

The pygmies nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm and understanding. Qiang Quan turned to Anu. “Has His Majesty got anything to add?”

For a moment the ape was quiet, scrutinizing the cadre with eyes as bright as Heliopolis itself. “My cherished warriors,” Anu said finally. The power in his voice rang out like the drawing of a blade. He paused, as if giving us a moment to test ourselves against its keen edge. “On this day we all test whether or not Talemon will prevail. Know this, that the strength of this nation is in it’s people and their principles. Vision, Might, and Guile. Hold these true, and prove Talemon worthy of subjecting this wild world.”

The warriors gulped and collapsed into kowtows from the sheer awesomeness radiating off the Ivory King. Qiang Quan picked one of the closest up by the arm. "An understandable reaction, warriors," he said, "but forces in the field cannot afford to be shaken to their knees. The appropriate answer to His Majesty will be to pound the butt of your spears into the ground as you bellow a resounding 'AYE!', is that clear?" He looked towards the horizon - heliopolis had passed its zenith. "We will practice it after the training. Now, divide into your maruns and hunt a trophy for your King."

The ten quickly parted into two groups, vanguarded by three with two tight grips about their spears for thrusting and blocking, supported from behind by two with loose underhand grips for throwing. The throwers picked up an additional stick or rock from the ground as the groups entered the forest.

Qiang Quan nodded approvingly, though hummed in thought at the additional sticks and stones. He turned to Anu and said, "This servant will devise a harness of some kind for the throwers to store spears and stones in."

---

If there ever was such a thing as impenetrable dense, the Nanhe's jungles would nearly qualify. A lack of fauna and an oversaturation of flora left the woods almost completely impassable for the warriors, millennia of unbroken branches and vines clogging up nearly every potential path. The maruns found themselves utterly lost for a brief minute, a feeling that sparked fright among the younger guard at the fate of warriors who couldn't even find their way in a forest.

Echoes of rustling branches quaked through the air and ground. A thunderous growl rumbled as some of the pygmies spotted a massive beast, its size and bulk nearly rivalling their King's. It had grey, moss-grown skin, a collection of odd, tentacle-like growths sprouting from its lower back, and a gape large enough to swallow a Pygmy whole. It broke through a vine wall, its brutish, gigantuan form frightening the soldiers into their stances. However, as the beast passed them, it paid them no mind. It merely stomped lethargically past them over to a tall shoot of bamboo, grabbed it by the trunk and snapped it off as if the bamboo was a biscuit. It then sat down and began to gnaw on the leaves, eyeing nothing in particular.

The warriors shrugged at one another - a path was open now, at least, and so they passed deeper into the primordial forest.

The air was thick and greasy, nearly to the point where every breath felt like it had to be chewed before drawn. Here, however, behind the outer wall of trees and brambles, the jungle opened up into a vast, endless hall roofed by mammoth trees and floored by thick, brown swathes of detritus and soil. The ground felt to many of the pygmies like it was moving - twisting. The insect life developed here over the millennia was far from rich, but it, like most other things in the jungle, was quite densely packed.

A number of ooks from no particular direction stopped the groups' advance. In the distance foliage, quivering beams of light revealed animalistic activities in the branches. The groups proceeded hunched over, using the cover of nearly shrubberies and massive wood ear mushrooms to approach their targets.

However, as they came closer, the ooking stopped. The warriors sucked in collective breaths. The branches above quivered softly, deafening out the faint, suspicious ooks sounded from its agitators. A young warrior adjusted his pose and stepped on a small twig.

The rustling above stopped. It was as if the jungle had frozen it time - not a single sound could be heard.

"EEEEEEE!" came a sudden squeal from the tree tops, backed up by several more like it and a deafening, menacing beat of fists against trunk. The warriors huddled closer together and pointed their spears in all five directions, frantically looking up above. A squeal grew particularly loud and the youngster who had lost to Okonkwo before suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a long, hard, slimey foot. The youngster was immediately beaten to the ground and above him stood a furiously territorial frog monkey, its huge mouth agape with warcries. Okonkwo, who was in the vanguard, veered around and sent several thrusts at the frog monkey to scare it off, but while it did retreat some paces, it seemed rabidly aggressive. The rest of the marun gathered up behind Okonkwo and attempted to surround the slowly recovering youngster with a four-way phalanx.

The other marun didn't fare much better. Three frog monkeys had collapsed onto the vanguard and were keeping them busy. Meanwhile, the spear throwers were holding off a single, but particularly ferocious one from behind.

In an attempt to better their odds a particularly lean warrior awkwardly took the offensive. Narrow slits studied the wildly jumping forms of the monkey’s threatening their weak defense, mind working to find some semblance of an opening. Hastily he thrust his spear at an agile beast only to rend the space it previously occupied, it deftly weaving left out of harm's way.

His spear steadied as his body filled with quicksilver fire and the words of his king; might, vision, and guile. On the ground the monkey’s were to quick to catch, but maybe in the air they could turn the tide. With determination renewed the warrior feinted a blow at one of the beasts feet, forcing it up and into the air where in one smooth motion he stepped forward and thrust his spear into its exposed abdomen, running it though.

Blood exploded upon the pygmy but the other marun had not been blind, they too saw the technique of the warrior and sought to replicate it themselves with the same deft and ruthlessness. Using feints and quick strikes, they swiftly began to confuse and rout the monkeys, several of them falling before the flurries of spears. The youngster had recovered, and the marun was at full strength once more, aligning their attack pattern after their peer.

Okonkwo took the lead, constantly stabbing forth in a gatling rhythm with his flank warriors. The frog monkey up front couldn’t seem to keep up, and the second it turned to flee, it was impaled upon Okonkwo’s spear. The pygmy bellowed a triumphant call, cheered on by his marun.

Bodies began to pile up as the meticulous slaughter went on. The lean pygmy put monkey to his spear with a cold precision that only came with practice and aptitude. His brethren could do no more than follow his lead, his warcry a rally as their formation acted as a spearhead cutting into the ranks of the monkeys.

The frog monkeys, fearing the potential wipe-out of their whole pack at this rate, let out frightened squeals and ran for the trees. The spear throwers took the opportunities to pick off a pair with some well-aimed javelins.

Then, as the final frog monkey crashed into the soil beneath the tree, the jungle once more fell silent. Okonkwo grinned at the rest of his marun, who all grinned back and lifted their spears into the air. “GLORY TO THE KING!” they boomed as one. Okonkwo eyed the various winds to make certain there were no more threats, then went over to the lean warrior of the other marun and bowed deep.

“You fight with the might of our King and the skill of our warleader. What is your name, warrior?”

“Lang’engatshoni is this ones name, but many call me Lang. What is yours warbrother?”

"This one is called Okonkwo. Truly, it is an honour to hunt alongside one of your calibre. It would honour this one more to offer you a share of his ration once we return to our King and warleader." The bulky Pygmy bowed his head once again.

Lang returned the gesture, smiling wide enough to reveal white fangs. “Who would I be to refuse your generosity. We return with victory as our spoils.”

Okonkwo pointed his spear at the monkey carcasses. “We return in victory with spoils to prove it, this one says! Come, each will carry what they can. The warleader will was us to present the monkeys to the King.” He himself picked up one of the frog monkeys by a leg and hoisted it onto his back, soon aided a little by the young lad from his marun.

Belabored slightly by fatigue, Lang hoisted himself up a carcass and slung it across his back, the cold feeling of blood dripping down his hair garnering no reaction. “To our King.”

---

As the crystal neared the surface of Galbar, Li’Kalla noticed something. There was a lot of land! And she could see most of it was covered in vegetation, and from way up there, she could feel life growing and developing.

She frowned and pressed her lips together. There didn’t seem to be any… Order, to things. Where were the big civilizations? The naval trade routes, where were the colonies and the palaces? The world was lacking. She knew now what she had to do.

There was a specific landmass though that she felt a connection to. It was a rather undeveloped island, with no sapients at all and a boiling lake. It was specifically because she felt connected to it that she nearly gagged when she laid her eyes upon it. Blurred memories flashed before her eyes before she gained her composure enough to look away.

Her destination wasn’t that island, thankfully, but the very sight of it had revolted her to a point that she now felt put off from continuing her journey. If it meant she had to fly over that wretched piece of land, then…

”Wait,” Li’Kalla ordered the crystal, and it stopped in the air. It looked as if it was hanging there from an unseen thread. Unnatural and unnerving. She was merely a few kilometers above the surface of Galbar now, and from there she could see a large continent near the island, and in that continent was a geographical feature interesting enough to warrant her time. ”Take me there, to the island in the center of the strange lake.” And so the crystal did.

---

The crystal landed softly on the shores of the strangely perfect island and Li’Kalla jumped off it. Without a second’s wait, the crystal took off and left her there. She spared it a single gaze and a scoff and turned toward the water. It was still enough, and she could see her reflection.

”Ah,” Li’Kalla gasped, bringing her hands up to gently caress her own face and tuck a few stray locks of hair away, ”Pure...” And even though her skin was slightly marred with the near invisible cracks, she teared up and felt her heart beat faster. After a moment, she took in a deep breath and wiped away the small tears, ”How pure… And my gown-”

She hastily patted her gown for imperfections and inspected its appearance. It was a simple thing, to her. The main color was white and it was made in a heavenly soft fabric, with smaller sections around the hips highlighted with black and gold, and a cutoff in the shape of a diamond around her navel.

The gown reached down to her ankles and did a great job at concealing her form in a way that actually highlighted her attractiveness.

”... Perfect as well. Except for being barefoot.”

Li’Kalla sighed and shrugged, then turned around and began walking into the forest.

”Hello?” She called out, hearing the sound of large, rapid footsteps from the beach she had just left.

Turning around, Li’Kalla saw a massive grey wolf come into view, dwarfing any creature she had seen thus far. It sniffed the air, and turned its head toward the treeline, revealing that one eye was missing - and had long since scarred over. The remaining eye scanned the woods, eventually settling on Li’Kalla herself.

She stared at it for a moment and chuckled, ”How do you feed yourself? I can’t imagine there being enough prey in this island for you.”

The colossal wolf blinked, then shook its head, before turning and pointing one massive paw out toward the distant coast of the mainland.

”Oh, so that’s where you hunt. Any cubs? Where’s your pack?”

Once again, the wolf shook its head.

”Aw,” Li’Kalla cooed softly, walking close to the huge wolf, ”Did they cast you out after losing your eye?”

The beast looked at her with a sudden expression of confusion, and then shook its head vehemently.

”In that case you must be the only one of your kind. That’s sad, I’m sorry.” Li’Kalla’s gray eyes became a bright silver as she looked at the wolf with pity, gently putting her hands on one of its forelegs.

The beast inclined its head as it stared down at her, but this time it betrayed no emotion.

”Depends on how you define ‘his kind’, really.” a gruff voice spoke up behind her.

Li’Kalla turned to look at the man behind her, the bright light in her eyes dulled. He wearing furs and leathers. ”Kalmar, God of the Hunt. A pleasure to meet you for sure. By ‘his kind’ I refer to huge wolves capable of eating an entire farm in one bite.” Li’Kalla said with a soft, pleasant giggle.

”Then yes, he is the only one of his kind.” Kalmar said with a nod, before furrowing his brow. ”I heard about what Vakk did to you. How did that get resolved?”

Li’Kalla raised an eyebrow and shook her head, ”I don’t know who this ‘Vakk’ is; more importantly, what’s the name of this place?”

The furrow between Kalmar’s brows deepened. ”The continent is called Kalgrun. This island and the surrounding lake is called the Hunter’s Eye. I named it that because it looks like an eye, but by coincidence, Fenris here later lost an actual eye near this very spot.” The wolf, Fenris, nodded regretfully.

Li’Kalla tilted her head, ”How did that happen? To a wolf his size?”

”A creature made by Vakk was sent here to search for something. Fenris confronted it, and the two fought. Fenris lost an eye, but Vakk’s intruder took far heavier injuries, and in the end was driven off.” Then Kalmar frowned. ”How is it that you don’t know of Vakk? Did something happen to your memory?”

”I remember a few things. The last thing I can clearly remember however is waking up in front of the Architect covered in different bodily fluids. Not his, of course.”

”I see. So the Architect decided to intervene,” Kalmar observed. ”I had my avatar looking for you, but he never found anything. It’s good to know you recovered.”

”I try not to think too much of the past, considering I’ve only been alive for a few hours at most. Were you and I close?”

Kalmar raised an eyebrow, then lowered it just as quickly. ”No, I don’t think we were,” he said. ”We only had one conversation. It was the first conversation I ever had in my existence, and you were a bit shaken up about something, so it went about as well as you could expect.”

”Ah, a shame.” She said and diverted her gaze. Then she began gracefully walking into the forest, motioning for Kalmar to follow. ”What does a God of Hunting do to pass the time? I have a feeling he does not hunt that often.”

Kalmar followed beside her, leaving Fenris behind on the beach. ”Oh I don’t just hunt. I fish, I forage, I make wood carvings. I try to maintain good relations with other gods, and prevent unnecessary destruction.” Then his expression twisted into a slight smirk. ”Oh, and every now and then some stranger finds their way here, and it turns out they’ve either lost their memory or been thrust on this world without explanation. Usually, I help them.”

Li’Kalla returned the smirk, ”What if they don’t want help?”

”Then I don’t help them,” Kalmar answered with a shrug. ”Though none of them have ever turned my help away before.”

Li’Kalla shrugged as well, ”Why is your wolf the only one of his kind? Don’t you want to further develop his bloodline?”

Kalmar shook his head. ”It took a great amount of power just to create one. To make two would have required more. To make them able to breed…” he shook his head. ”We can do much, but our power is not infinite, and giving him a mate as well as the capability to breed would have come at the expense of my creations elsewhere.”

Li’Kalla turned slightly to look at the towering wolf out of the side of her eye, pitying him once more. ”Poor pup.” She muttered, before looking forward again. ”I don’t know about you Kalmar, but I feel rather powerful at the moment. As if I could raise ten islands out of the sea.”

”I raised this entire continent out of the sea, you know,” Kalmar said as they walked. ”Let’s see… it’s been several decades since Vakk attacked you, and if you haven’t used any power since then it makes sense that you’d have a lot of it stored up. What do you intend to do with it?”

”Decades, huh? I want to create a civilization, a worthy one at that. I find this world to be too empty and wild. There must be a balance, don’t you think?”

”Balance tends to be good, yes,” Kalmar noted. ”I was thinking this land could use some intelligent life, and I intend to get started on it soon. Are you interested in helping with that?”

Li’Kalla furrowed her brow in thought, stopping in her tracks to stare at Kalmar. After a while, she slowly raised an eyebrow and spoke, ”... Humanoids? Like us?”

Kalmar nodded. ”Yes, I made one as an experiment, long ago. His name was Karamir, and I think it’s time I make others like him.” Then he closed his eyes; the tips of his ears lengthened and sharpened, while his moustache seemed to fall away - somehow making his features appear smoother and more refined. ”He looks a lot like this.” (go)

Li’Kalla inspected his features closely, at one point bring her hand up to Kalmar’s jaw and feeling for hair, ”Ah, the males of this race have no facial hair?”

Kalmar shrugged. ”Karamir had some facial hair. Whether or not the rest of the species does depends on whether or not we make them that way. It would be helpful during winters. What do you think?”

Li’Kalla retracted her hand and nodded, ”I will help you create them, if you agree to me taking ownership of a few thousand.”

Kalmar frowned. ”I don’t see life as something that you can own,” he said. ”But I intend to make more than a few thousand, and since you’re assisting in their creation it won’t be hard to convince many of them to follow you of their own free will.”

She chuckled and shrugged, ”We should make a superior caste, with white hair and silver eyes like me, all beautifully pure. That way the species is sure to survive for eons.”

”I don’t see why we can’t just create them all equally,” Kalmar said, stroking his chin. ”But if you want to make some of them special, it’s your right to do so.”

”We shall see once we create them, so is it just you and me?”

Kalmar shook his head. ”No. There are others who might lend their aid if I ask.”

Li’Kalla rolled her eyes, ”Why the crypticness? Others such as...?”

”Well, I don’t intend to be cryptic. There’s Arae, the Goddess of Family, and Roog, a demi-god of my own creation. I worked with them recently,” Kalmar answered.

[color=turquioise]”I see,”[/color] Li’Kalla stepped back and after a moment, clasped her hands, [color=turquioise]”Well, it doesn’t seem like you’ve recruited them to our project yet, and there’s one thing I have to do. So, while you find them and speak to them, I will take care of my business. Let me know when it’s time, Kalmar.”[/color]

Kalmar merely nodded in response.

Li’Kalla stared at Kalmar, squinting her eyes, ”Say, ‘Okay’. Either that or ‘Understood’ is fine. You respond to words with words, we’re not animals here.” She said as she crossed her arms and floated slightly to look down on Kalmar.

Surprisingly, Kalmar offered a slight chuckle in response. ”Now you sound like Shengshi,” he observed. ”Alright, okay. My apologies.”

Li’Kalla cracked a smirk and touched back down, ”Those are just basic manners. I don’t expect you to bow before me, heh. And to be fair, you spend so much time around animals and inanimate wood carvings that I’m surprised you know how to form complex sentences, congratulations!” She giggled, “That said, before I go, don’t keep me waiting too long for our next meeting, will you?” The goddess said with a wink and began to walk off.

”You’ll find that actions carry more weight than words,” Kalmar warned, crossing his arms.

---

Kalmar wandered the Central plains of Kalgrun. Arae, Roog, Li’Kalla… all had been contacted, and now it was just a matter of waiting for them to return.

As he waited, however, he grew somewhat restless. He needed something to do, and it had been far too long since he created actual life. Perhaps creating a small species, before moving on to the mortals, would help get him back into the swing of things.

And so, he extended his hands and focused. A small lizard, perhaps two feet in height - almost like a miniature version of Pyrdon - appeared before him. He walked the fields, creating even more of them - dozens, then hundreds. Individually they posed little physical threat, but they were smart, and in packs they could be quite formidable. It would hardly compare to the mortals he eventually did intend to create, but it helped dust off his somewhat rusty skills.

Then, when he returned to the island, he sensed a divine presence…

Arae dove down from the sky, her figure a blur from the speed. Upon hitting the ground, there was a flash of light as her body disappeared into it, and she reappeared in her humanoid form. A soft smile on her face, she began to greet her brother, “Hello again, Kalmar. I see you’ve been a little busy here.” Gesturing towards the multitude of lizards, she asked, “What are these creatures?”

”Something new I made,” Kalmar answered with a slight shrug. ”Should give the land some more diversity; make it things more lively.”

“I see,” Arae said. She looked thoughtfully at the creatures, then moved on, “So what are you planning this time, exactly? Your message didn’t really tell me much.”

After his return to Kalgrun Roog had kept himself busy; his thoughts and actions had been intertwined in a dance of hurricane force that had him travelling to the many corners of Kalgrun and back again at breakneck paces. Whatever madness had taken hold of Roog, however, was quickly expunged with the arrival and invitation of his creator to partake in an act of creation; it seemed exactly what Roog had in mind. Needless to say he was quick to travel to location discussed and soon he came upon Roog and Arae in the midst of discussion.

”He seeks to create an animal to equal the gods,” came Roog’s response, his voice pouring from his partially opened jaws and dancing across the wind, ”At least, in their minds. My creator intends to create intelligent life; a worthy cause fraught with risk.”

Kalmar nodded. ”Yes. Intelligent mortals, I mean. Like Hermes or Arya, but more widespread. I made one myself - his name is Karamir, and it is he who this new species will be based on. As you can see, I modified my appearance to look like him somewhat,” he gestured to his own features.

”There is still one more who needs to join us,” he said, before looking to Arae. ”Li’Kalla has recovered, if you don’t already know.”

”Li’Kalla,” Roog declared, as if tasting the name is his mouth just by saying the word aloud, ”Another first-born. And what sort of First-Born is she, creator? A moral one, I hope.”

”The Goddess of Rain. She fell to the god Vakk, and had to be restored by the Architect,” Kalmar said. ”She remembers little, apart from being brought back. She is willing to work with us, and has given me no reason to distrust her.”

“I wish I had been there for her when she needed aid,” Arae said regretfully. “But the past is the past. All any of us can do now is look towards the future.”

”When God’s Clash,” mumbled Roog in response to Kalmar’s explanation, thoughts drifting from the present in that moment, ”Then it shall be us four who act in unison; fitting for such life to be born in such a manner.”

Kalmar nodded. ”She will be here soon.”

BOOM

The sound of thunder washed over the land, Fenris’s barking could be heard in the distance, and Li’Kalla had arrived. Flying over them with her pair of pure, angelic white wings. ”Hello everyone! Arae, Kalmar, Roog, apologies for the delay.” Quickly she landed and nodded at everyone, her eyes settling on Arae, ”This is the first time we meet, is that right Arae?”

“O-oh, yes,” Arae stammered out after a moment of stunned silence. Quickly recovering, she added, “It’s good to finally meet you, sister.”

”It truly is, why don’t we have a leisurely chat over at my up-and-coming home after all the business is done? The food and drink is on me. Think of it as a sleepover for elites.” Li’Kalla chuckled and covered her mouth.

“That sounds lovely,” Arae smiled warmly. “Of course I’ll go.”

”Great! Do you like pastries, or perhaps they’re a bit too sugary for you? I am planning on getting us a decent selection of sweet goods, as well as some different teas and, of course, more than enough servants. I can’t wait!” Li’Kalla said with stars in her eyes.

”I think it’s time we get on with it,” Kalmar interjected. Karamir’s strand of hair as well as the crystalized sample of blood floated in his palm. ”Li’Kalla, do you still want a portion of them to have white hair and gray eyes?”

”Of course, let’s make it so the stronger and healthier their bodies, the higher the chance of white hair and gray eyes. Purity at its peak, you know.” Li’Kalla smiled in self-satisfaction, nodding.

”Alright, then it would help if you gave me one of your hairs,” Kalmar told her.

”Ah, of course,” Li’Kalla shrugged and plucked one of her perfect hairs with a wince, looking at it with a sad expression before handing it to Kalmar. After the deed was done, she turned to look at Arae with a worried expression, ”I feel like I shouldn’t have given one of my hairs to a man I just met, am I the only one that feels this way?”

Kalmar said nothing. Allowing the two hairs and the blood to remain suspended in the air, he drew the Knife of Friendship and ran the blade across his palm. Just as quickly, he returned it to its sheathe, before bringing both hands up and clapping them together over the floating mass. Light shone between his fingers, and he spread his hands apart, revealing a glowing ball of white and red swirling energy.

”All three of you - add your power to this. Quickly,” Kalmar instructed, with Li’Kalla being the first to react. She added her share of power quickly and efficiently, without breaking a sweat. Arae extended a palm to it as well, channeling her own energy towards it. Roog, for his part, bit deep into his tongue and let the fiery, black blood waterfall through the air towards its intended target.

As the four divines channeled their power together, the glowing sphere began to expand in size, until finally, Kalmar stepped back from the group and launched it up into the sky.

The ball shot upward at a tremendous speed, continuing to grow and grow. Then, finally, after several thousand metres of air, it exploded outward with a sky-shattering boom, emitting a shockwave that spread throughout the sky. Arae watched in wonder, noting how the energy was spread. Li’Kalla, instead, watched on with a slightly bored expression. Roog, now in a sitting position, turned his head to watch the orb before looking back to other portions of the sky with avid interest in the movement of soul ash churning in the air.

Just then, small white spores began to drift down from the sky, almost as if it was snowing. These flakes continued to fall - not quite randomly, for there was specific ground the sought out. It wouldn’t be until several minutes later that the first of them finally reached the ground, not too far from where the four divines still stood. The second it landed, soul ash began to coalesce around it, while the spore itself began to expand and resize itself.

It assumed a vaguely feminine humanoid form, and then her features started to become more specific. Hair, eyes, a nose, a mouth, a chin, cheeks, shoulders, muscles… all took shape within the span of a few seconds. And once that was done, the glow stopped entirely, revealing beige skin, silver eyes, white hair, as well as an impressive and attractive physique.

She blinked in confusion. “Wh-what?” she uttered. Elsewhere, throughout Kalgrun, the remainder of the species was already beginning to land and shape itself.

“So this is what we’ve created…” Arae said, walking over to their newly created being and looking them up and down. Arae then smiled and said to her, “Welcome to Galbar, young one.”

The woman stared back, but seemed to relax somewhat - Arae’s smile helping to put her at ease. Kalmar stepped forward, removed his cloak, and wrapped it around her. ”Who am I?” he asked her.

“Kal… Kalmar?” she said after a moment, pulling the cloak tighter around herself.

Kalmar nodded. ”Who is she?” he asked, gesturing to Arae.

“Arae?” the woman ventured.

Again, Kalmar nodded. [color=orange]”And what are you?”

The woman stared at him, thinking, and then spoke once more. “Ka… Kalla… Vallamir,” she stuttered, somewhat nervous.

Kalmar nodded one last time. ”They all start with the knowledge of who created them, and what their species is called,” he explained to the rest. He looked back to the woman. ”Choose a name for yourself,” he advised.

“V-val… vally… Valys?” she suggested tentatively.

”Well, Valys, you have beautiful hair.” Li’Kalla said with a warm smile.

”Valys, second of the Vallamir,” Kalmar declared, before turning back to his fellow gods. ”There is more of her kind on this island. The rest is scattered across the plains, along the water and forests, in the tens of thousands. Had I put them in one area, they would have consumed all the local wildlife. It now falls to us to find them and teach them what they need to know,”

Roog watched the self-proclaimed Valys with great interest, his eyes practically devouring her in his bestial curiosity. This was the first living humanoid he’d ever seen beyond the First-Born and to see its first steps were indicators of what his own birth must have been like. The experience was almost out of body for the wolf as he observed and listened to the creature’s stumbling speech. As he did so he vaguely listened to Kalmar, too intent on Valys to provide complete attention but enough to hear his words and understand the majority of his meaning.

Of all the things that caught his attention, however, was the simple act of Kalmar providing a cloak. Roog’s eyes widened with fascination before he finally turned his gaze to the first-born around him. They all wore similar accouterments, drapings that Roog had before paid little heed to, but now considered all the more worthy of his attention. It was clearly a humanoid thing, this desire for objects to be borne upon one’s self, and Valys’ immediate recognition of its use caught Roog by surprise. A worthy piece of information gained, Roog mused, before turning to Valys with his own words full of intent.

”They have been thrown to the four-winds, alone? What of their pack? It will not do to have them wander alone as the bear; they are not strong enough for such a life.”

“I have to agree with Roog there,” Arae nodded. “They will need the support of a family to survive.”

”And a society to provide technological advancements as well as protection in numbers.” Li’Kalla said while flicking a few stray locks of hair out of her face.

”They are stronger than they look,” Kalmar said. ”And smart enough to understand the value of safety in numbers. They will survive long enough to find them and teach them, and everyone we teach can go on to teach ten more. The most important thing is that we get to them before winter - the ones who survive that should be able to withstand whatever comes after.”

”Great risk for creatures of early lives; not all will be reached and many will die. An unfortunate thing to come to pass.”

Kalmar nodded. ”Unfortunate, yes, but inevitable. Many will die regardless. The ones who manage to survive on their own initiative during the time before we reach them will be better off because of it.”

Roog considered Kalmar’s words for a minute, his gaze turning from Kalmar to that of the mortal sentient now before them. A fate this one was spared by sheer luck of being created here, in their presence. Better for it indeed. ”I understand. Life will be its own reward. I will be swift to find them, then, if only to spare many such a fate.”

Kalmar nodded. ”As we speak, my avatar waits far to the south, already preparing to aid some of them. Shynir and Gorm are also closing in, so that they may protect them against greater threats while they learn.”

Li’Kalla scrunched up her nose and turned toward Valys, ”Valys, It seems your brethren have been spread all throughout the plains with no immediate guidance or aid whatsoever. What do you think of this predicament, what would you have us do?”

Valys was stunned. “I… I don’t want them to die,” she said quietly. “Can you save as many as you can?”

Arae sighed as she shook her head. “This is quite the exercise you are making us do, Kalmar. At the very least, I can teach them how to make fire. That should help them a fair bit.”

Kalmar nodded. ”It should. Arryn and I will teach them how to hunt. Roog and Li’Kalla, I’m sure both of you can teach them things as well. We will not have to worry too much: they have good instincts, and as I said, everyone we teach will go on to teach others.”

Roog’s chest rumbled as the black flames that made up his hide flickered with a life of their own. ”Hmm . . . I shall teach them the skills they need to survive; what is safe to eat, where it is best to make a den, and how to defend themselves if need be. I shall endeavor to speak with them on other matters, to know their minds, as well.”

”We will start here on the eye,” Kalmar declared. ”Then we go to the swamp along the lake and the river. After that, we head to the forests along the outer edge of the plains. Those are the areas where they have landed. Valys, you will come with us.”

Valys nodded.

In the distance, two more of the Vallamir were now approaching; both men. One had bronze eyes and black hair, while the other had plain brown eyes and blond hair. Three more quickly appeared within sight as well: a man with brown hair that possessed a streak of silver, a woman with blonde hair, and another man with blue hair. All wore the expressions of either the lost, the confused, or the curious.

”Looks like it’s time to get started.”

---

The early morning light filtered through the kitchen window as Orvus reluctantly ventured in. The night had been mostly quiet but he had heard a lot of scrapings sounds after he left Orb and now he could only imagine what they had gotten up to. The answer, was very clear. Orb was passed out on the floor (sharp stone in hand) amidst many shavings of wood, which had fallen from the table. Once a finely crafted thing, now looked like it belonged in one of Silver's stories. The table was smoothly carved and gouged to depict many interesting scenes and landscapes -- mostly that of an expansive desert filled with great works of engineering and architecture. Where the desert ended, a magnificent depiction of a starry night sky took over, showcasing a very detailed cosmos. The god inspected the display with a fine eye and found himself impressed. He could only imagine what Orb was going to do for their own house.

He crouched down next to Orb and then said, "Goodmorning."

Being completely covered in their cloak, mask and a sea of shavings, it was hard to tell if Orb was stirring awake. Two twinkling eyes flickered behind the mask and Orb’s raspy voice coughed out, clearly still shaking away sleep, “Are you ready to build, now?”

Orvus merely smiled.

---

So the two builders worked, for many days, learning from one another as they went. And much was done during this time and many events transpired. Rowan and the twins grew accustomed to Orb, and with Orvus to translate, were beginning to learn it's speech just ask Orb was learning their own. As for Arya, the girl was busy teaching the Nebulites what she knew and answering any questions she could, but her heart was growing restless and she longed to return to Tendlepog. Try as she might to convince her sister to join her, Laurien was becoming distant from her family. She spent more and more of her time at the tree, and when she came back on occasion, she never spoke of what happened there. Only that a change was coming that she needed to talk to Orvus about. She wouldn't say when however and she had stopped calling him father. All this happened, all this thickened the air of the island, and most of it went unnoticed by Orb.

The cloaked figure found themselves sitting on a thick roof formed out of slates of carefully cut wood. Nearly leaning off the sheer drop of the three story building of large rock cubes, Orb was carefully adding a wooden gutter that led to a stone basin that sat by the building, a happy dance on their shoulders. With a rasp they called down to Orvus on the ground, “And- and then! We can decorate it and start planning additions, or make an even bigger one. Or! A device to use the captured water from the rains for some purpose or another-- did you like the disposal chute I added on the third floor? I think it will...” Orb droned on and on about several different features, clearly excited, “Then we can fix the other houses, turn it all into one big organized cluster. A monument to time and efficiency, yes!” A happy laugh sounded from behind the mask, runic pounding with energy, “Fix the fields too!”

Orvus looked up at Orb from where he worked on the patio railing. "I'm fine with the houses but what's wrong with the fields?" he called up.

Orb leaned over the roof, faceless mask peering down at Orvus with what he could only assume was a hidden incredulous look, “Very funny.” Orb snickered, “But they are hardly efficient.”

Orvus opened his mouth to retort but a blur of white suddenly hovered before him, blocking Orvus’ view of Orb. He squinted up to see that it was Arya, and she looked very concerned.

"Have you talked to Laurien lately?"

Orvus stood up and dusted his clothes off before crossing his arms. He frowned. "No. She hasn't spoken to me since Li'Kalla came. Every time I try she says she's needed at the Tree. Did something happen?"

Arya landed before Orvus and sighed (Orb peeking out from the roof). "Well no… She just won't talk to me anymore. She's always going on and on about luxury and love but she seems so… Distant? I was hoping she'd come with me to Tendlepog… But she said she's too busy here."

“She doesn’t sound very busy if she is focusing on trivialities such as luxury and love,” Orb cut in, their translation forming a thick, raspy accent, “She can come help construct the future, we need a brick cutter.” Orb held out a finger, “She can even cut how she feels into each brick, so there -- two activities in one!”

Arya looked up at the masked Orb with a faint smile. "Oh Orb." she said before looking around at the house. "The house is looking really good guys."

"Yes it is!" came Rowan's voice. Orvus and Arya spun around to see Rowan in her human form walking towards them with a plate of fruit and a pitcher with cups. "Now come and get some lunch, you've been working all morning. Arya, you too dear."

“Hup!” Orb deftly dropped from the roof and kicked off the wall, landing in a bush with a loud snap. Popping from the bush, the twig covered Orb wobbled over, holding their head with two hands. Blinking behind the mask, they reoriented themselves and came to a stop in front of Rowan. “Thank you for your consumables,” Orb pounded in runic before snatching one of the fruits from the platter. Strategically walking past Rowan, so their back was to everyone, Orb took a quick bite before turning around, mouth full behind the mask. “Would you like to help, we are getting to the really fun parts.”

Orvus and Arya both took a bit of fruit and ate as Rowan filled their cups with water. She turned to Orb and then to Orvus. "What did Orb say?"

Orvus spoke with his mouth full, "Wants to know if you'll help." Rowan gave Orvus a look before turning to Orb with a smile. "I'm afraid not dear, there's too much housework to do today."

Orb swallowed hard and switched to the language of the nebulites, their swooping accent returning, “What kind of housework?”

"Cleaning, washing clothes, cooking, sweeping, making sure the twins don't kill each other" she said with a laugh.

Pinching the bottom of their mask, Orb very quickly asked, “Can I watch you do these activities?”

"Careful Orb, she'll put you to work while you watch." Orvus said taking a drink.

“Efficient,” Orb blinked.

Rowan gave Orvus another look before turning to Orb, "Of course dear, but what about your house?"

“Right,” Orb scratched at their cloak, “Don’t finish your tasks, I can watch you in a few sky cycles.”

"Don't you worry, there's always plenty of work to do. But…" Rowan turned to Arya. "I will steal Arya. There's an important matter I need to discuss with her."

Arya swallowed her food and looked perplexed. She turned to Orvus who nodded in approval, a sly smile on his lips. "Well okay." she said. Rowan then reached out her hand and Arya took it. They began to walk away but Orvus quickly said, "We'll talk later, Arya." They then said goodbye to each other. Orvus then flung the rest of his fruit scraps on the grass and went back to work on the railing, his back to Orb.

Orb turned to Orvus, about to reach for another fruit with a word starting to form when a high-pitched screech was heard. Suddenly, sharp talons had pierced Orb’s cloak, tightened into a powerful grip, and began lifting Orb from the ground.

Orb spasmed, dropping their fruit as they looked down at the slowly receding ground. Letting out a shrill shriek, Orb looked up at their captor, hands ready. It was a strange beast, not native to this island: the golden-furred lower half of a mammal, and the brown-feathered upper half of a bird; it was twice Orb’s size.

It carried Orb higher and higher, away from the house. Orb’s hands wrapped around the beast’s wrists, eager to keep from falling, their effeminate shriek not having yet died down. With a sudden flash, Orvus in his starry form was suddenly flying next to Orb, wherein he grabbed the creature by the nape of its neck and commanded it to let go of Orb.

The griffin’s response was to shriek in Orvus’s face and tighten its grip. The strange moss-cloaked creature was its prey; what right did this one have to interfere?

Orvus let go of the creature and flew underneath it, where a kicking Orb was struggling. "So be it." The god then outstretched his hand and from his fingertips came scarlet lightning. The flash of red avoided Orb.and struck the Griffin in its head, instantly disintegrating the flesh, as the rest of its body began to turn to dust. Orvus then yanked Orb free from the claws. Orb wrapped their entire body around Orvus as they clung on for dear life, heavy panicked breathing puffing from their mask.

"You alright, Orb?"

“I-” Orb stammered in a panting runic, “I- I- I WANT TO BE ON THE GROUND!”

Meanwhile, ash and bone plummeted to the ground below. Yet amidst the cloud of dust and ash, there were at least a dozen glowing white particles, falling significantly slower than the creature’s remains. They continued their gentle descent, even as the griffin’s bones smashed through the trees and cracked against the ground, only to be buried under the thin pile of ash that followed.

Orvus immediately began his descent, but paused as he went past the white particles. The God squinted further at them before landing on the ground.

The particles followed shortly after. It seemed clear that they were attempting to veer toward the north, yet the wind was against them, and whatever their destination might have been, it would have been impossible to get there before reaching the ground regardless. Then they landed, at last, and amongst the ashes and bone, they began to change.

The first particle grew in size and was shaped into a curvasceous female, while the next one became a somewhat lean and muscular male. Others adopted humanoids shapes as well, and then, the white light faded, revealing light skin, pointed ears, and a variety of hair colours. All in all, there were thirteen in total: seven females, and six males.

The one who had taken shape first rose to her feet on shaky legs. She was a little over six feet tall, with a white running through the left half of her blue hair. She saw Orvus, and Orb, and immediately attempted to cover herself up. A few others did the same, while others gazed at their surroundings with curiosity.

Orb flailed and detached themselves from Orvus, landing onto the ground with a muffled thud. Sitting up, Orb let out a long exhale, their runic language cursing out as one hand secretly slid behind their mask to steal a tear off their still trembling chin. Orb’s eyes suddenly widened and they let out a small yelp -- mind prioritizing past the naked newcomers, there was a tear in their cloak, revealing creamy soft skin where their shoulder was. Slapping a hand over the exposed area, Orb turned their attention to the nude comers.

“Coincidental configuration,” Orb remarked in a staggered runic language.

“What?” questioned one of the elves in a language of his own, not understanding.

“I don’t understand your language,” Orb said slowly or as slowly as they could in their own language.

“What is it saying?” a different elf asked.

“I don’t understand you even a little bit,” Orb continued, almost in a patronizing tone, jutting a thumb at themselves, “I. Am. Orb.”

Orvus walked forward, towering over the newcomers. If at all he cared about their nudity, he did not show it, instead he walked over to the blue streaked one and gazed upon her. ”Who made you?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I would like to see the blueprints used to make these beings,” Orb idly mentioned as they stood up behind Orvus.

Over a dozen pairs of eyebrows shot up at the question, the blue-haired woman among them. It was she who answered. “Kalmar… Li’Kalla… Roog… Arae…” she answered slowly. “We are the Vallamir.”

”I see. That beast must have brought what made you… you here when it died. Intriguing all the same.” He began to walk around the Vallamir girl, inspecting her form. ”Vallamir. Different than humans, much different than Nebulites, but the same characteristics are apparent. I take it you don’t actually know where your origin is?”

A few of the Vallamir shook their heads. “No,” the blue-haired woman answered. “Why don’t I know?”

“What are they saying?” Orb asked loudly, “Do they have the plans for their creation?”

“What is it saying?” repeated the same elf who asked that before.

“I still don’t understand you,” Orb called over with a raspy sigh.

Orvus also sighed. ”Orb, they are confused and new to this world. Babies, even.”

“Well, what world did they come from, then?” Orb huffed and turned to Orvus.

”What world…? Ours of course, I assume that my fellow siblings created them upon Kalgrun, the continent to the North. I would take them there, but I do not have the means. So for now, this will be their home.”

“Orvus!?” Excitement suddenly seeped into Orb’s voice, causing it to squeak.

Orvus finally turned to look at Orb. ”Yes?”

“They... they can help us build!” Orb clapped their hands twice.

”They will not be helping us. In fact, I am done helping today. I am sorry, but I must help the-” Orvus as cut off by his name being shouted loudly.

”FATHER! Oh why didn’t you tell me!” came an excited voice from the trees. Then a blur of white exploded into view, coming to a stop directly before Orvus. Arya began to say something, but then looked over at the naked people and jumped.

”What are those!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t know, but I can’t understand them and Orvus won’t let them help me,” Orb went to cross their arms but remembered the tear in their cloak and continued to cover it with a hand, “Very inefficient.” Arya turned to Orb with confusion, then she turned back to Orvus.

”They are called the Vallamir, and if you had arrived not ten minutes earlier, you would have seen how they arrived. It was quite the sight.” Orvus said.

”Well, why are they all naked?” she asked, staring at them. ”They do look familiar for some reason.”

“Clearly they have no shame,” Orb tilted a chin up.

Arya frowned and walked over to the blue haired one and tilted her head as she looked her up and down. ”You poor thing, come on, let’s go get you some clothes.” she said kindly, speaking their language.

During the conversation, the elves had inched together, and now stood nearly shoulder to shoulder. “Who and what are you?” the blue-haired woman asked. “Any of you?” she waved a hand to indicate Orb and Orvus.

”I am Arya. That is my father, Orvus and our friend Orb.” she said pointing at them one by one. As a finger went over Orb, the cloaked figure gave a quick wave. ”Obviously these two have no idea what to do when newcomers show up. You need some clothes. Are you hungry? Oh, oh! What are your names?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Names?” the blue-haired woman seemed surprised. “I don’t have one…” the rest of the Vallamir shook their heads, confirming that they too had the same problem.

“What are you all talking about,” Orb asked, as they inspected the hole in their clothes.

”Names Orb.” Arya said, ”What would you like to call yourself?” she asked the Vallamir with a smile.

Understanding only ‘Names, Orb,’ the cloaked figure hummed, “I suggest we name them something quick and id-”

“Myra?” the blue-haired woman suddenly suggested, ignoring the hooded one.

“I hope that is a word I do not understand that means ‘blue’,” Orb blinked.

Following “Myra’s” example of ignoring the hooded figure, the rest of the elves began to come up with their own names. “Agis,” one suggested. “Emon,” another one voiced. “Jakri,” a third one offered. And on and on they went, until all thirteen of them had pitched at least one name for themselves.

”Excellent! It’s nice to meet you all. Welcome to Nebulan, home of the Nebulites and of Orvus. Come, come. Let’s find you some clothes.” Arya said, beckoning to them.

The elves exchanged glances, as if uncertain of whether or not they should trust the offer.

Then, Myra stepped forward, and the rest followed.

Orvus simply watched Arya lead the procession away, the God nodding in approval. He then turned to Orb, ”On second thought, I think Arya has that covered. Shall we get back to work?”

Orb huffed, “I need to fix my cloak, first.” The cloaked figure started to plod away before turning back, “You coming?”

In a flash Orvus turned back into his mortal form. ”Course.” he mused, before following after.

A tiny silence fell over the two before Orb cleared their throat, “Why didn’t you back me up, back there?” They asked, mask peering at Orvus and narrowly avoiding walking into some shrubs.

”What do you mean?” Orvus asked.

“Well!” Orb extended their arms as if offering a reason, “I don’t know. We could have had more helpers, or at least gotten their blueprints to make some of our own. But all we got was attacked by a monster, a ripped cloak, and berated by a language barrier.” Orb let a hot exhale escape the mask, their voice lowering, “Or I guess maybe that was just me.”

”Orb…” Orvus began, ”When you came into this world, you were curious about everything. Sure you probably could have gotten to work right away, but you didn’t. They’re just like that, new to life. They need to figure themselves out before they can even think about working. Making more is out of the question for now, I have a feeling their blueprint is a mix mash of many different things. I apologize about the language barrier, we’ll have to fix that, and about the monster and the cloak.”

“Well I,” Orb fidgeted, “I only didn’t go to work because you wouldn’t let me, I knew what to do right away. I knew what my name was and everything!” They clapped their sides, “Their blueprints must really be as inefficient as you say.” Orb seemed to fall into a deep thought, barely finding the time to walk around a tree (number sixteen) that was in their way.

”The others are not like you and I. They need time to adapt, to learn and to grow. Mortals are like that. Now come on, enough of this talk, we have a house to finish.” Orvus said.

“You’re right,” Orb let out a defeated breath, “They aren’t like me.” Their eyes flickered away from Orvus, “I need twine and something to push it through fabric.”

---

Toraph sat in front of the still-disturbed dirt. He watched it with his chin resting on his palm and blinked slowly.

Gralph mentioned yesterday when he planted the seeds that it would require patience. Toraph had envisioned something along the lines of shortly after the sky went behind the mountains to sleep. Now it had woken up again and wandered halfway through its course and still there was no sign of any plants popping up.

Running feet diverted Toraph's attention. "Woah, hey! Stop!" He quickly stood up and spread his arms.

A speeding Wass fluidly dodged under one arm like a startled fish. The much larger Anboor behind him tried to thud his feet to take him aside and he ended up barging into Toraph's arm, sending Toraph into spin from the sheer momentum.

"Stay out our way, little brother!" Anbooru complained as he regained his balance mid-run.

Toraph fell to one knee and spread his arms just enough not to fall. He growled and ran after them. "You butts! You almost trampled the seeds!"

They did not pay attention. Instead, Wass bowed forward in his sprint and reached out. His hand met the trunk of an ash tree, which he triumphantly spun around to grin back at Anboor. Anboor slowed to a stop and leant on his knees, breathing heavily.

"You know it, brother!" Wass stuck a thumb at his chest. "I'm the fastest on land and in the water!"

"Only 'cos Toraph blocked me, squidface!"

Wass blew a raspberry. "If you were like me, you could'a juked past. That's why I'm gonna be a k'night. You don't think quick enough, bro."

"I think plenty quick! Remember that time you couldn't figure the difference between the bony fish and the-"

"HEY!" Toraph's small shout silenced them both. He balled one fist and pointed back behind him. "Watch where you're running! I've been waiting ages for those plants to come up and you almost ruined 'em!"

"Ah, don't whinge so much, little bro," Wass said. "We've gotta train for Gralph's trial. Your obsession with those seeds can wait, can't it?"

Toraph growled. "That's not the point! Can't you train somewhere else?"

Anboor sighed. "Yeah, sure. Sorry, little bro. Not like any more running'll make us faster just today."

Wass smirked. "Are you just saying that 'cos you're puffed out?"

"No…" Anboor straightened and visibly filled his lungs in an effort to seem fitter than he was. "I just got thinking, what do you think Gralph is going to do to test our courage? Not just our strength or whatever."

Every so often, Anboor's questions were particularly relevant without them realising. Wass and Toraph exchanged a look. Wass shrugged.

Toraph spread out his left whiskers unsurely. "Is there anything you two are really scared of?"

---

Save for a few conversations, Gralph had spent all day standing and watching downbeach. He almost seemed like a rock at the edge of the village, a stand for the huge club he held up from where it rested on the ground. It was just a moment before mid afternoon that he turned his head to his right and disturbed the entire village.

"They have arrived!" He bellowed.

Just about everyone dropped what they were doing and scurried up to the edge of the village, mouths open and eyes squinted.

The wavy heat coming off the bright yellow sand made the figures hard to see. Some small shapes striding confidently up the beach in the distance. A few murmurs and whispers permeated the crowd. About half a minute passed before anyone could make them all out.

Twelve characters made their way up towards the village. All but one of them were powerfully build selka warriors, each hefting their own bone club and carrying various belongings and garments from all sorts of different tribes along the coast.

The last one stood out, as it was not a selka at all. It plucked its way through the sand on thin legs sticking out of a bright blue robe. From a distance, it appeared to be wearing a large pale mask with two beetle-like horns and large cloudy gray eyeholes. As they drew closer, the unique figure's mask apparently made up its entire head.

Toraph, who had only made his way to the front of the crowd by crawling under everyone's legs, turned around to Gralph. Gralph's smile had leveled to a flat line around his snout.

"Hey Gralph, what's that weird one with the horns?" Toraph asked.

"Dunno," he replied without taking his eyes off the figures. "Someone new. Let me figure it out."

With that, Gralph gently pushed his way past the selka in front of him and held up a hand. "Stay here!" he barked. "I'll go meet 'em first."

Toraph's nostrils flared as Gralph walked out before them. He couldn't shake a bad feeling in his gut.

---

Anshumat walked closely behind the group of k’nights, having wandered in from the far northwest. They had realized the warrior gait of the group quickly, and after an inquiry into recruitment, had joined them in their journey northwards. Anshumat had otherwise remained quiet, the demigod deciding it was better not to discuss things in spite of the k'nights' uneasy curiosity.

They picked up the sounds of civilization long before the k’nights themselves, the demigod’s ears far more sensitive both from their divine origin and their deprivation of mortal sight. Anshumat did not want to alarm whoever they were meeting with, and quietly, without alerting the k’nights, trailed off from the group proper.

As such, when Anshumat entered sight of the village, they did so alone and apart from the k’nights. Their caution proved well worth, the blurry essence sight that had replaced their vision quickly picking up the unusual nature of the largest selka's essence amongst the village. The exact nature of the essence eluded Anshumat -- a fearful prospect. Thus, Anshumat sat on the outskirts of the village approach, their milky-gray eyes watching the large one carefully, obviously sightless yet definitely focused.

The demigod’s lanky body tensed as the essence walked out of the crowd, in an act of either utterly inept hostility or preparations to flee -- their position suited more for flight from danger than to face it head on. Otherwise, Anshumat remained still, allowing him to approach.

"Oi, Gralph!"

"Oi, k'nights!"

"How was your swim up here? Find Yimbo alright?"

"Yeah, Reph, the sook's got some business to figure in the ocean but'll be around by the time we get recruits in."

Anshumat felt eyes on them.

"Who's your friend?" Gralph asked.

Reph sounded unsure how to answer at first. "Odd creature what came out of the trees. Says...they want to learn how to fight. Didn't seem like trouble from the outset, so we let 'em follow along. Don't know what it is, though."

A pause. The sand slid in rough squeaks under Gralph's feet, approaching Anshumat with just as much focus as they were directing towards him.

He stopped barely out of arm's reach. The essence was strong enough to bare unavoidably against Anshumat's senses. It was a primal essence. Anshumat felt their heart beating for no apparent reason, except perhaps anxiety.

Gralph craned his head forward and sniffed at the air. "Hrmph," he thought out loud. "You smell familiar, but I've never met you. Who are you?"

Anshumat’s head suddenly parted at the bottom, their mouth opening up, as they huffed in a breath, testing the air. They remained tense, saying in return, “My name is Anshumat. You almost smell like a Selka -- something’s off. Why?”

The moment hung uneasily between them. Facing down the large selka felt like staring down a predator. Any sudden moves and he could strike.

"You want to know?" Gralph asked. "...It's 'cos I stink. Too many berries make me gassy."

The sand blew by on a breeze.

The absurdity slowly flowed out like water weighing down a leaf as a the k'nights, one by one, broke out in snickers and chuckles behind Gralph.

Gralph held out a meaty hand. "You can call me Gralph."

Anshumat stood up, their lanky form dwarfing the height of all present Selka. Reaching out with one hardened, yet thin hand, the demigod accepted the handshake.

"We're looking for new k'nights if you want to join in, but you'll be taking a test and competing against some folks from the village up there. You game?"

“Of course,” Anshumat said, the entire time their eyes boring holes into Gralph, as though they were analyzing something, focused in on something separate from the Selka’s body. “When do we start?”

Gralph flashed a grin. "Tonight, after dark. Me and the k'nights have a few preparations to make. How about you come up and say hello to everyone, eh?" He turned to walk back the way he came with the k'nights in tow. "Meanwhile, you can tell me more 'bout yourself. I ain't seen any creature like you before, Anshu. And I've seen a lot of creatures."

Anshumat nodded their assent as they followed Gralph. As the group walked towards the village, the demigod explained, “I come a month’s intense travel from the northwest. There, we have Selka as well -- as well as my own kind. It is nothing more than an utterly foreign land compared to here.”

Anshumat followed up with, “I am an explorer, learning new things and finding new places. I will make no lies as to the fact I do not plan to remain forever -- but until then, I am willing to undertake the tasks required of your order.”

Gralph grunted happily. "An explorer, eh? You're in luck. K'nights travel around, and where we're travelling soon is going to be something new for sure. Come, I'll introduce you to the chief. Welcome to the River Mouth tribe."

---

The entire village was sprung to erupt with joy at the arrival of the k'nights. Most of the joy was realised, but even Gralph's apparent comfort with allowing the strange Anshumat to be a guest, the creature brought unease to many. Anshumat received many glances and few words.

But not everyone was so afraid. The young brother, Toraph, had grown bored with watching his older brothers alternating between spooking each other with spiders and sparring with sticks. He watched Anshumat from afar, making quite steps closer behind him and taking up different hiding spots in the village. Anshumat did not need his divine senses to hear the little sounds Toraph made, even while they received the bowl of berries and skate meat gifted to him for lunch.

Anshumat simply followed Graph, sparing only slight glances to their surroundings; they did not care to be cheered or make smalltalk, so their reception was of little concern. Once Graph neared the central fire to join the welcoming feast, Anshumat broke off, and after bringing their blind eyes to settle on Toraph’s latest hiding place, they reached into their clothing. Rummaging for a second, they pulled out some kind of clumped up fabric and began to walk over -- as non-threateningly as their form could manage.

Toraph sucked in a gasp and ducked behind the mud and straw hut. Anshumat sensed him sitting down and trying to control his breath, perhaps in an attempt to make it look like he had been sitting there all along. Not being curious at all. Toraph was not the best actor.

"Huh? Oh." Toraph nearly stuttered out. "...H-...Hi there. You came with the k'nights, right?"

Everyone saw Anshumat arrive with the k'nights.

Anshumat let out an amused chuff, before sitting down next to Toraph and holding out the fabric to him, saying, “I didn’t come over to admonish you for being curious. I admired it, in fact. That’s why I got out this hood. You can have it, if you wish -- it’s silk.”

Toraph's eyes were drawn to the shiny fabric. He lifted a hand, hesitating, and keeping his eyes off Anshumat's carefully leant to take it. It felt like sand without the grit, cool, but still holding together like a hide or a weave. He rolled it between his fingers with such a wide-eyed look of amazement that the whites of his big eyes were visible in the corners of his eyelids. "It's so soft," he breathed.

“As long as you were to take care of it, it’ll be most likely the softest and smoothest fabric for a long way. Of course, it was made for me, so on you it would be more like a robe, but nonetheless,” Anshumat finished.

Toraph shot Anshumat a mouthy grin. "Thank you so much! I'll take good care of it, Anshumat, I promise." He immediately cast it over his head. It covered his entire head and shoulders -- only his still grinning snout poked out, but the grin faded quickly. "I should give a gift to you as well. It's not nice to give nothing back. Um…" He tugged the hood back just far enough to reveal his eyes and tapped his nose in thought. "Say, you look like you'd have trouble swimming with those little limbs. I've collected all sorts'a stuff from the sea. Actually…I was going to finish this for myself but maybe you would like it..."

The young selka rummaged through a pouch slung over his shoulder and pulled out a cord tied around a clinking array of the most metallic and iridescent sea shells Anshumat had ever laid their essence-senses on.

"These ones don't wash up on the beach," Toraph explained. "You have to hold your breath real good to get ones that aren't crackled up down there. Here." He held it up and forward.

Anshumat’s milky-gray eyes shimmered over the seashells for a moment, before slowly, the demigod closed Toraph’s fist around them again, following it with, “There’s actually a far simpler gift you could give; a promise, really; if you could hone your curiosity, promise me to never lose it, and to always seek that which interests you,”

Anshumat paused, looking down at Toraph again, “that, I think, would be the sweetest gift you could give to me.”

Toraph felt the weight of Anshumat's words in a way that pushed aside his initial confusion. He glanced down at his seashells and back up at the demigod's milky eyes. "Yeah, I think I could do that. Wass and Anboor already say I'm too curious for my own good. It would be nice to promise to be more curious." He smiled. "Okay, I promise, and to prove it, I want to know about where you came from." He brought his chin to his fist. "Are you a monster from upbeach? Or one of those strange inland people who don't live near water? You look like the ghost of a giant goat."

Anshumat briefly glanced around, ensuring the two were alone, before saying, “Well, I suppose you’ve heard my explanation to Gralph; but I feel if I’m going to hold you to such a promise, it is mayhaps best I encourage it. What I told Gralph wasn’t entirely true; I will admit.”

Their voice got quieter as they continued, “There are truths in it, of course; It is true I came from the far northwest, from a valley between two mountain ranges. There were Selka there too; one of the tribes there is the only reason I am alive to be here in the first place.”

Anshumat looked up to the sky, “but there are untruths as well, those I feel Gralph was not entirely convinced by,” a pause, as the demigod looked back down at Toraph, “May I share with you a secret? Would you be willing to hold it for me?”

Toraph looked up and pouted for a second. He resumed eye contact. "Yep. Jaws shut."

Another amused chuff as Anshumat continued, “Very well, I’ll hold you to it. I do not have a people; or if I do, I know not of them. I’m unique, in a way. I am less than fifty sundowns old, did you know that?”

"But that would make you a pup," Toraph said, lowering his brow. "How'd you grow so fast? And talk? And…" He stopped before he began sounding like his older brother.

“I was born this way. I was born knowing how to talk, and born with knowledge and insights far beyond what a Selka could ever hope to discover. I have a father, but you would not recognize me as progeny if we stood together. Truthfully, I am not even fully comparable to a Selka,” Anshumat said, before pausing again, thinking for a moment.

Pointing up at the sky, Anshumat questioned, “What gods do you make worship to?”

Toraph squinted up at the sky. He brought a hand up to catch the hood before it slid off the back of his head. "They're not up there, I don't think," he said. "We talk to them. Over...there…" He leant forward to point around the hut at a large stone caked brown with dry blood. "...There's Kirwon. He made us. He told us to earn fun, which dad always said is not the same as just having fun. Kirwon is what makes our hearts drum and our blood fresh."

Toraph's finger drew over to the sea. "Over there is Delfeene. She owns the sea. She can be mean sometimes but she reminds us to look at the pretty things and she helps us find seafood." He smiled at Anshumat. "There are stories of other gods, but those are the ones we talk to. Some other places like to talk to Kelmre, but only one or two selka here do that."

Anshumat looked out over the sea, “I suppose it is accurate to say I am closer to the gods you worship than I am to the people who make worship to them. Of course, I am not one myself, though the connection is there,”

Another pause for thought, before Anshumat continued, “That is the reason I caught you in your curiosity. The blood that runs through my veins, it means these blind eyes see more than you would think.”

"Woah," Toraph whispered. "Can anyone do that?"

Anshumat shook their head, “The condition of my eyes is perhaps unique to me; though those who lose sight will always remain just as perceptive, in their own ways. I was offered my own kingdom, you know? Untold riches and luxury for myself. I turned it down. Want to know why?”

Toraph stopped to think for a moment. "Um...wait, I want to guess first. Was it...too heavy to carry around?"

The guess drew an actual chuckle from Anshumat, more than the simple chuffs of before. They responded, “No, though I imagine carrying an entire kingdom on my back would be difficult. It was because I saw through the promises. I perceived the expectations behind it. It wasn’t offered to me out of the goodness of heart.”

They looked down at the ground, “It was colored with honeyed words, but it was nothing more than a temptation to have me sow misery in my wake. To harm those my lesser and to prosecute wars beyond the imagination of any but the highest beings.”

A sigh, “I could not stand to allow myself to be used so, and it was my ability to perceive that warned me of their intentions. Like I said, these eyes may be blind, but my sight is not the only part of my perception.”

Toraph's face rested to a frown. "I can see why you said no. A lot of people getting hurt doesn't sound like much fun. Especially for you. It sounds like you're pretty lonely already, even without hurting people."

Anshumat continued to look at the ground, “Were it so easy. Not even beings of my make are fully resistant to corrupting influences. I fear if I had accepted, I would have grown into it, made little justifications here and there,”

They paused for another moment, “until I molded myself into a bloody example of a zealot and tyrant of my own free will. That’s why self-introspection can never hurt. To catch yourself before the little harmful deeds here and there morph into justifications, and justifications morph into ideologies.”

"That sounds a lot like the Grottu," Toraph commented.

Anshumat sighed once again, “It’s hard, you’re right. It’s lonely. I choose to wander for not just my safety, but the safety of all around me. I know my refusal of their offer comes with consequences, and I would not see them delivered unto those who are innocent of the affair.”

"Well, don't forget to earn some fun every now and then." Toraph tilted his head. "You seem too nice to deserve making yourself sad to protect everyone all the time. Who are 'they' anyway? Monsters? Gods?"

The demigod reached out a lanky hand, ruffling the Selka’s head, “Wise words and advice, admittedly. If only I were so smart as to heed it.”

Toraph chuckled through his teeth. "You're a pup, you're allowed to be dumb."

They withdrew their hand, “As for who they are, perhaps I should keep some secrets for myself. What’s the point of curiosity if everything is revealed, hm?”

"Aw, alright." Toraph bowed his head politely. "Thanks anyway. I still got lots of questions but I learnt some things, yeah?" He sniffed, paused, and smiled again. "Hey, good luck at the trial tonight. My big brothers are trying out as well, and even if they're butts sometimes, they're pretty skilled. Don't underestimate 'em."

Anshumat nodded, looking over the side of the hut towards the central fire, “Yeah,” they said, “learned a fair few things. Both of us. Keep it up with the questions as I progress through the trials, after all, you can’t hope to learn everything possible in one exploration.”

The demigod got up, giving some parting words, “If I read Gralph correctly, it would be best if I talked to him before the trial. Thanks for the advice, I’ll watch out for your brothers. See you again later?”

"Toraph," Toraph said with a bright smile. "My name's Toraph. And don't mention it. And I'll see you later."

Anshumat nodded, “I’ll keep an eye out for you, Toraph. Best of luck to you.”

Then, the demigod walked away, towards the central fire as they glanced for Gralph’s essence.

It came as a small shock to sense Gralph standing a distance away from the crowd around the fire, facing Anshumat directly and staring his way with his beady selka eyes. The huge man lifted a hand and wordlessly beckoned Anshumat to follow, before turning on his heel towards a nearby grassy bluff outside of the village.

---

The breeze was just a little stronger climbing up the bluff. Even the short altitude gave clearance that the trees wouldn't allow, blowing just enough air to obscure regular voice. Appropriate for a private talk.

Gralph stood with both hands on the top of his club, looking out onto the ocean. His reed skirt waved with the grass beneath him as the only trace of movement he expressed. He did not turn around to Anshumat until he was close.

It was hard to read his expression, though Anshumat doubted having eyes would have helped in that regard anyway.

Anshumat huffed as they looked back at the hut in the distance that Toraph and they had sat behind, asking, “How much did you hear?”

"Enough to save me a good chunk'a time, I'll tell you what," Gralph answered.

“The conversation was not solely intended to benefit Toraph,” Anshumat remarked back.

A soundless laugh made Gralph's shoulders bounce once. "What? Did you expect me to hear you or did you know that some of the things you said'd be smart if carried on by him?"

Anshumat answered the first question plainly, “Yes. I know you’re not a Selka, at least your essence-form.”

They followed it up with the second, “I feel what I said is of value, yes, though it wasn’t said with any particular goal of mine. I shared my thoughts honestly, and if good comes of it, all the better.”

Gralph nodded upwards. "I like that." His nostrils flared. "No wonder. Is that how you pissed off Shengshi?"

“In a way, I suppose. What I told Toraph of the deal offered is, more or less, the truth of that wretched matter. I am scarred so as the result of what transpired there,” Anshumat said, their milky-gray eyes unmoving on Gralph.

Gralph's mouth curled downwards. "Didn't think he'd go that far. Sorry to hear that." His chest puffed out. "I suppose if you're gonna be honest and decent with me, least I can do is the same. You can call be Gralph if you like, but up here, you can call me Blood God, Uncle, Kirron, or Stinkberry -- whatever. Funny we should cross paths, eh? Heheh."

The demigod chuffed again, “Funny, indeed. Your disguise was subtle, I’ll give you that. If I had my mortal sight still, I would have never picked up on the differences. The only clue I was given was the slightest essence irregularities.”

A strange look graced Gralph's face. He peered down at his chest and belly. "That's good. I thought it was kinda rushed, you know? The first selka who ever saw me this way guessed that I was Kirron within seconds." He shrugged. "Granted, he was having a difficult time, but it had me second-guessing for a while."

Anshumat shrugged in turn, “Bad luck of the draw, I guess. Who knows, maybe that Selka called everyone they came across Kirron.”

They proceeded with a question next, “I assume you know all about me, if you already knew my origins?”

Gralph snorted in a familiar way. "No. Not really. You just stink of Shengshi's blood."

Opening their jaw and dramatically sniffing themselves, Anshumat joked, “Hey, not all of us can shapeshift.”

"Have you tried?" Gralph said with a hand on his hip.

“Does an instinctive intuition that I really, really shouldn’t risk it count?” Anshumat shot back.

"Pfft, wussy," Gralph said with a grin. "You're capable of plenty of stuff, Anshu." He gestured before Anshumat could respond. "But I ain't gonna give you lessons out of nowhere when everyone else is going through a trial for that privilege. Wouldn't be fair, now, would it?" He pulled his head forward curiously. "But that begs the question, what brought you to go looking for teaching from a bunch'a k'nights in the first place?"

“Call it opportunity,” Anshumat began, “I may be divine, but aside from throwing around lances of divine energy like some smiteful deity, I do not have the knowledge or muscle memory to produce a good fight. The K’nights were the first Selka I came across who seemed to know what they were doing,”

Anshumat finished aptly, “decided it was worth a shot.”

"Hm." Gralph narrowed his eyes and bored into Anshumat's mask again. At least this time it was less scary. "Fair enough. You'll have your shot, but your trial will be a little different from the others. I think it'll suit you better with the lessons it'll teach. And what it'll test. Are you still up for it, knowing that?"

Anshumat nodded immediately, saying, “Cannot be any worse than what was visited upon me by my father.”

Gralph slowly grinned. "I'll take your word for it, nibling."

A clear glass bottle bobbed in the oceans, rising and falling with the waves. A cork stoppered the opening of the bottle, and within was a roll of white paper which was tied together with a little string.

It was a most peculiar thing, because paper was rare on Galbar and glass bottles even rarer. And here was this paper in a bottle drifting in the vastness of the ocean, where extraordinary luck would be required for anyone to find it. Anyone, that is, except for one particular goddess.

Water curled up and wrapped around the bottle. The water reached the cork and unstoppered the bottle. A tendril of water slithered into the bottle, wrapped around the roll of paper and pulled it out. A second little tendril of water pulled at the string, unravelling the bow it had been tied into, and the piece of paper unrolled. The water formed into a face, which looked upon the curvy letters written upon the paper in black ink.

Dearest Ashalla,

Your splendid lessons on music have not gone unheard by my own ears. In response to your hard work and in gratitude, I am hereby inviting you to a concerto in your honor, for all your work in the realm of music. The event is to take place at my palace, upon your arrival.

In salutation and respect,
K’nell

A burble issued from Ashalla. She deposited the now-slightly-damp letter and the piece of string back into the bottle and replaced the cork. Then she set off for Tendlepog.

---

A grand storm brewed off the coast of Tendlepog, strong winds carrying it inland. Rain poured from the cloud and was whipped in all directions by turbulent gales. Thunder rumbled across the horizon and lightning flashed within the cloud, those brief moments of illumination outlining what some might have imagined to be a face.

The storm passed over the sheer cliffs which lined the beaches of the rotating continent. The wind whipped the coastal dust into dark clouds which rolled along the ground, before the torrential rain soaked the earth. The hardy plants which lived in this region soaked up the water greedily, making the most of this rare moment of rain. A small flock of shadowy crows took flight as the storm arrived.

The storm soon reached a ring of mountains on the far side of this sandy desert. Below the roar of the storm was the deep rumble of the mountains ever-so-slowly creeping their way across the continent. The storm ascended the mountain slopes and dusted the peaks with a light covering of snow.

Down the other side of the mountains, the storm rolled into plains which were painted ruby red as far as the eye could see. The sugary aroma of the red grass was pulled up into the storm, casting a sweet petrichor across the plains. Rivers meandered in nonsensical paths across the plains. Groves of trees stampeded ahead of the storm, moving to avoid damaging winds while still catching the rain. The lowing of tree-eaters called the members of the herds to hunker together into a single wooly mass in the face of the storm. Bilbies dashed through the grass to their burrows. Little cloudlings fizzed in awe as they beheld the majesty of the storm sweeping across the plains.

A single far off figure with blue hair seemed to either salute the storm, or cover her eyes as she stared at it, a gentle swear hanging on her breath before dashing to find some sort of cover. Soon, however, the storm overtook her, and rain soaked through her clothes despite what shelter she had found. Then an orb of crackling light appeared in the clouds and stared down at the Dreamer.

“Daughter of Hermes,” greeted a voice like pouring rain.

"That..." Altansarnai froze, "...would be me?" A defensive crackle sounded from her hair, a dark cloudling zipping out defiantly between the dreamer and the storm.

“You are the first of your mother’s descendants I have seen. You look very similar to your mother.” A breeze whipped through Altansarnai’s hair. “And I see that my blessing has been inherited. How has Hermes been?”

A long silence over took the conversation, leaving nothing but the sounds of the storm to fill the gap. Dumpling popped between the god and the mortal, a look of intense thought plastered over Altansarnai’s soaked face. Occasionally she would blink the rain from her eyes, her arms defensively raised against the impending drops.

“Ashalla,” Altansarnai finally recalled, cobalt brows knitted, “The God of the Ocean and beauty... inland?”

“Yes. K’nell invited me to a concerto,” Ashalla said.

“Oh.” Altansarnai seemed at a loss for words. She took a step forward, one hand saluting over her eyes to peer through the curtain of rain, “I’m sorry, this is all very strange to me.”

There was a pause and a rumble. “Perhaps you could start with a proper greeting for a goddess,” Ashalla suggested.

Altansarnai seemed to hesitate for a moment, a mixture of emotions flickering past her dark eyes. With a small scrunch of her left eye she slowly knelt into the sopping mud. The reluctant dreamer held their breath and dipped their head in humiliating respect. Before another breath could pass through her lips, a different voice suddenly called through the rain.

“Your Majesty,” A rather hollow voice called from atop a dark horse. The thorn covered rider seemed uninterested in the soaking rain as it called out to Ashalla with a bowed head.

A second orb of lightning manifested in the storm cloud and looked at the rider. “Greetings, creation of K’nell.” The voice of the storm then spoke near the still-bowing dreamer. “You may rise.”

Altansarnai rose back to her feet, wiping clumps of mud from her pants as she did. The rain also washed the mud from Altansarnai’s clothes and skin. Her eyes were cast down and away from the drops of rain, the echoing voice of the Warden filling the spaces in between the conversation, “My Lord is quite eager for your meeting.”

“I shall continue shortly,” Ashalla replied. The rain around Altansarnai then eased to a light shower. “Daughter of Hermes, how is your mother?”

Altansarnai squinted as she looked up to the sky, blinking at tiny droplets. The dreamer seemed to gather her bearings with a large inhale, “She is well, but currently away on a quest of grave importance. She spoke much of you when I was young, thank you for your blessing.” Her voice was formal, the unusual tone causing Dumpling to crackle with confusion before retreating back into her hair.

The dark horse shifted uneasily and the Warden gripped his reins but remained silent.

There was a faint burble, and a voice like splashing raindrops said, “That is good to hear. Does Hermes still dance?”

“Often with Mother Xiaoli,” Altansarnai answered, “And in the palace of the God of Tendlepog.”

“Good.” Ashalla’s other eye seemed to scrutinise the impatient Warden before she said, “I have a concerto to get to. Farewell, daughter of Hermes.”

“Farewell, Ashalla Goddess of the Ocean,” Altansarnai tipped her head again, blue strands sticking to her face.

The wind picked up again, blowing the clouds further inland, with the dark horseman following her dutifully. Soon clusters of houses and tents appeared on the plains, along with gardens and farming patches. More dreamers inhabited these houses, and Ashalla looked at each of them as she passed over, admiring her handiwork in colouring the dreamers and simply inspecting them and their homes.

Eventually, Ashalla passed the region inhabited by the dreamers and came to another ring of mountains. Unlike the first, which was quite barren, these mountains were filled with a unique ecosystem. Many varieties of mushrooms grew here, some as large as trees, and a large portion of them toxic. Chameleon squirrels and honey possums dashed for cover at the storm’s approach, and sphagnum moss flew erratically in the wind.

As Ashalla crossed the mountain range, the ecosystem changed yet again to a forest of oak and cypress. There were very few animals in this place to be startled by the storm’s arrival, for this was holy ground. In a clearing in the very center of this forest in the very center of Tendlepog was a platform of black marble. The clouds which were Ashalla gathered above the platform and spiralled around it.

“This is the way to K’nell’s palace?” Ashalla asked the Warden, who was standing nearby.

The rider dipped a helmeted head, “That is the way.”

The clouds started to spiral faster. A cone of twisting wind and cloud stretched down from the storm and touched the black platform. White light blazed from the platform as the tornado made contact and expanded to cover the whole platform. The wind howled through the sacred grove as the dark clouds above twisted inwards towards the platform. The cloud above retracted inwards, until the last of it disappeared and the tornado imploded towards the ground. When the light of Limbo faded, sunlight fell upon the black stone from the blue sky above, and the air was calm.

---

Reality folded into wrinkles all around Ashalla as color seemed to fade into non-color. Passing through these wrinkles, Ashalla witnessed an infinite number of little grains, each with an eternity of time. This portrait of what could be painted itself before Ashalla as she flew through the images of Limbo at incredible speeds -- surpassing even her greatest swimming speed.

Ripping her attention from the grains of reality, a pulsing light called out to her -- signalling her. Ashalla flew forwards, willing herself towards the light. When she reached the light, it flared out and whiteness swallowed everything.

As color bled back into Ashalla’s vision, she found herself in an endless expanse of sea complemented with the backdrop of a crystal blue sky. The blue-green waters lapped at hexagonal pillars of ice, each growing out of the waves at different heights. Standing atop the center most pillar that stood merely three meters above the waves was K’nell. He wore his gentleman’s garb and a polite smile. With arms folded square behind his back, he tipped his head to Ashalla, “I see you have made it! Welcome.”

Ashalla’s form stretched up, a woman of water looking down at K’nell and around at the scene around them. She seemed hesitant. “Yes, hello,” she said absently, a voice like a submarine echo. A pseudopod reached up and licked K’nell. “It’s not real,” she stated, clearly unsettled.

“And yet here we are,” K’nell smiled, “As real as can be.”

“We are real. I can taste that. This place, though…” she gestured expansively with an arm. “This must be the stuff dreams are made of.”

K’nell charmed a laugh and folded his hands over his lap, “Well, that is one way to put it for sure.” He held out a hand to the towering figure, “Would you like to join me on the ice?”

Ashalla reached out an arm which tapered into a narrow pseudopod which wrapped around K’nell’s hand. The rest of Ashalla flowed towards the pillar, and the sea rose to lap at K’nell’s shoes. Then the water bunched up in front of K’nell, and there stood Ashalla, now only a head taller than K’nell. Her torso had the shape of a woman as before, while the rest of her form flowed down and outwards like a dress which trailed off the edges of the pillar.

“Marvelous,” K’nell simply stated with a genuine smile. The gentleman turned his head out towards the horizon, where the crystal blue sky kissed the water, “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, let us begin,” Ashalla said with a voice like a falling snowflake.

K’nell flicked his sight back to Ashalla briefly before looking back out at the horizon. Gradually the world began to dim, the sky of blue turning into a dark clearness. The water of the sea seemed to contrast the deepening sky, and the ice pillars glistened from some unseen light source. In total the orchard of pillars gently turned into an ambient glow -- but with the dim sky still overpowering.

Letting Ashalla’s pseudopod slip from his hand, K’nell slipped a trumpet from out of thin air and tapped it to his lips. With a low, sweet tone, K’nell let out a reverberating tune, a saturating spot of deep red growing in the sky in tune with his sound. The light radiated the pillars pink, and as he switched notes, the color swapped to a soft green. Soon another trumpet joined from a different pillar, a glittering yellow appearing on the opposite side of the horizon. A ripple passed over Ashalla at the sound. She stretched out a hand and watched the colours dance through the water.

The other trumpet blasted an energetic challenge, the yellow pushing against the green. A curl formed on the edge of K’nells lips as a frollicking set of notes returned the challenge, the green swirling into the yellow. The yellow pushed back with a trotting tune, and then as the green clashed with it again -- a ripple of blue took over the center -- a sudden blast of strings erupting from the other pillars.

The storm of strings washed over the trumpets, and a look overtook K’nell’s face. Tossing his trumpet to the ground, he tucked a violin under his chin -- a somber wave of sound turning his green a vibrant red once more. He racked his bow against the strings in a squirming call, the red battling with the loud blue of the sky as the yellow trumpet faded away. Ashalla twirled around as she stared up into the sky, watching and feeling the dance of colour and music.

With three loud racks, the red broke through the blue, shattering the concert into a sea of fluttering colors and turning the challenging string into a burst of different instruments. The blinking colors in the sky showered down as K’nell played -- the other sounds now working with their captor. A brief awed burble escaped from Ashalla.

The harmony stayed, slowly conquering the sky and turning the fluttering field into a swirl of organized color. The music dipped and rose, slowing to a nigh mystical rhythm, only to gradually quicken again. K’nell’s eyes closed in concentration and his mouth straightened, his violin leading the music on its rise -- the sound growing in volume. The strikes of the violin quickened, and the sounds of the brass loudened. K’nell let one eye slip back open, intent on Ashalla.

He sucked in a breath, and thrusted his bow dangerously across the strings of his violin with a shriek -- one of the pillars exploded into a wash of glittering orange, the music briefly dipping in surprise. Ashalla suddenly turned to look at the flare of orange but the violin was struck hard again, a different pillar bursting into a halo of purple, and then another in a burst of silver. One by one, each pillar surrounding the pair burst with the music, the sky aflame with dancing colors, with Ashalla turning to look at each one.

K’nell brought his bow against the side of one of his strings, the vibration of the music and explosions catching in his chest as he lead the music in one final conclusion of pulsing light. The sky grew dim again as the music began to fade with each pulse of light, until the pair stood over the dim sea, with fractures of remaining color still glittering down from the explosions. Echoes of light sparkled within Ashalla’s form. As the final shard of light kissed the sea below, a soft flute edged in the distance.

With the flute rose a gentle harp, a pink hue rising in the distance. K’nell slowly smoothed his bow across his violin, bird like shapes with streaming blue tails appeared in the sky -- dancing towards the horizon. The soft harmony kept them in their playful dance, until the pink sky overtook the scene and K’nell suddenly dropped his violin.

A bench of ice grew from the pillar he stood at, and sitting upon it, an organ rose to meet his fingertips. Happy tones slipped from the pipes above, letting loose doves of bright light. The doves quickly mingled with the dancing birds of blue, creating a song of tranquility and joy. K’nell looked over at Ashalla as he played and slowly shifted to one side of his bench, one hand playing while the other offered a seat.

“Shall we be blessed with your own music?” He offered over a smile.

A surprised bubble rose through Ashalla, but she was swift to regain her composure and flowed into the spot beside K’nell. A few watery tendrils brushed over the keys of the organ, getting familiar with their feel. She glanced sideways at K’nell with a sweet smile on her aqueous lips. Then she engulfed her half of the keyboard with a pseudopod and the keys started to dance.

Ashalla’s tune found the harmonies to resonate with K’nell’s song, and the dancing birds above spun into pairs which danced along with their duet. As this rhythm set into place, a new motif slipped in beneath the other, and a ripple of yellow danced across the sky. This lively motif then surged to the fore, and the birds broke from their pairs to wheel across the sky.

The tune spun and evolved, Ashalla waving side to side in front of the organ in time with the music. As the tempo quickened, horizon was illuminated in shifting colours of orange, red, green, purple and blue. The waves in the sea picked themselves up and danced along with the music, all moving in perfect synchronicity.

A diminuendo washed through the music and the lights faded to a mellow lavender. The melody dropped from the organ, leaving the harmony to carry the music for a few beats. Then a voice like a trickling brook hummed from one direction. It was joined by a note from a voice like a light shower from another direction. A voice like rolling snow lilted over the top of the other two, light blue shading the sea. A chorus of watery voices rose from the sea to the accompaniment of the organ, colours dancing with the song in glorious synesthesia.

K’nell smiled warmly, eyes closed as he felt the music in the air and under his fingers. His mouth parted slightly, mouthing notes as he pressed them into existence. His fingers glided across the keys, the music suggesting a conclusion to Ashalla. Ashalla glanced over to K’nell, then she slipped away from the organ. The choir of her voices continued their resonant song as Ashalla glided from the pillar and twirled under the sparkling illumination of the sky.

Following her movements with accompanying notes, K’nell shifted to the center of the organ. Yellow light blossomed out from the sky above Ashalla and her voices lifted to a waltz. Her movements danced around the pillar, each arc of her dance flowing from each phrase of the music. Glittering crystals of ice spun into existence around her and split the light into a rainbow of colours. Then a voice like the rising tide joined with a counter-melody, green light pushing in from over the horizon, and another lady of water rose up on the opposite side of the pillar to Ashalla, mirroring her waltz.

Tension built in the notes as the first Ashalla danced with graceful flowing moves, only to be matched and bettered by the second Ashalla. Melody and counter-melody was passed between the two in their accelerating dance. The ocean heaved at their movement, and snow sparkled in their wakes. A red glow grew from the pillar of ice as the two Ashallas circled closer and closer, faster and faster. The ocean rose, the Ashallas stretched, and the voices became like thunder and waves. The spiralling women of water closed in around the pillar and blurred into a twisting wall of water, the world cast in a dark red as the music grew to a tumultuous fortissimo.

Then the wall of water shattered into billions of ice crystals, letting light flood back into the world and revealing a sapphire blue sky. The two Ashallas danced out from the snow together, holding each other close. They spun and moved, pausing and flowing along with the music. The strings urged them to move and spin, to stretch out and come back again. They paused when the trumpet called out. They flowed with K’nell’s notes across the organ. The two dancers traced out mesmerising patterns across the waves, with the orchestra of the Palace of Dreams following their every move.

The music ebbed and flowed, pink, yellow and green shining around the dancers. The song grew with a crescendo, and lustrous choir of Ashalla’s voices returned for the finale. A golden spotlight fell on the two Ashallas as their movements became bigger and bolder. Then one dancer flung out the other, and she spun in a great pirouette. The instruments trilled as she spun, and a spray of water flew out from her and surrounded her in a rainbow halo.

Finally she came to a stop, and the music ended with her, leaving the resonance of the sound hanging in the air.

The two Ashallas turned to look at K’nell with grins rivalling K’nell’s own. As the lighting returned to normal, Ashalla could contain her burbling no longer, and the sound of her mirth echoed across the entire seascape.

K'nell clapped his hands, a chuckle following each resounding applause, "Marvelous, simply marvelous!"

The two Ashallas moved side by side and took a deep bow as K’nell applauded. Then the two Ashallas merged into each other and became one woman of water of a height closer to Ashalla’s original size. Her burbling grew as she said, “You were marvellous too, K’nell!”

"Well thank you," K'nell feigned a bashful grin, "Really there isn't enough of such events as these to go around, and fewer to invite to. Your company has been a diamond."

“Indeed. This has been the most beautiful concert I have ever witnessed, orchestrated by your own incredible artistry. Oh how I wish to give Galbar even a slither of the wonder which happened here today.” Ashalla’s burbling continued unabated. “Perhaps we could do this again some time.”

"I certainly hope you do," K'nell waved a hand as he dismissed the organ back into the ice. Turning his full attention to Ashalla he smiled, "And who knows, perhaps some day we might."

Ashalla smiled back, and eventually the burbling subsided. “I should return to Galbar soon - dreams don’t last forever.”

"Who says?" K'nell suggested.

Ashalla smirked. “Perhaps for you they can. Yet how can I bring this beauty back to Galbar if I do not go?”

"My lady, you have persuaded me," K'nell stood up from his bench, "But at least grant me the single honor of teaching you something before you depart."

“Of course, K’nell.”

K'nell took a step forward and held out his hand. He spoke a simple word that held no real meaning and as he did, a gentle wisp of light curled in his palm. He looked up from it and at Ashalla, "Sleep." He said, "If you wish to know how, just take it from my hand."

Ashalla looked at the wisp, a frown forming on her face. “Sleep, the regular period of unconsciousness required by fleshy beings to reverse the weakness of their tiredness. Why would I wish for that?”

"Color me selfish," K'nell's fingers curled slightly over the wisp, his voice toned with a drop of sorrow, "I guess I just don't want some dreams to end."

A pseudopod reached out and brushed K’nell’s cheek. A rumble purred through Ashalla’s form. “Yet if I live my existence in a dream, then I won’t ever do anything real,” she said as softly as a snowflake.

Ashalla then drew back. “I will always cherish the memories, though.”

"So will I," K'nell agreed softly, his fingers coming together.

---

Even weeks after the god with chopstick eyes showed Ya-Shuur how to extract goatmilk and make it into gim-sa by fermenting it and mixing it with honey from the butterwort, the demigod still found the process flabbergasting. They made it throughout the spring and soon had enough to last the rest of the year. For his part, Ya-Shuur now kept a goatskin full of gim-sa at his side all the time and could often be seen taking a small drink during his long treks across the grand old island of Be'r-Jaz.

Sat on a hill, viewing his goats browsing in the lightly forested valley while also trying to stay out of the incessant rain, he spotted the god with chopstick eyes staring at an odd bird bursting with color. After a while shes lost interest in the bird and seemed to become suddenly very interested in something else that Ya-Shuur could not quite see because it was obstructed by rocks and trees. No sooner had the god with chopstick eyes disappeared after whatever it was, the bird turned and dashed towards Ya-Shuur.

It stopped in the air before him and he could now see that it was indeed very large. It was bursting with an effervescent violet color and other shades of purple and blue and turquoise. Oddly the bird had braces made of the same material as Ya-Shuur's hud-sa (metal, Ya-Shuur knew it was called) along its wings and there was lodged in it a single beautiful stone. Its face seemed to be made of white rock, and there were three more beautiful stones lodged into its head. One was above the forehead and the other two were over each of its eyes. The bird then surprised Ya-Shuur by speaking and warning him about possibly graphic footage in the ensuing projection, unsuitable for children or easily disturbed adults. Then there were suddenly two strange creatures, who Ya-Shuur instinctively knew to be goddesses, stood atop the back of a great whale against the backdrop of the furnaces that Ya-Shuur remembered from the time of his genesis.

“Good people of Galbar I bring you grave news and the tools to claim your freedom. Each and everyone of you has an immortal soul, the essence of your being that contains your mind and memories. This soul is the very core of your being, more vital to your existence than the the flesh or stone which you inhabit. Even if you perish you will live on though this soul, and yet Katharsos, the tyrant of death, has decreed that your souls, once severed from flesh should be put to the flame and turned into the ash that form new souls. Untold billions have already been put to the flame. The souls for the void who came here with those you know as gods were the first to be incinerated. If Katharsos were to continue his genocide unopposed all who were born from their remains will also be sent to his infernal stars. ”

The projection zoomed in on one of the furnaces and displayed the soul of a creature Ya-Shuur had never seen before being sucked into its fire, and its screech joined the scream that began when the world began and would only ever cease when the world ceased.

“Yet all is not lost. I, Azura, have created the Alma, constructs of flesh, metal, stone and soul, whose power you may use to save your soul from destruction. Each and everyone has the ability to crystallize the souls of the dead into a solid form that resists the pull of the tyrant Katharsos.” The said soul crystal was suddenly displayed, “To become crystallized is to sleep a dreamless sleep, one from which you will be awoken when the time is right and the means are perfected. Till their rebirth soul crystals will be kept at secret locations, hidden from the tyrant's grasp and protected from any who might seek to steal them away.

To do this however the Alma require your consent. To take your souls without permission would be a grave abuse of power and a violation of your autonomy. One I have sadly already committed to save those here at the pyres. It is a sin that weighs heavy on my heart so I ask you, I beg you, please people of Galbar, when your time comes let the Alma help you. Please use them to save yourselves! For only by your own wills can you set yourselves free!”

The projection brought back the memory of the time he first heard the scream, and this caused Ya-Shuur to frown. Once upon a time, he had been the scream. It had all horrified him back then and it horrified him still, but back then he had been young and confused, overwhelmed by it all and helpless to do anything. He had not understood the why of it.

But now it seemed that someone - this Azura and her silent companion - had decided to do something about it. They had the power to act and had acted. Ya-Shuur could respect that, especially since they thought they were acting for the betterment of all. The only question on Ya-Shuur's mind was whether it actually was for the betterment of all.

The burning seemed absolutely terrible, but he was not sure if locking oneself in a stone could be called freedom - especially if one was depending on "the right time" and the "perfected means" to ever be reborn. It seemed that when one burned they ceased to exist altogether, which was arguably better than the possibility of eternal imprisonment. "Freedom..." Ya-Shuur murmured, "by your own will can you set yourself free," he repeated Azura's words.

The bird stared at Ya-Shuur for a few moments, seemingly waiting on his response. Ultimately, it was not so much the subject matter that swayed Ya-Shuur's decision but the way in which Azura had chosen to convey it:

It was utterly one-sided. Quarrels never could last long, if on one side only lay the wrong. And so Ya-Shuur found that no rational and logical conclusion could be achieved from such faulty evidence. It would have been better if Azura had simply presented the facts and let those speak for themselves. To the rational and logical mind, truth sufficed itself.

Ya-Shuur took a swig from his goatskin bag. "Thank you, bird. I must look further into this. I will let you know my answer when I have done so." And at that exact moment Ya-Shuur heard the shout of the god with chopstick eyes:

"BUTTERWORT IN MIDSUMMER!" And her laughter echoed across all the land and made Ya-Shuur laugh too. He left the colorful bird and made towards where Butterwort in Midsummer's voice had come from. But when he got there he found only a molf with a sticky substance all over its coat. Ya-Shuur looked here and there, and he walked all over the valley and across the hills.

But Midsummer was over, and Butterwort was gone.

-



For years now strange, colorful birds had been migrating to the island in huge numbers and they had been bringing about great changes. Ya-Shuur sat and watched them sometimes, and he listened too. A great majority of them seemed to have taken up residence in Li'Kalla's ruined mansion, and Ya-Shuur often heard them on the occasions that he passed by on his unending walk.

He could see that the birds were bringing about change. At first this had perturbed him somewhat and he had watched with anxiety all that they were doing. But as first a year and then two years passed, and the island did not seem to suffer due to these changes but only increased in beauty and life, his anxiety gave way to peace. Transition was always difficult, change always brought about some level of tension. The island had been disturbed by the coming of these birds, and so Ya-Shuur had also been disturbed. But now that the island had grown accustomed to them, all was harmony. And Ya-Shuur, like Be'r-Jaz (for Be'r-Jaz was an extension of him, he an extension of it), was at peace.

Amongst the changes was the sudden growth of red and purple grasses, in addition to the native green grass of Be'r-Jaz. Ya-Shuur's goats had found these colorful grasses wonderfully curious and for some months ate them wherever they found them. But soon they were common enough as to not be a curiosity and the goats returned to their browsing ways. They continued to like the redgrass though, and when Ya-Shuur tasted it he was surprised to find that it was quite sweet. This gave him an idea, and when spring next came he crushed its juices and mixed it with some of the gim-sa, along with the butterwort honey. Too sweet! So Ya-Shuur took to making some with butterwort honey and some with redgrass juices. It provided some variety.

Fields also burst with new kinds of flowers with colors and shapes and sizes Ya-Shuur had never seen before - and neither had his goats! They could be seen tasting each type of flower, sometimes petal by petal like some strange vegetation connoisseurs. One day one of the goats chewed and pulled at an unappetising weed, and Ya-Shuur was surprised when it pulled it out completely to reveal a thick, orange root. When Ya-Shuur found one of his own and tasted it he found it rather good and ever so slightly sweet. With his goats leading this food discovery crusade, Ya-Shuur had soon discovered a number of interesting vegetables and fruits with a plethora of tastes and uses.
He had never really thought much about food and drink before Butterwort in Midsummer gave him that cup of sudi-shrib. He had her to thank for exposing him to this world of new possibilities. It was good to have friends. He determined that when he next saw her he would have an equally beautiful gift for her.

Then one day, many years later, birds came screeching across the sky about "flying lizards" and "shooting giants" and "burning forests". Not long after that, Ya-Shuur saw thousands of those birds flying away from the island in the same way that they had originally come to it nearly a decade before. Some remained, but they were far fewer.

And Li'Kalla's mansion was empty once more.

-



It had been a long time since his walking had brought him to the ruins of Li'Kalla's mansion, his first home. For all his walking and all the years, seeing it still brought to him a degree of pain and regret. It was silent now and utterly deserted. Ya-Shuur thought that it had been better if the birds had stayed in it and filled it with their singing and screeching. That wildness and noise was better than this gaping, accusing silence. It was a silence that spoke and was heavy on Ya-Shuur's chest - you abandoned me!

But such thinking is no good, Ya-Shuur reminded himself.

With two of molves at his side, his goatskin gim-sa bag, and his walking stick, he made slowly towards the ruins. Standing before them, he surveyed the ruins and the damage dealt by time and the birds and his own - failed - attempt so long ago to rebuild the mansion. Ya-Shuur thought that it had been better if he had tried again back then. It had been better if he had erected it once more in honor of his mother and in honor of the beautiful memories. It would have made him a better son, a more dutiful one, than he was.

But such thinking is no good, Ya-Shuur reminded himself again.

He left the ruins and made for the lake, and he stared into its depths and saw only his bearded, horned reflection. Brown curls fell to his lower back and the beard trailed down to his hips, while the horns had grown even larger. His complexion was now as pale as he remembered Li'Kalla's had been. Honey colored eyes stared accusingly out at him, and he remembered how he had gained this form exactly as Li'Kalla had lost hers. It was almost like it had been a theft. Maybe it had been. Theft and murder. The honey eyes hardened and he looked away. "But such thinking is no good," he whispered as he moved on.

Then he paused and looked towards the entrance to her domain, the So'E. It had been a long, long time since he had last been in there. Butterwort in Midsummer had said there was no longer a beast in there. He walked towards it, his molves moaning in slight discomfort the closer he walked to the gate. They could sense the concentration of divine energies. Many gods had been here over the years, even if Ya-Shuur had not seen them.

Memories of Vakk's assault came to him as he walked inside. He saw parts of the mansion's wooden door that the tentacled god had smashed open. Ya-Shuur remembered his weakness then. And even now, he knew, he was weak before the power of divines like Vakk and Butterwort in Midsummer, and even Li'Kalla who - for all her power - had perished. He remembered his inability to help despite desperately wishing to, remembered her screams and struggles, remembered Vakk's terrible words that day, remembered the blood and remembered the tears. And he remembered how he had turned tail and run away like the coward and hypocrite he was. He brought a hand to his eyes and breathed deeply. "Such thinking..." he murmured under his breath.

Such thinking was no good. The past was over and beyond his power. It was beyond the power of everyone. Ya-Shuur suspected that it was even beyond the power of the gods. "Not even the gods can change the past," he murmured absent-mindedly. He looked up, "but the present is the prize of the son of the moment."

For many months Ya-Shuur worked away inside the So'E, recreating Li'Kalla's mansion as he remembered it, removing the shrubs and weeds and plants and moss that had grown within and banishing all the little creatures that now called the goddess' home their own. Once done, he found himself stood staring at her reconstructed bed. He remembered unsmilingly how Li'Kalla would laugh and play so innocently here, remembered how she had fallen asleep that day. Neither he nor she had ever thought it would all go so... wrong. He breathed slow, banished the thoughts, and calmed himself.

Such thoughts only brought about pain - pain over things that were (and were now even more so) outside his control. All he could control was on this island and even on this island he could not control all things at all times. He could not control the weather and make it stop raining all the time. He could not control who came and who went. Could not control such changes as the birds had brought about on the island. All he could truly control was himself and his soul. That was the only thing in all the world he had real control over. He did not have control over the past and those gods who killed each other and did injustice, and he did not have control over whether he had indeed contributed or even caused Li'Kalla's death, so what was the point in worrying about all that and being in pain? He would solve all the things within his control and power to solve, and those things that were out of his control he would not worry or feel guilty about. He was a limited being and he could only hope to excel within the confines of his limited nature. Limited, true, but he aspired to be an excellent limited being.

On his island there was felicity, and had been for decades now. He had every right to be at complete peace, for at no point had he ever abdicated his responsibility to the island and its denizens. That was enough for him.

He looked again at the bed, and he was struck with the image of Li'Kalla playing in the snow. She had known happiness and joy in those little pleasures, had Li'Kalla... and what use had that been? Pleasure faded, joy evaporated, and in their place pain took up residence. It was a saddening reality, but Ya-Shuur banished the sadness and did not allow it into his heart.

True happiness and felicity is not brought about by such pleasures, Ya-Shuur reasoned to himself. Li'Kalla was evidence of that. While the simple mind sought pleasure, believing happiness to lie there, the rational and logical mind rejected it as the standard of happiness and felicity. Happiness and felicity are to be had in principles, in standing up for something, in refusing to abdicate one's moral responsibility. Death was not to be feared, neither was pain, or any of the vicissitudes of the condition of all beings.

"I will do my best to constantly do what I ought to do," Ya-Shuur said to the empty room. In that lay happiness and ultimate felicity. "Goodbye, mother," he said, and he turned and left.

-



Ya-Shuur sat on a high cliff overlooking the sea to one side, and to the other a great expanse of southern Be'r-Jaz spread out before him. It was raining as usual. His goats were browsing far below, protected by the molves.

All was as it ought to be.

The wind howled high above in the canopy, jostling branch and leaf aside and against one another in a gentle symphony of natural elegance. It was as the days had been many times before around the Hunter’s Eye, a place of general calm on Kalgrun. They were, for many of the new-born Vallamir, the first sounds they ever heard. For Roog it was but the natural voice of the forest speaking in its whispered tongues beyond his understanding.

It had been but a few weeks since the creation of the Vallamir at the Hunter’s Eye but Roog had been active every hour of it. The race had been scattered far and wide around the island and the blessed embrace of the lake that surrounded its shores and the First-Born Roog had accompanied in the creation of the Vallamir. The original plan, to remain together and began teaching the new-born race, had proven too slow for the needs of these new sentient thrust into a harsh and unforgiving landscape. As such, Roog had broken away and had moved rapidly across the countryside to gather as many of the Vallamir to him as he could so as to spare them undue suffering. Casualties of Kalmar’s actions, driven by a desire to weed out the strong from the weak as nature would always have it, were apparent wherever Roog went. Though not numerous as they could have been in a harsher season their deaths weighed heavily on the Great Wolf.

Despite this slight displeasure Roog had understood the sentiment; Kalgrun was not a place lifted from the seas for them and them alone and the creatures that shared it with them had needs as well. Nevertheless, Roog’s actions were driven solely by a desire to see as few corpses of the unfortunate dead as possible. As the wind he tore through the underbrush, his pack of Wargs assisting him by stalking bands of Vallamir that formed around the eye in loose conglomerations. Roog had then travelled between these bands, gathering those not already found by other gods to himself to provide adequate safety for them. As he had offered to the First-Born that had joined in the covenant of the Vallamir’s creation, he would teach the new-born race the skills to protect themselves in the wilds of nature from beasts, weather, and everything in between.

By now the bands he had gathered to himself numbered several thousand individuals though Roog had to admit himself that he did not keep an exact count. They were numerous, to be sure, and their needs became readily apparent by the sheer amount that they needed to survive. It was beneficial indeed that they could enjoy the fruits of Kalgrun, most literally, and they proved only marginally more interested in the consumption of meat. To Roog this was a most valuable of traits, having learned during the rearing of the first Wargs that when pups must only eat meat the difficulty of feeding them only increases exponentially. For now he kept them scattered over a moderately large area of land, well within his reach but not threatening one another with over consumption. Nevertheless, Kalmar’s warnings of overconsumption had proven prophetic and Roog knew full well what came with starvation.

For the time being Roog spent his days busying himself with providing additional sustenance to the Vallamir under his charge, welcoming the other Gods when they came to provide their own teachings to the group of Vallamir he had come to protect, and occasionally finding more Vallamir yet wandering in the forests. His thoughts were always spent considering alternatives and ways to satiate the needs of this vast host. He knew of Li’Kalla’s general plan, to take a band back to her island and do with them as she saw fit. Simultaneously, he had been told by Kalmar the Man-God’s plans. He could trust Arae would do well by them, despite not knowing her exact intentions, and that left only him without clear direction. He was, in fact, a deity of Demise and not of life-giving. What, if anything, could he do to assist them in this most dire of times beyond continuing to feed them like a mother wolf?

His eyes had turned more than once to the North, where he had travelled numerous times during his early exploration of Kalgrun. There were several healthy sized packs of Wargs in the North, with dense forests that rose up from the coasts to high mountains wreathed in fog. There were numerous herds of animals that roamed the pine forests of that coastline with many rivers and streams and lakes to quench one’s thirst. The winters were cold though not overly harsh with proximity to the seas calming air. It was a place of plenty, to be sure, and one where the dedicated could make a pleasing living for themselves.

This would be his path.

“Great-Wolf,” came a voice, pulling Roog from his thoughts and back to the realities that surrounded him.

Roog’s bronze gaze shifted from the north to his side where, standing before him, was a pair of Vallamir and their band spread out down the hill behind them. From Roog’s place high on the hill he seemed most imperious, his seated posture and distant gaze only increasing the perceived majesty of his person. The wolf’s ears slumped slightly, dropping partially to the sides of his head rather than straight up as he had when so utterly focussed on his thoughts. As his eyes passed over them they seemed to quail, all but the two before him who lowered their gazes from him instead but fought hard to remain strong for their pack; [color=slategray][i]admirable qualities[i][/color], mused the wolf.

“The herds, Great-Wolf,” continued the Vallamir, a male with black hair, bronze eyes, and all the other qualities born of Roog’s own blood, “They move from us. Kalmar’s reach does not hold for the hunts slacken in rewards. What should we do?”

Roog stared down at the male with great interest before looking away, once more towards the north with the look upon his face of revelation. It was as if the world itself wanted him to walk that way.

”We will move north, with the herds. Among those great pines between mountains high we shall find a home for your people.”

There came a murmur from the crowd as the advice seemed sound and offered respite from the growing dangers posed by the struggles of survival. Great-Wolf had yet to lead them astray and his Man-Father had proven a bountiful teacher in the arts of survival. Some of this band had been winnowed away by the Lady-of-Rain, though they had been few and far between and had often been lured away with promises of greatness due to their hair of silver or eyes of blue. Other bands had been met already under the protection or tutelage of the Man-Father or Mother-of-Many and had proven friendly in their interactions. Despite these many gods vying for their attention, these bands were followers of Great-Wolf and would follow him to the ends of the earth.

“What of the monsters, Great-Wolf,” came the next question, this time from the female standing to the Male’s side, “What shall we do when they close in? There are some that reek of death, that eat their own kin and rage at nature. Will you guard us all?”

Roog considered her words; wise beyond her years, or lack thereof. He had but three Wargs directly under his sway and it would not be reasonable to simply call all the Wargs to his side to protect these Vallamir. In addition, though his speed was considerable and his strength at arms well beyond any mortal animal he might be faced with in the forests of Kalgrun, he could not be everywhere at once. He would need to find a better alternative before the migration began. His gaze turned back to the pair and then to the crowd, their lowered eyes bringing a sense of displeasure to the wolf. He was not one of the monsters they feared in the depths of the forests nor desired to be an object of divine separation. He was with them not as a god but as a protector and wanted more than anything to be seen as someone to trust rather than a god to be feared and served. His thoughts passed from idea to idea, the flames of his mind licking and biting at new possibilities before one caught light and burst into a conflagration of purpose.

”I will teach you to defend yourselves, to bare tooth and claw and fist as weapons for your people’s protection. As we travel north we will be faced with many challenges and you must face them with your own might. I will aid you everywhere I can, but your people are numerous and I cannot safeguard them all. You must learn to be strong for yourselves, your families, and all your kind.”

There was a murmur that began to roll across the crowd of nearly a hundred in a wave as agreements were asserted. Many had lost new found friends or had seen themselves and others harmed in the struggles against the natural world that had been thrown into. Great-Wolf was known to them as a protector and giver of things but a taker of life in equal measure; surely he would know how best to defend himself and could teach them these skills in bountiful quantities?

”Among you I will need volunteers,” continued Roog, now looking individuals in the eyes as long as they would match his gaze, ”Those who will stand strong for all your people. The Valla will need guardians and you shall serve in my stead where I cannot be. Who among you will take on this heavy burden?”

The crowd seemed to go tense for a long while, gazes drifting away from the wolf or to one another where friendships had begun to blossom. A quiet malaise seemed to fall over them as this new request by Great-Wolf was mulled over; what of this risks to self? They had lived for only a few weeks and now their protector asks for them to put their lives on the line? A hard decision to make, to offer one up as such a sacrifice.

“I volunteer. No one will say Emla hid from nature.”

Roog’s gaze pulled back from the crowd to the woman who stood before him, a light burning in her bronze eyes. Her wolfen ancestry was apparent on all of her features and her body seemed more made for violence than it would ever be for foraging. Defiance was clear to see in her heart, an unwillingness to see another of her kind harmed without action; Roog was suitably impressed.

“Where she goes, so will I. I, Aesc, will learn from you, Great-Wolf.”

As the pair volunteered more began to rise, men and women both. Soon all had risen, unwilling to be cowed by the risks and dangers presented by the world, and the same defiance that burned in Emla was set alight in each and every one of them. They all stood, proudly as the wolf before them, and Roog was now cowed by them. With but a few words from each other there was now unity and determination where before there was fear. The mortals are far beyond us, considered Roog with a hint of animalistic alarm. One day, far from now, the First-Born would be eclipsed by the sons and daughters of these very mortals, of that Roog was sure.

“You will be my chosen, then, my Cenekyn, and you will give your lives for your people if needs be. I warn you, it is not a gift I give you, but a curse; to take life is never a reward and always costs you dearly. Will you take this oath, still?”

For their part not one of the Valla sat down or seemingly showed a hint of reconsideration. Each stood proudly and accepted their path with valorous intent. Roog’s vision did not waver as it passed over each and every one of the Vallamir before him until finally finding Aesc and Emla before him once more. A knowing grunt escaped his from between his teeth before his maw opened and his voice poured forth. As both wolf and man the echoes of his voice rang forth and filled the space with audible power. One by one the band spoke in return, their voices joining Roog in an other-wordly chant in a language they could not possibly understand. Flames from Roog’s hide sparked and hissed and sputtered. The black sparks whispered through the air before finding homes before the foreheads of each of the volunteers, flickering with lightless brilliance as black flame.

The crowd looked to one another or grasped at the flames now that marked them as Cenekyn, eyes wide with fascination and awe. They grasped at the heatless flames, watched them sputter and lick at the air, watched with ever deepening reverence. With renewed adulation they turned back to the Great Wolf that sat before them, his bronze eyes mirrored in many of theirs. Fear still tinged their hearts, an awareness of the vast power before them and the danger it posed, but it was challenged by an ever growing determination that would not be matched.

”You will go to all the bands we have gathered and offer them this same path, this same choice. Those that wish to join the Cenekyn may come and swear the oath as you did, while all others who will join us north to a homeland for your people will be kept safe on the journey. So begins your great journey.”

The host split apart then, members of the band going off in pairs or trios into the many directions where smoke plumes rose in the distance. Though there would be few who would join the Cenekyn without the direct prompting of a god their numbers would no doubt grow, strengthening the Cenekyn and making safe the journey to come. It would be up to Roog to teach them, to arm them, and to make them ready for the struggles to come.

“Aesc, Emla,” called Roog, catching the attention of the pair as they prepared to leave, ”For you I have knowledge; how to make for yourselves hardy spears from ash and sturdy garments of hide and fur. The spears shall be your claws to best the beasts that assail you, while the garments you don shall be your hides, proof from tooth and talon and biting cold. Share these with your people and your people shall thrive.”

---

What wood and brick and granite had not been stacked in huge piles across the burned field had been erected into the base of a temple, a gargantuan pagoda already three storeys tall. The fog clenched around it, pouring through its windows as if afraid of what would happen if it were seen, and even the stream it was built over babbled in relative quiet. Its footprint alone was enough to hold a congregation of ten thousand worshippers, and the ceiling of that lowermost floor alone was dozens of meters high. The unseen feasting-spirits crawled across its roofs and grounds and walls, drawn to the grim magic etched into its every brick.

“So yeah, this is my office,” said Chopstick Eyes, flicking her lighter with little satisfaction.

Vrog, who had been in the middle of a “Sure, was made for lunch”, stopped and opened his mouth wide. Almost immediately, it half-closed into a perplexed scowl. His tongue slid out and wound through the air, following the forms of the wall standing before them at a distance. Another joined it, angling as if to trace around a corner, then another, and a few more. They soon snapped back in, the whole head shaking around them. Chopstick’s hair laced out, guiding the blind tongues to the edge of the temple by touch.

”I’m tasting what you’ve got going here’s not bad,” he scratched the putrid mess between his teeth, “But gut me, I can’t get a feel of something that big.” Hooked fingers picked out a waddle of dust bound together by spittle and flicked it off to follow a chewed seed. “Maybe if I’d got someone who can see-” a scraping of a hand, “Hold on, there’s just the guy. You’ve got a call from him, actually.” No sooner had he finished speaking that something began to stir and stretch inside him, twisting the surface of his armour in misshapen jutting moulds.

Chopstick made a visible “?” noise.

Vrog barely had the time for a final “Wait, not like-” before his mouth was pulled open from inside beyond even its already loose limits. Emerging from his now grotesquely widened throat, four iron-clad clawed hands clutched its edges and pushed out, then down, widening his head in a circle and folding the upper body down under it like a sleeve. In its place, hoisting itself up from somewhere it could not possibly have been earlier, a metallic pillar rose on its evenly spaced arms, surmounted by a visored head.

The featureless jagged block swiveled around, four burning eyes lighting up in recognition. ”Skragh! Good to hear you’ve found a name that rolls out easy. It’s a pain to remember everyone else sometimes.” The head turned to glance up at the temple and bobbed admiringly. ”I see you’ve been busy too.”

For a second, Chopstick grinned almost as wide as Vrog had. “Narzhak! So good to see you again!” Chopstick waited for more words to come out of her, but they didn’t. The grin vanished. She puffed at her cigarette. “I… Yeah, I’ve been busy. Met your guy. The little one. Six arms, bad dentist? She needed a ride.” She scrubbed the back of her wrist with a spare knuckle, looking twitchily at the piles of as-yet-unused brick and the walls they were meant to be building.

”That one? I’d been wondering where it’d gotten to. I should’ve thought of giving it some way of reporting back. It’s useless as a scout now.” The crude armoured torso swayed aside, settling in a more comfortable position over the half-inside-out body. It stopped in place for a moment as a thought hit it. ”Wait, d’you say ‘she’?” Narzhak’s head wavered heavily on its quadruple shoulders. ”Hrm.” He seemed about to add more, but turned back to look at the temple again instead.

“If she cute, she a girl,” said Chopstick. She picked up a ceramic flake and massaged it in her hands, then pitched it far into the air in a blur of violent motion. A second or two later, a distant click as it fell into place on the pagoda. She grunted. “...Tell me straight, Narzhak, did your secretary slip me a roofie? I feel like spit- I mean, like shit- and the tilework ain’t helping.”

The four hands ran along the fleshy circle they held on to, spinning something below it with a faint churning sound. ”I’ll check.” The head’s topmost eyes sank into its mask, molten iron dripping down to seal them from the surface like a curtain. They soon reemerged in a fiery burst, looking as displeased as a pair of embers could. ”It’s some scrap he got from K’nell or someone. I bet he said it’d be funny. Couldn’t tell you how to get it out, but the best idea he’s got-” one of the hands let go of its support and pointed a finger at it, ”-is doing something you like.” The free hand scratched the gap below the visor’s edge. ”He’s all yours when he comes back if you get a mind to something, long as he can at least walk when you’re done.”

“Fucking dreamboat,” said Chopstick Eyes, recognising the taste of the name. She flipped herself fluidly upside down and started doing push-ups with one hand, legs high in the air. “I should manage.” She threw herself upwise, landing somewhere with an imperceptibly better view of imperceptibly better targets, and drew a throwing knife from her hair.

The steel cut a line through the air as straight as a bullet, and embedded itself on a far tree. The unseen blood of an unseen monster rolled down the bark. The gutsplattered earth looked perfectly clean. Chopstick smiled a powerful smile.

“You’re right, it does help,” she said. She flexed an arm as far as it would go and pulled another knife, a scalpel. “Hey Narzhak, what do you think of a little trade?”

”Anytime.” The free hand stretched out towards the struck tree, fingertips lengthening like freakishly fast growths of metallic grass to scrape the ground around its roots. They rasped around like a mole’s paw for some moments and drew back, most of their length folding into invisibility. Narzhak raised the hand to his eyes, inclined his head to something and leaned on it again, pushing down on the stretched mouth. ”What’re you after?”

Chopstick had nipped off to a nearby refuse pile and started rummaging again. Chopstick was a master rummager. “See, Vrog’s… dry… mouth problems can be solved, I think. At least partially. Because, I’ve been working on a very similar problem very recently. And that might not matter to you, since honestly, I have the feeling mouth boy here might have had it coming. But there are a couple things you have that I’d like to trade for! And maybe other services that I can provide.” There was a remarkably large amount of fabric in the pile, for such a rainy place.

Two pairs of shoulders rose and fell in a well-timed double shrug. ”Tell you the truth, I miss having a working mouth to visit. A drink you plug into your throat isn’t the same, you know?”

“Could do something about that,” said Skraghnaphgh. She pulled out a large silk arrangement and hung it out between her arms. Soaked though it was, it was still clearly recognisable: a torn kite, woven with an ornate eye. She handed Narzhak-Vrog the string.

An iron claw took it, the head over it following its thread over to the staring embroidery. Its own eyes dimmed and simmered down to scars of incandescent metal, luridly red like coals from a dead fire. Narzhak held a splayed hand before the kite, waved it slowly from side to side. Then, his hybrid body shuddered and dragged itself out of the kite’s gaze, leaving it to face the temple wall. Its lower half moved in awkward spasming twitches, as though directed from far away with tangled puppet strings; between this and Vrog’s already distorted proportions, it was a miracle that the sauces it still held in a rigidly frozen arm did not spill over.

Liv crooned:

Upon its magic silk festooned,
An oddish kite has odder eyes.
It watches us, like yonder moons,
For gods in distant skies.

After a brief contemplation, the god’s true eyes lit up again with a sudden crackle. ”Easier than sticking more eyes on something. There’s a lot you could do with this. How many’re you offering?”

“I’m afraid these are out of stock,” said Chopstick Eyes, taking the string of the eye-kite for herself just to make sure it was still working. “But you can still get your hands on them. I made them for my staff. They aren’t the sightsiest, see. Or the fightsiest. Which is a problem, but I feel like there’s a win for it in both of us. Scuze-moi...” The godlet nipped off under the shade of the giant pagoda, and emerged dragging a corpse under a tarp. “Here’s one,” she said, and gently lifted the canvas.

The curator lifted its head.

It was immediately clear what use such a being would have for the eye-kite. It bore for a head a large paper lantern, flickering quite wildly in the rainstorm wind. Its left hand was a little brass screw-vice, its right a thin bamboo cane. It tapped the earth around it with clumsy bewilderment. By the sound of the movement underneath its billowing robe, the rest of it was made of wood.

“They’re not waterproof yet. Or very agile. Or smart, or… Yeah. They don’t do much,” said Chopstick. “But they can count! They can count things really well, and remember a lot of stuff. And draw the stuff they remember, and put numbers together. They don’t get tired, either, and nothing hunts them. Except termites. Fucking hate termites.” She looked up. “I made them to keep track of all my stuff. I figure I’ll be able to move materials around much faster with them crunching the numbers. But I figure they’re gonna need some help, uh… Staying alive to take all those notes.” The lantern-headed curator tried to get up, muddying its robes further. Chopstick wrapped it up in the tarp and raised it overhead, jerking her head to the pagoda. “Want to wheel that thing inside? Less wet.”

The two half-bodies totteringly shifted on their uneven feet. ”Tad hard to walk in something this small,” Narzhak rumbled, doing his best to keep his weight even on the center, ”Hold on.”

He pushed the edges of Vrog's mouth closer to his body, leaving his four elbows jutting out far outwards. Their tips swelled as with a sudden tumorous burst under their iron skin, and in seconds the formless bloating resolved itself into one long, thick clawed leg on each arm. Raising himself on his new set of limbs, which stretched well past the crooked asymmetrical paws he had until then been staggering over, Narzhak-Vrog scampered towards the temple's gates like an unusually heavyset spider. No trail of rotting footprints followed him.

”Big, open place,” he mused as he went, whether to Chopstick or himself, ”If they'll be working from here, they're going to need a damn proper lot of watching all day round. Could be almost a thousand, and that's without counting shifts. I can bring that many heads over from my place, but I don't have to tell you what kind of hassle it's going to be.” His eyes shot up to the dizzying top of an arch as he passed under it. ”Else I could fly in a bunch of skestral, that'd be a lot easier on the logistics. They act up sometimes, though, you might've noticed, and can't do a lot about termites either.”

The tangle of god-parts stood, slime-filled underside swaying, as Narzhak scratched his head with an uncomfortably twisted arm. ”Making something new on the spot's not going to be any smoother. Bottom line, the best way is working with what we've already got here. You have any more of your-” he fumbled for a word, ”counters? Countants? What're you calling them, anyway?"

“Lantern heads,” said Chopstick, as they entered the pagoda and the question answered itself. About two hundred man-sized mounds lay on the ground, clothed and unclothed, or in pieces, chalk outlines marking where they were meant to go. Some were awake, and looked dimly up from where they stood or sat tapping their abacus, not fully blind after all. In the center of it all stood a Haze Man: [colour=gray][b]“[].^* !~! *^.[] coffee. .eeffoc”[b][/colour], it intoned.

“And, don’t worry,” said the goddess, tossing a coffee bean at the sentinel. “They won’t need much looking after, especially not here. This place is cursed as fuck. But if you want, they could travel with your little winged dudes, or with the ones that’re like Split, the ones that keep buying stuff from my basement. Then they can lend their kites as much as you want, and their numbers, and their maps. They’re guides, after all. Logistics is the one thing they’re kind of good at.” She shrugged. “But it would be nice if they had, like… a little bit of bite, I guess. Especially if they’re going to hang out with your boys.” Choppy clasped her hands together and looked at Narzhak spikily. “Pretty please? I can put it in a contract for you, if you want~"

”Slagspit, it's hard enough moving in this thing, and you want me to work?” the iron head rumbled, with less than genuine irritation. It looked at Choppy, then at the mannequins, then at Choppy again, and finally gave a wheeze like a rusted pipe in mock defeat. ”...Fine, I'll see what we can do. Never mind contracts, I've got a good memory for things that matter.”

Chopstick swooned. A mass of gloves materialised to hold her up in a dramatic pose.

In a few insectile strides, Narzhak's body was over one of the idle wooden figures. Three legs tremblingly balanced the bulk over them as the fourth picked over the dummy's limbs and lantern. ”Don't lift, don't hit, don't do spit except counting. I can't do much about that, but I don't think I need to…" a long finger reached into the lantern from the hole at the top, ”Going to need some raw scrap here. You got a couple knives you can spare?”

Chopstick Eyes flipped a tatami floorboard, revealing a deep, broad square pit packed to the lip with loose blades. “God provides!”

A second later, the tatami crashed down nearby. Coffee looked at it.

The blindly grasping iron hand slid over it, lifted it to the four eyes, then threw it back away and reached further into the cutting tangle. A first fistful of blades was rubbed into a thick, smooth-edged ingot, from which a few shavings were let drop into the mannequin’s lantern. Something began to scrape from inside the paper globe with the fury of an agitated cricket.

Narzhak ran a sharp finger down the wooden body, and the inner scraping followed it. ”That’s the easy part. These heads better be tougher than they look…"

Chopstick crossed her fingers and hoped Narzhak didn’t notice her glancing away.

By the time he looked up from the last of the rigid-limbed subjects, it was growing dark outside, or at least slightly more gloomy than during the daytime. In the deepening shadows of the pagoda, the bobbing lantern heads became steadily less pale as they came into their primordial role.

The final dummy was flung sitting upright by a light tap on its back, finding itself paper to mask with its improvised surgeon. ”If this doesn’t do them something, I don’t know that anything will.” Narzhak outstretched a waiting hand behind himself. ”But I’d rather be sure while I’m here. Eye?”

A fumbling and skittering around saw Chopstick emerge from the dark with another ornate kite. There were scratches around her knuckles and forearms, and some loose bricks piled up in odd ways on the ground. Having something to do beyond watch staved off the jitters. “Are they going to keep making that shreddy sound?”

”Sometimes. Should help with the termites.” The hand passed the kite from her to the dummy's vice-limb, which closed around the string with mechanical eagerness. ”As for bigger things, they've got this...”

The metallic claw suddenly clenched into a fist and struck at the mannequin's chest with the speed of a trained fighter. However, the wooden shape was no longer there to meet it - sometime between the punch's wind-up and its swing, it had leaned sideways with its usual rigidity, avoiding the blow by a hair's breadth. A swipe with another claw followed, and again the dummy leaned back just in time for the jagged fingers to miss it by the narrowest gap. It made a little hop to the side to evade a downward stomp, and suddenly riposted with its thin cane. Had Narzhak's eye not closed with godlike promptness, the bamboo tip would have stabbed it dead in the middle.

”Looks like they've learned to count the right things. If you know when to move and where to hit, you can get by even if you're slow as wood." He took a few steps backwards and rubbed his hidden throat. ”Wish I had a head like that if it wasn't paper. So, for all this, I'll just take the indefinite right to-” he rattled ahead as if through a speech he had been preparing in his mind, ”requisition the services of one or several of them, myself or through representatives, free of charge or for a token fee determined by the duration, until-” he scratched the back of his head, ”further notice. And something about the mouth here. Sounds good?” After a moment's reflection, he added ”Did I get those right?”

“Free of charge up to an amount totalling half their current number, the exact individuals making that number subject to reassignment by me or a representative to ensure that this facility remains manned during their excursion, until such time as a number of lantern heads equal to half their current number have perished, entered stasis, deserted, or otherwise become incapable of adequately performing the duties of their order in the course of their service to you; and on further condition that their services do not include aiding, abetting or perpetrating the destruction, desecration, or otherwise malevolent handling of any property or persons employed by Chopstick-Eyed™ enterprises, without prior permission from said enterprises...”

As she spoke, Chopstick scraped the now-much-emptier pit for spare knives, pulled out a dozen or so and spun them with lazy grace at the lantern head, whose grounded kite had numbered the angle and force of her motion in arcseconds and micronewtons, and dutifully calculated that it could stop nearly every knife by dropping its limbs and falling, puppet-like, into a bundle of wooden limbs on the temple floor, its elbow neatly folded over the better part of its head. After a few seconds it stood, rather shakily, picking razors off its arms without complaint (though perhaps a little indignation).

“...So don’t kill them too quickly, use them against me, or take them all at once, and we’re golden!” Chopstick collected a large scalpel from the lantern head, and touched the back of its blade with her finger, then looked up and stuck her tongue out. “You did good! Pretty cheeky, actually. Don’t worry about the mouth thing. I should be able to sort that out quite easily. You’ll just have to have this body sit still-ish for a little while, and... make sure Vrog’s not looking too hard.” Grin. “I ain’t gonna hurt him. Just gonna leave him a fun little surprise.”

It took Narzhak a few more seconds to scratch himself into focus and rearrange his eyes, which had drifted a little apart under the barrage of terms and conditions. ”We’ve got it, then,” he nodded, curling up the fingers on his legs and letting them slide apart until the joined body rested on its original, lopsided limbs. The elbow-arms continued to smoothly travel up despite having no more length of floor to go over, rising and folding back into blank metallic joints. Left to its own devices, the body tottered on Vrog’s misshapen feet, and only stood precariously still after some careful pushing from the top.

”I’ll leave it for him to find,” one of the fiery eyes gave an oblique wink, ”give you some room to go wild if you feel like it. You’ve got a big margin before he starts feeling anything.” The original four arms stretched the mouth a little wider as the god's pillar-like body began to descend with a loud scraping. It slowed down a fourth of the way in, trying to crawl back less loudly.

”Been good seeing you, Skragh,” the head sank by three short tugs, ”You need anything else, give me a shout. Just make it loud enough that I hear it from down over.” Two longer ones. ”And if you're ever going by the place, it's always open.” One long grinding pull, and it disappeared into the maw. The arms followed suit, with only the barest hint of nail-sharp fingertips glinting over its edge. ”When you're done, just push the hands in, should wake him up. Get you around!”

Chopstick saluted the descent of the warlord. Coffee waited to be sure that the foreign god was gone, then turned to its master, who was spinning the scalpel. “So long, big guy,” the goddess murmured. Then she looked back at the Vrog-body, and grinned.

The firelight glinted on the scalpel.

---

A bag full of fluid hung on a device like a coat rack, thin tubes running down from it and into Chopstick’s upper arm and spine. Gravity fed the elixir into her flesh through a valve.

She wore a black strip of thick, discarded fabric tightly wrapped over her mouth, the rough wool disguising how much she had bled into it. Later on she would finish the job more neatly, tidy up the loose ends and make sure she could still live her desired aesthetic, but the operation had proven complicated and for all Narzhak’s assurances she wasn’t sure Vrog wasn’t still in there somewhere, waiting to stir awake and pounce.

She wanted to have the satisfaction of being first.

Before her lay two wire frames on a craftsman’s desk. One was fixed into a plain yet stylish wooden treasure chest, albeit circular, lockless, and opening via a brass pedal, giving the impression of an abnormally classy garbage can. The other lay loose. In the former lay a flattened hunk of flesh only moving because its divinity superseded its rancid nature; in the latter, a rather nicer bag of teeth, more human and morphous. It was stitched up heavily at one corner.

“Alright...” Chopstick picked up the loose mouth that so resembled her own, placed it on a platter and ferried it carefully over to Vrog’s still silent frame, a spare arm carrying her fluid bags. Vrog’s churning visage had already regrown most of the prototypes she had cut out of him. She couldn’t tell if the biggest wound was still open because his stasis delayed the process, or because his left-hand mouth had been somewhat more permanent than the rest of his features. She didn’t care either.

She re-opened the scar and brought the smaller mouth closer.

“...”

Chopstick sniffed the air. No, same stench, as always. Nothing to make her feel queasy.

“...?”

The wave of nausea came again.

“Fuck’s sake...”

Pushing through the gut-deep repulsion and vaguely glad it had not shown itself sooner, Chopstick pushed the donor mouth onto Vrog’s meat and-

“...!”

Energy burst over her like a slimy bubble, drenching her brain in a filthy intoxication. Chopstick recoiled, ripping the mouth back with her and hacking, coughing her stitches open under her mask. Coffee was by her side in a twang of coiled metal, dragging her away. She scrabbled on the ground for the mouth.

“...!!”

A shred of meat had come away with the mouth and was squirming, roiling on the ground with wretched, pitiful life. Chopsticks’ eyes clustered on it. In a sleek instant, Coffee’s foot appeared in its place, and the abortion was stamped into a smudge.

Chopstick looked towards Coffee, who looked back with cold, hard light. She looked back to the stain. She coughed. Blood started to soak into her sticks. Her lanternheads noted this well.

“/}-_*+ +*_-{\”

“...Shut up,” rasped Chopstick Eyes, who could not understand. “Get out.” Coffee dissolved into powder and shade. She stayed there on the ground, kneeling in the lantern-light, comprehending slowly what had just been done. “...Fuck. Fuck. Shit.”

Work. That might help.

In little more than a few busy minutes, the bag’s fluids had drained a little lower, and Vrog’s new mouth had been welded into the chassis of a large pocket-watch, its shiny brass guts lying in neat piles on the workbench. A fresh wound had appeared in Vrog’s face, the meat lining the bottom of the pocket-watch, upon which rested Chopstick’s own.

She poured some rat poison down the disembodied maw. Vrog’s surface gave a half-hearted squirm. Good enough.

Chopstick flicked Narzhak’s fingers back down Vrog’s throat one by one, and when the last one was gone, she cleared her throat (it didn’t help) and said, “Wakey wakey~ you’re a cunt~”

A faint gurgling rose from deep below the many presumably convergent mouths on the fluid semblance of a face. Slowly, it articulated itself into a groggy ”Are too” without any of the roughly imitated lips having budged. Only after some more incoherent rumbling did the mouths start to move, one after another, in no particular sequence and without any more of a purpose.

Vrog's frame shuddered once, twice, then stretched itself with several cracks and a manifold yawn. The hands froze in midair as they remembered they might have been holding something when last conscious, then gave a wave and finished their ostentatious movement.

”Guts' sake, I hate it when he does-” the mouth spitting out his greeting to the world stopped when it realised it was not the right one. His hands shot up to his head, feeling their way over what passed for his face. They slowed in wonderment as they rounded the edges of the unfamiliar gaping hole they found, then jumped down over his stomach.

”Sure as spit this one didn't use to be here,” a tongue emerged from the wound and licked its edges, which were already sprouting the tips of a ring of teeth. ”And I'm gutted or I tasted something inside as it's supposed to. That you been doing it?”

Chopstick scraped up the copper gears in her hands and threw them down the pocket-mouth, followed by a bloody rag. She uncorked the rat poison and held that over the mouth, not pouring, looking at Vrog with eyebrow raised.

He made a few more scraping passes with his hooked fingers over his belly, which seemed to have slightly swollen since he had entered the temple, though it might just have been a trick of the failing light. A flickering tongue briefly smelled the liquid, and a claw gave the goddess a thumbs-up.

She exhaled, eyesticks flicking up briefly, and tilted the bottle. After a second, she started to shake it, liquid splashing onto and into the watch in messy spatters. “You weren’t supposed to enjoy that, but whatever, spit-head.”

“Hey, who you calling that?” Speaking through one mouth was not hindering Vrog from licking the rims of the others in delight. “I bust my gut letting you talk to your pal down there, and that's what I get?” For all the plaintiveness of his words, his slurping let on that he was enjoying himself a great deal. “Good stuff you got, though. You want something I hate, try sweet next time, can't stand it.”

Chopstick unhooked her intravenous drip bag from the stand, pulled down her mask, and bit through the master tube, shoving the sac of glitter-brilliant ichor down the watch. The left side of her mouth was bad stitches and skin grafts, stuck to the fabric by dry blood. The right side twitched. “Why the fuck did you feed me that pod, you dingus?”

“Fed you what, scraphead?” The filthily-armoured abdomen was now clearly swelling, stretching the links between the plates covering it. While nowhere as ostentatiously heavy as it had been before its first explosion, it was steadily making its way towards an air of unhealthy gluttony. “I said it'd be fun if somebody ate it. You going to blame me when you stick a nail in your ass next?”

“Watching people shove nails in their ass isn’t fun!” The sac caught on one of the watch-portal’s teeth and split open, disgorging its sugary nutrients. The god with the chopstick eyes, it seemed, preferred her fluid replacement flavoured with candy floss and unicorn semen. “I don’t even have an ass!”

“And you'll never get one with this kinda thinking!” Vrog jabbed a recurve finger at her, “Things getting shoved into people are hilariouuuUURGHHH!”

He doubled over, retching, as the taste finally hit him. Something inside him churned and gargled as it tried to vomit the offending flavour, but found nothing concrete to push out. “Scumspit, you're fast, me and my big mouaAAGHLL!” A glob of some indescribable, eye-wateringly foul rejection was disgorged on the floor at his feet with a crash. A nearby lantern head clutched its chest as if to say, ‘good heavens’.

“EKHAAGH! I swear this is the spittest I've ever-” the rest of the sentence was lost in a strangled cacophony of nausea, “-gutface, got to hand it to you, nobody's ever done made me that slagged while I'm whole. You're near the worst.”

“Well don’t dish it up if you can’t take it, then!” Chopstick tried to derive pleasure from the decommissioning of her floormats, but wasn’t cruel enough. “See, now we’re even.” She drummed her fingers on the surface of the desk, then sprayed some industrial lubricant into the disembodied mouth to help wash the liquid down. “And at least you know this thing kind of works.”

“Sorta.” Vrog's tongue swept up the drips of vile spittle that rounded his still twitching mouths and distributed them on a shoulder like a hand of paint. “Think I'll let things settle before I give it a bigger try, though. You'd think I got diabwhatsitname with how I take to sweet spit.”

“Weirdo.”

He flipped a hand, hefting the rusted bong in its palm. A thin thread of steam was still somehow coming out of it. “Going to lie it out if you're done demonstrating. What's something strong you put in here?”

Chopstick finished tying a knot in her leaking intravenous tube and said, “Deep in the Bazaar, there’s a crystal that gives off magic vapours if you take a light to it. If you breathe it you become invulnerable to pain for hours, and also kind of really horny. I tried some and spent the next four days locked in a small box yanking out my own teeth. I’m not gonna sell it to you because I don’t want you to punch a hole in my pagoda.” She sighed. “But there’s tobacco in the yellow box. Hey, Vrog, before you make off with this-” she nudged the watch. “-I, uh, there was an accident while I was making it. There was...” Tap tap of a bare foot. “...I don’t think you should touch it. At least not while I’m touching it too. Probably not at all if you can help it. It’s really… Not stable. It’s got both our blood worked into it, and the two don’t sit together well. There’s some bad magical shit going on there.” She snapped it shut and palmed it off to the moderately-carved-up lantern head. “These guys probably aren’t strong enough to make it explode. We gods, we have to be careful.”

The bile-spattered shoulders that had been rolling in a gelatinous shrug stopped short at the mention of explosions. After holding up for a moment during which the head between them evidently reflected on what to do with them, they and the whole upper body slumped down in what would have been a nod for someone with a neck. “Cause if we wasn’t, we’d be the ones with nails in our asses, got it.” A long iron finger ran a line around a mouth. “But if I poked it and threw it at somebody? Akh, nah,” the whole hand gave a wave, ”Not worth a good mouth.”

“Yeah… Don’t,” she said, scratching the back of her neck.

Heavy, uneven metal-soled steps clanged and thumped their way to the gate. “So I’ll be starting with that deal you got up.” The finger snapped in the lantern-light for the bearer of the mouthed watch to follow. “Gotta figure something better when I’m travelling, but it’ll do now. I’ll be around the food-hole.”

Clang-ka-thump, clang-ka-thump-crack. Vrog’s limping moved outside down the path.

“It’s all yours. Enjoy,” Chopstick looked at the mats. “Nice meeting you.”

“Same.” The steps stopped, and another snap beckoned the lantern-head to follow. The dummy hobbled into the darkness without visible enthusiasm. “Smell you around.”

The clanking faded into the forest.

Chopstick scratched at her arms where the plastic tube entered the skin. She fiddled with it, and looked into the dark corners of the pagoda.

She picked up another brick.

---

It had been a decent amount of time, the day had not turned but Heliopolis had moved significantly since they had arrived over Kalgrun. A great deal of the excitement had died down among the Nebulites after it simply became a view of trees passing below rather than the waters of an ocean, although occasionally something was spotted moving in the skies with them, they usually past by and at large distant so it was hard to tell what these occasional creatures may have been. The keep was moving rather rapidly across the sky as Ohannakeloi wanted to get a general survey of the landscape before going to anything particularly of interest. He could see that there was generally a fairly good diversity of life here, which has its own uses, but he had yet to see anything of grand interest, or at least anything that would be cause enough to stop.

“Solun, have they finished moving the pots into the lower storage areas I showed them?”

“I do not know Divine Ohannakeloi. I shall go check for you, I have not heard from them.”

The Nebulite nodded and left descending the tower to the lower regions of the keep. Ohannakeloi was quite confident that they were not and in fact likely slacking, but that did not bother him, their company was more pleasant to have around rather than a necessity of comfort. If he truly needed work done it was easier to do it himself, he could easily move the pots but they were quite entertaining and unfortunately grew bored easily. He would have to figure out something more than their base capabilities to keep them occupied.

A distant screech was heard, and a dark shape appeared over the horizon. With the sun directly behind it, none save Ohannekeloi would be able to make it out; but it was a griffin. An unusually massive griffin, comparable in size to his tower, and coated in black feathers.

And it was heading straight for him.

He was unconcerned. “Hello there, may I have your name so that I may greet you in better fashion?” Ohannakeloi spoke, ensuring his words carried the distance to the great beast.

The creature did not respond, instead continuing on its direct course toward the flying tower. Then, as it came within a few hundred metres, it made a sudden turn, and begin to fly circles around the stone structure. It did not appear to have hostile intentions - at least not yet.

“Curious perhaps? Or evaluating whether I threaten your territory? I cannot guess well at your thoughts, you seem peaceable enough.” As Ohannakeloi mused to the large Griffin, Nebulites came out of the depths of the keep to gawk, others stayed back in the doorways, not wanting to leave the comfort of the stone structure. Ohannakeloi was amused mostly with the great beast, it had an interesting design to say the least, it was clear enough what deity had made this creature, he had yet to come upon a deity which had even tried to hide the traces of their divine essences, especially in the greater creations.

“I assure you I mean to cause no true harm.”

With no further reaction from the creature, and no otherwise disruption in their course the flying keep continued on its way with a new companion. The Nebulites grew a little more bold as time went on, getting up the keep’s walls and the inner court and ramp. Eventually Solun returned to report, after it was clear enough that nothing further seems like it would happen as the griffin was content to circle.

“Divine Ohannakeloi, they had not finished but were in the process when I had left them. Do you know what the creature wants?”

“No, I am not overly concerned either, it has made little move other than to stay with us since it has come upon the Ihomakwoi.”

Solun did not reply, instead keeping a steady tracking of the creature as it circled the keep. Ohannakeloi went back to examining the terrain below, the griffin evidently uninterested in replying or addled enough to lack the ability to comprehend. The forests began to give away to grasslands, it gave a less obstructed view and once again the Nebulites had some interest in looking at the new lands below them. In distance Ohannakeloi spotted something of interest, some rather tall and lanky forms moving in the grass, possibly bipedal although he wouldn't want to make that call at the great distance, obscured by too much by vegetation. The path of the flying keep turned slightly more in that direction.

”Stop where you are,” a deep voice suddenly commanded within the minds of all those on board the fortress, Ohannakeloi included.

Most of the Nebulites froze as Ohannakeloi sent back, “Does that include the motion of the keep or is that meant in a personal sense of motion in reference?”

”The Keep,” the voice answered immediately.

“Oh well, that is easy enough.” Ihomakwoi began to slow as Ohannakeloi continued, “Although I can guess, may I have a name to go along with the demands?”

For some time there was no answer, and then Ohannakeloi would become aware of a godly presence, rising from below. ”Kalmar,” the God of the Hunt said, suddenly coming into view in front of the God of Stone himself.

“Hello Kalmar, it is good to see you again, and excellent to have a proper opportunity to converse. I heard that you had this land Kalgrun as a dominion of yours, it has a remarkable degree of diversity of life in a relatively small area with few barriers. I would assume that the one that has been following me, which is obviously of your essence, is one of your creations, a servant or guard perhaps?”

Kalmar nodded. ”A guard is exactly what it is. Its task is to notify me of strange occurrences or potential threats, and stop them if it is able. Tell me: what brings you here?”

“A survey, to be precise, I am looking for such life or other things such as ideas I might bring back to Atokhekwoi to further enrich those lands with the wise and great creations of our fellow Divine beings.” Ohannakeloi snapped his claws before continuing. “How are you doing? I have not seen you since the Architect’s Palace and we took no chance to talk then.”

”I am well,” Kalmar said with a nod. ”I raised this land from the sea long ago, and have been tending to it since. What sort of ideas are you looking for?”

Ohannakeloi waved his claw as he responded, “Oh nothing in particular, just seeing what others have done and if such actions or plans could be of benefit to me and my creations. What have you been up to? I have heard a little from our fellows but not in great detail about your land here, it does seem you have developed it quite nicely.”

”Most of the plantlife was created by some other god,” Kalmar revealed, ”I do not know who. As to what I have been up to, I spent much of my time building up connections and alliances against the more destructive gods out there. And recently I worked with some others to create a species of intelligent mortals,” he waved a hand to indicate the small shapes on the ground, who stared up at the stone fortress with mixtures of wonder, curiosity, and fear.

“That is good, another mortal race of soft skinned bipeds it seems, common enough among the gods that it seems to be fairly popular in the creations. You can see Solun here,” Ohannakeloi gestured to Solun standing a little ways away from the deities, “is of the Nebulite race. A design of Orvus as you can probably tell, I helped him make them as it seemed awfully important to him and I have my uses for them. What do you call these ones?” Ohannakeloi continued to peer down at the figures below.

”The Vallamir,” Kalmar said, his mouth shifting into a frown as he studied Solun. ”What can you tell me of Orvus? I keep hearing conflicting accounts: some say he changed, but only recently I heard he tried to decay the souls in Azura’s vault.”

“A decent enough name for them.” Ohannakeloi turned to Kalmar once more. “As for Orvus, changed I cannot say, I did not truly know him before. I had heard some whispers of danger but he seems mostly content to live with the Nebulites, particularly a little family he has down south. In any case, I would doubt he would do much trouble now should everything remain fairly fine down there. It is troubling to hear of such things of that Soul vault, do you know if the attempt did much damage to the souls there?”

Kalmar shook his head. ”Azura only allowed me limited access. Still, he made the attempt, and he once told me himself that he intended to decay all the souls in existence. People keep telling me he changed, but this recent act cannot be ignored - it could just be that he has become more subtle.”

“It truly does not sound like the being I have met but perhaps it is so, I cannot say myself, I cannot even verify that such events have occurred. I would doubt he plans much the same given to decay all souls would include his wife and children. However it may be, I do not have reason to act at this time. Did you have many plans for these Vallamir? From what I’ve seen of your Kalgrun I am not so sure they are greatly adapted to survival here.”

”They will survive here,” Kalmar said with a nod. ”Why do you ask?”

“Well, I may have a use for some of them if it wasn’t too inconveniencing your own self. I figure a deal of them may want what I could offer in transport to other lands or service in proper exchange for care among such things.” Ohannakeloi snapped his claws in emphasis.

Kalmar looked back down at his creations, and then nodded slowly. ”Some can go with you, yes, but only if they are willing.”

“I feel I will be able to find a good number willing enough, perfectly fine by me and I don’t think I would want the unwilling in any case.” Ohannakeloi lowered his claws to the ground as he continued, “Would you care to stay for a little while? I expect finding and speaking to these Vallamir will not be an especially short task so there is plenty of time if you wish to rest a while.”

Again, Kalmar nodded, floating forward then down to land next to Ohannakeloi. His eyes quickly scanned the crab’s body. ”A unique form,” he noted. ”Sturdy, strong, and stable, but it’s harder to carry things, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it would be, but I scarcely need to use my claws to carry things as we are gods. If I need to carry it better I use my own ability and not mishape my form to accommodate such a need. Will you have wine? I received some as a gift and have it in a great quantity.”

Kalmar raised an eyebrow. ”I will,” he said after a moment. ”You received it from Shengshi, I assume?”

“Yes I did.” Ohannakeloi turned to Solun, “If you could have some of the others bring one of the pots to the open court, I can handle the rest. Oh and go prepare a number of simple things to eat from the kitchens, shouldn’t want any that may join us to go hungry.”

“Yes Divine Ohannakeloi.” Solun turned and bowed to Kalmar, “Divine Kalmar.” Solun turned and began heading down into the tower.

”Your meeting with Shengshi - how did it go?” Kalmar questioned.

“It went beyond well, he was a most equitable host. He did speak somewhat honestly about the relationship between the both of you, of which I am sure you are plainly aware. I will say he did not try to dissuade me from visiting your land here, he has his distastes but he was most fair in his speech.” As he spoke the keep began to move slowly once more, currently down closer to the group of Vallamir below.

”Hmph, I can’t honestly say that I understand him,” Kalmar said. ”I came to help him against a threat, but due to a perceived insult he threatened to kill my creations and broke an agreement. That isn’t what you came to talk about, though, so…” he shifted his gaze down to the moving figures below. ”I created the Vallamir recently. You might have heard it - it was loud. I did so with the aid of Roog - a lesser god created by Katharsos and I - as well as Arae and Li’Kalla. I don’t know how much you know about what happened to Li’Kalla, but it seems she has recovered from it - at the cost of much of her memory.”

“On Li’Kalla I know very little, I was told that she was a sweet girl but that something had happened, didn’t inquire too deeply at the time. I am glad to know she has made a recovery although the memory is of course a shame. I should quite like to meet this Roog, always good to meet new people, in more than one meaning for new I should suppose.” Ohannakeloi paused as the keep stopped above the ground a fairly short distance away from the Vallamir group on the ground. “If you would excuse me a moment.”

Ohannakeloi lept from the walls of the high tower down to the surface of Galbar below, he caught himself with a small pillar of stone that he stood upon in front of the group of Vallamir. “Vallamir of Kalgrun, I, Ohannakeloi God of Stone, have come to offer you deal. I offer a living space, food, my protection, and a chance to live in other lands, in exchange for your simple worship. Should you refuse no harm shall come to you besides that which would naturally befall you. What do you say, will you come along with me?”

Unfortunately, most of them were already fleeing, clearly terrified at the sudden appearance of a stone pillar and an unknown creature. Some had left before Ohannakeloi had even begun speaking. They scattered in all directions, trying to put as much distance between them and the crab as possible.

Still, a few remained, at first frozen in fear, and then began to fall to their knees or bow. Still, none spoke.

”That could have gone better,” Kalmar remarked as he floated down next to Ohannakeloi. ”Vallamir, I am Kalmar: God of the Hunt, and your creator. Ohannakeloi does not intend you harm. The offer is a simple one: follow him, or remain here.”

The ‘Mir exchanged glances with one another, and whispered amongst themselves, until one stood up. “I will go,” he said, and three more rose along with him, nodding their agreement.

“Excellent!” Ohannakeloi climbed onto the side of the pillar as it fell towards the keep, the stone grew becoming a ramp up. “You can follow it up into the keep, there will be others different from you who will give you food and show you where you can stay and sleep or any other thing you may like.”

Ohannakeloi took his own ramp up, claiming a pot of wine from a few Nebulites and ascending along the side of his tower as others waited for the Vallamir.

As the Vallamir ascended the ramp, Kalmar followed Ohannakeloi. ”Is that enough, or do you intend to ask more?”

“Far more in all likelihood, I may need to adjust my approach somewhat.” Ohannakeloi set down the pot on top of the tower, opening it and creating two stone cups, one handed to Kalmar. “A drink before we set off to another location?”

Kalmar nodded, accepted the cup, and drank.

---

It did not take long to amass a great number of the Vallamir, the mobility of the keep, and the refinement that came with many many attempts and pitches soon increased the number of each group that wished to join the population of the keep. The abilities of Ohannakeloi and the insight that came from having one of the creator gods around allowed for a good deal of successful pitches, although not all were. Soon the Vallamir outnumbered the Nebulites, not by much a hundred or two more in number, Ohannakeloi turned to Kalmar as the last Vallamir stepped onto the keep from a stone ramp.

“I believe that may be quite enough for me, a great deal more and I might have trouble housing them without a good deal of inconvenience.”

Kalmar nodded. ”Is that all you wish to discuss?”

“No actually there is one more thing I wanted to bring up.” Ohannakeloi paused, collecting his thoughts. “Do you know of any creatures of your land that might have some good properties or abilities that could be used well to some mortal benefit?”

”Shouldn’t these creatures use their abilities to their own benefit?” Kalmar questioned.

“Well of course that goes without saying, however every creature tries to use others to their own benefit, if it was otherwise then no being would try to eat another. I was curious for any creatures that may have some exceptional abilities or attributes that could be used from them, I did mention my desire to enrich Atokhekwoi before.”

Kalmar took a moment to think. ”The griffins and direwolves here are large enough for a Vallamir to ride,” he suggested. ”But getting the creatures to obey will be difficult. Let’s see… Phystene also created large beasts called vitasaurs - they have an aura with repairs plants and quickens their growth, but you’ll need something bigger to take them with you. Other than that, no. Taking too many creatures might upset the balance I have here.”

Ohannakeloi replied, “Griffins and direwolves, could make some use of them at a later point, perhaps a derivation to make them more agreeable for that purpose. I am most interested in these vitasaurs, I shall have to come back for a breeding number at some point when I can better accommodate them. Well I don’t think I shall take any at this time but I shall keep it in mind. I think I may spend some more time back on Atokhekwoi before continuing my survey of the continents.”

”Very well then. I suppose we’ll meet again?”

“Indeed I think we will, at least I hope we do. Farewell Brother.”

Orb’s house was three stories tall. Its simple cube shape was formed from large grey stones abrasively hewn into cubes themselves and placed almost seamlessly against each other with interlocking sides, fitting together like a puzzle. The surfaces of each stone was carved into, so as to depict various scenes and landscapes. Once again great desert structures were shown, with shadowy figures lording over impressive canals and world dividing dams. As an eye would follow the scenes, they’d eventually find the starry sky again, and further down was a jungle, the jungle of Nebulan. A lone figure that matched the nondescript ones of before stood atop of a ziggurat and pointed to the sky.

With a gloved hand, Orb placed their palm flat on the grotesque and stood in silence. The wooden gutter that Orb had added to the house was ripped down, and the porch Orvus helped add was removed -- it was all stone, now. Funny little grooves were present in some of the stone blocks, where an impressed slide of wood on the interior could be slid on and off, letting in streams of light or blocking out rain. The door was a similar mechanism, but instead of wood, it was a heavy stone slab that fit into a slider with grooves.

To many this looked like a finished project, but to Orb, it looked like the center room for their ziggurat complex to come. And that was just the beginning...

Orb looked over their shoulder (a knitting of twine holding their cloak closed) and towards Orvus’ house. Orb had decided that they will shadow Rowan as well as Orvus, to both learn the problems and inefficiencies as well as to witness Orvus’ divine powers as much as possible -- something told Orb that perhaps even such an unusual material as divine powers had a groove or two to attach a mechanism onto.

But that wasn’t all. Orb sucked in a breath and flickered their eyes to the sky, they had seen things flying, they had flown, even if against their will. It was about time Orb also tapped into the sky as a possible resource as well. There was so much to do.

Orb let their hand fall from the grotesque and slanted a smile, hidden behind their mask: they were going to need to find helpers. Thinking back to Arya’s concerned words, Orb knew that a lot of the nebulites have been restoring their energy and relaxing by the large tree where they fertilized each other -- perhaps that was a good place to start.

With a hopping run, Orb cut away from the stone cube and headed towards the fertility tree.

---

As it would turn out, one crucial detail was missing from Orb’s understanding of the tree -- it was on a different island. It took Orb the rest of the day to fix the problem, but eventually they managed to create a sturdy raised raft as well as a hand cranked paddle wheel and rudder -- plus gathered some pouches of fresh water (just in case). After that it was a simple task of following those who flew back and forth between the islands and attempting to keep their cloak dry (which was a failure).

It took quite some time, but eventually the jungle shores of the next island over came into view, and just in time -- a heavy rumble was forming in Orb’s stomach, and salt was in their ears. It was pure joy to Orb when they heard the sound of their wooden vessel scrape against the grains of the beach.

Crawling away from their craft, Orb laughed with relief, their clothes soaked clean through. Plopping onto the sands, they drained their last remaining pouch of water and wiped a salty arm over their lips. Slapping the mask back into place, they stood up and turned inland -- they have arrived.

Pushing through an increasingly dense jungle, Orb couldn't help but want to ditch their cloak now and again. Branches scraped across their mask and snagged at their clothes. Tropical birds called above, almost in a mocking laugh. Orb sneered and just as the thickets were almost too much, they feel forward with a thump.

Landing in a sudden clearing, Orb was struck with a sudden contrast to the lonely wilds -- a nestle of nebulites socializing around a large tree. Many were performing shameful deeds that Orb would have been fine with never seeing, while others were munching on fruits. Orbs stomach twisted with hunger as they scrambled back to their feet and puffed themselves up.

A fiery haired nebulite laughed heartily in mirth, her eyes wandering the glade before they fell upon Orb. She stared for a moment, then whispered something into the ear of her friend. The blue haired nebulite then turned to look at Orb as well before he said something aloud and pointed. Then all eyes were upon Orb in that particular group. Then one of them said something in a hushed whisper and all of them began to laugh. The fiery headed nebulite then beckoned for Orb to come over, while hiding a smile behind her other hand.

Tugging their wet cloak into place, Orb walked forward, a wave of stares accumulating as they approached.

The nebulites were relaxed as Orb approached, in fact most of them looked like they had not a care in the world. The one who had beckoned dropped her hand and eyed the cloaked figure before her with curiosity.

"So you're the one God created. Orb right? We were wondering if you'd find your way here." The flame girl smiled warmly as the others nodded, if a little absentmindedly.

“I am Orb, yes,” Orb said in a thick raspy accent, “What’s your designation?”

"You can call me Cassie. Welcome to the Tree. What brings you here?" She asked.

“Hello, Cassie,” Orb said enthusiastically, “I require help.”

She narrowed her eyes and the others began whispering to each other. "Help? With what?"

“I’ll show you!” Orb pushed a breath behind their mask. Using the heel of their foot, they quickly began to draw in the dry forest soil. After several long drags, and many tedious details all done with the heel of a boot, Orb presented a skyscape of a marvelous city of stone. Ziggurats stood in pattern with moving dams and other great wonders. There even seemed to be things in the sky amid many dimples that one could only assume was the cosmic night sky. With a pant, Orb presented the dirt drawing, “I need help building this. I heard that a good amount of nebulites liked to fornicate under this tree, so I figured I would be able to find an equally good amount of help here.”

All eyes fell upon the drawing and many made a curious expression at the level of intricacies that the dirt expressed. One by one the nebulites looked at Orb with hidden expressions, with one dark haired one keeping his eyes on the design. Cassie in the meantime stood up and with a hand held to her chin, she placed around the design. The nebulite woman then said, "You came to the wrong place to find help I'm afraid, but this picture is something. I think Polyastera would like to meet you. Aster, go and fetch her."

There was a quiet grumbling as the nebulite known as Aster got up and flew off.

“I know it looks small,” Orb defended, “But it’s only the start, trust me.”

Cassie sat back down and wrapped an arm around the nebulite male she sat next too. A smile crossed his lips. "Of course. You seem like you know your stuff."

“Of course I do,” Orb insisted with a rasp, “I even helped design your progenitors.”

Cassie leaned back. "You helped design Arya and Laurien?"

“Not the original models,” Orb surrendered, “But your blueprints went through a flurry of inspirations and detail changes before they were decided upon. It is almost reflected in your reproductive systems.” Orb buzzed a small chuckle, “If only I could have kept my blueprints, I’m sure I had plenty of interesting things stored away.”

"How odd." Cassie said before being prodded in the side by her friend. She looked at him unamused but nodded. She looked back at Orb. "Forgive me for asking but many of us were wondering, what is your gender?"

Orb’s rambling suddenly halted as their mask went silent. Two twinkling eyes blinked at Cassie, clearly caught off guard, they said something in runic before switching into their heavy accent, “Does it matter?”

"I suppose not. You're just so… hidden." She said with a sly smile.

A white haired male then said, "And the mask, so different. Why not let yourself be free?"

“It- it’s better this way,” Orb insisted, “I can freely interact with you all despite the mask or my gender.”

Some mumbling came from around a particularly tall set of roots, and it slowly grew more and more intelligible as its producers approached. As Aster rounded the corner hand in hand with a light pink, shining white-haired lady, the lady spoke, "So this person is a builder of sorts?" Her eyes quickly locked onto Orb before Aster even could make a reply. Her smile broadened and the lady skipped over and curtsied before the masked figure. "Ah, hello! You must be the dear Orb I have heard… Some about! It's a pleasure to meet you - I am Polyastera."

Orb seemed glad to leave the previous topic and jump into the new one. With a gladdened voice, Orb turned from the man and straight at Polyastera, "Hello, Polyastera. Cassie says I may have the wrong place, but I'm hoping I don't."

"Thaaaaaat would depend on your purpose, I suppose! What exactly do you have in mind--oooh! A model!" Polyastera peered in a marveling manner at the small ziggurats. "That is bee-yutiful. Where did you get the inspiration for this?"

“Visions,” Orb answered with a rasp, “It’s just the beginning of a series too. Imagine bigger and better things, feats of ingenuity that would stand immortal and pay testament to its great creators. Structures with function that levy even better structures, easing the act of future creation. Absolute efficiency.” Orb beamed over their intricate dirt drawing, “By the time we are close enough to think we are done,” Orb’s eyes were looking past Polyastera now, “We will have moved oceans, restructured mountains and built in the skies themselves, but then we will keep going beyond that and some day all of that will seem as tedious as me drawing this blueprint.”

“Immortal?” The dark haired nebulite finally spoke, eyes wide.

“Immortal.” Orb nodded enthusiastically, “All I require is sufficient aid.”

Polyastera stared far past Orb as if the two were having a conversation continents apart. A stupidly excited smile spread across her lips and she whispered the words, "Immortal structures… Dedicated to me." She shoved an open hand into the air between her and Orb. "You are coming with us when we leave for our life of luxury! Become my new world's architect and I will let you realise as many of these projects as you want!" She looked livid with joy, nearly to the point where her chest would start to smoke from excessively quick heart beats.

Orb blinked at the hand, “You will let me.” Their thick accent betrayed surprise as well as a certain disappointment, “I no longer exist as an object to be possessed. I have surpassed an inanimate existence and now persist as an independent copy of a living being. Technically speaking, you can’t let me or let me not do anything.” A frustrated huff pushed under the mask, “I am not a tool anymore. I am offering a share in wonders that will claim mastery over this world, not ownership over myself.”

Polyastera blinked back and shook her head. "No, see, I didn't mean it like that, no need for a speech or anything. I meant 'let you' as in 'you do you'. It was a figure of speech or something. See, when I receive my plot of land and blessings from the great Lord Shengshi, you are free to build whatever you wish upon it (preferably those wonders in your model, if you would)." She shook her extended hand eagerly and gave Orb a wink. "Anyone in my queendom who knows me personally will be free to do anything, dear Orb. Especially if it involves claiming mastery of the world. "

"Inefficient." Orb crossed their arms, "I am already free to do whatever I want, I have already built the heart of a ziggurat. I am simply inquiring about partners." Orb paused, enthusiasm leaking back into their voice, "Partners to help sculpt the world!"

"Yes, partners!" Polyastera offered with a quiet groan of relief. "You'll sculpt the land and I will rule it - you build, I use. Seems like a wonderful deal to me. Now would you shake my hand, please? My arm is getting tired."

“Well hold on,” The black haired nebulite suddenly said, “Who made you the absolute? We haven’t even passed Shengshi’s test yet and you’re already doling out commands.” He shook his head, “Don’t listen to her, Orb. She’s just trying to use you.”

“I know,” Orb turned to the other nebulite, “She mentioned that, in fact.”

"Wow, okay - listen, if you're going to backstab me, stick it a little deeper, would you? I might like it in that case." She rolled her eyes and turned back to Orb, mouthing some profanity under her breath. "Listen, Orb - 'use' is such an empty word. It hardly describes the nature of our relationship-to-be. You want to build things, right?"

Before Orb could respond, Tiben (the black-haired Nebulite) raised his voice, “Can do! The way I see it, Orb, and correct me if I’m wrong, But you are a recent creation of Orvus’ imbued with clearly a very advanced intellect and are simply trying to use it to its maximum potential, but all you seem to get is coddling remarks, patronization, and people who are different than you thinking you don’t know any better or are some kind of idiot. How’s that for hitting the head?” Tiben cleared his throat, while Orb stared at him with twinkling eyes, “Now catch this, Orb. I’ve spent the last who the hell knows how long under this tree doing all sorts of things, and you know what? It occurred to me the other day that I’m not getting anywhere. Sure I might manage to cause some idiot spawn to pop out of some beat up cave, but really what the hell is the point. The way I see it, is that I’m willing to scrape my skin and put some good work to really build that immortal monument so I can at least die knowing I wasn’t a failure. Take it from a fool, these happy slaps don’t want to put any work into it -- hence their funny way of telling you to build in their honor while they stick it in every orifice they can find. Me? I’m willing to accept that whatever the hell is under that mask knows something I don’t and that there is more to me than perpetuating my species.”

Orb stared between Polyastera and Tiben for some time before looking at Tiben, “You will help me?”

“Shove my corpse into the bottom of one of those things and tell people I tried, and I’ll cut my hand on some stone,” Tiben nodded before eyeing Polyastera, “I bet we could even get His Lordship Shengshi in on it... properly.”

Polyastera's pink face caught a raging red shade and it took almost a minute before she seemed to calm down sufficiently to formulate a reply. "Okay, alright, I see. Look… Man, dude, babe - your contribution to the Nebulite queendom project is highly appreciated. In fact, how would you like to be leader of the working masses? My court will certainly require their voices from time to time."

Tiben cocked his head, “Really? You’d do that for me?” He laughed, “As I said, who the hell made you the absolute. We are standing on equal ground right now, there is nothing stopping any of us from taking the position you covet -- even myself,” He looked surprised, “Or Orb.”

"Oh, of course!" Polyastera conceded. "You are absolutely free to make your claim, or even discredit mine! Go ahead, go ahead. Really, please do. A little competition never hurt anyone." Her grin could've belonged to a tigress. "Just don't come crying when I strike back, okay?"

“Competition really isn’t very efficient,” Orb rasped, “I just wanted help building.”

“You’ll get it,” Tiben’s eyes never left Polyastera, making everyone unsure to who he was replying to.

"Perfect," she replied and turned to Orb, drastically reducing the menace of her grin to the point where it was almost friendly. "Inefficient, it may be, Orb, but it's also very, very necessary. As the future queen, my position must have mandate, mustn't it?" She turned back to Tiben. "Beating the opposition may very well provide such."

“Beating is a specialty of yours, isn’t it?” Tiben grinned, “Unfortunately as far as that got you under this tree, it won’t serve you past a few sticky nights elsewhere.”

"Oh, I think it just might. Consider this challenge begun," Polyastera replied with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.

Orb squinted and pounded out in runic, “Strange creatures.”

---

---

---

With a low growl, a portal tore into being high above Sheol proper, space visibly bending around the man-high torrid that marked the portal’s outer boundary with reality while a line of glyphs ceaselessly congealed and deliquesced at its border. In the silent chaos, a figure swiftly stepped across the threshold, not bothering to look over its shoulder and watch the tear sow itself shut almost as quickly as it appeared.

With the brilliant light of the gateway no longer back-lighting its silhouetted figure, it faded to normality, swiftly resolving into a familiar form.

”-Dilatory.-” rasped a foul voice belonging to the master of the foul sea of unholy miasma, it’s ever writhing form and disgusting eye solely focused on the intruder for but a moment.

Ummum, seemingly unperturbed bowed before his sovereign.

” several aberrations drew my attention away, Maker.”

”-Unsatisfactory.-” THE ABHORRENT hummed, it’s massive tentacles now moving to interact with the massive moon only second next to it in size.

Divine cords of energy sawed at the surface of the sphere, the thing seemingly screaming as its skin was rent into pieces, rending black-chiton apart to reveal seas of soft liquid flesh glowing brighter than its counterpart gnawing at Galbar.

From above Ummum silently looked on, his mind working to grasp the complexities of his Maker’s work. Not unlike the landmasses of Galbar which rose above its blue seas, so did the masses of obsidian-chiton stand stalwart against the oceans of purple anti-matter.

So Maker intends for the child-bed of the infestation to serve as its habitat, quaint. the program mused quietly.

”-Status, Objective J01.-”

”near completion, Maker. an acceptable position was set upon the greatest of Galbarian landmass’, upon northernmost coast, experimentation can begin when ready.”

The blur of tentacles slowed to a crawl and then ceasing altogether. ”-Satisfactory. Render FIRST WEAPONS blueprints.”

”affirmative, rendering.” the program buzzed. Without much effort a rough three-dimensional rendering of various life-forms and accompanying glyphs in lime-green displayed in the palm of its hand, eyes synthesized from godflesh naturally quick to analyze the data presented.

”manifestation equation results within set reality parameters. construction based on previous manifestation primary models with additional updates are set. The FIRST WEAPONS ready for production. Instructions are as-is:“



As the program spoke in the foul language of old there was a shift, and then a torrent of motion as Anzillu aggregated the entirety of its mass at a single point above an especially luminescent body of ARCHON. Negative energy rent reality too and fro as the great eye of the bastard dilated and glyphs burned into existence around it. With a scream a singularity of divine machination congealed at the DEMON’s end; a black orb of miasma so dense it threatened to drive the very program who shared its makeup to madness.

-“לזרוע“- THE ABHORRENT chanted with a finality that threatened to finally rip reality asunder as the black orb dropped from its grasp and pulled existence down into the depths of the fleshy factory.

Project SHEOL> 95% complete_ARCHON TRINITY reaction initialized.
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE>5% complete_FIRST SEED.
>command instance ARCHON 003_catylizer instance ARCHON 002_biomass instance ARCHON 001.

5% 10% 25% 35% 65% 89% … complete
Activated PRINCES PROGRAMS

Flesh writhed beneath the waves of liquid ARCHON, sinew amassing and synthesizing according to the FIRST SEED’s blueprints. The divine miasma produced cast a wretched shadow across Ummum’s senses, yet if it was affected, it showed no sign. No, it only watched in silence as SHEOL screamed in distress, the birth pangs of the factory shaking the very foundations of Galber until finally, the abyss produced its offspring.

One by one the bastard progeny of godflesh rose out the tumult of undoing, six perfect spheres of white repugnant tissue that thrummed with the energy of the DEMON.

Then they bore themselves naked.

Like a child taking its first steps the brood slowly took on different shapes, flesh folding and expanding, bones snapping and crunching sickeningly, and muscle tissue and raw energy exploding and reforming until twisted perfection they achieved. Their wails chilled Ummum to the bone and their visage only served to vomit mortal reaction upon him, THE ABHORRENT was utterly still.

-”Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood. לכבוש.”- the bastard hummed, a glyph appearing at words end, thus manifesting a halo of pure blue energy upon the tops of each child, crowning each kings and queens with their unholy existence and snapping them out of their pain fueled delirium and into silence.

THE ABHORRENT shifted towards Ummum. -”carry out Primary Objective. First Weapons at Ummum Progam’s disposal, SECOND SEED under manifestation. Infestation to occur within one cycle.”

”understood, Maker.” the program paused. ”same as the last.”

It glanced at the DEMON but the space it occupied was empty, in its place an enormous obsidian eye resided, without motion but still ever watching an orbiting, like a moon above a planet.

The program rubbed the thin flesh on his chin--a developing habit--and turned its attention to the First Weapons. Their visages varied, from multi-tentacled and multi-winged to humanoid, utterly featureless or multi-eyed and even beyond comprehension.

A sneer formed on the program’s lips, the First Weapons, heralds of the infestation and masters of the DEMON’s Lesser. Even now the Lesser were vomited from the seas of Sheol and onto its black beaches, craven of various forms, from giant to ant.

They disgusted the program.

And THE HANDLER left the newborns to damnation.