---

The hiss of squirting blood took over as the dominant sound next to the wind as the gurgles of the fresh carcass subsided. With a dull sigh, Twilight pulled the blood red mask, so coloured by both paint and blood at this rate, off its owner to behold the grotesque face underneath. He had collected quite a few of these over the past day or so, and the sack which he had been putting them was filling to the brim. He dragged Tsukigami-no-Kokoro through the muddy grass of the swamp floor, not quite sure why he expected that to clean it. Using the hem of his robe instead, he managed to clean it at the expense of his clothes. That was the only time the sword had actually cut something, though - the majority of the masks in his sack had violent cracks and dents from the fact that, most of the time, Twilight had been forced to employ his weapon as a club. This last bandit had been fortunate, really - encountering Twilight in the middle of a moonbeam had sealed his fate quick and (probably) painlessly. He kicked at the spear the bandit had wielded.

Why couldn’t Gibbou have made him an actual viable weapon? Tsukigami-no-Kokoro was absolutely useless here - swamp trees covered the skydome three fourth of the journey, and the last fourth, it was either day or overcast night. He would’ve been satisfied with anything - anything other than this. Bashing in someone’s head with a weapon not designed to be used as a club was hard work - even for someone of divine might. He fell to his knees and cast his arms outwards, facing the sky:

”Why can’t I have a weapon like them, huh?! Am I not good enough?!”

There was a brisk silence as his words rang out into the swamp. In the distance, a lonely crow offered its pity with a single caw. For a few precious seconds, the world mocked him with its distant loneliness. Then, the wind seemed to brush against his hair and clothes, and the air grew thick with a distant presence. For a simple simple mortal it might have seemed like an especially cloying gust of wind, but on some level Twilight could feel there was more to it.

A few seconds more, and a gentle voice rang out in his mind. ”Life is not fair, is it?” it whispered with a seductive tone. ”What ails you, my sweet?”

Twilight sucked in a deep breath and pursed his lips. ”That’s something I haven’t smelled before. Who are you?” He eyed the trees and the foliage around him.

Beyond the lone crow giving him the stink-eye in the distance, there wasn’t much of note happening in the swamp any more. Still, the voice continued. ”I am Neiya. Goddess of Love,” she voiced with some notion of pride. ”Your plight reached my ears, and I suffer it with you. Though, something is different about you, is it not?”

”Neiya, goddess of love, huh?” mumbled Twilight with some resemblance of a cocky smirk. ”My, oh my, what kind’a plight did I have to call upon your beautiful presence tonight?”

”If I remember correctly, my dear, it was something about your equipment not being good enough,” the goddess offered with a honeyed voice. ”Do I have that right?”

”You’ve got that right,” muttered the avatar. ”I asked Blueberry for a weapon in the heat of the moment and she gave me a club that might sharpen up if the moon’s out. Like, who does that?”

”Blueberry? Moon?” came an initial question. A pause followed, silence spreading as the presence remained, but no sound followed. Almost as a tease, when Twilight was almost entirely certain no more words were coming, the voice spoke again. ”Truly a mystery, my sweet. Perhaps she wishes for you to fail? A mistake? A cruel joke? You’ll find no such malice with me, whatever the purpose may be.”

”Probably. She’s dumb, slow, whiney and has no idea what she’s doing. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was an outright mistake, honestly. She didn’t even correct it, though. That’s just who she is, though - as reliable as a bridge of rotten wood.” He eyed the blade and then the skies again, stuffing the sword into its sheath. ”Are you saying you would make me something better?”

”Happily,” the voice responded. The sigh that followed was more of a seductive exhale, and seemed to brush against his hair. ”If that is what you truly want. I wouldn’t want you to suffer needlessly.”

Twilight felt an urgent need for a cold bath. ”What, uh, what’d you have in mind?”

”Anyone important enough to have met my kin is important to me. I want you to be safe,” the goddess replied with a consistently sweet voice. ”To know that you are in my heart, as I hope I shall be in yours. My love is eternal.”

Twilight offered a long whistle. ”Are you like this with everyone you meet, or just me?”

There was a half-scoff rung through their connection, a brief and fleeting amusement. ”You wound me. Perhaps my affection would be best served with another valiant who appreciates my love.”

Her words made Twilight physically chase forward a few steps. ”Woah, woah, heeeey, I didn’t mean it like thaaat, beautiful. Old Twilight here’s just playin’, y’know.
Hey, you didn’t leave, right? Neiya?”

There was another brief pause before the voice returned. ”I’m still here, Twilight. I would never abandon you in your hour of need.” In the distance, the crow offered another solitary caw. ”I’m happy to offer you something that would display our shared affection. Something that shall protect you, when all you have is the memory of our meeting.”

Twilight smirked. ”And what would that be, beautiful?”

The wind grew in intensity around Twilight not long after his question, whipping the ground and tugging at his clothes. Whispers of all manner of languages forced their way into his ears, a chorus of mortal wants and needs, a maelstrom of voices and emotions. Then, as soon as it had begun, the wind stilled, and the voices grew quiet. Everything was the same, except for the stout black and silver shield now strapped around his arm, and the jingle of metal around his neck - an arrowhead of silver holding a blood-red ruby.

Twilight eyed the shield with saucer-like eyes. ”... This… This is beautiful. What’s it made of?” He turned his arm around, and the shield, by extension, admiring its surface and colour.

”Nothing short of my affection would do, my sweet,” the goddess replied modestly, neglecting to directly respond to the question. ”It shall forever keep me in your mind - and in return, I shall forever extend my protection. It will keep you safe, no matter the quality of your blade.”

”It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Oh, what did I do to run into such an angel such as you? Did I die and go to paradise? Am I finally free from her squeaky nagging?” He brandished the shield in different poses and blew a kiss to the skies. ”You’re the best, babe.”

There was another pause, before a more straight-laced tone returned to her voice. ”I’m afraid you’re stuck for now. Keep me in your thoughts, and you’ll never be alone.”

Twilight smirked and swung the shield over his back. ”Oh, babe, I won’t forget you ever, I promise.” He paused. ”So… Wanna, maybe, meet up some time? I met this great guy back on Toraan who I’m sure could lend us his cave for the night.” He paused. ”Oh wait, you probably can’t make it down here, like Blueberry. Hmm… Hey, you got a spare cave, by chance?”

”Such an enticing offer.” the voice replied with barely contained frustration. There was another pause, another sigh. ”Alas, I cannot give my heart to someone yet unproven. When our bond is unbreakable, I will offer you the paradise you seek, my sweet.”

”I’ll be counting the days, babe.” He smooched the air. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go test this shield in my love’s honour. Toodles!” With that, he set off into the swampy woods with a whistle on his lips.

The goddess did not reply. The wind seemed to still for a moment, and the connection was broken. At last, it was just Twilight and the nosy crow, who insisted on his continued folly with a lonesome caw.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere far, far away…

... That... Mother… FU--!”

The opening of The Library in Sancta Civitas was followed by a bureaucratically approved celebration. While the priests, Queen, Embassy leaders, approved diplomats and intelligentsia explored the functions of the grand structure Kallak, divine Avatar of Artifex whom had descended to the city half a year ago born by a jet black Cloud moth, spent it drunk off his ass on municipally supplied berry wine while partying with the other common laborers who had actually built The damned Library and this was exactly how he prefered it.

He’d spent 21 timeless years being raised and trained in Artifex’s sphere to be the perfect ambassador, a month actually acting in the priestly appointed role he’d received upon arrival with all the pomp and ceremony that entailed and then promptly ditched it in favor of finding his own way in the city. To counteract the fact that he had the giant spiked horns and extra pair of arms of his father Kallak had created a cloak with divine power that obfuscated his identity. Now instead of being “The Avatar of Artifex, builder of wonders, instrument of his will, praise be to thy name!” He was simply Kallak, humble Mantarin labor. True, a male of his species acting as a manual laborer was unusual as the queen’s doting on her rarely hatched sons meant they generally amounted to a great deal, but it was hardly unheard of. Kallak’s friend Servius was one such Mantarin who occasionally got together to moan about the lofty expectations placed upon their kind.

Artifex had been mildly irritated by this use of his power on Galbar, but as the disguised Avatar wandered the streets of the palace district with a mug of blueberry wine in his hand he reflected that it had been worth it. He’d much rather be out here than standing around while a bunch of priests hung on his every word. Instead he got to watch a wrestling match between a Mantari worker and an Itztli, gamble away his hard earned food tokens in back alley snail race, drunkenly sing with his fellow workers, watched a street performer juggling, listen to a Goblin band play a rowdy ballad on a street corner, dance to the lively performance with a goblin who he eventually worked out was making eyes at him, watch a play in the Amphitheatre with the goblin, do other things with that goblin, get into a fight with a dozen of the goblin’s relatives behind the Amphitheatre, flee from that fight on the back of a giant Soldier Ant that happened to be passing by, tell people that The Avatar had taught him how to ride the ant that when asked how he could do such an amazing thing, make a brief appearance as The Avatar at several spots around the city to show people how to ride the giant ants without getting killed in order to cover up his hasty lie, after which he’d put his cloak back on and gone back to partying till the sun was setting.

“So I’m all “who the crap are you” right? And he tries to answer but before he does I puts up my fists and say “I don't care what your name is, come me, you and your 30- no 40 roach herders and-” Kallak slurred as he sat with his back to the wall of a random building sipping from… well he couldn't remember how many mugs of wine he’d had at this point but it was certainly an enjoyable amount.

“You’re talkin out your azzzzz pretty boy” slurred an equally drunk Vespain laborer who Kallak was pretty sure was using pretty boy as an insult. He was about to come up with a stellar retort when the but off a pole jabbed him in the side.

“Alright you’ve had your fun, now get your thoraxes home. Nights drawing in. Queen don't want any of you drunks still lying about when the sun sets in case you freeze to death.” said a generally fed up looking Mantarin Royal Gaurd, clad in chitin-armor and carrying a sturdy wooden staff used for crowd control by the elbow bladed women, who was one of a number of guards trying to clear the street of the festival’s stranglers.

“I iz not thaaat drunk” the wasp woman insisted

“Can you, can you even fly right now?” she asked, making Kallak concerned that the irate guardswoman would order him to carry his latest, and it seemed last, drinking companion home

“Surrrre” the Vespian slurred before pushing herself waving “See you round Kallak” to the Mantarin man before unsteadily taking off, bobbing to and fro as she made her way back to her hive.

“Barley” the guards woman muttered, before jerking her head to the side and barking “You too brother”

“Right right,” Kallak said as he stood and waved her back “Don't get your antenna in a knot sister I’m going,” before unsteadily stumbled his way towards home.

The majority of the people of Sancta Civitas lived in communal familial housing. Mantarin, who were all related by virtue of having the same regal mother, tended to either stick around her royal majesty in one of the large homes for their kind built in or around the palace or within a very small number of similar structures built in the other districts if they worked out there. Vespian naturally conjugated around their hives and individual queens, either living within the Swarm filled hive itself or in large airy compounds built on top of them. Goblins stuck together in various clans made up of their extended families, often able to trace their way back to tribes who had migrated to the city, in sprawling maze-like complexes taking up entire streets. The Vrool and Akua living under the harbor were a different story, but their style of homes were somewhat out of the question if Kallak didn't want questions about how he technically didn't need to breathe.

All this had made it very difficult for Kallak to find himself individual housing, that wasn't underwater anyway, until he'd heard about the fume borough. It started off as a series of buildings built around the industrial district when it was first being constructed to house tanners, smiths etc. and their extended families. Unfortunately, the families of those workers didn’t want to move out to live next to the smoke filled area, and it was rare that an entire extended family could pick up that kind of trade. There were a few, but mostly the artisans who still lived with their families traveled to the district each day, leaving a lot of space in the borough unused. Loners, outcasts, eccentrics and the disowned found their way into the borough and via a lot of unauthorized construction work, made it into their own tangled mess of apartments and alleyways that the administration could never find the energy to try and reorder.

It was too there that Kallak traveled, the long trek along the empty road leading to the palace district sobering him up just enough that he wouldn’t get lost trying to find his home in the maze of streets. It was also long enough for him to realize he was hungry, which made him take a detour for Niyan’s place. The old goblin man was too frail to do much work and didn't have a family to rely on, you never asked why, but he did cook a mean stew that he served to hungry smiths and city folk after a hard day’s work so long as he had the supplies to do so.

Kallak, being one of those regulars, was greeted by a cheerful call from Niyan as he approached the spot where the goblin was cooking out on the street, surrounded by a few other late evening diners, “eyyy Kallak. Was worried ya wher’t commin. It’s good stuff tonight. Got me some of them good sea snail meat in the stew for it in celibration of that big building they opened. Wazit called. The Loborory?”

“They call it The Library apparently” Kallak told him as the goblin ladled him a bowl of the stew. The disguised avatar took the bowl carefully with two hands and then rummaged around in a satchel he wore for a few food tokens worth far more than the stew was worth which he handed over, “Got these from working on it. Really fancy place. Writes down magic spells all on its own so they don't even need a scribe to do if for em”

“Ah yer too kind yer too kind,” the goblin said as he took the tokens and stored them in a lay jar sitting on the windowsill of his home. A few of the other regulars who had seen the exchange nodded, acknowledging that Kallak had played his part in the loose arrangement they all had that kept Niyan fed and in stock of cooking ingredients.

“Now magic ya say? Couldny belive it when a hurd that the first time. I heard they have sum of them magic folks out in the tribes but thought it was all beetlespit”

“Druids?” Kallak guessed

“yeah those. They real?” Kallak nodded “I never erd of any of em in the city tho. Didn't think they were no frogs either”

“No lakes nearby.” Kallak replied, “They need them to become druids. Or so I’ve heard”

“Yeah? Weird. Then again so’s having a big oll pool of fresh water just, existing on it's own out there, so I what can ah say”

“Very. Druids do different magic from the stuff the Library's for anyway. The Itztlis’ don’t like them very much apparently.”

“Itztlis?”

“The lizards”

“Right right the lizards. They worked up on The Library with you right? What dey like?”

“They’re alright. Decent folks. Strong. Saw one go claw to claw with a Worker Lady in a wrestling match earlier which was impressive. Got this whole subservience thing to the Eloxochitli, the frogs, though which is... eh” Kallak said, wigging a hand back and forth to demonstrate his discomfort with the situation.

“Ah heard that too. They won’t see us bownin and scrapin to them frogs tho, oh no” Niyan said “Goblins bow to nobody. Sep the queen o corse. An that’s only to be polite ya hear”

That rankled a fair few nerves in various directions but not enough for anyone to argue with the old goblin’s pride or each other for that matter. Kallak just nodded, “I hear you” before setting down his rapidly emptied bowl “and thanks for the meal. It was delicious as always”

“Yer alway’s welcome. Have ta go so soon?” Niyan asked

“Need to sleep off the drink” Kallak said as he stood, “have a safe night Niyan”

“Same ta you” the goblin replied, waving him goodbye before turning and going to find one of his other guests to talk to.

Kallak picked his way out of the small gathering, stepping carefully around a Goblin Woman and a Vespian arguing about what the gossip they’d heard about Materialistic mana magic meant for their shared trade of medicine/poison brewing, before heading for home.

There he unlocked the crude copper lock holding his door shut, slipped inside, barred the door again, retrieved the few remaining food tokens he'd been paid and tossed them into a small pot of tokens, beetle shells, copper chisels, and single clay jar of brandy that served as his stockpile of barter-able items before curling up in a nest of blankets and furs he'd made in the corner off the room to get some rest.

The next day the hangover Kallak awoke to the sounds of Artifex talking to him for the first time in months, ”Ah, you’re still in Sancta Civitas. Good. Rise and shine my Avatar. It's a glorious new day, and I have plans for you to execute. I’m see you’ve already checked something off the list based on the panicked prayers of the priest about people riding the city's maintenance insects around. Very proactive of you.”

The Avatar groaned as he dislodged himself from his nest while a long, long list of instructions began to manifest themselves in his mind.

“Stink bug spray” he muttered to himself as he grabbed a slate of stone, a hammer and one of his chisels and got down to recording the growing list of tasks which included, among other things, learning every kind of magic he could, “this is going to take a while”

---

For the entire day, Alys had ran, and wept.

Her mother was gone. Her father was gone. Her village burned, and she had helped burn it. She did not know where she had obtained such power, and she had been unable to control it. She could still remember the screams of all those who burned. Not just the marauders, but some had been other villagers.

In the moment, she had been gripped by fear and grief, and had not given much thought to those who burned. But now that the danger was over, she felt a sudden sense of regret. She had hurt and killed so many… some of whom were her own people. She remembered hearing Carn scream. Her own family…

She came to a stop at the edge of a creek, and fell to her knees. She would cry, but she was all out of tears. Her throat was parched after the day’s exertions. She leaned down to take a drink from the small stream…

...and just then, a small ball of water seemed to rise to meet her. She fell back with a start, and the tendril immediately collapse. She stared at the water for a few moments, then focused. Once again, another ball of water rose, then dropped. She stared at her hands. This, and the fire from before.

What was she? She thought back to the stories she and her siblings had been told.

A monster?

A druid?

A mage?

She did not know, and it frightened her. But she was still thirsty. She looked to the river, and focused once more. Yet another small orb of water rose, and with a wave of her hand, she was able to bring it up from her lips to drink from it. It was cool and refreshing. She desperately needed it, after everything she had been through. She drank the entire orb, until nothing remained.

Whatever she was, she was powerful.

She thought back to the destruction of her village, and began to perceive things in a different light. Although she was young, and knew little of the world, she was still fully aware of some key aspects of life. Such as the fact that the strong and the beautiful held authority over the weak and the frail. She was already beautiful, and with this power, she was strong.

She had avenged her father, seeing nearly all of his killers die in excruciating agony, and they deserved it. Her heart swelled with pride when she thought of how she made them all pay. Some of her own people had died, but she had barely known any of them, so why had their deaths made her so sad in the first place? Her village had been destroyed, but ultimately a village was just a bunch of smelly old huts surrounded by a wall. It was such a boring place, really, and its destruction meant she was no longer cooped up.

Then there was her family… and once more a wave of grief and regret washed over her. She had failed to save her mother or her father. She had hurt Carn. She did not know where Evette or Brundt were. She had ran, and now she might never see them again. She was alone.

Alone, and without a family or home.

That meant she had to be strong. She was nearly ten years old, anyway. Too old to cry. She had never cried before. She had seen Brundt and Evette run to mother, or father, or even Carn while in distress, and they needed to be consoled in order to calm down. But Alys had never done that, for she had never needed it. In hindsight she suddenly realized that was something she should have been proud of. So why should she start crying now, just because her family was gone? It was time for her to grow up.

She used her powers to draw more water from the stream, and drank once again, as she thought of what the future had in store. She did not know. But… since she no longer had to answer to her parents or older siblings, didn’t that mean she was free to decide for herself? Yes… she knew what she wanted to do. She would wander. She would master her power. She would see the world. She would make it her own. And anyone who tried to hurt her would burn.

Alys smiled widely, as the thoughts made her feel giddy. She was finally making her own decisions! She laid down on the riverbank, and looked up at the stars. She would sleep here. In the morning, she would find food. Then she would begin travelling again, to somewhere new. To somewhere better.

And with those thoughts in mind, the young witch eventually drifted off to sleep.

---

Act two, Scene three: the puppet’s strings.

Yamat had heard the message, how could he not? It was loud, annoyingly loud, able to pierce into his personal prison, the voice of whoever it was was no help either, Yamat made the mental note to avoid whichever god had made the announcement, he had no interest in speaking to a god with that voice for long.

Now the message itself, now that was what Yamat cared about. A way to craft his beautiful play on Galbar without fear of the lifeblood? This was almost too good to believe, but, believe it he must, it gave him a shred of hope that he could influence the world a lot more directly.

Yamat walked through his barren prison, its wild wind whipping around him, kicking up the grey dust into swirling tornado like forms. He traveled until he came upon bleached white bones, half buried in the grey dirt, their form was strange, they were not something he had ever seen upon the world, they seemed to have burn marks on them, strange. Wherever they came from, they would be fitting for his new project.

With a snap he pulled the bones out of the dust, not caring if the bones were broken, fractured, or still attached to the other parts, they would work for his design regardless.

He gathered the bleached and burnt bones and put them into a pile. They clattered softly into the grey ash, Yamat kneeled down, his long lanky arms reaching out to touch the near fossils. He arranged them in a humanoid fashion, fusing broken bones together in strange ways and shapes, hip and legs bones fused with arm and shoulder bones to form strange jagged limbs, some bones were shattered further and fused to form grotesque hands and feet, a chest of broken ribs and shattered spines, and finally a head of broken skulls, shaped like a humanoid but with misshapen eye holes.

The base had been completed, now the other parts needed to be added. Long golden strips of cloth emerged from Yamat’s hands, wrapping themselves around the now fused bones, tightening itself to give them some structure and keep them together, covering every inch of the body, then came beautiful black robes with large hood to cover the face, long sleeves and reaching down to the bodies ankles, with the edge given a golden colouration.

Then came the last part, from each of Yamat’s fingers came long red tendon like strings, injecting themselves into the limbs and joints of the new body, pulsing softly for a few moments.

With a jerk of his hand, Yamat forced the body up, first its torso, then using its arms and legs to fully stand up.

”Rise and shine…” Yamat paused, should he give this thing a name? Did it deserve a name? He guessed even puppets should have a name, every actor needed a title after all. ”Rise and shine, Mathius.”

The puppet, Mathius as it were, groaned in a haggard straining voice, as if their non existent voice strings were coarse and rubbed against one another. ”What? Who? where?...” he spoke, his head drooping and turning, trying to gather in the area.

Yamat jerked his left pinky, forcing the head to keep itself upwards, ”You are, my avatar, my personal link to the moral world, my key,” he pulled open the strings, dragging Mathius closer to him ”To have more control over my beautiful play.”

Mathius stumbled, nearly falling, only saved by the strings keeping him aloft, slowly lifting his head up to the god. “What...the hell, does that mean?” he asked, his voice straining to be above that of a whisper.

”You, my dear Mathius, will be my conduit to create tragedy across the mortal plane, making sure the great play continues its acts.” Yamat waved one hand, sending half of Mathius’ body sprawling as a whirling portal opened up. ”This shall put you in the northern highlands of Toraan, feel free to wander around while I think up some scenes.”

”Wha-” the avatar could barely get any words out before Yamat flung both his hands towards the portal, sending Mathius flying through the rift. Slowly the tendon like strings faded away, before the portal closed in the blink of an eye. Yamat slowly curled his fingers, still feeling the connection with his puppet. He could see through his eyes as well as Mathius tumbled through the trees. Fitting. For now, the play could continue.

---

After exiting Evandra’s realm, Cadien decided to continue seeking out those he had met before the Separation. He had met Gibbou, Artifex, and Evandra already, so that really just left Neiya and Sirius. He didn’t really care for Sirius all that much, so the choice was obvious. The only question was… where was she?

He began walking from portal to portal, briefly looking through each one to see if he could sense any familiar presences on the other side.

Such efforts soon proved to be unnecessary. As he finished inspecting the fifth portal in a row, he turned away just in time to see the familiar figure of a horned goddess disappear through a portal on the other end of Antiquity. There was no doubting who that was, and so the God of Perfection leapt across the arena, and landed gracefully before the entrance. He took only a moment to dust himself off and fix up his hair, and then he stepped through the gateway.

Cadien found himself immediately enveloped by a bleak and desolate landscape. Rolling plains of pale grass and grey dirt, withered trees dotting the landscape in isolated clusters. The only sign of life was the sizable river that cut straight through the ground, and seemed to vanish into the distance, an endless stream. That, and the Goddess of Love, who hovered languidly in the air above the river, arms outstretched as though she was floating on the water below.

His entrance seemed to be enough to stir her attention, disrupting whatever strange meditation he found her undertaking, and the pale goddess spun slowly in the air to face the new arrival. Her eyes, briefly overtaken by a storm of blue, slowly dulled back to their usual tranquility. ”Cadien.” her voice rang out across the realm, spoken with a gentle grace but still echoing endlessly in the endless landscape.

Cadien surveyed the realm with a raised eyebrow. At first he thought something had gone wrong with it, but this was her realm, and if she had just as much power over her realm as he had over his own, then she had chosen for her realm to look like this. The scenery was certainly dreary, and definitely not to his taste, but he decided that didn’t make it flawed. This realm was not built with an outsider’s comfort in mind, so if an outsider like him was discomforted by it, then he supposed it achieved the intended result.

Besides, the sight of the one he had come to meet easily made up for the bleak surroundings. “Neiya,” he replied, a smile returning to his face. “I am happy to see you again.”

”Happy,” she repeated with a thoughtful, distant tone, watching the God of Perfection from afar. Slowly she drifted towards the edge of her river, lifting her chin as her feet lowered to slowly touch the ground, naked toes settling on the dirt. “I was looking for you, out there. I heard you. But our kin are-...” she paused to exhale deeply. “Obnoxious. Some, at least.”

Neiya lifted her hand towards Cadien where he stood on the far side of the small plains separating them, her fingers rippling to a gentle closed fist. ”I wanted to see you. And here you are.” The ethereal energies contained within the goddess’ realm worked to follow her motion, a gust of wind pushing against his back urging Cadien to either let it carry him towards her, or at the very least close the distance.

Not one to let himself be carried, Cadien strode forward to approach her. “Apologies for not meeting you sooner,” he said as he walked. “I would have visited you first, had I known where your portal was. I never did have a chance to take you up on that invitation.”

The goddess awaited his arrival with a regal lift of her chin, offering a frown of either real or feigned displeasure. Neiya lifted her hand to glance briefly at her nails, the power carrying her voice vanishing as he approached. ”Think nothing of it. From the sounds of it, you had your hands full with the Mother of the Moon,” she offered with a resigned sigh. As her gaze lifted to glance at Cadien, it was expectant, indignant even.

“Gibbou?” Cadien asked as he furrowed his brow. “Why yes, I have met her a few times. She helped figure out a way to let us gods reconnect with Galbar. And later she wanted help with one of her creations. Is something wrong?”

Neiya released a long sigh, briefly lifting from the ground to let the air carry her just a little closer to Cadien. Her hand extended slowly, fingers drifting out to gingerly touch his shoulder and torso as she touched down once more. ”I just don’t want you to let her trickery get to you,” she replied with a sadness to her voice, before raising her chin to meet Cadien’s gaze. ”But let us not talk about her now, when time has kept us apart for so long.” Her other hand drifted up to lay gently on his other shoulder. ”I was alone for so long, Cadien. I almost lost myself, living through the eyes of mortals.”

The last vestiges of Cadien’s smile faded, replaced by a sad look of his own. “I know what that’s like,” he said sympathetically. Then he reached his arms around her waist and slowly pulled her in for an embrace. “But we’re not alone anymore, are we?”

Neiya’s arms in turn climbed around his shoulders, her frown thinning and mellowing out slowly. ”No, though I doubt I can convince you to linger with me here forever,” the horned goddess replied with a tinge of her resigned disappointment, though there was no malice to her words. ”That is the nature of peace, though. Fleeting, and sweet. If we are ever to find such a moment, we cannot get lost in the maelstrom around us.”

“That offer is more tempting than you think,” Cadien said to her, offering a thin smile. “I may not be able to remain here forever, but I will visit again, if you allow it. Besides, I have a realm of my own, and you’re more than welcome to see me there.”

Her eyes tracked his face with a tranquil curiosity, and though she did not smile she left little silence in following with a question. ”Is your realm anything like mine? I have only seen one other realm in full and it was-... a sea of colours. Intangible. Beautiful but unreachable.” An arm left Cadien’s shoulder to gracefully sweep out over her ashen plains and sullen trees, with only the soft sound of the river running to break the monotony.

Cadien shook his head. “My realm is quite different,” he told her. “If you wish, we can go there now, and you can see it for yourself.”

There was a short pause, as Neiya watched first her own realm and then gazed back at Cadien in thought. Eventually, the goddess proclaimed with a calm, but demanding tone. ”I wish it.”

“Then let’s make it so,” he let go of her and took a step back. “I never tried opening a portal between my realm and another god’s. Only from my realm to Galbar. But I suppose now would be a good time to try. With your permission?”

Neiya watched Cadien with a transfixed gaze, only looking away to once more study her nails when he asked her permission. ”You have it.” she offered with a quick retort.

Cadien closed his eyes, and pointed an arm at the ground. Then, in one fluid motion, he brought his hand back up. Up from the ground, a door rose, made of the same wood as the various trees within Neiya’s realm. The only contrast was a golden doorknob, studded with an amethyst. Cadien reached for the knob, turned it, and then pulled the door open. Beyond it was another realm. “After you.”

The pale goddess watched the door and what little she could see of the realm beyond, that curiosity seeming to overpower any languid attempts at remaining overtly mindful of her grace. Instead, Neiya lifted from the ground at his words, and gently hovered forwards to drift through the door with held breath, ice-blue eyes wandering to take in all she could of this new place.

She found herself hovering in a large room, with black stone walls lined with golden candles and more doors. On one end of the room, to her left, was a large marble throne with soft purple cushions. On the other end was an opening which led into a hallway. In the center was an ornate mahogany dining table, and above that a golden chandelier.

Cadien stepped through the door behind her. “What do you think?”

The initial breath of surprise said more than the goddess herself would for a long time, as she spun slowly in the air in Cadien’s own demesne, gaze drifting over each new sight with intent and purpose. Lost in the magic of sighting new things, she hovered over towards the grand throne dominating the room with its mere presence, and extended her hand to touch every material at least once. Not long after, she drifted towards the golden chandelier in the ceiling, and gave it a tentative push with a ginger set of fingers. Finally, pleased with her initial exploration, she twirled back towards Cadien slowly and exhaled sharply before offering a question almost reminiscent of her first questions on the planet below. ”You created all this? How did you think of it all?”

Cadien had watched her exploration with a grin, but it quickly faded when she asked how he thought to make it. “I had time,” he said. “I built my realm up and tore it down again maybe a thousand times, trying to find the perfect design, and all of those were vastly different from what you see now. Eventually I went with the one I liked most. This one.”

Brushing past Cadien’s own reflection on the effort, Neiya glanced over to a previously unseen feature of the grand estate as she replied with a simple but breathless ”It was worth it,” before slowly drifting down to a level more conducive to carry a conversation, and refocusing her attention on Cadien properly. ”Is it all like this? Is there more?”

Cadien’s smile returned. “There is,” he said, offering her a hand. “If you would follow me. And don’t be afraid to walk; the floor is quite comfortable.”

The horned goddess extended her own hand to gently take his, appearing hesitant for a few moments before she lowered further to the ground, her feet setting against the floor of the realm’s estate. That alone seemed to be a new sensation, and she glanced down as she momentarily found herself lost in dragging a foot over the carpeting in a measure of confusion and amazement. When that lost its initial novelty, she looked back to Cadien with a growing guilt on her features. ”Please. Lead the way, Cadien.”

So, he did. He led her to the other end of the room, and into the hallway, which had a marble statue of nearly every single one of Galbar’s sapient species. One of each gender, crafted in their most ideal physical form. The Merelli were among them, situated between the humans and the goblins.

Neiya watched each statue in turn, tugging on the precarious hold they shared to approach the statues and take in the masterly depiction. She paused by the first Merelli statue they ended up by, free hand stretching out to touch the stonework gently. The goddess sighed softly, caught up in distant memories that seemed to lessen the toll her internal worries had on her features, and for a few moments her frown evaporated. ”I fear they have forgotten me. I was… too caught up in my suffering. I never stopped to meet our own creation.”

“They haven’t forgotten you,” Cadien assured her. “I heard some of their prayers over the years, and your name was often invoked alongside mine. When it wasn’t, I corrected them.”

”You did?” she intoned rapidly, turning to look at her host and guide. ”You truly are who I remember, Cadien.” the goddess continued, and laid her free hand against his arm briefly instead. ”I’m sorry I could not say the same about myself.”

“The Separation was hard on us all,” Cadien told her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She nodded in turn, breathing a slow sigh and tapping his chest briefly before looking back up at the statue. ”Perhaps I will do something for them, to show them that I haven’t forgotten them, either.” Neiya eventually voiced with a serene tone. Her head tilted, and she turned back her focus to Cadien. ”This divine essence, did you send part of yourself down there?”

“I did,” Cadien confirmed. “As we speak, he’s living among some mortals in the Highlands.”

”Didn’t it hurt?” the goddess questioned quickly. ”I’m not certain I could part with… such a fragment.”

“No. It was a small sting, but nothing more. I barely notice it’s gone, most of the time.” He looked away for a moment, then back to her. “But to be truthful, I don’t blame you. In hindsight, it was a reckless act. I was just desperate enough to regain some sort of presence on Galbar that I was willing to overlook any potential risk.”

”But if I’m with you, your fragment could accomplish things for me some time as well, perhaps?” The Love Goddess continued guardedly, sighing softly as she glanced between Cadien and the majestic statuary. ”We could do things together, as before.”

Cadien considered her offer; first with a guarded look on his own, but then his expression softened. “Together? That sounds… nice,” he said softly, before clearing his throat and resuming his normal voice. “Yes, I do believe I will consider it. In the meantime, perhaps we should get on with the tour?” The goddess acquiesced to his suggestion with a simple nod, and slung her arm around his gently.

They continued down the hall, through the large double doors at the end, and out onto a smooth stone path which led through a grassy courtyard, enclosed by a black stone wall. Two stone fountains were placed in the center, and the yard itself was edged by colourful flower beds.

Cadien did not stop, however, and instead led her down the path, past the two fountains, and toward the gatehouse. As they passed the threshold, Neiya would realize that the castle they had just exited was actually positioned on what appeared to be a floating cloud in a clear blue sky. A set of stairs continued downward, and the stone path resumed, carrying on to the realm’s exit portal.

Then Cadien snapped his fingers, and suddenly the realm changed. Instead of a cloud, it was now an island, and instead of an empty void, the island was now surrounded by an ocean. Already the waves began to lap at the newly-created beach. “I thought this would be more to your liking,” he explained.

The goddess has by all accounts seemed to enjoy the walk up until this point, gaze straying in idle examination of all that they passed, but now there was no mistaking it. The appearance of an ocean seemed to catch her entirely off-guard, and Neiya released a sharp gasp. For just a moment, a small smile spread out over her features, as the peaceful waves intoxicated and struck deep into her core. That brief warmth faded into a mellow serenity, and the goddess gently leaned in to lay her weight on Cadien’s side, twisting her head to lay her head against his shoulder. ”You truly are the God of Perfection.” she voiced quietly, lingering in her quiet daze.

“And you’re the Goddess of Love,” Cadien whispered. “Would you object if I kissed you?”

Neiya lounged in silence for a time, before slowly untangling her arms from Cadien’s. The goddess did not move away however, and instead shuffled slowly to stand before him, gently pressing against each other. Eyes meeting his, eternally sorrowful even now, she responded with a simple and soft ”No.”

With permission given, Cadien stepped forward, once more wrapped his arms around her waist, and gently pressed his lips against hers. The goddess’ icy eyes closed slowly, and her hands gently ran up to rest against his shoulders. Caught at last, she responded in kind.

The kiss lasted for several long moments, before eventually Cadien pulled away, but kept his arms around her. “Shall we go back inside?” he asked suggestively.

Neiya hummed a soft agreement, beginning to move before he did.

---

As the sun set, Cyrus prepared to continue his voyage. He needed to patch a torn spot on his clothing. At one point, his clothes were relatively nice travelling wear fit for nobility, but the wear had since taken a toil on them. He noted the many differences between the prairie and his homeland in the highlands. Using a simple tool, he carved out details into a wooden slate in an attempt to make a map. It was difficult as the flat grassland offered few landmarks.

However, navigation was surprisingly simple, ever since the bizarre stranger told him about this pilgrimage, he could always follow the stars with confidence. He was originally hesitant to walk along the giant leons, however, not once had they given him grief.

As he continued to travel, the stars shifted their direction from south to north. They began to reveal something else that he had noticed before, the coming of winter. He had not realized the signs in the foreign place, but as he returned to the highlands, the signs of fall were evident.

After wandering for some time, he reached a series of fields economically ploughed between the rocky terrain, in between which were scattered small huts. A path cut between the fields and led to increasing concentrations of huts until he met the open gates of a low palisade wall, through which flowed a two-directional river of peasants, merchants and druids. Inside, he could see a busy market place, as well as more huts, though the majority of these were made of stone, as opposed to the wooden huts outside the walls. Wandering through the streets, he came upon the temple grounds. There were several large statues carved into megaliths, walking in front of one reminiscent of an old man in front of a starry field, he closed his eyes and tilted his head up and began to silently pray.

“P-pardon?” came a voice.

Nearly instinctively, Cyrus turned around and did the proper greeting, “Stars guide you. I am Cyrus, a traveler paying respect to his patron.”

The voice, belonging to a white-robed woman in her twenties, did a confused hum. “O-oh! I see. Gods’ peace upon you, then, traveller. I’m Aewyn, caretaker of these prayer grounds.” She failed to hide a frown. “I, uhm, I noticed your attire indicates you have been travelling far and further than far. Would you, would you perhaps like me to direct you to a nearby resthouse for pilgrims? They are certain to have new clothes for you, too.”

“I would appreciate that. Though, I am presuming you are a druid?” he replied.

“Apprentice still, technically,” she said with a curt bow. “I’m studying under the great Kaer Pinya. How about you? You mentioned you came here to pay respect to your patron. Are you a mapmaker, perhaps?”

“I have some experience with cartography, though none of my lessons really seemed to apply to the grasslands. Though, I guess you could say I am a sort of apprentice too.” he said.

“O-oh, is that so?” She eyed his attire up and down again. “U-uhm… Are you perhaps from a foreign circle?”

He paused, seriously trying to remember back until it came back to me, “Yes, she did say something to that effect. The circle of the guiding lights. Though I have yet to meet another member.”

Aewyn’s frown hardened. “Circle of the Guiding Lights? That one’s… New. Which part of the land do you hail from?”

“A small kingdom in the far north.” he said.

“Huh… That so?” Her glance seemed to drift. “Say, would you like me to show you to the resthouse?”

Cyprus raised his eye, and then for a split second, he smirked. “As I said, that would be nice. But I have one last question, when you look at the stars, what do you see?”

“W-what I see?” came an unexpecting reply. “W-well, I see Seeros’ grand tapestry of stars and constellations. It fills me with hope and safety knowing that, no matter where I go, I will have those same stars to guide me and others’ back home.” She made a small smile.

“You can see the tapestry?” he said, smirking again before quickly reverting to a neutral expression, “Then you should it is the time of the leon, a time to be kind to strangers.”

Aewyn blinked. “W-why, of course! Please, let me escort you to the resthouse. I’ll have Arn prepare a leek and pea pottage post haste!” She started leading Cyprus away from the prayer grounds towards a large stone house.

Cyprus followed her to the resthouse, receiving a bed and as much gruel, bone broth, and pea pottage as he could eat. He accepted the simple white robe for while he was in town, though it would be a poor choice to continue his journey with, though that is a matter of spring. With the cloth change, the number of looks and glances in the streets decreased considerably - Cyprus appeared much like any of the other pilgrims flooding through town in fluctuating numbers. One day when he was eating at the resthouse, another had shuffled up to him and inspected his attire with a bit of a frown. It looked to be a traveling merchant, the usual druidic robes of the other patrons being replaced by a large fur cloak over simple linen and wool shirts, a pair of hide pants and bark shoes. He wore a small fur hat.

“Say, friend, did you lose your clothes on the road? It’s not often we see someone donning the alm robes these days.”

“They are more or less in one piece, but trekking through the woods can wear out clothing rather quickly.” he replied.

“Huh, that so. Where do you come from, stranger?” The merchant gave his drinking horn a slurp. “Judging by your accent, I would say somewhere north of here.”

“More or less.” he replied, “It seems you are no stranger to the road either.”

“Oh, no, wouldn’t say that. Although, most who pass by here are either from the north or around Ketrefa, and you don’t sound Ketrefan. You’re a druid, aren’t you? Long Stride?”

“I have not tasted the Hir’s waters, but I guess you could say I am an apprentice for the circle of the guiding lights.” he said.

“Guiding Lights, huh?” went the merchant. “Not one I’ve heard of. Are they newly formed? What do they do?”

“I was informed that to join, you need to go on pilgrimage to the Hir and do druid stuff on the way. I was skeptical at first, but the first time I saw the stars after starting the journey, there are no words to describe it. Everything just made sense.”

The merchant frowned. “That doesn’t sound too different from the Long Stride. They’ve got pilgrimages, too; they help people, too. At least the Red Leaves teach their members to remain in their villages. What makes you different?”

Cyprus took a minute to think about it for a moment, “Well, other than the person who told me about this circle, my only guide has been the stars. So far they have not led me wrong.”

“Huh, that so…” mumbled the merchant.

Martial in the Marshes, feat: Twilight and the Reshut

Twilight had had to conjure forth a second bag for all the red masks he had been collecting off of those pesky bandits. Seeing as they had pounced on him every time, he had never gotten the opportunity to brandish his shield properly - it was cumbersome to pull off his back, and unsheathing his sword went much faster when he had one hand to stabilise the sheath. He was starting to develop a proper technique, too, for fracturing skulls or breaking necks whenever his blade was uselessly dull - which was pretty much whenever. A groan escaped him as he ran his eyes fixed on the grip on his hips - it was so beautifully crafted! If only it wasn’t linked to the most useless weapon on planet Galbar!

A presence kicked at his brain. ”You’re the absolute worst, do you know that?!”

Twilight groaned and shuffled the bags of mask into a more comfortable position on his back. ”What do you want, Blue?”

”How could you do such a thing? Openly calling me useless and, and, and whiney! In front of her? The snorting sound of a blowing nose burned at his ear drums.

”She was being helpful and respectful towards me. You should give it a try, y’know.”

”Twilight, by my power as a goddess--”

”Sorry, what’s that? Connection’s breaking up.”

”H-hey, don’t ignore me!”

”Oh nooooo, I’m losing yooouuu. Boop.” The avatar shut his mouth and kept walking. From the other side, he heard:

”Twilight? Twilight?! You can’t shut me out! I am your goddess! Your -only- goddess! Do you hear me?! THE ONLY ONE!” There was a pause. ”Why are you ignoring me?” Another pause. ”Heeeey… Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey?” A sniff. ”The mind link is still active - how are you not responding? Don’t tell me--! Did Neiya give you something to shut me out?!” Twilight, meanwhile, came across something he had not expected: A road, next to which hung a yellow banner with a grand sigil. ”Answer me! Why are you like this? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of treatment, huh? Are you -still- going on about those two thousand years of sleep? Is that it? Are you really so callous and cold that you’d choose Neiya over me for something like that? Twilight eyed some lights in the distance - a settlement of sorts. ”I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? Have I not said that already? Fine, I’ll say it again either way: I’m sorry I kidnapped you from your home and put you to sleep for two thousand years. I -only- made you immortal and part god for your troubles, but uh-nuuuh, Gibbie made you sleep forever! You know what, fine! Run away with Neiya if you want!” Another pause. ”What do you see in her anyway? Is she -anything- else but nice hair, a pretty face and a pair of big… I mean, do you even know her? You know she’s crazy, right? Off her bloody rocker mental, you know that? You know what they say - don’t stick your, uh--... I mean, did I even tell you what she did to me? Do you wanna hear that, huh? Oh, you better prepare the waterworks, son, ‘cuz this story’s not for the faint of heart. You ready? Here goes! I’m gonna tell it!” There was a pause, longer than the ones before. Twilight was standing in front of a large gate, flanked by palisade walls. The silence was interrupted by a series of sniffs and sobs. ”H-hey, Twilight? Don’t leave meee… I’m sorry for what I said, it’s just--... I don’t wanna lose you, and--”

”Blue, would you shut up for a second? I think I heard something,” replied Twilight and looked around.

”SO YOU WERE IGNORING ME!”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - can it for a bit, would you?”

Silence lingered on the area, the sounds of insects buzzing and various frog croaks. Twilight kept still, eyeing the area. With a sudden flash, a figure had emerged from the brush, and a blade right on his neck, threatening to cut him in ways he really didn’t want to be cut.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The figure spoke, moving his eyes, Twilight could see 3 other masked figures emerged, their masks weren’t red like the bandits, instead they all had various designs of yellow, much the banner he had seen before and each one wielded a spear or sword of somet type.

”Woah, woah, woah, heeeeey! Hey, I’m not here for trouble! Just your average human passing through - wait, shoot, right, you don’t know what humans are, do you?” He had raised his hands in the air, and was thumbing one of them down at the two sacks swung over his back. ”If you’d let me reach into my bags, I could find my, uh, mask!”

The figure pressed his blade further into Twilight’s skin, “You are an outsider that we know, you have no mask, now answer me, what do you want?” The figure gestured for the three others to draw closer, their weapons at the ready.

”As I said - just passing through. Now, if you’d just lower your weapons and-- HAH!” With lightning quick reflexes worthy of a godspawn, Twilight ducked down and, with a movement smoother than warm butter, he affixed his shield to his arm and brought it upwards. ”LET’S SEE YOU FIGHT THIS - THE WORK OF A GOD!”

The shield immediately shattered upon touching the warrior’s blade, its pieces trickling down on the ground. Twilight eyed it in a bepuzzled manner. ”Wah?” On the other side of the mind link, he heard a mocking laughter.

The figure only looked down at the now shattered shield, then back to Twilight. Before just socking him in the face, sending him falling onto the floor. “Grab his weapons items,” He ordered the other three, “Bring him to the Daimyo, he’ll be interested in them.” The three Reshut quickly grabbed the bags and blade off of Twilight, before roughly forcing him upwards and dragging him past the gates into the city.

Being dragged through swampy roads was not really the best of times and the guards didn’t really seem to care about their now prisoner. While the muck accumulated itself on his legs and lower half, Twilight could see Reshut staring at him from their wooden houses or from the sides of the street, always looking away when he tried to make eye contact, or even shooing their non-masked children inside.

Eventually, after what felt like ages of being dragged through the roads, they finally came upon a fairly large building situated near the center of the city, it was a far larger building then the rest, built with an intricate design and sloped triangle like roofs. The Reshut dragged him up the steps and into the large building.

What Twilight saw was rather impressive, they had entered a large room with a beautiful array of art lining its walls, a large carpet laid upon the ground, and at the far edge stood a slightly raised pedestal, upon which a finally dressed Reshut with an intricate yellow mask sat kneeling.

The guards bowed, and one spoke “Lord Hashimoto, this outsider was found outside the gates and attempted to attack us.” They roughly tossed Twilight to the ground in front of the Lord, who stared at him with piercing green eyes.

“And what is your name interloper?” The lord asked.

Twilight was tossed onto his knees and cast a stinky-eyed look at his captors. ”... Nice to see some people haven’t changed… I’m no interloper, man! I’m--!”

One of the guards punched him upside the head once more, “Silence outsider! you will answer the Lord’s question without delay!” The lord raised one hand, calming the guard and allowing Twilight to speak once more. The avatar took a moment to snort up the line of blood running down over his lip and nodded.

”I’m, uh… Twilight, sir.”

The lord nodded, taking in the name “And tell me Twilight, why are you here in our lands? you have surely come a long way from your home.”

Twilight took a moment to survey the room. The lord’s guard was large and jumpy. Not a good sign. ”I, uh… I swam - from the west. I’m heading east in search of a lady.”

The lord uttered a hearty laugh “A lady huh? She must be a pretty find if you’re willing to swim across the entire ocean to find her, so what brought you to our city then?”

Twilight made narrow eyes and cast a sideways glance at his guard. ”Well, uh, it, it was on the way… I’m pretty much just looking for the eastern shore at this point.”

“I see,” The lord sat there, thinking for a brief moment “And why, did you attack my guards then?”

The avatar’s eyes focused on the floor mats. ”I, uh… I’m in a bit of a hurry, see. I was afraid this, uh, this exact thing would happen.” He suddenly looked as though a bright idea had kicked him up the nose and relieved him of a few teeth. ”Hey, sir!” He eyed the guard’s sharp glare. ”My lord, I mean - how would you like a boon for you and your people?”

“A boon you say?” The lord leaned forward, bringing himself closer to the avatar “And how would someone like you be able to give my people a boon?”

Twilight put on a smirk. ”Huhuhuhuh. I wasn’t expecting to reveal myself this soon; however, it seems that it can’t be helped.” He paused for dramatic effect. ”For you see! While you may have thought you captured a simple human, it was actually me - Twilight - the Vagabond of the Moon, and avatar of Gibbou!” He tried his best to pose heroically with his hands bound behind his back.

The lord tilted his head in a confused manner “And who is Gibbou? We have heard of no such being before.”

Twilight scoffed. ”G-Gibbou? The moon goddess? The blue girl who sits on the shiny thing in the night sky?”

”Hihihihi. Having issues, Twi? Need some help, Twi?” Gibbou’s snickers carved at the insides of his skull.

”Shut up, you stupid blueberry!”

Suddenly the wind was knocked out of him from a swift kick from one of the guards. The lord swiftly raised his hand, ordering the guard back. “We have no knowledge of a goddess like that,” the lord spoke “The god of the moon is Kalaru, lord of the depths.”

The avatar gave a harsh cough as he regained his posture. ”S-so… That’s how you know her, huh…” He pointed a finger at the lord. ”Well, you can forget about that interpretation! The moon goddess is the whiniest, bitchiest, sappiest piece of--!”

Another kick came towards his chest, sending him doubling over, the lord this didn’t wave his guard back, only leaning forward towards the avatar “I would choose your words incredibly carefully interloper, you are beginning to grow on thin foundation.”

”No, no, kick him again! Kick him again!” There came a crunch of biscuits across the mind link. Twilight felt his nose sting with despair in addition to the fractured cartilage.

”Okay… I see I have no choice. Please, my lord! Allow me to prove my divinity!” shouted Twilight, his bloody and beaten face surprisingly determined in its expression.

The lord leaned back, eyeing the avatar, “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?” the guard next to the avatar readied himself for another kick, just in case.

”Name one wish, and by Tekret, I swear I will grant it.” Twilight furrowed his brows with even greater determination.

The lord paused, musing over the idea, “Very well Twilight, i shall name a wish, and, if it is not granted, we shall offer you up as a sacrifice for Kalaru, tying you to a stone and sending you to the depths.” he leaned forward, mere inches away from the avatar “Deal?”

Twilight nodded firmly.”Deal! Deal!”

“Very well, I wish for…” The lord paused, obviously thinking “A blade that can not wear down, no matter how often it is used, it shall stay as sharp as it was in its first battle, centuries after, can you do that?”

The avatar froze. Inside his skull, he heard an explosion of laughter thunder like a chorus of hyenas. He let his eyes scan the room for any exits as he said, ”O-of cooouuurse. As the great lord commands. Would it just be possible if you loosened the rope about my hands first? I need them for the spell, you see.”

The lord eyed the avatar, sizing him up and down, he nodded to the guards, one going behind him to loosen the ropes, the other pointing his weapon towards him, at the ready. “I will note,” the lord spoke “Running will only make your punishment worse.”

”Understood, my lord, understood.” A sweaty, furrowed brow hung over shivering eyes as he held his hands out in front of him. He sucked in a breath through pursed lips. ”Alright… Here, we, go.” With the snap of his fingers, the entire town was enshrouded in darkness like that of the darkest, most starless night. Not even a bonfire could produce more than a simple flicker akin to that of a very distant star.

“He’s trying to escape!” The lord loudly proclaimed “Find him!” the guards stumbled about, unable to find the avatar in such encomposing blackness. In the back of the hall, one of the guards went, “Oomph!” as a powerful fist slammed into his leather harness. There sounded a metallic clatter and a voice followed, ”Right! Sword!”

“There he is!” The lord shouted “After him!” The guards rushed towards the back of the hall, some falter and falling due to the pitch blackness.

There was a metallic singe as the blade left its scabbard, followed by a few hard-packed hits and “oofs!” as guards fell over as though slammed in the abdomen by a club. A deafening crack sounded as a hole appeared in the wall. ”Hah! Let this be known, people of Hashimoto, as the day that you almost caught -ME!-, Twilight, Vagabond of the Moon! Farewell!” With that, his laughter disappeared out the hole.

As Twilight vanished through the hole, he could hear the roar of the Daimyo ordering his guards to follow, to various degrees of success. He ran through the swamps, splashing into deep water before long. He quickly charged into a swim and didn’t stop until he reached land again. He washed ashore, coughing and sniffling.

”Well, that went well,” taunted the voice in his head with a snicker.

”Not a word, Blue.”

”So how many people have you pissed off now, hmm? The Hashimoto sure didn’t sound happy, after all. Oh! And you prooobably just angered that crazy woman, too. Y’know, the one who was so helpful and gave you that shield…”

Twilight felt his heart stop and patted his back madly. ”No, no, no, no, NO! The shield!”

”Oh yeah! And you also swore on Tekret’s name that you would grant whatever that lord wished for, which you didn’t. Expect visions of an angry, naked man (or woman) in the near future.”

Twilight sat himself down in the sand again, face in his hands. The crunch of biscuits was still evident from the other side. ”If we had a god of hindsight, I would contact them for ya.”

”Take me back?” came a whimper. The chewing sounds stopped.

”Huuuuuuh?! After what you said and did earlier?! Pffft! Don’t give me that! Nope! You gotta work for it now, Twi. You’ve pissed off three gods and a town of mortals - I think you need some good, old-fashioned repentance.”

”Tell me, Blue-- I mean, Gibbou! Tell me how to repent!”

”Hmm… Start by calling me… Lady Gibbou.”

Twilight flinched. ”As, as you wish, Lady Gibbou…”

There came a hesitant hum. ”... Actually, that’s really weird and gross. Just Gibs is fine. You, uh… Start by finishing up that thing you were doing. Swimming east, right?”

”O-okay… Then what?”

”W-we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, dumby! For now, get swimming! And, and if any of the gods give you trouble, tell me. I’ll talk to them.”

Twilight blinked. ”Y-you’d do that for me? Even though I did and said all those things?”

”W-well, it, it can’t be helped! You’re my avatar after, all - I’ve gotta take care of you. Y-yeah, that’s right! It’s my duty as a goddess, and not because I like you or anything!”

Twilight sighed and formed a small smirk. ”Understood… Gibs.”

While she typically kept a professional, upright stance, Qullqiya found herself leaning over her glass table, arms spread. She was bored. Again

To play with tiny things was satisfying to an extent but everything was so vague while she was stuck in her office, she could barely notice what the other gods were doing, it felt like some weird sort of game where she mostly guessed what entities now completely separate from her were doing. It was all too easy too, awfully easy, she never felt challenged anymore and that really killed her chaotic creative spirit.

At least she had her study of Enmity’s work to distract her, know thy enemy as they said! Understanding reality to its core was necessary to fight back against it and lacking the brute force of something like the collective unconscious she had no option but to put massive personal effort in these matters. The results had been nice so far, and she was starting to formulate a theory on the topic.

She also had self-improved, increasing the amount of things within the supernatural sphere that she could control with ease. After doing it so many times, Amalgamation became very easy to perform.

Still, she was so bored, why couldn’t…

A portal opened, and as she got up to see it she heard a loud yell in her mind. Other gods, she could feel them, just beyond the portal, this had arrived just in time.

---

A meeting of chaotic minds

Featuring Yamat @King of Rats and Qullqiya @Double Capybara

With the portal opened, Qullqiya had walked into Antiquity and saw herself facing many godly presences around her. She sighed, placing a hand in her hips as she observed all of them, given her previous thoughts it would make sense to approach one of them, yet, she did not quite know how. She had only seen one god in her life, and she was sure she shouldn’t address anyone like she addressed Qael’Naeth. As such, she simply stood there for a moment, standing still and brooding.

Yamat had once more found himself in Antiquity, gazing upon the variety of gods when one caught his eye. He had definitely not seen her before, both on Galbar or in Antiquity, in fact, her entire presence was unknown to him. Oh this could get interesting, a previously unknown actor revealing themselves? He quickly drew himself closer to the god.

”It's always nice to see another of our kind appear.” He spoke as soon as he was close enough, offering a slight bow to the goddess. ”I assume you’ve just arrived?”

The pale woman turned as she saw herself facing some sort of masked god, one of the advantages of existence was that even if you did not felt ready to do something it could still force you to do it anyway, as such, Qullqiya’s plans for a planned introduction were quickly gone, and yet, it was probably the best way for a goddess of chaotic energies to start to socialize again.

”I arrived recently, yet long enough to have heard a god yell into our minds and to have a certain notion of what is happening here. Hello. I am Qullqiya, Goddess of Magic. To whom do I owe the pleasure?” she turned to face the god and adjusted her posture to be more formal.

”Ah yes, that annoying message, but regardless, I am Yamat,” He bowed deeply as he often does, his lanky form doubling over and his left arm shooting out while his right was placed to his chest, before rapidly rising once more. ”Goddess of magic huh? Didn’t know we had two of those” He mused out loud, investigating the goddess’ form and appearance.

She was a tall, tidy looking being, skin cold and white like marble and a bit mirrored. ”Well, we shouldn’t have two of us, but Qael couldn’t do his job properly and constantly tried to stop the more chaotic side of magic in his quest to appease others. I had no option but to be born given the situation.”

Yamat nodded ”I see,” he thought back to his encounter with Qael, the god had never mentioned he had another side. ”So I assume the two of you are one, less than agreeable terms?”

”Your assumption is correct. I don’t even have euphemisms for this one, it’s a real grudge held by both sides. Though for the sake of civility I will try not to cause a scene here in this realm shared by the gods. she added, tilting her head slightly to the left in a contained showcase of displeasure.

Yamat looked around the realm ”Well as other I and some other gods have observed, the realm looks fitting for fighting, and besides,” He turned back towards the goddess, a slight sparkle in his eye. ”There’s no real authority here, so i'm sure you can do nearly as much as you please.”

She sighed. ”There was never any authority back then too, not until we were banished and even then, the Lifeblood acted on an impulse not on a plan. The question is more on the side of, well, battles can be boring, especially godly battles that last a whole day. I have done it once and I do not see how doing it again benefits me or my cause. Whenever I feel like I can take down Qael in a quick, decisive manner, I will do it without a second thought.”

Yamat chuckled ”My my, someone is sure of their abilities, that would be certainly interesting to see, a nice little addition to this beautiful play.” He wistfully sighed, hoping to see that scene if it ever occured ”Now tell me, goddess of magic, how do you feel about tragedy?”

She rose one eyebrow at that, raising her head a bit before walking in circles for a short bit. ”Well… It depends, tragedy is a complex concept, isn’t it? Much like a shadow is created by the presence of light, tragedies exist by the expectation of a better result or the experience of better times, there is a sense of unfairness to them, things that do not break the norm are not tragic. Don’t you agree?”

Yamat could feel the smile creeping behind his mask, he was already liking this goddess. “I would agree yes, there can be no real tragedy without some change, I must say you are the first god i’ve met who’s held a belief like that, often I find most of them either don’t care for the subject or consider it completely useless, a shame really, many of them would learn well from a good tragedy.” He fell silent, pondering some ideas that had sprung up in his mind.

She hummed for a moment. ”Well, I think it's because I too work with an element which only exists in the balance of things. I have had a realm of my own and it was impossible for me to create chaos on my own, there was nothing to break and no purpose in doing it. I can imagine your experience in exile might have been similar, right, God of Tragedy.” she smiled, never having been told what Yamat’s domain was.

He chuckled, his smile growing wider, ”My my, the first to guess it correctly, i’ll have you know that is quite a feat amongst here, but, yes, I found the, realms, as others call them painful, tragedy can only work well when you have a majestic state and a wellspring of actors to perform it,” He once more observed the common realm, eyeing up the other gods ”Which I have more than enough at this point, wouldn't you agree?” He addressed the goddess, his torso almost snapping back to face her.

”Hmm, there is a certain implication to that, isn’t there? Would you say this is enough? That this is the peak? It's a dangerous thought to have, but I am certain it is not the case.”

”Well, a play is always less about the number of its actors, more instead about the quality of the actors, how well they can perform their role, what they add to the play in of itself, a large cast of fantastic actors is far better than a small cast of terrible actors in my humble opinion, what I just need to figure out.” He leaned forward, drawing himself closer to the goddess ”Is just how well my actors can perform, something I am, very interested in.”

She stayed firm in place, merely gracing him with an interested look. ”Ah? Are you working on a special passion project at the moment? You have my curiosity, Yamat.”

”I am always working on scenes for the beautiful play and a goddess of chaotic magic would be, more than helpful in them, as you said tragedy comes from chaos, i’m sure a goddess like you can aid me even without any, direct plans, i'm sure you dislike those regardless.” So many intriguing actors, Yamat could tell this play would be glorious.

Qullqiya closed one eye. ”In all honesty, I feel like the real tragedy would be a world where everything is predictable and rules can’t be broken, but that is my concept, and I am not the goddess of tragedy. But we occupy similar places and all my creations are meant to be wild cards, in that sense, yes, we do bring benefits to each other.” she adjusted her necktie before smiling. ”And on the contrary, I am very proud of my plans. Chaos is best distributed through the word by fine working neatly organized systems.”

”You continue to surprise me Qull, a chaotic god who values their well ordered plans, you are, certainly an enigma, more than fitting your domain.”

”Sometimes, you don’t need to solve the paradoxes of your being, but embrace them. Like creating a tragedy through a blessing.” she nodded.

Yamat chuckled once more ”Very much so, I must say, I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation Qull,” he held out his hand, his smile having never faded ”perhaps we should talk again another time? Discuss some plans and have ourselves a grand old time?”

”That sounds excellent. It is always nice to share ideas with a like minded individual, especially after two thousand years of exile.” she bowed slightly to Yamat, also having a smile on her face, albeit a smaller one. ”Until next time, and good luck in your endeavours.”

“How has it been, old friend?” A gentle but disembodied voice said to Orb. Who was comfortably waiting in a sack until he could continue on his teachings. He instantly recognized the voice as that of his creator.

“It’s been going well, sir.” The cheery if not excessively single-minded creation said. “Lucia has made great progress across the past 730.533 cycles. She even made progress into her own kind of spells. As a teacher, I must say that I am very proud of her achievement.”

Qael’Naath knew that those weren’t genuine feelings. Orb was simply created with a set of mimicked feelings from mortals. Someone having a sense of pride in you makes you feel good about yourself. To the god of magic it was simply toying with the chemicals of mortals but Orb didn’t know that. To orb, what he felt was not a falsehood created to make others happy students. It was as real and genuine as anything else. Sadly if it was ever compared to a real mortals emotions, it would look nothing alike.

“Good.” The god of magic said. “Very good. Where are you now Orb?”

“In a sack, sir.” Orb answered in a matter of fact way.

This took the Winds of Magic, and Qael by extension, by surprise. Did Lucia put him in a sack when she was done with him? No, no she was far too kind for that. Something else had to have put him in there. “Why are you in a sack? Who put you there?”

“I don’t know sir.” Orb answered.

“How did you even end up there? How long have you been in there?”

“I don’t know sir.”

Qael let out a sigh. Of course, Orb was nothing more than a strict automaton who teaches magic and nothing more. The journal he kept only detailed magical teachings and progress. Nothing else. For a moment he wondered if he should elevate Orb’s consciousness and thus make him more free to make his own decisions. But no, that would defeat his purpose all together. Nor was it his duty to defend himself. He was Lucia’s responsibility. He would have to ask her why exactly he was put in a sack. For now, he simply poured his own divine knowledge into the very willing vessel. Orb’s externals and internals quickly changed to accept the divine knowledge. Inside it was all catalogued and neatly stored for future teachings. On his shell, this change was shown as runes appearing on his shell.

When the god of magic was done, he did desire to leave a message. It felt like a strange desire. Something a mortal would feel. Yet Lucia had told him to care and oddly enough he found himself caring for Lucia now. At least a little bit. “Orb. I need you to do one more thing. I want you to pass Lucia a message when she finds you.”

“I am not made to store messages, sir. I can only made to teach magic.” Orb responded.

“Just make it happen, Orb.” Qael said.

Several of Orb’s new runes lit up across his shell for a moment and then faded again. “I can take your message now, sir.”

“Tell her-“ What really was he going to tell her? He had no clue. It all felt so strange. “Tell her I hope she is doing well and that she’s happy. I’m still grateful for our conversation and I’m doing my best to learn how to care. Though it isn’t easy for a god like me. Tell her I will always listen to her prayers. Tell her I miss her and I hope I could talk to her again soon.”

“I will relay your message to Lucia then, sir.” Orb said in confirmation. But the link between creator and creation was already severed.

---

Toraan had Orb. Sooner or later some mages would ask him to settle down with them. Creating the second epicenter of magical knowledge in this world. Mydia was blessed with the first: The Library. A place where people could store their spells for all eternity. One region of Galbar remained devoid of magical support though: Kubrajzar. It was, in fact, a region that Qael’Naath himself hadn’t paid much attention to even before he vanished. Now that he looked upon it, he really should have. Somehow his Itztli were there yet without a single Eloxochitli to lead them. For a moment he feared they would’ve descended into barbarism.

Nothing appeared further from the truth. While their cottages and adobes were humble and small, their grand pyramids rose proud beyond the canopy of the jungle. Massive irrigation channels had been dug out and fortified. Allowing food to grow in abundance. Obelisks lined the main roads and within the barracks he saw how they fought: with magic and weapons combined as one. With every strike a blast echoed yet the force was deflected not only with their shields but with their wills. Every strike, every defense was an move of both sorcerous magic and physical brawn.

There was one thing missing though: spells. Despite their innate connection to mana and sorcery, it would seem that the priests had barely begun to understand the concept of spells. Like the monuments they build, the Itztli were strong and mighty but crude and lacked elegance. It would not do. They needed help to create their spells.

It was on a morning in the early parts of the Cycle that Sekhem woke up and found the Prism of Omathaequai.

---

In that dimly lit hall, Nalla sat upon a throne, eyes shut as she let her thoughts drift. The chief’s throne, or chair really, but to her it was a throne. She had claimed it in his… Death. It reminded her of the King in Ketrefa’s throne, sitting surrounded by his court of highborns. Oh how the thought was delightful. Delicious. Intoxicating. To be there, and not… She opened her eyes to view the room. Musty, wooden, old and stained. Granted, most of the stains were from her. In fact, most of the room was coated in the dark stain that was blood. She sighed, and leaned on her hand as she pouted.

It had been going so well… Then Hekti decided to kill himself in the sun. Lesson learned. Then when she had grown hungry, Tesil’s memories flashed before her. Her final moments, what she had felt as Nalla stuck her blade in her, over and over again. Did she regret killing her sister? Did it make her feel bad for what she put her through? The vampiress giggled at the thought. It was an annoying part of her newfound power, but she did relish those feelings. The helplessness, the anger, turning to hatred, fading, fading, fading- Until she was but a corpse. Call it an intuition, but Nalla wasn’t keen on murdering anyone else, no matter how much she wanted to. There was no telling if more memories would pop up and her sister’s were quite enough. As such, creativity was key when it came to drowning her thirst with blood.

Nalla lifted up her sister’s skull from the side of the chair. Cleaned and cut, she now used it as a goblet when she drank. She took a sip of the day old blood. It had cooled, becoming room temperature but she drank regardless. Every drop was precious, for her stock was running low- again. She put the skull down and got up, twirling her way over to where her stock hung. Village folk, brought for ‘dinner’ with the chief, now used as her own personal blood bodies. There was Petyr, the strapping young hunter, Yiosalda, the lovely blond haired, blue eyed village looker and Hansa, the brunette who had gone after Hekti, plus she was her sister’s best friend. Petyr was out cold, for Nalla had enjoyed his taste the night before, but Yiosalda and Hansa were very aware. Each struggled to break the rope they were ensnared by, gags muffling their screams. Nalla liked the fear in their eyes, it was so… Welcoming. She toyed with Yiosalda by licking her throat as she hugged her from behind. The girl struggled, but could do no damage to her. Next she went before Hansa, who looked at her with such hate it brought a shiver down Nalla’s spine. She slapped Hansa, sending the girl out cold. She wiped her hand and then called out, “Yensen! Come here please!”

It hadn’t been easy, fabricating the lie. When she had been found in the chief’s house, unable to leave because of the sun, it had been Yensen and three other village men who looked upon her with a mix of disgust and fear. She had told them what happened, the tragic story of Chief Ronton, his ‘wife’ Tesil and wayward son, Hekti. A tragic episode in the village’s history, but she had survived by the grace of the gods, and given powers to lead them. They hadn’t believed her until she had broken the arm of one of the men in a flash. Who were they to go against the gods’ will? So Nalla went about living in the darkness of the chief’s home, who had become sick with fever and his other family members were to remain by his side at all times. Yensen became her trusted ally, for he was easily persuaded by the secret of her power, and she held that secret over him as insurance. Thus, it was his job to keep the village running in the chief’s absence, with the other three men agreeing out of fear. They knew she walked outside at night, after all and they could not leave their homes and run away. Their livelihoods were here, with sheep and foods, so they played along. That brought her back to her blood problem. She needed people to feed her, to be her food, so in her haste for sustenance, she told them to bring those three to her. After they became aware of her nature, Nalla hadn’t realized those she fed off of lost their memory of it. But by that time, it was too late to set them free. No, she had to come up with another solution.

Yensen, the balding man with a feeble build finally arrived in the room. “Yes, Nalla?” he asked, looking down at the floor.

She turned to him and was soon beside him, hand upon his chest, with her lips to his ear. “Yiosalda is looking hungry, feed her would you?”

The man gulped, and nodded slowly. “Of course, Nalla.” he said quietly.

“Good man.” she cooed, before once again sitting down upon her throne.

She watched Yensen leave, returning with a plate of meat and a jug of water. He undid her gag and fed her forcefully. She had tears running down her face as she glared at Nalla. She watched as the girl swallowed a few mouthfuls, but when given a drink she spit the water out at Yensen. In a rare moment of anger, he struck the girl and then gagged her again before leaving the room. Nalla twisted her head, thinking of ways she might feast upon her, without murdering her outright.

She sighed, slumping back into the throne. “What am I going to do with you, Yiosalda? Hansa? Petyr?” she asked herself, taking a sip of blood. “It’s not like I can just kill you outright. Or maybe I could. Who’s to say your memories won’t be added to my hunger? I don’t really want to find out though.” she growled angrily. “I wonder… Perhaps I should pray to find some alleviation.” She sat up and looked at the blond girl again. “Do you pray, Yiosalda? Or should I ask, have you prayed while in your current predicament?” she stood up, and came before her prisoner once again. “Do you think they listen? And if they listen, do you think they care?” Nalla touched her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Oh tsk tsk, did he hurt you? Perhaps you should ask a God to help you?” she smiled wickedly at her before backing up and outstretching her arms. “Who do you think about help? Cadien the allfather? Tekret the Ruler? Evandra of the fire? The Sun Mother? Perhaps, Neiya?” Nalla looked up at the ceiling of the roof, “Can you hear me, Goddess of Love? Can you help me end Yiosalda’s suffering with your touch?” she asked.

A brief pause, a silence before the storm.

Then, as though Nalla had truly called upon the attention of the gods, the air in the room seemed to swell and expand around the gathered, a stiff and cloying grip taking hold of all gathered and swooping down from beyond to occupy the area with its invisible presence. Nalla felt the brush of wind rush through her hair, saw how her hung up captives swayed ever so slightly though nothing had touched them.

Then it spoke. A sultry yet distant voice, worming its way into her mind with overbearing need to be noticed. ”You call for my assistance, Nalla, daughter of Rado and Alina, and in turn, I have come,” there was a sharp pause, and the sensation of the wind brushed against Nalla’s face and cheek, a strange pressure taking root in her mind.
“Is there room in your heart for anyone but yourself? Why would you end another’s suffering?”

Nalla remained stunned, eyes wide with disbelief as the Goddess’ voice spoke. What had she been expecting? She opened herself up to this, hadn’t she? “I…” she began, speaking aloud, “I will not lie to you, oh Goddess… There is little love in my heart but for me. You can see, can’t you? My upbringing? How my parents… Sister… They did not love me. They thought I was broken. So yes, I would end another’s suffering if it brought them peace. Even if I was the one to put them in their place of suffering. Needlessly so, I will admit. These powers…” she looked down at her hands, “I know not if they are a gift or a curse, but I think I’m beginning to suspect. I killed to be in power, to get revenge. I used Hekti to do so. It must be a curse.”

”Broken,” the goddess voiced with a dispassionate tone. ”Pain put you on this path, my dearest. Pain carried you, twisted to anguish and hate. Perhaps you are being tested, my sweet. To endure, and evolve.”

“Have I not already evolved?” she asked, looking at Yiosalda. “I am no longer human, I crave their blood, I’m faster, stronger and I have heightened reflexes. Yet I cannot step outside in the sun, or I die and I cannot go without drinking, and when I do get thirsty, I see my sister’s memories and how she remembered her death. I enjoy them Goddess…” she whispered. “So, if I am being tested… How does one overcome such restraints?”

There was a pause. Had it not been for the presence stifling the air still, one could have thought the divine visitation had ceased. ”You enjoy them, yet you hesitate. The suffering you spread, that you feel forced to spread, it can be eased. All is possible, so long as one opens their heart to my affection.” The pressure on Nalla’s thoughts became overbearing for but a brief moment, and with it rushed a deluge of visions, affection, longing, a horned and pale woman, a taste of ecstasy. As soon as it had begun, it ended.

Nalla fell to her hands and knees, gasping. It delighted her body and mind, the taste given. It would not be forgotten, as it faded but instead, yearned for. “My heart… It can open itself to you… I swear it.” she breathed. “Please… Just let me ease their suffering so that I might enjoy myself. I don’t want to be enslaved by their cruel memories.”

”As you will it, so shall it be, my one and only.” The goddess replied with a growing warmth to her voice, breathing with a heat that could be felt in Nalla’s mind. The wind whipped around her with growing intensity, rustling cloth and debris aggressively. The skull of her sister finally toppled, battered away with the growing force. With the storm growing around Nalla came strange whispers, an endless flood of languages calling for love, revenge, assistance, or clarity, most of which Nalla could only understand by the intent of their words. The visions returned, though not with the same intensity. ”I will always be with you, Nalla, daughter of Rado and Alina, so long as you ask for me, and love me as I do you,” another whisper built to centre itself in her mind. Archaic words, in a language she did not know. Yet she understood. The words to express her affection. ”And as you share your heart with me, I shall share my love with those around you.”

The words registered with her mind, her thoughts and feelings focused on the experience of the Goddess. “Thank you,” Nalla whispered as she got to her feet, “Thank you so much Goddess. I am yours… Forever.” she said, mouthwatering as she looked at the vein in Yiosalda’s neck. The girl squirmed, knowing something had gone terribly wrong… Or terribly right. She tried to scream but the gag muffled her as Nalla approached and whispered the words of affection into her ear, in the language of the ancients. “Goddess, I open my heart to you, bless me with your eternal love.” before sinking her fangs into the girls neck. The girl had already stopped her struggling, breathing heavily and eyes widening as a smile grew on her lips. It was one of happiness - bliss even - and she reacted to Nalla only with the softest of breaths, her gaze locked on a distant mirage only visible to her. And just like that, Yiosalda died peacefully in bliss as Nalla reared back to take a breath as fresh blood poured down the sides of her mouth.

“Thank you again, Goddess. She was delicious.” Nalla smiled happily. The winds stirred around her once again, leaving few moments for the vampiric woman to remain in stillness. A brisk, cold embrace whisked through her hair, grazed her neck and throat. As the whispers returned, for just a brief moment, Nalla felt cold metal clasp around her neck.

Just as quickly, the wind stilled, and the whispers turned silent. The voice of the goddess rang out in her mind. ”Forget me not, my dearest. I am yours, as you are mine. Together, we evolve. There was a last, soft breath brushing against her ears, before the stifling presence seemed to lift from the room all at once, and the heavy feeling set against Nalla’s mind vanished as though it had never been there.

Nalla could not see what was around her neck, but she felt the cold metal and felt the large jewel at its center. She then smiled wickedly. “Together… Forever and ever…” she whispered in the dimly lit room.

Bread and Circuses

---

The sun had barely risen over the walls of Ketrefa, yet the Court of Flames was already bustling. The shanty of stone houses in disrepair and stacked gutter houses had families milling out onto the streets. Not unlike the misnamed market-turned-red light district that was the House of Ambrosia, the Court of Flames had fire neither in the heart of its residents, nor had any noble of esteem paraded the length of its two streets intersecting into a small square in many decades. The square - once a grand shrine to Evandra - had been preserved out of fear of displeasing a god, but the adjoining temple structure had long since been usurped by animal handlers that converted the spacious area into a makeshift stable.

Today was different, however. A well-dressed procession had garnered interest in the early light, and as the residents realized that the visitors were setting up food stalls and cook pots, the word had spread like wildfire among those who struggled to make ends meet. A single man in moth-bitten garb allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and approached the service. A young oaken-haired woman dressed in almost regal finery intercepted him with a warm smile. They talked for a brief moment, before the man was given a bowl of stew, a ladle, and a piece of bread. It didn’t take long for a line to form after that.

The routine was simple, each hopeful commoner met the young brunette, who told them the Great Goddess Neiya loved them all, and that it was House Akellos duty to look after all who the Goddess loved. They received their food and praised the goddess together, before the next in line had their turn. It continued like that for the entirety of the early day, until finally, one man in the line mustered the courage to strike up a longer conversation.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I-... Someone down the line said that you were also offering work to the willing?” He mustered with an unsteady smile, pulling the leather cap from his head humbly.

The woman smiled warmly at the man. “You can call me Mira, child. We are equals before the Goddess,” she began with a sweet tone, then turned to gesture towards a handsome man standing by one of the cook pots, dressed in finery as her, far beyond that of a cook. “When we’re done here, you may return and speak to my husband Kalet, over there. Make sure to let others know, there is food and warmth for all who wish to work.” She continued, as the man was offered a bowl, ladle and bread by one of the others preparing food. Mira turned back to the man. “Praise the Goddess, and her eternal love,” she said, and the man repeated it with thankful glee.

---

Another long day in Ketrefa’s convoluted bureaucracy was about to come to an end, as the sun finally finished it’s journey over the Walled City, starting to invite the twilight as it dipped under the top of the wall. Matan, tired from a long day of house-calls, impromptu meetings and instructing an endless stream of messengers, slowly dragged his feet over the streets of the city, weaving between the houses of minor nobility until he found himself deep into the terrace that housed much of the upper class and overlooked the older parts of the city.

Weaving around a last corner, he finally sighted his last destination for the day - the once luxurious Akellos estate. It was sizable and grand, but forgotten in the bustle of everyday life, much like its inhabitants. Or so Matan had thought until a few days ago. He made his way towards the entrance, a stone arch that someone had vandalized with symbols and crude attempts at murals - most of which made no sense to Matan. Most prominent was the heart-symbol of the love goddess, though someone had further ruined that by drawing what looked like six spikes, or horns, around its edges.

Matan found himself stopped, idly viewing the extent of the damage defacing the front of the estate. Perhaps it was recent, and they’d not yet gotten around to fixing it. No prominent noble would allow this vicious destruction of his property, surely.

Movement from the entrance beyond drew Matan’s attention back to the real, and not many moments later a young man dressed in plain, but certainly upper crust, clothing stalked out of the arch to nearly bump into him.

“Oh, I apo-...” The man began, but chuckled as he recognized Matan properly. “Matan? Are you all the way out here? At this hour? The denizens of the House of Ambrosia must be missing you.”

“Yaren,” Matan replied with a growing smirk. “What can I say? It’s been a long day, justice never rests, and all that.” He sighed quietly, examining his comrade. “We missed you and your brother at the ceremony last week. You know Kelet can’t make his way through the Blessing of the Five to save his life without your piety to guide the way.”

Yaren laughed warmly, and gave only a small shrug in defense.

“And what’s this, not wearing the symbol of the Five?” Matan inquired further, smirk still lingering on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and become one of those heretics who deny the gods, now.”

Again Yaren laughed, offering a smirk back at his inquisitive friend. He patted at his neck theatrically as if to look for the item in question. “Not at all. In fact, this last week I’d say I feel closer to the divine than ever before. I must’ve just left it at home.” He smiled at Matan, looking him up and down. “What’re you doing all the way out here, anyway? Got business with Old Man Akellos?”
Matan nodded and sighed, running a hand up to scratch at his own neck. “Aye. Guards’ been running around all day beating down poor folk and beggars raising hell all over the fancier districts. Ripping symbols off of people’s necks, breaking shrines and vandalizing murals. A few of them said two nobles affiliated with House Akellos put ‘em up to it.”

Yaren made a face and shrugged once more. “News to me. Sounds like someone’s trying to smear my Great Uncle, honestly.”

“That’s what I thought,” Matan agreed. “But given how the Old Man has been talking in the courts in the last two weeks, riling nobles up and stirring up old piety laws - well, the magistrate is worried he’s making an attempt for his position.”

Yaren frowned, the youthful man stroking at his chin briefly in thought. “Well, he has been more devout as of late. I suppose you should come on in. The Old Man is busy right now, but I’ll let him know you’re waiting.” He affirmed with a nod, and gestured towards the entrance. Matan nodded in turn, and the two men walked through the arch to enter the old estate.

Matan had not seen the Akellos estate from the inside for at least five years, yet nothing seemed to have changed in that time. Opulent chandeliers, rich weave curtains and mats, and embellished cushions and artwork littering every corner of the grand entry hall. Yaren smiled back at him, and gestured up towards the ceiling. He offered a quick “I’ll be right back then,” and scarpered up the nearby staircase to vanish to the upper floors. Matan took his time looking at the rich and old valuables that stood for open viewing. Old busts of Ketrefan nobles and saints that had not been relevant for many years. Carvings of old legends now caked with a layer of dust. Come to think of it, the estate was very quiet. Matan glanced around, but there was not a servant in sight. No errant slave-girl, no cooks making the last round back to the kitchen before evening meals. No servant waiting in the hall to see to his own needs. Were they so forgotten by Ketrefa that they no longer could support themselves? He drew a finger along a seat cushion, and it came away with a thin layer of dust. Frowning, Matan idled in the silent entry hall waiting for Yaren.

But Yaren did not seem to be in any hurry to return. Perhaps he had been forced to wait, out of respect. It made Matan restless all the same, and his inspection grew in range, as the Magistrate’s assistant began to pace about the room, eyeing new details. He was just about to turn back towards the stairs when an open archway at the end of the hall caught his eye. Normally covered with a regal cloth that had been tied to one side, Matan could just barely spot another room at the far end of a small hallway. Even from afar, he saw what looked like an altar.

Matan glanced back towards the stairs and listened. He could not hear Yaren, nor anyone else, approach, and in that moment he decided to go on a small journey. With surreptitious grace befitting that of a bureaucrat, he slunk in beside the tied curtain, and walked down the short hallway with newfound curiosity. A few steps later, Matan stepped into another room - and what felt like another world. The walls were covered with strange murals of blue, black and silver. Strange symbols not unlike those outside, complete with hand-painted drawings of horned women and grotesque depictions of what Matan could only imagine were some kind of vile ritual. In the midst of the room, with a blue hue cast over the entire scene thanks to the paint, stood an altar of sleek marble. A few candles stood quiet on it now, burned down and melted out over the stonework. Matan moved further into the room, and glanced down when he noticed his feet touching something. All over the floor were cushions, pillows of fine make and a multitude of covers. One could sleep in here - nay, host an entire party. Finally, on the far wall beyond the altar, the unmistakable symbol of the Love Goddess Neiya was painted with a rich blue colour. From afar it looked almost like a river bending in on itself to form a heart.

Matan exhaled shakily, steadily walking towards the altar as he eyed the spacious shrine. The murals filled him with a growing unease, and none of the symbols looked anything like what the clergy would sanction or spread. Were it not for the Love Goddess sign, he would have immediately considered it heretical. A gnawing worry deep within still did. Matan stopped at the marble altar at last, and ran his fingers along the stone. His fingers came away clean, and he scrubbed them against each other to be sure. No dust in here. Some of the paintings looked recent as well. He glanced up towards the symbol of Neiya once more, and noticed that even this large blue painting had horns embellished on its sides, barely visible in the gloom. Narrowing his eyes, Matan walked closer to the back wall, running his hand against the grotesque symbols and figures as he tried to make more of it out in the poor light.

He stayed like that for a longer time than he had first intended, each new carving intriguing and revolting to his pious senses in equal measure. It was inherently captivating, yet deeply disturbing. Unlike any chamber or shrine he had seen in his time. Then, from out of nowhere, a sharp breath and a voice from behind made him stiffen with surprise.

“Ah, there you are. We thought you had left out of boredom.” a man’s voice spoke with warm tones. Matan spun around, and found himself looking at two new faces; an oaken-haired young woman in a finely spun silk dress, and a handsome dark-haired man in dress clothes. They both smiled at him warmly. “When Yaren said you waited below, we thought he meant the entrance hall.”

Matan breathed a shaky sigh, scratching at the back of his head and hurrying out from the back of the shrine, walking into what little light gleaned into the room. “Heh, I’m-... I’m sorry. I got curious. Have we met?”

The man shook his head and smiled, stepping forward with powerful confidence to extend his hand for Matan to shake. “I am Kalet Akestos, a minor branch house of Akellos,” he introduced himself with a gleaming smile as Matan shook his hand, and then twisted to the side to gesture to the woman, who greeted Matan from afar with a warm and comely smile. “This is my wife, Mira Anestra.” Matan nodded to her with a small smile and she curtsied, tugging on the silk dress to let her complete the motion.

“Pleased to meet you both,” Matan breathed with a little relief, though still unnerved by the room they were in. His brow furrowed soon after. “Isn’t Anestra also a branch house of Akellos?” he questioned, and Kalet chuckled warmly.

“You’re right! Our union ended a many decade-long feud. We are thankful to the Goddess that she brought us together so wonderfully.” He offered with a pleased grin, and Mira looked equally happy in unison. Matan nodded and adjusted his shirt. When silence spread, his attention fell on the grotesque wall murals once more.

After a moment’s hesitation, he cleared his throat and spoke. “What, ah, what is this room, exactly? I’ve never seen anything like it?”

“Oh, this?” Kalet returned with a confidence undeterred by Matan’s returning doubt. “This is a shrine to Neiya, who touches our hearts with her divine and eternal love.”

“I see,” Matan replied, a brief frown at his explanation. “It doesn’t look anything like the shrines I’ve seen before. There are some… artistic liberties, I think.”

Kalet simply laughed, and his wife smiled in the background. “Just because the clergy have an image that we follow, my friend, does not mean it is right. We hold all aspects of the Goddess dear, and close to our hearts.”

Matan nodded, glancing back at the murals in thought. He was about to speak when Kalet interrupted his thought, another chuckle as he tapped his forehead. “Ah, yes! I almost forgot. We were supposed to tell you, Master Akellos will be unable to see you this evening. I’m afraid he’s stuck dealing with a family matter. He will see first thing at dawn.”

“Oh,” Matan shook his head, and forced a small smile. “No issue. I did arrive unannounced after all.” He waved a hand to dismiss the issue, clearing his throat. With a last smile, he took a single step to the side to move for the exit, but Kalet stopped him with a lifted hand.

“No, please, my friend. Yaren told me how far away you live. I would not force you to walk all this way again on the morrow.” Kalet took a few steps back himself, smiling warmly. Almost mischievously. “I insist that you let us house you for the evening.”

Matan offered a sheepish smile, and felt a chuckle bubble loose as he scratched the back of his head. “Yaren is always thinking of others, huh.”

Kalet and Mira both smiled at each other before smiling at him. “You’ll find that in this house we try to spread the love to all who deserve it.” Matan nodded and offered a brief word of thanks. It seemed however, that Kalet was not finished. He slowly took his wife in hand, and together they once more approached Matan, who cleared his throat.

The couple came to stand a few short paces from him, and Kalet gently led Mira in front of him, facing Matan. She offered him a soft, if a little shy smile. Matan stood silent, watching the two with a gentle tension resurfacing. He could not help but watch Mira as she stood displayed before him in her silken dress. Kalet grinned from behind his wife, and finally broke the silence. “Let us show you hospitality worthy of the one true goddess, Matan,” he voiced calmly, before his hands lowered to her back. With a single well-placed tug, the straps loosened, and the luxurious dress fell to the ground, disrobing the woman in one fell swoop. Matan stared transfixed in disbelief as Mira gingerly stepped across the cushion-covered floor to close the distance between them, hands already moving to lay against Matan’s chest. Matan stuttered a few words in confusion, taking a single step back as Mira pressed against him.

“I am not sure my affection is enough for such an upright man. Husband?” Mira spoke with soft words, that alone seemed to make Matan shiver with anticipation. Behind her, Kalet smiled, already undoing his shirt as he walked towards the both of them.

Matan began an unsteady protest, but before more than a syllable had left his lips, Mira’s finger was upon them, shushing him with desire in her eyes and a firm touch. Her other hand wandered down over his chest, as Matan felt Kalet run his hands over his shoulders.

“Let us show you how we honour the One True Goddess.” Mira whispered in his ear.

Matan felt their hands roam on his clothes, and he offered a slow nod.

The Magistrate could wait another day for his report.

Twenty-one Years After Antiquity…

---

For a thirteen year-old boy, life on his own had been hard.

After his murder of the chieftain, the village of Morganstead had named him an outlaw. Stories began to spread of the white-haired purple-eyed boy who murdered a chieftain that had already given him a warm welcome, along with the village hospitality. No such welcome or hospitality had actually been given, but tales tended to become distorted after passing both distance and time.

Before going into a village, he had often had to stain his hair with mud in order to avoid being recognized. Even then, the villagers did not know him, and he had no goods to trade with, so he was often required to steal in order to take what he wanted. Originally he possessed dreams of sneaking into the city of Ketrefa and somehow rescuing Brundt, but those dreams soon became forgotten. His own survival was more a pressing issue; and infiltrating a village or stealing food already posed a considerable challenge as it was.

Even after he had travelled far enough south where he no longer risked being recognized, life only became marginally easier. Most took one look at his unscarred and uncalloused skin and assumed he was unfit for manual labour, and some villages or tribes rejected him outright simply because he was an outsider. He still had to steal to survive.

Eventually, however, he was able to get his hands on a sword. It was a cheap thing, made out of copper - the sort of thing a guardsman from Thyma would carry as a sidearm to their spear - but it was serviceable enough, and he already knew how to use it. At the age of fifteen he entered a new line of work; one that wasn’t particularly more lucrative, but it held some semblance of legitimacy, so he no longer had to rely solely on thievery.

He became a mercenary; acting as hired muscle for merchants. Sometimes this simply meant protecting shipments on the road, while in other cases he would be dispatched to “settle” a debt or property dispute.

He disliked the work. The merchants carried themselves with an air of superiority, believing that their wealth and the fact that they didn’t have to perform back-breaking manual labour somehow made them superior to the rest. Many held no qualms in demonstrating these beliefs, and there were times when Carn wanted nothing more to spit in their face and walk away.

But he needed the money.

So, he worked. He played the part of the thug, the toady, the muscle, the brute. He played the part of the silent bodyguard, observing his various employers as they plied their own trade. He learned much about negotiating and the value of various goods. And if negotiations ever broke down, he would naturally be required to defend his employer - further honing his swordsmanship in the process. He had slain thieves, brigands, and sometimes even other mercenaries who merely had the misfortune of working for someone his own employer was in a feud with.

He was nineteen years old now. Standing at six and a half feet in height, he towered over most Highlanders. His muscled physique and the fierce look in his eye made it easy for prospective employers to recognize his talent, despite his age. His handsome face remained unscarred and unblemished, for his regenerative abilities had never left him. He had upgraded beyond the cheap copper sword he found years ago, and now carried a longer bronze blade. He was no longer clad in the rags of an urchin and instead wore hard leather. Bolstering his arsenal was a round wooden shield, which was battered but still sturdy enough to serve its purpose.

His latest employer was a rather interesting one. In the southwestern Highlands there was a great mountain, and in this mountain was a large amount of gold which happened to be exceedingly rare elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, a number of communities had sprung up with the intent of extracting this valuable resource. Unfortunately, the Highlands were divided by a river, and so these ores had to be ferried across on barges and boats.

Naturally, additional communities had been built on the other side of the river, meant to receive these vessels and provide housing for the merchants and crew. There, these merchants sold the valuable ores to other merchants, who then brought them to more distant regions of the Highlands in the hopes of selling them for a greater profit. It was a merchant of the latter group that Carn was currently escorting.

---

He had been between employers when he first caught the merchant’s attention, wandering through the market in search of food. “You there!” a voice had called out to him.

Carn turned to see a round-bellied merchant in clean clothes and a green travelling coat. He stood near a cart, which other men were loading goods into. Carn decided to approach. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’ve heard of you,” the merchant said. “Or at least, I think I have. Not many people have that colour of hair. Corn, was it? I’m Ruvar.”

“Carn.”

“Right. Carn. My mistake. Anyway, I’m taking these goods up to Ketrefa, and I could use another guard. I heard you’re reliable, so I’ll pay you well - in Ketrefan coin. Are you interested?”

Carn had frowned at the mention of Ketrefa. He had seen the city’s walls before, but he had never gone inside. He hated to think of the place, for he could only imagine that Brundt was in there somewhere, forced to toil in some mine or to work some field. If he survived at all, of course. He heard slaves were often executed for even the most minor offenses, and even if they weren’t killed outright, then the beatings and the hard labour could result in their deaths anyway. He wanted nothing more than to see that wretched city in ash, but such a task was beyond his power.

Then he pushed his hatred aside, and considered the offer further. The fact was, he needed the pay. He was between jobs, and Ketrefan coins were exceptionally valuable.

Instead of a barter system, the Ketrefans had strange silver discs which could serve as a substitute for goods. Instead of exchanging one good for another, a man could simply hand over a fistful of silver and purchase what he pleased. The other great cities had such a system as well, but in the countryside most settlements lacked the resources or the means to produce similar currencies. And yet, these coins were still valuable even outside of their cities, for they were often made of rare metals, and they were always of use to someone who sought to trade with the more ‘civilized’ regions of the Highlands.

“I’m in,” he finally said, though some part of him felt like he would regret it.

“Excellent!” the merchant said, clapping his hands together. “Now would you help load the cart?”

---

The cart was drawn by two quillats. The gold was kept in crates, in the form of raw ore, metal bars, and trinkets. There were a number of other handcrafted items as well, made from different materials. Lastly, there were also food and provisions; meant to serve as the group’s rations.

Unfortunately, there was not enough space for Carn and the five other guards. So while Ruvar sat up front directing the quillats, Carn and his comrades had to follow on foot, with three on either side. Their only job was to appear vigilant, keep an eye out for potential attackers, and occasionally help with the wagon if it ever got stuck on the uneven dirt road.

It turned out that three of the guards worked for Ruvar regularly, and a fourth was a freelancer by the name of Roan, who worked for Ruvar multiple times in the past. Meanwhile, Carn and the sixth guard - a woman by the name of Arika - had been hired at the last minute to make up their numbers. Apparently Ruvar had invested heavily in this, and was thus determined to see this shipment protected. Unsurprisingly, the four regular guards were slow to trust the two outsiders, but Ruvar himself remained jovial.

Carn found himself liking Ruvar. Unlike many others of wealth and status, Ruvar didn’t view his underlings as furniture. He actively conversed with them on the journey, encouraged them when their energy was flagging, and allowed breaks when necessary. Small gestures like that went far.

In the meantime, Carn stayed close to Arika. She was a few years older than him, with black hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes. The woman carried a bronze-tipped spear, and was armoured in a mixture of padded cloth and leather. She was more open to conversation than the four other guards, and more relatable than Ruvar, so her company was preferable.

---

“I’ve never seen hair like that,” Arika commented on the second day of their journey.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to mention it,” Carn replied.

“How did you do it? Is it magic? Some sort of dye? Must have cost you a fortune…”

“I was born with it,” Carn answered.

“Where are you from, then?”

“East,” he said dismissively. “But you’ll find no white-haired folk if you went that way. My father and my sisters were the only ones I’ve ever known to have hair like mine.”

“And where are they now?” Arika asked, curious.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Carn told her.

“Right… sorry,” Arika said. Most who took up the life of a wandering mercenary typically had no connections, which usually meant they either had no family, or were on poor terms with them. She should have known better than to ask such a question. Minutes passed, before she decided to try again. “You have quite the reputation, you know.”

“I am aware,” Carn nodded, relieved that the conversation was moving on. “I suppose we’ll be swapping stories, then?”

“If you’re willing to share,” she smirked. “Your name and face may be more known than mine, but I’ve been at this longer than you have. I bet you’ll run out of stories before I do.”

“I think you’re right,” Carn conceded, before he offered her a smirk of his own. “Mine are more interesting, though.”

“Maybe,” Arika said with a nod. “I hear no injury will stop you. That you can’t be killed. How’d you get a reputation like that?”

“By not getting killed,” Carn smiled wryly.

Ruvar chuckled, having overheard the conversation, but soon refocused his attention on the road. He squinted. “Hm… looks like a tree is blocking the road,” he observed.

Carn looked ahead, and indeed, there was a tree blocking the road. His gaze followed the trunk, all the way to the stump. His eyes widened. The stump was smooth rather than jagged.

“Stop!” he shouted.

Ruvar complied, tugging the reins to pull the quillats to a halt. “What do you see?” he asked.

Carn pointed ahead. “That tree did not fall. It was cut.”

Ruvar’s eyes widened at the implication. “By the Five…” he whispered. “Weapons out!” Swords were unsheathed and spears were readied, as Carn, Arika, and three other guards stepped forward to form a line in front of the wagon. Five in total.

Ruvar let out a shout, and Carn looked back to see Rorn seize him by the neck and haul him out of the cart, sending him falling to the ground. The traitorous guard then gave the quillat a sharp kick in the rear, causing it to panic and pull the cart forward… directly toward Carn and the others. They scattered, with Carn and Arika diving to one side, and the other three to the other.

In the meantime, Roan hauled Ruvar to his feet and put a knife to his throat. Meanwhile, the cart carried on forward, toward the road block, until a flurry of arrows were loosed from the woods and slew the panicking beasts that dragged it along.

“Don’t move,” Roan threatened, knife still at his employer’s throat, as thirteen bowmen emerged from the woods and began to approach. “Drop your weapons.”

“You bastard,” one of the guards growled, but did not dare approach.

“Drop your weapons,” Roan repeated, pointing the dagger at the man who spoke. “Or you will all-”

The moment the dagger came away from his throat, Ruvar’s hand seized the wrist that held it, while his left hand reached down to his belt to pull out a knife of his own. The merchant was both stronger and quicker than he appeared, and with deceptively quick reflexes he thrust his knife backward into Roan’s gut. “Get back!” he shouted as Roan crumpled to the ground.

The bandits let loose their arrows. Two of the guards fell to fatal wounds, while another caught an arrow in the shoulder. Carn, Arika, Ruvar, and the wounded guard ran for the treeline, taking shelter behind trees and rocks.

“Stupid fool,” Arika snapped to the merchant. “They might have let us live if you hadn’t done that!” Ruvar winced at her words, suddenly regretting his attempt at heroism.

“That bastard,” the wounded guard repeated, spitting on the ground. “He set us up.”

“Can you still run and fight?” Carn asked the wounded man.

The guard reached for the arrow on his shoulder, and pulled it free with a cry of pain. He offered Carn a pained nod.

“What now?” Arika asked.

“We run,” Carn decided.

Ruvar opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and nodded instead. “You’re right. It’ll ruin me... but enough people have died already.”

“On three,” Carn said, and began counting before anyone could object. “One… two… three!”

And then the four leapt into action, rising to their feet and dashing deeper into the woods. Arrows flew, but none found their mark, as the four ducked under branches and weaved between trees.

Thankfully the bandits did not seem interested in pursuing. The goods had been abandoned, and their defenders were unlikely to return. So as Carn and the rest made their escape, the brigands helped themselves to the plunder.

---

Twenty-three years after Antiquity.

---

Night had fallen on the walled town of Korstone. All was quiet. Until…

“TROLL!” a man screamed, running toward the town with all haste. “TROLLLLLLLL!” he reached the gate and began banging his bare fists upon it, even as splinters embedded themselves into his fingers. “OPEN THE GATE!”

Save for the banging of knuckles against woods, all was silent. Then at last, a guard’s voice spoke up from the other side. “How big is it?”

“FUCKING MASSIVE! LET ME IN!”

The gate swung open. The man backed away so the doors could swing past him, and then as soon as there was enough space he rushed inside. There were two guards on duty. One guard, an older veteran by the name of Garth, seized the man and slapped him. “Calm yourself!” he barked, as the other guard peered off in the distance. “Where is this troll?”

Just then, the ground began to shake. All three men turned their heads, and the civilian began to blubber incoherently. A massive head appeared over the distant hills, followed by a body, and then a pair of thick legs. The beast was massive, easily more than fifteen meters in height. They had never seen anything like it.

“Fuck…” breathed one of the guards. Garth let go on the man, pulled a horn from his belt, and blew it three times, as the man rushed deeper into the town and resumed his panicked screams.

“What do we do?”

Garth blew his horn three more times for good measure. “You run!” he snapped. “We can’t fight that! Go!” He shoved the guard in the direction of the town square, but continued to blow the horn. The town was already beginning to rouse themselves, but they would not be quick enough. The troll was beginning to pick up speed, and the earth shook more violently with each step.

Again, Garth blew the horn three times. Once that was done, he cast it aside. But he made no move to flee. Instead he drew his sword and rushed toward the colossal beast, with weapon in hand. He could not fight it, but he could distract it.

The troll saw his approach, and tried to slam its foot down to stomp on him. He darted out of the way, but the impact of the troll’s foot smashing the ground just behind him was enough to send him into the air. He lost his grip on his sword and hit the ground face first. He rolled onto his back, and saw the beast raising its foot once again. His eyes widened, and he hastily rolled out of the way.

Though he managed to avoid it, the impact once again sent him into the air, and this time his shoulder bore the brunt of the fall. He yelled out in pain as he felt a bone break. Then he leapt to his feet and instinctively dove forward, once again avoiding another stomp, but he fell into a crater-sized footprint and landed on his already wounded shoulder. He howled in agony, while his vision began to blur. He closed his eyes, and waited for the troll’s final stomp.

---

It did not come, for the troll had found something else to distract it. A bright light in the air ahead, which stung its eyes.

Nightsbane unsheathed and Angelic wings outstretched, Evette soared into battle. Her golden eyes burned with zeal and her halo shone bright like a beacon. She was clad neck-to-toe in form-fitting hardened leather, with only the back exposed to allow her wings freedom of movement.

She was no longer the scared girl who fled while her village burned, or sat helpless in a cave as a vampire’s prisoner. She had grown, she had trained, she had learned, and she had a singular purpose in mind: to rid the world of abominations and monsters. Tonight, that meant slaying this troll.

As she came closer, the troll’s arm swung out, attempting to swat away what it perceived as a mere annoyance. She swerved out of the way, lashing out with her sword at the same time. The creature let out a pained roar, and a severed finger fell to the earth below, rapidly turning to stone. Her course carried her onward toward the beast’s torso. The troll still reeled from the unexpected loss of its finger, as well as the fact that much of its arm was now turning to stone as well.

She raised her blade high and embedded it in the center of the beast’s chest, her momentum ensuring that she barely needed to thrust. Then, she allowed herself to fall, the blade sliding through the troll’s chest as gravity did all the work.

Eventually she reached the creature’s mid-section, and there was no more flesh for her blade to bite into, so she began to fall freely, and rapidly beat her wings to slow her plummet. Above her, the troll let out another roar, as the wide gaping cut down its chest glew and burned with the power of the sun.

The flesh around the wound rapidly turned to stone, which then began to spread throughout the rest of its body. It thrashed and flailed, beating at its chest in the hope that would somehow stop it. As its organs hardened to rock, it suddenly stiffened. Then, it began to fall sideways, its stone arm and much of its torso shattering. What fleshy portions still remained continue to petrify, until at last, the once-great beast was nothing more than a broken statue.

Evette landed on the ground feet first. The impact sent a painful jolt up her body, but she was otherwise fine. She watched the creature fall and allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Then she turned back to see that the village guard had finally assembled outside the gate, staring at the scene in awe.

She approached them. One quickly knelt. A few more soon followed. Several guards went down after that, but they were more reluctant. A handful remained standing, still stunned by her casual slaying of the troll.

She couldn’t help but feel gratified by the display. Praise was not why she had done it, but nonetheless, it felt good, and for a few moments she simply allowed herself to bask in their reverence. Then, finally, she spoke. “I require food and shelter. It is late, and I have been travelling long. I know it may not be the custom for you to open your gates past this time, but may I request an exception?”

The humble request caught the guards by surprise. Once her words set in, they hastily rose to their feet, and moved aside to allow her access.

---

When a druid entered Sancta Civitas, all Eloxochitli knew instantly that something had changed. As if a bead of nothingness entered the elsewise filled city. He wasn’t hard to track down, though the Itztli kept a safe distance as they observed the strange goblin that had entered the city. He didn’t look like he originated from Sancta Civitas. Yet he didn’t look like danger either. He just smiled, bought some food and then went to a local gathering hole where he apparently just told stories of faraway lands. Normal visitors of the hole just listened, smiled and laughed but the Itztli remembered every word the stranger said. So they could recite it to the Mantarin scribes later. When the time was right, they asked the druid if they could ask him some questions.

The druid, thankfully, accepted and was escorted to The Library. Where a room had been prepared. He was asked to sit on a chair in the middle of the room, standing on an elevated podium so everyone could hear and see him. He refused though and just sat cross-legged on the podium before the chair. Mantarin scribes were asked to take note of literally every word he said or almost said. For the stranger was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Then the endless flow of questions came. Who he was, what his name was, where he came from. Some questions the druid preferred not to answer and the Eloxochitl didn’t push it. He wanted the goblin to be as comfortable as possible.

Then the subject turned to the stories of his travels. The Itztli assumed most of it had to be fake. Yet his detailed knowledge of the other islands of Mydia changed that opinion quickly. The Eloxochitl was only interested in the local magical customs but the Mantarin scribes were becoming very interested now. They even took the questioning over for a moment. The goblin druid was happy to answer their questions about the surrounding islands as well. In fact, he even shared some crude maps he managed to draw. Which were swiftly copied by the talented scribes.

One word kept popping up though. ‘Hir’. It wasn’t the source. As the Eloxochitl understood it, it was a key of sorts. Something that allowed him to grow the grass and read the stars. Apparently it did come with a whole row of duties and demands. In fact, apparently sitting there and answering questions as part of his duties: to help everyone he meets. The Emissaries were a uniquely curious bunch. Because every act of magic must have been impossible for the druid. Yet he talked about growing plants for animals to feed on so they wouldn’t starve in the winter. Eventually, the request came to see some of these powers and then the druid completely blocked up. He said that needless, useless usage of druidic powers completely wrong and forbidden. It should always help someone or something. The questions changed then: when would he bless something else again?

Luckily for them, the druid had plans to bless a few fields outside the city tomorrow. This was deemed acceptable by the Eloxochitl who made sure he would be up early enough in the morning to witness these so-called favors.

Then the last question came. It was, perhaps, the strangest one for the druid, who still happily obliged. They went back to the large, main hall of The Library. Where the Vessels floated high up in the air and ask the druid to think of one of the acts he performed. Instantly a Vessel shot off towards the druid and coated both his tiny, goblin hands. The only thing the druid could describe it as was a wet feeling. The Eloxochitl accompanying him ushered him towards one of the side rooms where just flat, solitary walls stood like bookcases. The druid touched one of the walls and the Vessel coating his hands instantly attached itself to the wall. It spread out, covering the whole side of the wall in glimmering light, before fading and leaving behind a vast painting.

It was now the druid’s time for amazement, as he recognized what the mural depicted: the first time he drank from the Hir. He had traveled across Mydia, on board of ships to jump from island to island in search of it. Deep inside he had battled with himself, trying to confront himself with the idea that he might never find the sacred horn. Yet one night he encountered a real druid, who had drunk from the horn and felt the embrace of the gods. He too was of a wanderer sort and told him to look at it from a different point. He should be happy that he could help so many people even without the gods their power. Once he accepted that, life became easier. He tended to the wounded and the weak, hoping he would find the Hir but fully realizing and accepting that he might never succeed in that mission. Until he did find the Hir and drank from it. That was the end of what the Mural had depicted.

The Eloxochitl was perhaps as confused and surprised as the druid.

The compound the Emissaries had made was located closer to The Library than the western wall. It was quite a large building, to still very small compared with local palaces and temples. It housed all the Emissaries and their things. The Itztli slept on simple beds made of straw. While the Eloxochitli slept in small, shallow baths that fit exactly one of them. Below the compound, there was a rather large cave that was being filled with yellow and white gold they Emissaries were slowly but surely hoarding. So far only a few nuggets were places there. Deeper in the artificial cave you could find another cave with a carved pool in the middle of it. In the corners, Itztli eggs rested and in the pool round, Eloxochitli eggs laid submerged. A flame was kept lit in a brazier to keep the whole cave warm.

The Itztli were currently mostly working near one of the western gates, where they also lived with some Mantarin. It hadn’t taken long to convince the Sancta Civitas bureaucrats that massive granaries would have to be build so all the produce could be stored there. Once the plans, designed by the Emissaries and the city’s architects together, were accepted, the building began. Deep pits were dug into the ground. Entire trees were carried through the gatehouse. From them huge beams were chopped and placed into the ground. Meanwhile, pottery workshops sprouted up around the granary. Producing more and more amphoras and pithoi to fill with goods. The granary began taking shape as a structure elevated up from the ground. The main barn-like doors were large enough for two carts side by side to move inside. The entire first floor was left empty With ramps going upwards on both sides. The first floor held hundreds and hundreds of little sections separated by thin walls. Each ready to be filled with the pottery containing various amounts of food to be gently rolled down the ramp down. More ramps climbed upwards. Going to the floors upwards. Where hexagonal sections were already being made with natural wax from the Vespians. The upper sections would look more and more like full hives.

Meanwhile, in the compound, several Eloxochitli was diligently at work crafting the small, wooden eagle statuettes. Each piece would be carved from a single piece of rowan wood and each feather on the eagle would bear a unique rune. Which would bind the winds and push them forward. The statuettes were intended to be gifts for Kallak’s ships he would create. When placed upon the stern of the ship and activated, the bound winds would be blown into the sails. Ensuring swift travels. The statuettes could work for days on end, lest they would catch fire but it would still be a valuable tool.

And so many more projects gained shape. Several of the Emissaries had continued their teaching of magic to those chosen worthy enough by the Sancta Civitas bureaucracy. The Eloxochitl teaching spells cared little for the mechanics behind the choosing of their students. Meanwhile, a handful of Itztli were training some truly courageous goblins in the sorcerous arts. Finally, two Eloxochitli were doing nothing but imbuing the Vessels of The Library with their magical knowledge and storing away the result. Several rooms had already been completely filled with clay tablets.

Antiquity was an interesting, if bland, place. At least from what Qullqiya had seen so far, though admittedly she spent most of her time seeking other gods and trying to figure out if they were useful to her.

She had some ideas in mind of what she was sinking, but the god that actually caught her full attention was not one that she had intended to meet, in fact, it was a god she didn’t even know existed until this very moment.

She approached him directly. ”Hello, pardon the interruption as you look at the board, yet I couldn’t help but to notice your aura is very similar to that which runs up in the starry sky. Do you happen to be the god who oversees such things?”

Sirius barely moved except for his cloak slightly pulling closer to him. He whispered, “Yes.”

”Well, that is actually excellent! See, well, don’t take this the wrong way, I am not a god who wants her creations to have special treatment, on the contrary I think challenges are good for them. Yet… If they fail at it for about uhh… a thousand years? Give or take a century. That is when I start to think about seeking the help of others who have the expertise necessary on the fields in which I need assistance.”

She summoned a chair and sat down. ”Say, have you heard of witches? I know for sure some of them do feel very passionate about the stars so maybe a prayer or two reached you?”

“I have … been keeping an eye on … Galbar. There have been some... things of concern.”

”Oh there has been many for sure, though it seems most of us gods disagree on what the concerning developments are. Oh, speaking of development, let me just say, fantastic work with the stars, really excellent things. I am sure you will be able to help to maximize the potential of the witches.” she made a finger gun and winked for a moment.

”See… witches, they uh, come of age at around 100, well, either they come of age or they die. I don’t want to bore you with the magical-biological-social mambo jambo, but they end up choosing between storing mana in their flesh and being attuned to the earthly telluric energies or store mana in their blood and be attuned to the celestial telluric energies. Or it should be an option, but none so far has managed to do the latter. Many earthly witches were born, yet no celestial one has managed to make it.

Sirius turned around to face Qull, “There is more to the stars than power and blood.”

Qull took a deep breath, looking up at the sky of Antiquity for a moment. ”Oh, I know there are, I know it all too well. The stars are truly fantastic, complex, pretty things. Perhaps that is why there is such a high failure rate? I tried teaching them like I did with the Earthly style but I failed to get the actual results. I mean… it's a pretty sorry state of affairs, they are all people who are passionate about the stars, if only they could have… some help…”

“I am sure… I could help. Perhaps… it is simply easier to surrender the stars than it is … to surrender the earth. I could tell them how… but would they listen?”

”Well, can’t vouch for all of them, I make sure of having very individual creations. Some won’t, and they will fail for that, yet, am equally certain some will listen to your guidance.”

“If the issue is the duality… of the far and the near. Then the… easy solution would be to sever the connection to the … near. Let me consider… renouncing one's lands and titles, while spending a year… or so, in a high place such as a mountain… contemplating and mapping the stars… that should work.”

”Hmm… Not many witches have earthly possessions such as land, but there are equivalences, equivalences which would also be renounced in such a way. Though you speak of contemplation… Perhaps the core of the issue is in the fact most witches have very active minds, often anxious or overthinking, not used to such types of meditative contemplation.” the statue-like goddess smiled. ”See? I knew talking with you would be worth it.”

“Yes. Unlike myself… you are skilled with words.” Sirius said, turning around. A note appeared on the notice board detailing the zodiac.

”Well, each of us have their individual skills. Anyway! Let’s hope the first celestial witch is born soon, I have been thinking about this topic for way too long.” she turned to face the zodiac note in the message board, rubbing her chin gently as she took in its information.

---

Life felt unfair as of late. It always felt like such a distant date, she couldn’t believe she was almost there already, a whole century of life. She hadn’t been the best witch, not in a moral sense, oh no, she was pretty well controlled for a witch, but she lived life way too easily, she hated hard things so she took her time merely enjoying the little things.

That kept most of the dangers at bay, but not time… and now…

It was unfair, so unfair! If there was one aspect of magic she loved, it was the stars, she would spend hours a day playing and tugging at the celestial forces and letting them pull her back. She felt so light and careless when that happened, it was nothing like the raging force of the earth.

Yet, to survive to the next year, she would have to say goodbye to the stars. She could feel her body unfraying internally, unable to take her duality anymore. Well, death was an option, but she was afraid of that, though being earth-bound forever… was not all that better.

She patted a celestial sheep in the head, at least she would have these little fellas around her forever once she… She couldn’t finish the thought, lying to herself wasn’t working.

She returned to her cottage, opening all the scrolls she could. “T-this time, t-this time for sure! I will understand the nature of magic and figure out how to keep my mana infused blood. I-I… p-please…” she kept looking over the papyrus, seeking an answer she wouldn’t find there.

She kept looking for the whole night, until finally she broke, witches didn’t often pray, only the most desperate or naive ones. She pressed her hands together against her chest and looked at the stars. “I don’t want to become numb to the stars. I don’t want it… It’s the only magic I can TRULY feel… please… Kukia, Chirus… someone… I beg you for guidance!”

A soft, emotionless whisper emanated somewhere vaguely behind her, “Why should you have this power?”

Her eyes widened, she looked all around her for a moment, was that a god, a spirit or just her mind going insane? It didn't matter, she would answer it. “Why… I uh… uh…” her eyes teared up. “I know I am not the most skillful, or the most intelligent, but… I always sought this. So many witches had given up on the stars knowing there would be this obstacle in their future, but not me… I had hope I could be the one who could do it… not for fame or glory, but… Oh it must sound like I think I deserve something because I worked for it, I know this isn’t how the world works, I had to try to do this because it was the only way to have a chance to break the barrier, I couldn’t, but I don’t regret the time spent.” she ended her monologue with a long sigh.

The whisper continued, its tone unchanged from before, “What will you do with this power?”

“I uh… I will study it! I want to feel what it's like, I want to see what I can do if I truly dedicate myself fully to it.”

“How can a bird fly when it is shackled and lacks wings?” the whisper continued, immediately afterwards a rolled scroll rolled off the table.

She turned to look at the scroll, her eyes quickly widening as she found things she had never read before on it. She devoured the contents of the paper, reading it through the night and then five times more in the next few days. Her mind was racing about all she had read, the zodiac signs, the way the stars worked... she stopped herself. Somehow, even with the text in hands, it wasn’t working out fully. She let her mind wander back to the words of the voice.

What shackles her? Her lack of skill? Her lack of focus? Was she a wingless bird and nothing more? She thought about it over and over, her mind running wild with all the possibilities. Looking back at the scroll, there were two birds on the zodiac, the wren and the owl. Was she supposed to become more like one? The power of the zodiac waxes and wanes over time, if she bound herself to one, then the consequences would be potentially lethal when it reaches its lowest point. Then she noticed a small detail, the wren and owl were strongest when the other was weakest, then if she bonded herself to both, it might be feasible.

But was it possible? Bonding seemed like the path to doing the act, to do what earthly witches did but with the celestial realm. She stopped to think about what the wren and the owl meant… When one stops to think about it they are very different actions, one is spending your attention internally while the other is an external focus, but both are necessary for wisdom.

She sighed and got up. Everything around her seemed to distract her, she was neither instropecting or observing at the moment. Deciding to cut the noise, she picked her scroll and left, there were no mountains where she lived with clear air and easy view of the sky, but the whole place was sparsely populated anyway, and the fact she was a witch only kept her more distant from the people.

She had faith that once this was all over, her new life would start, one bound to the stars.

---

---

The travel group had eventually outpaced the sea of goats, as the herders had had to slow their pace to shepherd their flock in an organised manner. Obee and Gene had insisted that they take the scenic route, which had led them higher and higher up in the hills. Craggy plateaus and moss-grown stones had been all they had passed by for hours, but at long last, the giddy girls stopped up ahead and pointed over the side of a cliff.

“Allow us to humbly present - Ha-Dûna.”

Below expanded vast fields of golden crops, not necessarily neatly organised like those to the far east, but growing with their own rustic, natural aesthetic. They were sown in incredibly uneven and rocky terrain - they were likely a pain to plough properly. On the hills beyond the farm fields grazed goats, highland deer and fluffy, broad-horned cattle under the supervision of shepherds. Scattered between the fields were small wooden huts, barns and staddle granaries. At the centre of these vast fields was a small, buzzling town with wooden huts and longhouses, surrounding a palisade-walled core. Smoke oozed out of several chimneys, but through it, behind the town, was a large forest; beyond that, the wash of the sea.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sanya caught up to the girls as they stopped, settling her spear on the ground to stare down at the expanse of crops, housing, and fields. Her gaze scanned far into the horizon, and her expression turned from one of anticipation to mild disappointment. ”It certainly looks peaceful,” she intoned politely, and busied herself with properly fastening her sack of supplies instead.

Lucia looked down at everything, hands on her hips. She gave a whistle and then said, ”Ah, a beautiful sight! Plus, it looks so homely.” She then put her sack down and rummaged through it before bringing out an orb. She held it out, as if letting it look at the view. ”Look Orb! A new settlement, called Ha-Duuuna!” The orb in her hands glowed with runes and came to life in a swirl. Instead of looking out, it turned to look at her, if an orb could do that. “Lucia we need to talk.”

Lucia sighed. ”Can it wait until tonight Orb? I am a little busy right now.”

“But this is urge-”

”Tonight Orb.” she said sternly, before putting the orb back in the bag.

A muffled response could be heard, “As you wish.”

Lucia then turned back to the two young druid girls and smiled. ”Sorry about that, lead on!”

The two girls exchanged looks. “What was that?” asked Gene as they began descending the cliff.

”One of my oldest friends, plus my teacher. Helped me learn the ways of mana and magic.” she said, producing a small flame in her hand that she threw back in forth to herself.

The novices halted in their steps. “Wait, m-mana?” Gene blurted out, so Obee elbowed her in the side. However, not even she could hide her frown of disapproval.

“S-so, uh… You practice sorcery, huh?” Obee offered diplomatically as both of them fixed their eyes on the road and the road alone.

Sanya trudged idly by, eyes skimming the countryside for threats in the very unthreatening new locale. Attention briefly caught by the subject matter, she simply interjected with a dispassionate ”You expect a daughter of the gods to be limited in skill?” before going back to pretending her millennia-long experience as a fighter had any worth in this peaceful land. She eyed a distant, particularly nasty goat. Almost disappointed to find herself negatively unaffected by this new place, she kept to her side of the road.

“Of course not!” the two of them chorused, spun around and tossed themselves to the ground. “The great helgens may of course do as they wish! Please forgive us, please, please, please!”

Lucia rolled her eyes, the flame disappearing into smoke. ”All is forgiven. I forgot druids and mana don’t mix. I’ll keep my little tricks a secret for now.” she said as Sanya jostled Obee with the blunt end of Sorrowsting to get her to stand back up.

The apprentices rocketed to their feet again. “Th-thank you, great helgen! Sorry for reacting the way we did.” They immediately turned around again and continued on. Grumpy whispers bubbled forth between them quickly thereafter, though.

“... You always embarrass me this way, Gene. Why are you like this?”

“Me?! You knelt down first, you dolt!”

“Did not!” The two of them exchanged some jabs with their fingers while they were walking. Up ahead, the fields were closing in, and short stone fences came into view along the edges of the beaten path.

”I don’t remember any of this being out here the last time I was anywhere nearby. They can’t have been here that long.” Sanya muttered as she stalked sidelong Lucia, keeping an eye on the distant and golden fields. Ever watchful, even now the woman expected to be set upon by robber barons, or worse.

”What is time to we that are ancient?” Lucia muttered. ”Druids aren’t all that bad, they help the land and the people. Everything is going to be okay. Just relax, Sanya. Not everything is out to get us.” Lucia reassured.

“Welcome home, Gene! How was the trip to Geilt?” came a voice from one of the nearby fields. A large, mustached man stood leaning over the stone fence surrounding his fields, chewing on a straw. Gene lit up and skipped over to the fence to embrace him, while Obee gave her a stinky-eyed expression.

“Oh, Randall, it’s soooo good to see you again! Hey, you wouldn’t believe what I managed to find out in the wilderness!” She held onto one of his arms, whispering affectionately the news into his ear. Obee sucked disapprovingly on a tooth and leaned in towards Sanya and Lucia.

“Listen to her - taking aaaall the glory. You can tell how badly she wants him and everything. Yeesh.”

Sanya mimicked Obee’s disapproval as she came to a stop, leaning on her spear. She eyed the man with an appraising eye, and the man seemed to come up short for the dark-haired warrior’s attention span to linger. ”Well, It’s not too late to get in there and grab some glory, Obee. You could introduce us to the uh, elder?”

“And stoop to her level? No, no. This was a group effort. We’ll be doing it as a pair,” she said firmly.

“Hey, Obee! Welcome home!” came a deep voice from further down the road. A young, blonde man growing his first stubbles was pulling a sled fashioned from wood, bone and leather and stacked high with tanned animal skins. Obee spun around, grinned and ran over to him.

“Pjodr, darliiiiing~~!” she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “You wouldn’t believe who I met on the road!”

Lucia looked at Sanya with a look of confusion. ”They really weren’t kidding were they?” she half whispered.

Sanya nodded in turn, watching Obee cling to the blonde Pjodr with a measure of bemused delight. ”Youth are always like this, Lucia. They see someone they like and they cling to them like wet cloth. Some things never change, no matter how far we travel. I’m just glad I’m with you. Your fame might turn eyes off of me.”

“A what?! A helgen?!” shouted Randall. Pjodr looked to quickly catch on, too, eyes shifting immediately from Obee to Lucia and Sanya. Other peasants on the fields were approaching, too.

“What was that, Randy? You need to speak up-- Oh, hello, Genie.” An old lady with a cloth wrapped over her hair waddled her way over to the fence, followed by two other boys, a girl about the age of Gene and two middle-aged women. On the other side of the road, a handful of families with their tools still in hand came to see what all the commotion was about.

“Granny Flynndatter! I found helgens on the road!” shouted Gene triumphantly. Granny Flynndatter scrutched her beak-like nose.

“Phwah! Helgens, huh? My, ol’ Kaer Pinya’s been feeding you girls something vi--...” The old woman’s eyes shifted to Lucia’s halo - as did everyone else’s. The two orbs which looked like they had been narrow, wrinkly slits for the last millennium or so, immediately blasted open to complement her dropped jaw. “By the gods…” All around Lucia and Sanya, people were throwing themselves to the ground.

Lucia jabbed Sanya with an elbow before hissing, ”You better be grateful.” before smiling widely and proclaiming, ”Hello people of Ha-Duuuna! Please, please, stand and face us, as equals.”

Reluctantly, the peasants rose back up. Many of them looked at Lucia with tears of joy in their eyes and broad smiles, though none of them dared look her directly in the eye, turning away as soon as she turned towards them. Obee and Gene, who looked at each other with the type of smirks one only dons whenever one expects fame to hit them just around the corner, raised their hands high above their heads. “Fellow dûnans! We have been blessed on this day with the arrival of the wonderful, the purehearted and the beautiful Lucia - daughter of the Sun!”

“Oh, gods!” came breathy whispers from all over, and several laid themselves back into the soil.

“We’re blessed - we’re bleee-he-heeessed!” came a weeping cheer from Granny Flynndatter.

Sanya busied herself with moving towards the closest peasants dug back down into the dirt, leaning forwards to offer an idle ”She prefers when you stand.” before looking back to Lucia with a tentative smile. Her grip on her spear did not loosen, even now.

Lucia gave her a thumbs up. ”Yes, we have travelled far and wide and by chance we met Obee and Gene upon the road wherein they invited us to see your city. Town. We are honored to be in your presence.” she said putting her hands behind her back.

The crowd squealed their excitement. Gene and Obee bowed on behalf of the peasants - “The honour is all ours,” they said with wide smirks before turning back to the crowd. “Yes, as you all heard, they have travelled far and wide - tired and worn from the road, they deserve chambers in the Hall of the Weary! We will take responsibility and escort them to the archdruid for you all.”

“Oh, you mean Kaer Mirh? He’s off on his rounds, I think,” came a sniffling comment from Granny Flynndatter. More heads in the crowd nodded affirmatively. Obee and Gene froze and looked at each other nervously. They knocked their heads together as discreetly as they could, whispering between themselves for perhaps a little too long. Eventually, they separated again and threw their hands up in the air triumphantly.

“Then it is decided - we will bring them to the highest authority currently in Ha-Dûna!” The crowd cheered.

”Yes! We are weary from travel and would like a night of rest, but have no doubt, we will be back to meet each and everyone of you, personally. As my companion says,” Lucia pointed to Sanya, ”We are but humble servants to the people of this land.” Lucia then grinned at Sanya, a flash of wicked playfulness in her eyes.

Sanya stopped her hand in mid motion as it tried to complete the usual journey of rubbing at the bridge of her nose, and as Lucia grinned at her, a look of playful animosity quickly subsided to be replaced with as jovial and polite an appearance as the woman could muster. She leaned on her spear and bowed her head. ”Yes, we look forward to… meeting… each of you. No trial is too small for the daughter of the Sun Mother. I am but a humble traveller, but I shall lend my aid in whichever way I can.”

The crowds all cheered and sang their praises as the party continued into town:



Sanya followed close suit, making sure to stride by Lucia’s side and ward off the closest people by sheer force of presence. Still, their singing appeared to be enough for the dark-haired warrior to touch at the necklace of the sun glowing softly around her neck, making sure to honour the goddess in her own way.

As the attention drew more and more spectators, the buzzling alleys between the huts became inundated with people eager to behold the arrival of Lucia and Sanya. Obee and Gene parted the crowds to the best of their ability, but that didn’t stop many from reaching out to just barely touch the helgens’ forms. The four of them pushed their way through the lake of people, past wooden huts and workshops fashioning tools from stone and bits of metal. Blow forges stopped as their users looked up to behold the miracle in the streets, and wives washing clothes in communal tubs had to lay down their work to behold it as well. Before long, they had reached the inside of the walled town core, where the houses were fashioned from stone and mud, with great, wooden doorways with intricate carvings. There were six stone huts in total - one of them was particularly large, and next to it was a yard with eight megalith statues of varying sizes standing in a circle, all painted in great detail with various inks in order to resemble the Druidic pantheon. Out of the large abode next to this yard came a group of white-robed druids, all staring in awe just like all the others. The crowd parted between them and the four arrivals, and Gene and Obee bowed down before the druid in the lead.

“Kaer Pinya - we have been blessed with holy visitors.”

Kaer Pinya, a woman in her late fifties, most likely, waddled her way between the two girls, clapping them each on the shoulder proudly. The crowd was completely silent, only sound being the slop and slip of Kaer Pinya’s bark shoes dragging across the muddy ground. The druid grinned at Lucia and sobbed quietly, tears filling her wrinkled eyes. “Oh, Lucia…” She bowed her head. “... You are still as beautiful as the day I saw you all those years ago.”

Lucia tilted her head, recognition slowly appearing on her face. ”Pinya? Pinya! Little Pinya!” Lucia exclaimed, embracing the woman in a hug. ”I wondered why that name seemed so familiar on the road, oh Pinya, how have you been?” she asked.

The tears in Kaer Pinya’s eyes overflowed. “O-oh! To think… You remember me!” The old woman waddled closer and collected her thin, shivering arms around Lucia’s back, squeezing her affectionately. “Welcome… Welcome to Ha-Dûna!” Behind her, the other druids were sending people left and right to gather tables, benches, pots, wood, meat, bread and lots, lots more. The crowd dispersed as swiftly as it had formed, and became a swarm of people erecting decorations and digging cooking pits.

Sanya took the chance to straighten her clothes when the crowd dispersed and eyes slid off of her presence. Unwilling to disrupt the tender moment between Lucia and Pinya, she instead busied herself with a closer inspection of the settlement, pacing away without truly wandering off.

Lucia looked around in amazement. They were like ants, making themselves busy all in the name of the whole and they worked fast. She and Sanya must really mean a lot to them, after all. ”Thank you for having us!” she said to Pinya. ”But you don’t have to do all this, just for us.” her tone turned humble.

“Nonsense! The visit of a helgen demands a feast!” Kaer Pinya insisted and released her from her grip. Within twenty minutes or so, the fire pits were flaming and the tables were stacked with baskets of sourdough bread, root vegetables, pies filled with broth, roots and yogurt, and various meats to be roasted. Two chairs were decked from top to bottom in thick furs and placed at the head of the table. Kaer Pinya brought Sanya and Lucia over and sat them down with glee. “Go on! Eat, eat! The meat will be ready soon!”

Not one to refuse a meal, Lucia dug in, sampling everything with delight. She plucked apart the sourdough and dabbed it into a broth pie, mouthwatering as she took a bite. After she chewed she gave a happy little sigh and looked to Pinya. ”This is… So good Pinya. Everything about this place is wonderful. Do tell me, when did this Ha-Duuuna come to be?”

“It was founded roughly three years ago, if memory serves me right.” The old lady pushed a slightly burnt pie over to Sanya. “Go on, dearie, eat something!” Around the table, other druids were eagerly digging into their meals, though they made certain to keep their white robes clear of filth and stains.

Sanya, who had mostly been shifting in her seat and watching others eat to that point, offered the old druid a thin smile and accepted the pie. She was considerably pickier with her food than Lucia, giving everything a light sniff before sampling it, though dutifully finished whatever she reached for. The mirth of Lucia seemed to slowly rub off on her table neighbour, and Sanya eventually looked like she was actually enjoying the meal, and the bustle, despite her own best efforts. She tried not to speak, until the natural conversation and small talk of food brought her to a natural point to ask about her own favorite topic. ”You seem like you’re very at ease, here. Don’t you worry about the wilds,” she began, and glanced at Lucia briefly. “or raiders?”

Kaer Pinya gave her the sort of look reserved for those who ask whether water is wet. “Why, what have we to fear, dearie? We live here in the garden of the gods, safe from all harm under their watchful eyes.” As she reached the end of her sentence, the palisade gate closed with a grim thump. The inner city now only housed white-robed men, women and children, with the exception of a few others who were manning the fires and the cauldrons. “No one would dare attack this holy centre of the Eight Greats - not even the lowliest bandit, I tell you!”

The words seemed lost on Sanya, who looked around the great feast, and the now fully walled-off little settlement, with an at best thoughtful expression. Her brief inspection before had not been enough to dissuade the dark-haired warrior from having her spear lean against the side of her seat, which no doubt was particular at best. ”So you evacuate the others behind here in crisis?” she asked as she searched for Obee and Gene in the crowd, and perhaps more importantly, the targets of their affection from before.

Obee and Gene caught her eye and waved back, albeit from the very other end of the table, which appeared much more crowded and messier than the table reserved for the helgens and the archdruid’s closest. Kaer Pinya scrunched her nose. “Forgive me, I don’t believe I actually got your name. Are you a friend of the great Lucia’s?”

Sanya settled her gaze on Kaer Pinya in turn, inherently unwilling to back down from her stoic and unflappable mannerisms. ”Apologies,” she offered with a deadpan tone muted by the bustle around the table. ”My name is Sanya. I suppose it would be fair to say that Lucia and I go back a while. She has shown me the Sun Mother’s grace.” Sanya continued with stiff politeness, fingers tracing up to touch at the glowing medallion of the sun slung around her neck. Only after a sharp breath and some distant thought did she break eye contact, briefly blinking and glancing over towards Lucia again, before leaning back in her seat.

Lucia put a reassuring hand on Sanya’s shoulder as she looked to her, then Pinya. ”Sanya speaks true. She is one of my oldest friends, and she takes any perceived threat seriously. I trust her with my life.” Lucia said proudly, before taking another bite of soup.

“Oh! I see - well, then it is a great pleasure to meet you, lady Sanya. Now, regarding your question, the answer is yes - while the town has outgrown its humble walls, they still serve as our bunker ‘til the very end. In peacetime, however, they also make for decent landmarks to guide newcomers to the central market, the Circle of the Gods and, beyond those, the Dûna.”

Sanya looked at Lucia as she ate, an unspoken and still gratefulness on her features, before she refocused on Kaer Pinya and, despite her best efforts, immediately struggled to maintain anything but a polite, thin frown. Still she nodded, busying her hands by reaching for a bit of remaining pie. ”I would very much like to see all that your village has to offer.” she intoned after a while. A small pause, and she added a curt ”Thank you for your hospitality.” before she focused on food, or at least used such as an excuse to look around the table - and the area.

Kaer Pinya offered her an appreciative nod before looking over at Lucia again. “Keep eating, dearie - you’re much too skinny!”

Lucia chuckled. ”I’ve been telling her that since day one. it doesn’t work.” She then looked at Sanya again and gave her a small smile. ”I would also like to see what the village has to offer.”

“Oh, but of course! Stay as long as you’d like. The Hall of the Weary welcomes all who come to Ha-Dûna from afar. We will have two of our finest beds ready for you by the time the feast is over, so you can explore as much as you’d like and then come back to rest. Come to me if you need anything - and I mean absolutely anything.”

”We shall Pinya. Thank you, ever so much for your hospitality. It does my soul good to see kindness in this world.” Lucia spoke softly. Sanya hummed an agreement while she resigned herself to eating, doing her best to not stir up any more tension.

Before anything else could be uttered, Lucia felt a familiar sensation wrap her in a warm embrace. She sat up straight, expecting her mother’s voice to come, but it never did. Instead, from the sky came a beam of light. Not unlike the same one that had enveloped Sanya and herself before. This time it landed on top of Oraelia’s statue in the circle of eight, engulfing it in the gentle radiance of the sun. Lucia stood up, eyes upon it as her Halo grew in intensity, as well as Sanya’s necklace. The very air seemed to shimmer with invigoration and floral scents. Sanya shot up from her seat, eyes darting from her own necklace, to Lucia, and finally the beam of light. The awe of sheer anticipation gripped her, and the warrioress drew her hands backwards to steady herself against the fur-clad seat. Nearly all the druids stood up with such suddenness that the bench fell backwards and tipped everyone who failed to move in time. They subsequently all cast themselves to the ground to pray, while Kaer Pinya lifted her quivering hands to the sky and stepped backwards away from Lucia.

“Oh, blessings! Greatest gods’ blessings!” The druids chanted:

“It is the Sun that gives us sight;
It is the Sun that grants us light;
As long as Reiya watches me,
I’ll wander Galbar sorrow-free!”

The Goddess spoke, her voice neither loud nor boastful, but pleasant and comforting. ”Your work upon Galbar has not gone unnoticed dear druids. It is good to know in my absence, there were those who continued on in mine, and my siblings names, for the betterment of the land you walk upon. There is no greater duty, then to love the land born into. Come now, for your sacrifice, take these gifts and continue your good work. One to give strength to the weary, and another to bolster life. The Sun... Watches all.” and her voice faded away.

The Light from her statue then exploded outwards, passing through them all before dissipating into thousands of twinkling lights, before they too, faded. When the glow subsided, Oraelia’s statue was bright hot, slowly cooling with a yellow glow. At her feet, there was a bundle. While most others were too shocked, or crying out of awe, Lucia walked over to the statue and bent down. Sanya, initially hesitant and awestruck as the rest, nevertheless dutifully grasped her spear - as always - and followed Lucia across the courtyard. Her hand on the necklace, she bowed her head when approaching the statue, remaining close to her companion. Lucia, taking note of Sanya with a nod, pulled back the cloth to find a large stone basin, rimmed with depictions of the Sun and people worshipping it and a small golden figurine of… A woman with a pregnant belly. She had a hand upon her stomach and a soft face. It stood about as tall as the basin was wide.

She turned to Sanya, ”I’ll grab the basin, if you get the pregnant lady.” she smirked.

Sanya looked down at the divine gifts with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. She seemed to have expected something considerably more embellished, but the sheer awe of being in proximity to divine artifacts had not yet entirely worn off. ”...Alright.” she muttered briefly, throwing Lucia a shifty glance in retort, and leaned down to scoop up the golden figurine with due reverence. Uncertain of the protocol, she glanced at the druid’s depiction of Oraelia as she took hold of the artifact, and offered a humbled ”...Thank you, Sun Mother.”

That night, Ha-Dûna rejoiced.

---

---

Oraelia found herself alone after a time. Gibbou had left her for now, Genesis was still asleep and she found herself often busy fixing and helping mortal issues. Slowly she began to crave a conversation, mix up her current predicament. Her mind began to wonder on just who to contact. There was… Enmity but that didn't feel right. She needed someone who was more life than machine. There was Yamat but then again she suspected he had been the one to bring tornadoes to her prairie. There was no one else who had been there. There was Firinn but he was just too… Emotionless.

Then it clicked with her and she reached out to her younger sister. She felt her familiar presence and spoke into her mind. "Evandra love! How have you been?" she asked.

“Is that you Oraelia? I’ve been doing better since Cadien woke me up. Are you speaking from your Realm?”

Hearing her voice was a breath of fresh air, and Oraelia, from where she sat on her porch, stood up and leaned on the railing. ”Indeed I am!” she said to Evandra, ”Would you care to visit?” she asked, perhaps a little too aggressively.

“Of course. There’s little to do here in any case.” Evandra stood up from her bed and made her way to Antiquity. She passed by each portal until she could feel Oraelia’s presence and entered her Realm. The scenery that greeted her was nothing short of breathtaking. Lush green, flowers blooming in varying colors and birds singing. All of this was accompanied by the sound of rustling leaves and a flowing stream nearby. “Goodness, this place is…” She let out as she took it all in. She was then attacked by Oraelia, who had zoomed to her in her domain form before changing at the last second to hug her sister fiercely.

”Evandra! I missed you!” she said.

“Wha-” The sudden appearance of her sister startled Evandra. She recovered from the surprise and let out a giggle as she returned the hug. “I missed you dearly as well, Oraelia.”

”You said Cadien woke you up? Does that mean you slept as well?” Oraelia asked, rubbing her cheek with her own before pulling back to look at her.

“Yes. After I built my Realm I fell into a deep slumber. I don’t know how much time passed while I was in the void, but by the time he woke me up it had already been two millenia. It wasn’t a comfortable sleep either. How did you fare since the exile?”

”I was pulled into a dreamless sleep. I felt nothing until I awoke. Nothing at all.” she put a hand on Evandra’s cheek, ”I’m sorry to hear it wasn’t comfortable. I believe everyone had a different experience. Some stayed awake… Others slept. But… We’re here now and awake.” she said, giving a small smile.

“Yes, we are. And that’s what matters now.” Evandra returned the smile. “So, aren’t you going to invite me into your home?”

”Of course! But we must be quiet, you see, a young Goddess stays with me. Though she is divine, she is but a child in mind and right now, she is taking a nap.” Oraelia said.

“You share your Realm with another? Alright, I’ll make sure to not raise my voice.”

”Well… She has her own but I seem to have taken responsibility for her. I’d feel bad leaving her alone, you know.” she said, grabbing Evandra’s hand and leading her over a small hill that overlooked the distant cabin.

“What’s her name? And what does she represent?”

”Her name is Genesis, she is the tree that sat upon Galbar so long ago. Her domain is of nature, and plants. She pretty much is a plant.” Oraelia said, talking as she walked.

“So that tree was banished as well. Or at least her consciousness. I remember seeing it from your Sun when I was born, but I never met it in person.”

”Perhaps you can! Err… At least one day, she’s probably still sleeping.” Oraelia said as they walked up the steps. She opened the door and let Evandra walk in and then followed behind her. ”It’s nothing much, Evandra. I’m sure others have magnificent palaces and castles, but those don’t really fit me.” Oraelia said.

“Don’t put yourself down, your realm is truly beautiful. Mine is mostly barren in comparison.” She stated as she moved deeper into the house. She peered into one of the rooms and saw a little girl sleeping on a bed. “So that’s her. I didn't think she’d be so small.”

Oraelia chuckled quietly. ”You’d think that, coming from such a large tree, but here she is.”

Evandra went inside and stood beside the bed and stared at Genesis’ sleeping face. “She looks so peaceful. I’m almost a little envious.” She spoke in a quiet voice.

”There is peace here, sister. If you wish to take a nap, you may do so. I will keep watch over you.” Oraelia mused.

“Thank you for the offer, but I slept enough already. I only wish my slumber had been as peaceful.”

Oraelia put a reassuring touch upon Evandra’s shoulder. ”I know that feeling… But come, let us leave her to sleep.” Oraelia suggested.

“Yes.” Evandra replied succinctly and they both left the room. Looking through a window Evandra once again saw the many trees that lined the Realm. “Do these trees bear fruit, Oraelia?”

Oraelia followed her gaze. ”Yes, some do. As well as bushes and shrubs. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if I could eat some of them. I miss their taste and I can only have the berries I made with Cadien.”

”Oh of course! Let’s go!” Oraelia said, guiding her out the backdoor and over to the treeline, ”What berries did you make with Cadien?” she eventually asked as the two wandered over to a small grove of fruit bearing greenery.

“I called them Evening Bells. Dark red berries that grow on bushes with red leaves. We made them as a way to give humans intellect and emotion, but they’re also very sweet. Since you’ll let me have some of your fruits then I’ll give you some of my berries as well.” She clasped her hands together near her chest and then extended them to Oraelia. A handful of Evening Bells lay on her now open palms. “Here. Help yourself.”

Oraelia took one and plopped it into her mouth. She chewed, a pleasant look springing across her face as she swallowed. ”Oh my, very sweet indeed! How exactly did they give humans intelligence and emotion though? They just ate them and got those things?” she asked, taking another.

“The effect on one’s intelligence is particular to humans, but the berries can make even Gods bloom with emotion. It’s just not as noticeable on us unless we eat several of them.”

Oraelia paused as she held a fourth berry over her mouth. ”How many does it take? What kind of emotion?” she asked, titling to her head forward to look at Evandra.

“About half a dozen. And the emotions may vary, but in particular it makes one passionate.”

”Passionate about what?” Oraelia asked softly.

“About things, about others. You might find yourself enraptured by a flower’s beauty or fall madly in love with a stranger. I poured my essence into these berries, so to eat them is to feel how I feel, even if for a few moments.” Evandra said with a smile. “So, dear sister. Care to find out how you fare?”

Oraelia eyed the berry between her finger and thumb, then back to Evandra, before plopping it in her mouth. ”I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” she said with a smile as she grabbed a handful more and ate them. She swallowed and then looked around. ”I don’t really… Really… Feel…” her words came to a stop as she burst into an even brighter glow. She looked around with renewed vigor. ”Evandra!” she gasped. ”Look at all this beautiful life!” she giggled, before turning her intense gaze on Evandra. She moved in close and then touched her sister’s nose. ”Haha boop!” She then grabbed her hand and began to run off, ”Come on come on! I want to view the flower fields!”

Evandra’s smile widened at her sister’s display. “Yes, let’s go.” She followed her sister, giggling all the way. The two then raced over to a field of bright yellow tall grass and flowers every color under the sun. Oraelia flicked her wrist and the grass shrank some, letting the flowers into full bloom. She walked up to a vivid blue poplar and took a great sniff before sighing happily. Golden tears pooled in her eyes, ”Oh with passion I see, the beauty laid out before me.” she whispered in a melodic fashion.

Evandra knelt beside her and gave the flower a sniff as well. The sweet floral scent gave her a noticeable blush. “How lovely this is.” She then looked at Oraelia. The elated look on her face made her more beautiful than ever. “So, how does it feel to see things my way?”

Oraelia fell upon her back in the grass and laughed. ”Oh it’s wonderful! Everything is so… so alive and so bright. It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy, if that’s even a thing. Eva, is-is this what passon entails?” she cooed, as she looked up at the blue sky.

“It’s one of its aspects.” She said hanging over Oraelia. “Do be careful with it, however. Indulge too much in passion and you might just become addicted to it.” She playfully touched Oraelia’s nose. “Boop.” And let out a giggle.

Oraelia grinned as she focused her eyes on Evandra. ”Can a god become addicted to such things?” she questioned. ”Wouldn’t that be… Silly?”

“Don’t you like the way you feel now? Wouldn’t you like to stay like this forever?”

”I like it but this is your domain… Life, as much as I want it to be, can’t always be full of passion.” she sat up and said quickly, ”That’s not to say it shouldn’t exist. It has a place in the world and for that I am thankful for you. I love you Evandra, I want you to know that.” she said, smiling.

“I love you as well, Oraelia.” She leaned in close and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek then embraced her.

Oraelia returned the embrace, glowing a tad brighter after the kiss. ”Would you…” Oraelia whispered, ”Cloud gaze with me?”

“Of course.” Separating themselves, the two Goddesses laid on their backs to watch the clouds, not minding the time.

As far as places to grow up in, Harri was not the worst. There were plenty of trees and nice meadows to play in, the farms aways made enough food, and the stream that gave the town its water came directly from the mountain side and was clear as the skies were every summer day. The biggest downside, however, was that it was almost insufferably small. Exactly one hundred and twenty-four people claimed to live in Harri. About half of them were single families that had staked out some swath of land in either the rocky hills surrounding the town or tried to build in the marshes down river. The idyllic valley that housed the actual village and the rest of the people could be circumnavigated in less than two days.

For children in Harri, friends were slim pickings. If you wanted to ever see a new face, all you could do was make the walk to Horfon’s Crossing and hope that some traveler decided to take a shortcut when passing between Redbrook and Stagwood. This isolation forced the children of Harri to examine all their options and begrudgingly accept that they had to be friends with everyone they could. even the Alminaki kid. They made do; at least they weren’t stuck in Tinmine!

So thankfully, Forral’s Alminaki blood did not mean he was abused by the other children. Sure, that combined with the fact that he was named after a bird, meant that he was relentlessly teased. But when do you expect children to not relentlessly tease each other? Since Forral could play the game and relentlessly teased back, there was little excuse to exclude him from the communal teasing and mild abuse that children call friendship.

---

“You seriously don’t want to leave Harri?” Broun laughed as he pushed aside a low hanging branch.

“I never said that!” Tongold exclaimed as she picked her way through the soft forest floor behind Broun, “I just don’t think I will ever be able to leave, so I might as well start putting down roots!”

The two humans strolled up the wooded wall of the valley, the morning sun shone watery light down into the cool shade. It would be a miserably hot day, but right now it was a wonderfully pleasant morning. Broun was sixteen and browned by long days working in the sun. Tongold was a plain looking girl half a year younger than Broun, but when she stood just right in the light, Broun could see the shining radiance that he had been the first, and so far only, to see. Neither had ever left Harri and both were climbing to the most beautiful part of the valley.

“You’re never going to be able to leave?” Broun turned around and began walking backwards so he could face Tongold, “The Grand Army is probably going to come by this year or next, if you want to leave Harri that’s the way to go.”

“Like I’m going to join the army!” Tongold scoffed and smiled, “Besides, I’m not a man. There is no reason for me to enlist.”

“Just because you can only list as a Rouman doesn’t mean you shouldn’t join,” Broun suddenly lost his footing since he wasn’t looking where he was going, his arms pinwheeling in the air. Tongold caught him in her arms and the two laughed, Broun continuing like nothing had happened, “Plus, there is a woman on the Vir’s Council, that could be you!”

“It could, except she’s a witch,” the girl rolled her eyes as she threw her friend out of her arms and at a tree, “Plus, the only women who join the Grand Army are either rich heiresses, barren, or whores.”

“Hey, my sister is a Rouman!” Broun growled in fake indignation.

“And she enlisted when you were a baby,” Tongold countered and scrunched up her face, “She could be a whore for all you know.”

Broun just shrugged and started walking again. They fell into silence. The pair continued their climb up the side of the valley, winding through the lush trees and up to the stony overlook that was both the most secluded and impressive part of the valley. AS they approached their destination, Broun turned back Tongold and, with a smile on his face, began to talk.

“So, even though you think you’re fated to be stuck in this lame valley for all eternity,l wasting away like a dying tree-”

“That’s uncalled for!”

“I’m not finished! Even though you think you’re stuck here, I think there is something very important in this valley, something that will make it all worth the while!”

“Oh really,” Tongold sighed, unimpressed with his speech, “And I suppose that is why you’re dragging me all the way to the Lookout.”

“Precisely!” The trees had sputtered out to the occasional shrug and the cliff ledge was almost in view, “Now close your eyes, it's a surprise!”

“Really, you’re doing that whole bit?” Tongold still made a show of shutting her eyes, despite her complaint. Broun still put his hands over her eyes as a double measure before guiding her the rest of the way.

“Why can’t I just walk myself?” She asked as she stumbled over a rock, reaching to push away her friend’s hands.

“Hey, no peeking!” Bround laughed as he elbowed away her arm, “I’ll tell you when!”

Tongold sighed but gave no further protest. Broun led her all the way to the spot where the verdant grass made a beautiful bed that crowned the clifftop that overlooked all of the picturesque valley. Waiting there in that special spot was… nothing.

“Dammit, Forral!” Broun cursed under his breath, where the hell was all the stuff?

“What was that?” Tongold tried to open her eyes, “What went wrong?”

“Nothing, I just need to fix something,” the boy tried to hide the frustration in his voice, “Just keep your eyes closed a little bit longer.”

Broun dashed away from Tongold, looking through the grass. Where in the world was all the stuff? Forral was supposed to set up the scene an hour ago! The damn kid was ruining his chance. Broun continued rooting around in the grass, hoping to find all the stuff he had planned just hidden all while Tongold impatiently called out. Eventually, he accepted the fact that he would just have to improvise and kicked a rock to vent his frustration. The stone tumbled off the cliff

As Broun turned back to his friend, the gears whirring in his brain, the rock hit something with a resounding thwack that was quickly followed by a yelp which inturn was followed by an angry shout:

“Hey! Watch where you’re kicking those things!” The voice welled up from down the cliff.

“Who was that?” Tongold dropped her hands and rushed with Broun to look over the cliff edge.

There they saw, clinging to the cliff face like a spider, a small fourteen year old boy. He had his sandy hair tied back and out of his face, revealing a line of closely trimmed feathers and a small gash on his brow. He wobbled a little bit as the wind caught on the large sack that was haphazardly strapped to his back by jury-rigged rope.

“Forral?” Tongold shouted in surprise, “What in the world are you doing down there, that’s a hundred foot drop! You could be killed!”

“Well, before Bround so rudely hit me with a rock,” The quarter-Almanaki grunted as he started scaling the rocks once more, “I was trying to climb to the top of the Lookout before you two got there.”

Forral was a swift climber and closed the distance in a very short time, the other two teenagers helped haul him onto stable ground before interrogating him further.

“Why did you need to beat us up here? Why didn’t you just walk around like a sane person!” Tongold huffed, “And what is even with the bag? Did you just want to be even more reckless.”

“I’m glad to see you care about me, Mom,” Forral scowled as he sat cross legged and began unwinding the full sack, “This bag was the whole reason I had to climb in the first place.”

“What is the bag even for?” Tongold sat back and crossed her arms.

“Yeah!” Broun piled on, “And why did you need to get it here now?“ Then, through his teeth, “And not earlier like I asked.”

“Calm down there, don’t start a landslide,” Forral said, “Let me work and then I’ll be gone!”

Quickly, before either of the two people could respond, Forral began pulling things out of his sack and arranging them. First, he threw a cloth over a medium sized stone on the cliff top and just as quickly produced a loaf of bread, a small flask of wine, and two wooden cups.

“Forral, what are you doi-” Tongold stated but the boy just held up a hand and continued working.

He took the crumpled flowers that Broun had spent the last week picking and weaving into a lovely garland and placed them between the food. He put the small candle in the center of the garland, lit it, and went back into the bag for the last thing.

“Broun, is this the surprise?” Tongold chuckled, turning to face her friend, smiling, “Did you get Forral to set all this up?”

Broun was smiling sheepishly at his crush, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe, I just wanted to show you that Harri wasn’t all bad-”

The two continued talking, but Forral tuned them out, too busy staring down into his hands. In each palm, shielded from his two friend’s views, were a half of a statuette. Broun hand carved it from wood, he had spent months on it. It was a gift for tongold, for when he finally told her he loved her. He had poured his heart into crafting it and it even almost looked like here! Somehow, it had been split in two while Forral had been climbing.

Forral uselessly clunked the two pieces together, as if just touching the breaking point would fuse them back together. He had ruined it, Broun would be so mad at him. He scrunched his eyes tight, trying not to show his distress to the other two, squeezing the two shards together. Maybe he could just put it back in the bag and hide it?

“-Forral!” Someone called, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Wha-” The boy looked up, blinking.

Broun and Tongold were hugging, sharing the bread and laughing, it had been Broun who had called him.

“Show her the thing I made!” Broun’s eyes lit up with pride and Tongold’s with excitement.

“Oh… right.”

Forral stretched out his hands, still squeezing the small figurine together, hiding the split with his palms. He paused for a little, cringing away before he even showed his mistake. Eventually, under the eager eyes of his two companions, he sighed, closed his eyes, and opened his palms. As he did so, he felt a twinge in his gut, preparing to be berated, but also another strange sensation, dancing all across his body.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he heard Tongold cry as the idol was snatched from his hands.

Forral let out a noise of confusion and opened his eyes. Tongold held the figurine, somehow completely repaired, more than repaired really, it was now polished and smoothed like it had been made by an expert. She had thrown herself around Broun’s neck and was hugging him deeply. Broun laughed and squeezed Tongold back as Forral sat in amazement.

“Hey, Forral,” Bround chuckld, tearing his gaze away from Tongold and tearing Forral out of his stupor“Could you give us some, uh….Privacy?”

“Yeah, sure.”

And with that Forral stood up and started walking quickly down the mountain side, taking the regular path, walking too quickly to stop and think about how that figurine had magically repaired itself.