Monthly Archives: October 2026

Shadow’s Daughter – Chapter 3

Shadow casting was the simplest of magics and yet, as Jaye fumbled her eleventh attempt at it, she began to suspect that the human’s claims at simply being “superior to the Mongels” might be annoyingly true.

“We can pick this up tomorrow if you would like,” Shadow said. “Today has not been especially easy for you we imagine and sleep can be a wonderful restorative.”

“No. Let me try again,” Jaye said, her fingers tingling with misspent magic.

“Let us see your hands,” Shadow said and took Jaye’s hands in his own. 

Shadow’s touch was warm and soft though the surprising part of it was that there was any touch at all. Jaye distinctly remembered her hand passing through Shadows when they first met. Inside the witch’s hut though the rules seemed to be different.

“We don’t like the redness at the tips of your index fingers,” Shadow said, the frown in his voice clear despite the lack of other features to convey it.

“I’m okay. It’s just a little tingly. You said to let you know if it started hurting, it’s not yet,” Jaye said.

“Very well, but we will be resuming this tomorrow regardless, presuming you remain inclined to, so worry not over much about any progress we do or do not make before you’ve rested,” Shadow said, releasing her hands and stepping back.

“I don’t get why it’s not working though?” Jaye began to twist her fingers through the basic gestures of the spell.

“A moment then,” Shadow said. “Let’s examine things from a different angle. What do you recall of the spell’s details? The issue may not be in what you are doing, but something we have not explained properly.”

Jay sat back and let her hands drop into her lap. The practice room had all sorts of ornate carvings on the walls which beckoned for her attention but she dropped her head and stared at the hands she was beginning to consider ‘useless’.

“The spell begins with the Words. The Words establish a channel between the caster and the Aether,” Jaye said reciting the instruction she’d been playing over and over in her head with each attempt.

“And the gestures?”

“The gestures come third,” Jaye said. That one was slightly aggravating because she wanted to get right into working the magic, but Shadow had been right that skipping steps led directly to failure. “Before gestures, we breath, to draw in the Awakened Aether and make it a part of ourselves. Wait, do you breath?”

“No,” Shadow said. “The process is similar for us though, breath is simply a tangible method of guiding the influx of Awakened Aether into oneself and retaining an awareness of its presence.”

“So you don’t need to do the gestures either then?” Jaye asked, curious about how Shadow was able to work magic at all.

“Neither Words, nor Breath, nor Gestures are required, but forgoing them requires considerable practice, and in some cases special attunements,” Shadow said. “For instance…”

With neither words, nor breath, nor gestures from Shadow, the lights in the practice room began to spin and swirl, leaping forth from the Continual Candles which adorned the walls and dancing in the area like a ballroom populated by tiny tongues of flame.

“We have, obviously, a particular relationship with light and its sources, so tricks like that are naturally easier to us. There will be similar effects which you will find easier to grasp than others.” Shadow gestured, purely for dramatic effect, as the swirling lights all settled back into their proper holders.

“This is supposed to be easy though, isn’t it?” Jaye asked.

“The instruction book seems to think so. It is why, in part, we thought you might be able to carry us beyond the borders of the forest,” Shadow said. “Perhaps that is where the fault lies though? All educators have their own biases, and it would not be hard to believe the authors of this work failed to consider it might ever have an  audience other than humans.”

“But you’ve worked it out, right? So it can’t be good just for humans, can it?” Jaye asked, not certain which answer she preferred.

“We are…we may be a unique case,” Shadow said. “To begin with, we have had rather a large amount of time to spend on study and refinement. To be quite honest, it took us roughly five years to cast our first spell.”

“I thought the book was supposed to teach you how to cast one of the simple spells in a day?” Jaye asked.

“That is the claim it makes, but in our case, we were not even certain we were meant to be capable of casting spells,” Shadow said.

“And you kept trying?”

“It’s no sign of great virtue,” Shadow cautioned. “To begin with, we had very little else to do. Also, from the moment we were called back to the world, or perhaps even before, we have been fascinated with all forms of magic.”

“Is it going to take me five years then?” Jaye asked, certain that it would not be worth spending five years to learn how to cast a little baby spell.

“You are quite a bit closer to what the instruction manuals have in mind than we were, though…” Shadow said, and looked away as though to find another manual

Notably, there were no manuals in the room, or any other books at all. As a Practice chamber, the decorations on the wall were intended to contain any magic effects which got out of hand. That would preserve the contents of the rest of the hut, but things left within the chamber did not enjoy the same guarantee of safety.

“Though what?” Jaye asked, sensing she was not going to like the answer.

And she wasn’t.

“There are some manuals which claim the Nature Blessed, such as yourself, are incapable of casting spells using ‘human methods’. They are, of course, quite incorrect, but there may be some added hurdles you will need to overcome. Or the tomes may simply be pointing us in the wrong direction?”

“How do you know they’re wrong? The Hunters had all kinds of magic that we didn’t,” Jaye said, sick at even mentioning them again.

“All writing is done for an audience,” Shadow said. “The instruction manuals we’ve found so far have all been written by human authors for a human audience. Some are more thorough than others, but none of the ones we’ve turned up seem to have much awareness of history.”

“History? Did things used to be different?” Jaye tried to remember the tales her people had told. There’d been a variety of Nature Blessed in the Refuge and each had their own traditions and tales. ‘Rootlings’ they’d called the stories because they were the roots to what came before and they nourished the communities to keep them together even when they were apart. None of the ones Jaye could remember though spoke of human magics.

“Things have been different, and they will be different, it’s the promise time makes to us all,” Shadow said. “In this specific case though, what the authors seem to be missing, or more likely willfully ignoring, is the fact that there have been several Archmages who were Nature Blessed. Several who were other species than human too.”

“But then that means we can cast like they do?” It was yet another thing to be angry about but Jaye’s plate of anger inducing issues was so overfull that another entry had little added impact.

“Can? Yes. Perhaps. We have only read about such casters though, so we can only speak to the effects which were attributed to them and the titles granted. It is possible that they followed a different path to their prowess than the human Archmages did.”

“But if there is a path, then how could they…” Jaye wanted to say ‘hide it from us’ but the answer was to plain to be worth the words.

The Mongrel-born were too useful to be given the idea that they could be the equal of humans.

“I believe some have,” Shadow said. “There are some works the Witch collected before she left which suggested a growing sentiment against the treatment of the Nature Blessed in the Free Dukedoms of the Holy Towers. We gather from your condition however that matters have not improved overly much?”

“No. Nothing’s changed,” Jaye said. “We either live in Refuges, or the Hunter’s snatch us up.”

“Hunters? And Refuges? Those, you may be interested to learn, are perhaps new additions. From the volumes we have found on the treatment of the Nature Blessed, there would not have been a need for Hunters as the Nature Blessed were hobbled, either physically, or magically, or both, to remain in service to the house which owned them.”

“They can still own us. And they can still track us. Unless we’re in a Refuge,” Jaye said. “The Hunters look for the Refuges, and they collect any branded people who get loose when a village is destroyed.”

“When a village is…do you mean to say that villages are routinely destroyed?” Shadow asked.

“They get built back up,” Jaye said. “Sometimes the monsters get them though.”

“Monsters? Have the Holy Towers fallen?” Shadow couldn’t look astounded but he was certainly capable of making it clear when he was.

“No? I don’t think so? That’s where the Dukes and Duchesses live right?”

“That was the case. The rulers were of secondary significant however, or at least they used to be. The primary purpose of the Towers was the suppression of incursions, both from invading armies and other realms. Also rebellions we suppose, though the only records of those showed the ones which had an impact were supported by outside agents.”

“Outside?”

“Neighboring lands. The Kingdom of Walls, the Baronies of the Tempest Seas, and the others. We are uncertain of course where such political entities stand today. Alliances and animosities can change greatly over the course of a century.”

“What were they like?”

“Different, and the same, people are largely people throughout the world, though each group will have important differences from each other.”

“All with humans?”

“Not at all. The history books speak of more species of people than you can imagine. We have longed to see some in fact – the Quiet Walkers seem similar to ourself, and we may be able to learn quite a bit from them.”

“But for that I need to be able to cast you right?”

“It needn’t be your burden to bear, but if it proves within your capabilities, it would be much simpler than the alternatives,” Shadow said.

“Let’s try again then,” Jaye said, drawing in a breath and centering herself.

“Perhaps a change in form this time,” Shadow said. “Begin with the Breath.”

“But the order matters doesn’t it?” Jaye asked. Her worst attempt had been when she’s tried to move directly to the gestures and that was where the residual sting in her fingers had come from.

“It does, and we are guessing that might be what is wrong,” Shadow said. “The Words begin a connection to the Aether for a human, but the Nature Blessed do not need Words to call upon their magics, do they?”

“No. Tauren are strong all the time, and I can change without saying anything.” Jaye was tempted to shift to her bird form but hesitated. Anything that spent her strength felt unwise under the circumstances.

“As we imagined it would be,” Shadow said. “We posit that you already hold a connection to the Aether and the Words are simply tangling things by establishing a conflicting one. We may be entirely wrong about that, but see if simply breathing and performing the gestures is sufficient. You may be able to awaken the Aether merely through your natural connection to it.”

Jaye liked that idea and closed her eyes to find the right moment to begin.

Breathe.

In and out.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Mindful.

Was there magic in her breath? She didn’t think so, she did it all the time after all. The human steps made sense. The Words called the magic into the caster.

But she already had magic.

Breathe.

She thought about what it felt like to shift. The sparkle in her nerves. The fluidity of her body. The shift in perspective.

That was it.

She breathed out.

It was about her perspective. She was always breathing, and she was always in touch in her magic. Drawing in the world’s magic only required that she be still for a moment and feel it.

She breathed in and felt a stream of Awakened Aether follow her breath, filling her and overflowing from her hands.

With rapid twitches, she moved her hands through the gestures to shape the spell before the magic ran away from her control completely.

It didn’t work.

Not exactly.

She’d found the right hand and body positions but the spell wasn’t fully constrained. Worse, this was the most magic she’d managed to gather so far and if it went wild she was definitely going to get burned.

But she didn’t have any gestures left to control it with.

Speak.

And she did.

She still had the Words and so she used them. Defining with intent and sound what she wanted the magic to do.

“Shadows Rise.”

And they did.

Shadow’s Daughter – Chapter 2

Jaye was dead. She knew that. All of the light, what little there had been, was gone from her world. If she was still drawing breath it would take only a moment for that to change.

She hoped it would only be a moment.

She’d heard of witch curses. They were subtle and awful things. Much like witches, supposedly. Jaye had thought she wouldn’t mind stumbling into something generally awful since it would be an improvement from the awfulness which was being specifically targeted at her. With the last of the world’s light gone though, she found herself keenly aware that however bad her plight had been, it was always possible for it to get worse.

In the darkness, she felt something moving around her. The thing that had spoken to her. The instrument of the witch’s curse?

“That is most definitely not right,” the bodiless presence said, and Jaye felt a tingle shoot up her broken forearm. In the distance, she heard a scream followed by the fatal punctuation mark of a squelching sound no body could voluntarily make. “We are faced with a conundrum it seems. That arm is, unless appearances are deceptive, quite decisively fractured. Not a complex break to be sure, but still fixing it without a simpler subject to practice on does admit the possibility of grievous error. No other subjects are present however, and allowing it to remain in its present state would be a cruelty and an injustice.”

There was another scream, somewhat farther away, cut off just as abruptly by a wet tearing sound, which should not have been as loud as it was.

Jaye didn’t hear any notes of menace in the presence’s voice, but that did not mean she was safe.

“Will it heal on its own?” the presence mused in a clear but whispery voice. “Perhaps if the bones were set and put into a cast? That would take months though, or weeks? One of the books would probably have notes on natural bone healing, wouldn’t they?”

Jaye tried to move her arm and flinched at the pain. The pain from the break was radiating through her as her panic diminished and her breath returned. 

“Apologies. Here we are rambling and the answer is perhaps resolved with a simple question; shall we tend to your injury?”

Was that a fishhook being dangled before the presence struck, a lure towards hope only for it to be crushed all the more cruelly? Jaye shouldn’t have cared. She’d run into the forest ready to accept death and, even if this could be a cruel death, her wish to ‘not die to the Hunters’ would be fulfilled.

But she did care. Her arm hurt, and her home was lost, and she was being chased, but she still wanted to live. 

And she didn’t think the presence’s words were a lie.

So she nodded, and held her injured arm with her good one.

The darkness around her was beyond anything her eyes could penetrate, but the presence didn’t seem troubled by it.

“We are unsure how this will feel,” the presence said. “We are not practiced with Vitamancy but, this seems simple enough, we hope. Should it prove painful though, we do apologize.”

A warm glow bloomed in the darkness, illuminating Jaye’s injured arm apart from what looked to be fingers of shadow that were held on either side of it.

Far from pain, the spell that was cast felt blissfully wonderful. The pain which had been radiating up her arm and throughout the rest of Jaye’s body was washed away and replaced by a surge of strength and energy. The healing magics didn’t take anything from her, instead they gifted her with the restoration of pains and injuries throughout her body.

“Thank you,” she whispered, more intent than ever on not being discovered either by the Hunters or whatever was hunting them.

“Delightful! It worked! Perhaps you might enjoy some shelter and, hmm, well I believe we have tea? Yes, I think the tea stores should still be good! Maybe? Follow me if you would!”

And the darkness withdrew into the fuzzy, indistinct shape of a person.

Who bowed to Jaye.

Had they been sheltering Jaye with their…it seemed odd to call it a body? That was the closest Jaye could come to describing the patch of shadow which beckoned her onwards. She started to follow and then turned to listen for the Hunter’s pursuit. The was no sound of anyone moving through the forest though. Just the steady drum of the rain which had let up slightly and was further diminished by the trees.

“We would offer you an umbrella but…” the shadow person shrugged and waved a hand through a nearby tree limb. “We are somewhat limited in that regard.”

Jaye nodded and followed along the thin path she would have certainly overlooked otherwise. She wasn’t sure how far they walked, her sense of time grew a bit fuzzy, and the twists and turns the path took had to have been laid out as a spell of confusion. When her head started to swim and she began to wander off in the wrong direction though, the shadow person would pause and call out to her, waiting to be sure she’d regained her senses before continuing on slow enough to be sure Jaye could follow.

Late afternoon passed into true twilight and then to night before they arrived at what was clearly a witches hut.

A very nice and well lit witches hut though to be sure.

But even before stepping into the clearing Jaye could feel a tingle of magic woven deeply into the ground and flowing through the air. It was not a place people were supposed to come to. It was a refuge, but only for its owner. Anyone else could run afoul of a hundred different protections and charms.

“Oh, yes. We formally extend to you the hospitality of this house in our role as guest and guardian.”

“Why?” Jaye asked without stepping into the circle

“There’s all sorts of enchantments placed here. We wanted to make sure the house knew that it didn’t need to use any of them on you because you’re a friend.”

“But I’m not,” Jaye said. She very definitely wanted to live and stepping into a pile of strange witchery gave her no guarantee that would happen.

The Nature Blessed were useful for many things and while Jaye hadn’t heard that ‘being chopped into ingredients for a witch’s soup’ was on that list, she had heard that witches were creatures unbound by all holy laws, most definitely including the laws of hospitality.

 “Not yet!” the shadow person said. “You were fleeing from some very unpleasant people though, and, unless we miss our guess, they were either directly or indirectly responsible for that injury.”

Jaye said nothing. Giving a witch anything was supposed to be the height of folly when they could take things like your name, your face, and your heart.

“Most of all though, it looked like you could use a friend,” the shadow person said. “As could we.” They deflated by an inch at the admission. “If you would prefer to move on however, we can also show you the path to the far side of the forest. Those who were chasing you, won’t be any longer, but doubtless they have friends and allies. That sort always do. Even so, those allies won’t pursue you through here, so you will be safe, or safer than you were at least.”

“You need a friend?” Jaye asked, already aware of how tenuous her own circumstances were.

“Need is too strong a word. We shall be fine. It has simply been a while since we had anyone to speak with and while study and practice and study and practice and study and…you see where that is going? While all that can be interesting, it does lose a bit of its charm a century on.”

“You’ve been alone for a century? What about the witch? Or, are you the witch?” Jaye asked, tilting her head to try to find a different perspective to view the shadow from.

“Not at all! We have a delightful Imp friend who stops by when they are free from their duties. He’s just been a bit busy this decade or so. Oh, and we are certainly not the witch. If you’ve seen her though, we should be intrigued as to what she’s been up to for the last hundred years, not to mention the question of whatever she had in mind for us.”

“So you’re not the witch?”

“Correct. We are not.”

“And you need a friend?”

“We…a friend would be most welcome.”

“And you have tea.”

“We do. There is also the possibility that it is still in a brewable state. The witch’s preservation spells remain entirely intact, and we are uncertain if tea leaves even require that. They probably do we imagine, but century old tea seems like it might be viable on its own? Again, she likely has a book on that. Shall we go see?”

The shadow held out a hand, which Jaye attempted to take put found to be as insubstantial as the tree limb had.

“We have odd reflexes,” Shadow said. “We don’t know why we thought that would be useful, but still, please, join us.”

It wasn’t so odd that the witch’s hut had lights on around it and more shining inside it. Several buildings in the hidden refuge Jaye grew up in used magical lighting. A hundred years was thousands of times longer than any of those lights would have lasted without recasting and maintenance though, which called the shadow’s words into question but as they stepped through the threshold no witch emerged to contradict the claim that she was absent.

The absence of the witch wasn’t what caught Jaye’s eyes though. It was the books she first noticed. There were more than there were stars in the sky. 

“Sit wherever you’d like,” Shadow said. “We shall see about putting a kettle on.”

Jaye glanced behind her to find the small clearing still there. Emphasis on ‘small’. The space she was looking at not only couldn’t possibly have fit into the small hut she’d entered, she was reasonably sure it couldn’t have fit into the clearing or even the woods themselves.

Shadow passed down the short hallway to the endless library area and turned at a small door which led into a more constrained kitchen and dining area.

Part of her told her to run. The next step was her last chance to avoid stumbling into something much bigger than herself. A little bird girl had no business meddling with the doings of witches and magic forests after all. She would be much better off if she went back to hiding in safety while the rest of the world…

Jaye stamped her foot down and marched with determination into the kitchen.

“Mint Breath tea or Bitter Earthroot?” Shadow asked, holding up two jars which were covered in carvings of animals at play.

“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Rest assured, we understand the feeling,” Shadow said.

Jaye didn’t pause taking the seat Shadow offered, but she did puzzle at his words for a moment as her tea was poured.

“Not that we would have you tarry here,” Shadow said, pouring a second cup and taking the seat opposite Jaye.

“You don’t want me to stay?” Jaye asked, understanding that the confusion stemmed from blurting out her thoughts.

“We’d rather if neither of us stayed,” Shadow said and leaned over the tea to draw in its rising steam.

“Why? What’s wrong with this place?” Jaye sipped her tea (Shadow had given her the Bitter Earthroot) and a memory flickered up of a winter day when she sat at the table in her home, drinking tea with her mother. 

That table was smashed and she would never see it again.

No more mornings with it.

No more tired evenings before bed.

Just pieces. Horrible, horrible pieces. 

She wondered how the other kids were doing. Had she bought them enough time? Had they gotten away? Was there even anyone chasing them or had the forest ripped apart all the Hunters?

“There are memories here,” Shadow said. “Cherished memories. Painful ones. Even a few silly ones. After a hundred years though, we think it might be interesting to make some new memories, rather than living trapped in the ones which belong to the past.”

“What if the past was better though?”

“It will always be with us. If we linger in it though, it fades, as do our futures.”

“What if our futures are worse?”

“Then who else can make them better than us? They are our futures after all.”

“Why haven’t you left already then?”

“Because we have no one to cast us. No one, unless you would be willing to that is?”

Shadow’s Daughter – Chapter 1

Jaye didn’t care that the haunted forest held death for all who entered, all that mattered was that it wouldn’t be at the hands of the Beast Hunters who pursued her.

When she’d started her run, it hadn’t been for herself. There had been a Prize Wagon transporting her and the several other children her age which had slid off the narrow hillside road thanks to the storm that was still lashing down. Jaye hadn’t been thinking anything about the other until there’d been a scream from outside of the road starting to give way and the hurried cries of the Beast Hunters who’d cut the horses loose from the wagon so they wouldn’t topple down the hill with the wagon.

Jaye fought through a moment of confusion try to understand why the horses were being free. It was the children who were the Hunter’s prizes? Why weren’t the Hunters trying to save them? Children, after all, were too small to fight back, relatively easy to transport, and, in this case, bereft of rights for the crime of being Mongrel Born. In theory, that should have guaranteed their safety, at least until they reached the market in Embervale, but some god of mischief had perhaps been listening to Jaye’s prayers and chosen to grant them in as typically cruel a fashion as the gods are wont to respond to prayers.

Not that it had seemed cruel at first. At hearing the Hunters yelling in panic and disarray, the anger which burned in Jaye’s heart had leapt into a flicker of fierce joy.

But then the wagon had tipped and the screaming at had started.

She hadn’t screamed with the rest of the children. She didn’t feel any braver than they did, she was simply too focused on not being hurled into anything, or anyone, that would shatter her bones to dust.

That was the world for Ravenkind. Humans were born from the dust of stones and the words of the gods. They were durable in form and mighty as vessels for magics of all types. The Mongrel Born, or Nature Blessed as Jaye’s father had insisted was their proper title, carried blessings from the creatures they shared a lineage with, and the magic which let them walk the would in the guise of either of their two halves.

Jaye’s people, the Ravenkind, were gifted with a lightness of body and the quick minds of the cleverest of avians. Her magic made the skies her domain, but it came at the cost of bones that could not weather the shocks most others could.

Bound in short chains within the captive’s compartment of the wagon, she’d been keenly aware of the size and weight of the other children around her. A Tauren boy had been thrown in beside her and took up most of the bench on their side, with only a bit of room which a toddler-aged Catkin girl had been stuffed into.

Across from her, the knees of a Deerling lad had left her with little choice but to pull her legs up to her chest to allow him room to fit at all.

Beside him sat a Mulekin girl and a Foxkin girl, with another toddler, this one a Foxkin boy, filling in what little space was left before the thick and sealed door they’d been tossed in through.

Jaye hadn’t learned their names, in part because the Hunters had ‘discouraged’ conversation, and in part because she knew none of them would ever see one another again once they’d been sold.

That didn’t mean she didn’t know them though. The Bull boy, or Tauren as her father would have insisted, already bore the marks of a labor collar. He was old enough, and Tauren were strong enough even when very young, that he’d already been part of a labor crew. How he’d escaped Jaye couldn’t tell, but crew managers weren’t renowned for their diligence and runaways did happen from time to time. No one kept the binding spells renewed perfectly, especially not on ‘naturally slow ox boys’.

He wouldn’t sell for as much as he could have, since anyone with enough wit and will to run away once might do so again. The Hunters had to know that already though, and with Embervale only being a couple of days away the price of transporting him was clearly less than whatever they thought they could get for him.

The others, apart from Jaye, had come from the fallen villages of Cropshare and Dawnfield. The Hunters had gotten lucky there. The same Darkshard Uprising that had sent enough monsters pouring forth to ravage Cropshare had uncovered the nameless refuge Jaye had been raised in. 

Jaye didn’t like to think of that.

She’d seen the losses the people of her small village had taken in turning away the monster from beneath the earth, only for the ones who walked its surface to arrive and carve a bloody swath through the remaining men, women, and most of the children. Those they’d spared, like Jaye, had been divided between the three parties of Hunters, with Jaye being consider a top prize for the rarity of a captured Ravenkind child.

As the wagon slid down the hillside, Jaye felt the sharp pain of her left arm snapping as the Deerling boy’s legs lashed out to brace himself.

“Hold onto me!” the Tauren boy said and braced himself between the roof and the floor which had become the new walls of the wagon after it tipped. 

With the wagon gaining speed as it flew down the hill, Jill tried to throw her good arm around him but the short chains held her back.

For another five seconds.

Then she was in freefall for an instant.

An instant when she was able to call out to a spark of the Ravenkin magic within her. She wasn’t able to float everyone. The Tauren boy was too heavy, and the Deerling had already braced himself solidly. The toddlers though we effortless and the other girls were only agonizingly hard to lift, but she was already in agony so what was a little more?

The crash of the wagon impacting on the streambed below the short cliff sounded like standing inside a thunderbolt, but from its wreckage all of the children emerged, though decidedly not in one piece in Jaye’s case.

The storm above them had turned the late day sky to a solid wall of shadow, leaving only the dim illumination of twilight to cover the land. Visibility was damped even further by the rain itself, to the point where it took a moment for Jaye to distinguish the water which beat down on her from the swollen stream that roared past the wreckage of the cart.

“Is everyone alright?” the Foxkin girl asked.

“Yeah, somehow,” the Mulekin girl said.

Jaye look down at her broken arm. The bones were still inside it, but the shattered wood had torn a long, deep gash in that arm as well. 

Her magic had protected the rest of them though. She didn’t feel good, good was out of reach after all that had happened, but she felt something at that knowledge nonetheless. Something she wasn’t ready to name or examine.

“We need to go,” the Deerling lad said. “They’ll be here soon.”

“We can’t,” the Mulekin girl said. “They’ll just find us again, and what are we supposed to do if we run off now?”

“Live.” 

Jaye hadn’t meant to command everyone’s attention, but they all turned to her, so she continued.

“They can’t transport us alive anymore.” She didn’t need to add that the Nature Blessed were also useful dead, to the right human casters. The only question in her mind was whether they would bring back the children’s corpses or just the most valuable bits?

“But they can track us,” the Mulekin girl said.

Jaye looked back are her arm and let whatever her earlier feeling had been guide her.

“Not us. Just me.” She held up her arm, unable to hide the wince of pain at moving it at all.

“Oh no! How did that happen?” the Deerling lad asked, no recognition of his role in her injury showing in his face.

“Ravenkin,” she said, which was enough to explain it all. Everyone knew the avian-blooded were fragile. No need for the Deerling to bear the guilt of something he hadn’t chosen and which no amends could be made for.

“What are you going to do? Stay behind and fight them off with one arm?” the Mulekin said. “I’m not leaving you like that.”

“No. I’m going to run,” Jaye said. “They’ll track my blood. You all go the other way. Be safe.”

“What about you though?” the Tauren boy asked.

“I’ll lead them into the forest and get them lost,” Jaye said.

“You can’t. The forest is haunted. There’s a witches curse on it. Everyone who goes in dies!” the Foxkin girl said.

“Good. If they follow me, then they die,” Jaye said.

“What about you?” the Mulekin girl asked.

“I can fly away. They can’t catch me again,” Jay said. “You have to go now. There’s no time.”

And there wasn’t. From far up the hill, they all heard the distant yelling of the Beast Hunters organizing to retrieve their prizes.

“Go!” Jaye said, any feelings of doom were pushed away by the frustration at the others wasting time they did not have.

Lightning crashed behind her, shattering one of the trees and sending flaming chunks out into the forest.

That was enough to break the other children’s reticence. The Tauren boy picked up the two toddlers and the six of them took off at a run, disappearing around a bend downstream before Jaye’s defiant stance could waver.

With them gone though, a voice whispered how easy it would be for her to simply collapse into the wreckage. The Hunters were going to find her anyways. There was no flying away from them. Even if she’d been willing to chance to tumult of the storm, taking her other shape was not going to fix her broken arm. 

That voice was stupid however.

She was not going to let the Hunters capture her. For one thing the longer they chased her the farther away the others would get. For another, if there really was a witches curse on the forest, then the further into the woods she could draw the Hunters the better the chance was that it would get them too.

Most of all though?

Most of all she just didn’t want to die to them. A death in the forest wouldn’t necessarily be pleasant but it wouldn’t be the abomination the Hunters would inflict on her.

And so she ran, racing through the undergrowth, being as intentional as she could about leaving her blood on smeared on trees and dribbled onto the forest floor. Even under the shelter of the trees, the rain was still pouring down and a brief fear sang through her that it might wash away her scent as well as it did the others. That fear was banished though and replaced by another when she heard the shout of Hunters entering the forest behind her.

They had her scent, with whatever magics they employed, the Hunters had found the trail of blood leading them to her and none of them had broken arms slowing them down.

That was when she started running for herself.

Was she making noise? Was she leaving a more obvious path than she needed to? Was she missing places she could have hidden?

It didn’t matter.

They were close and she had to be far, far away from them.

For the second time, she prayed, and for the second time she was answered, though once more not as she’d hoped to be.

“Take us all Curse,” she’d prayed, trying to imagine a witch powerful enough to fell a team of irate Hunters.

There was no witch to hear her plea.

Not within the forest.

Not for many, many years.

But there was a Curse.

And it answered with a silence that stilled even the raindrops.

The Hunters had been drawing near. They should have caught up to her. 

Instead something else did.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a shadow said as it blotted out the fading twilight and enveloped her.

Fledgling Gods – Burning Devotion – Ch 46 (Epilogue)

“Hey Insight, did Clarity say when she was going to be back today?”

“She and Responsibility were talking the 3rd Years out to the new Slinktail refuge.”

“So they could be there somewhere between an hour and a week then?”

“In this case it was more like 30 minutes.”

“Oh hi there Responsibility!”

“Hey Beauty.”

“What happened?” 

“You, and it kills me to admit this, as you well know Insight, were right.”

“What was that? I’m sorry, you know how these old ears are. I think I need to hear that again.”

“Shut up. Your 30th namesday isn’t till next week. And I’m older anyways.”

“To be fair to our dear Insight, as she predicted, the groundskeepers were behind schedule.”

“Oh that sucks Clarity. Did the kids at least get to see any of the baby Slinktails?”

“Sadly no.”

“I thought they told you the enclosures were all completed though?”

“And they were not lying Reason. Unfortunately, they neglected to mention that stocking the enclosures with the trees the Slinktails need for comfort and safety was still ‘a work in progress’.”

“So what did you two do with the 3rd years?”

“Jilya.”

“Oh that’s just mean.”

“I’d say that was a good call Insight.”

“Jilya’s been up to her wingtips in plant revivals. How did she possibly have time for an entire class of 3rd years?”

“Oh, that was easy. She turned them into her private army of seed gatherers and sorters.”

“Okay, that is clever, points to her there!”

“I thought so too Inhibition. She told them if any of them found a new species, they’d get to coin it’s common name.”

“So we are going to have a dozen variations on ‘Pretty Sparkle Rose’ and/or ‘Stinky Butt Weed’?”

“That is the allure but I suspect she’ll get them to take it a little more seriously.”

“How long is she planning to employ the volunteer army you dropped on her doorstep?”

“Like you said, she’s pretty swamped, so she’ll probably need them for at least a week.”

“In which time the Slinktail habitat can actually be completed?”

“That’s the hope. Whether the groundskeepers can actually manage it or not remains to be seen.”

“I would say we could ask for help on that, but all the help we know is part of one or another of Jilya’s other harvest armies.”

“We could offer to help out ourselves I suppose?”

“Reason, my dearest love, are you feeling well? Have you sustained a head injury you’ve been hiding from us? Or perhaps an extreme fever has boiled your blood?”

“What? I like Slinktails. They’re cute, especially the babies!”

“We know they are but I believe what Beauty is pointing out is that with the 3rd years away for a week, and the second years still the under the tutelage of Mercy, Thrift, and Harmony, we find ourselves with a rare week of vacation we can turn to whatever ends we wish.”

“That was rather the plan, though credit goes to Clarity for coming up with it.”

“You were the one who pointed out that the children needed something to make up for the disappointment of missing the animal encounter they’d been looking forward to.”

“Well whatever shall we do with a week where there’s no one around to interrupt us?”

“It seems that Insight is already found the answer.”

“Round robin card tournament?”

“Round robin card tournament!”

“Oh! Can we get in on that too?”

“When have we ever turned down a chance to demolish a god, Diyas?”

“It seems somewhat less than likely that you will be victorious this time, Beauty.”

“And why is that Umbrielle?”

“Because we have been practicing.”

“Have you now Draconia? Well let’s just see how well you can defend the hoard you start with, I seem to recall splitting most of it with Responsibility last time.”

“Yes, but who was the overall winner last time?”
{chorus} “You were Sola”.

– Insight being setup for a week long 30th Namesday celebration by both her mortal and divine friends.

I was not drunk. I do not get drunk. Alcohol is just a toxin and toxins are things that mortals have to deal with.

“We’re still a bit mortal,” Little said, a tiny bit tipsy. Which was not the same as being drunk, as I knew from personal experience.

“A little bit?” Jilya teased, which earned her a groan from our Ratkin friend.

“It’s lucky that we are,” I said gazing out at the star strewn sky that has not gotten boring to look at in the dozen or so year since it came back. “Can you imagine how things would have gone if any of us weren’t?”

“Vaingloth would have taken me seriously from minute one if he’d known what I was going to become,” Little said.

“Sasarai would have buried my body parts under a hundred different roots and had ‘Holy Mazana’ feed on me for eternity if he’d caught me when I was an unknowing Blessed,” Jilya said reclining on the oversized beanbag we’d provided for her since she was a bit out-sized for our normal furniture.

“How about you Insight? Malgenia would have turned you into one of her art pieces right?” Little asked, without looking at me. She could sense me just fine but her lost vision was well and truly gone from everything we could tell. Even the Great Beast’s restorative release of the divine energy and domains it had collected had not returned the sight to her void darkened eyes.

Somethings when lost are simply lost, and we move on with only their memories as a part of us.

“I don’t think so,” I said, imagining how Malgenia might have thought for the first time in years.

She’s been my everything, my god, my world, my hopes and dreams, right up until the time moment I’d understood who she really was.

There were still parts of my personality that showed the damage I’d taken growing up as a unwitting sacrificial offering, but there were plenty of days now where those parts didn’t come up, or where the choices I’d made since then mattered far more. I hard a hard time believing it some days but, by tiny increments, I was recovering from who I’d been.

“Malgenia simultaneously paid us no mind at all and was disturbingly fascinated by us,” I said. “I think she was looking for someone she could understand, or maybe someone who could understand her. Despite being her twin, Vitor was never that for her. He was a chew toy at best  and a pliable obstacle at worst. I think if she knew what I was going to become, she would have done exactly what she did to me.”

“The Assumption Ritual?” Jilya asked, echoes of her own traumatic upbringing singing around the question.

“Yeah. Her version was going to destroy one or the other of us, and I’ve always wondered if she really cared which of us lost? She certainly fought harder than I’d ever imagined anyone could, and I did have divine backup there, but ‘as hard as I can imagine’ is a lot less than she was really capable of. The other Neoterics were terrified of her and they were right to be.”

“And you lived with her memories in your head for years?” Little asked.

“It turned out to be more than her memories. To win the Assumption Ritual, I had to tear her to shreds. At the end, there wasn’t anything left of her to oppose me taking her power and her life. As it turned out though that didn’t quite mean there wasn’t anything left of her.”

“I remember you saying you saw her again in your version of the Assumption Ritual?” Jilya said. I had recounted the events of the End of the World several times over the years, and my wives had been there too, but it wasn’t something people tended to ask us a lot of questions about. Or not a lot of questions I had the words to answer with.

How do you say ‘I was a god, but not a god, and I met my dearest mother-love, who was not and never could be my Mom, and was also a god and not a god and something so much more, but just a shadow too, who I adored, for whom I felt overpowering revulsion and rage, who wanted to destroy me absolutely, who I had already crushed as thoroughly as I could, who, maybe, kinda, sorta, was proud of me, who I could never forgive, but who I offered the deepest, most sincere peace I’ve ever wished on anyone?

“I did. She was the last of the Neoterics to fall in sense. She’d been holding all of them back by refusing to let death, as a concept, be eradicated, and she was the one who took out her brother,” I said, trying to let the confusing jumble of the experience peek through in my words.

“Sounds like it was a difficult struggle with her in the ritual both times,” Little said.

“The first time it was a struggle to keep her from killing me, the second time the struggle was getting her to accept that I was alive,” I said, knowing that wouldn’t make sense but winding up surprised when they both nodded in understanding.

“We had to move past them,” Jilya said.

“We still do,” Little added. “Though I’d say we’ve made pretty good progress so far.”

“Twelve years in the sun,” Jilya said with a nod towards Little offering an indirect compliment to Sola.. 

Our gods were away on their own business. After partying with us for days leading up to my nameday, everyone had plenty of things that had piled up that they needed to take care of. Everyone except the three of us, whom the rest had conspired to arrange some much needed quiet time for.

“Twelve years building a future we never could have had,” Little said and this wistfulness in voice echoed everywhere inside me.

“I didn’t think I’d make it this far,” I admitted. “As a kid, we were taught to hope and pray for the Assumption Ritual. Malgenia usually picked 16 year olds for it. Sometimes older, but the Deaths that made it to their mid-20s were considered too old to ever be picked. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be ‘repurposed’, and I’d always thought that was going to be my lot. Responsibility would beat me in some test and she’d get to take her place as one of Malgenia’s demigods and I’d be left behind until they could fine some other purpose for me.”

“And instead you made your own purpose,” Little said.

“And made your peace with with Responsibility at some point?” Jilya asked.

“We do peace sometimes. We’re still brats to each other too. I think that’s part of the fun really,” I said, already plotting how I was going to get my wives back for springing a week-long surprise party on me. Granted I’d done the same to Responsibility but turnabout on a turnabout was the hallmark of our relationship.

“I envy that you have time to annoy each other. Theia and I are so busy that if we get one date night a month is a cause for extreme celebration,” Jilya said.

“You could always just tell people you can’t help them today, you’ve got a hot cat woman who needs you?” I suggested.

“Believe me that’s been tempting, but I’m not the only busy one and I learned early on that trying to hoard a Catkin is a recipe for a terrible weekend. If I’m patient though, mine at least comes back to me, which is all I can really ask for,” Jilya said.

“For as entertaining as it is to listen to the dramatics you two get up to, I have to say that I couldn’t be more glad that none of that is for me,” Little said.

“You’ve got plenty of your own drama,” Jilya said. “Isn’t Lucky getting married next month?”

“Yep, and that’s her insanity, I’d just acting as the celebrant,” Little said.

“Aren’t you learning Ancient Bugbear to perform the ceremony in a ‘historically accurate’ fashion?” I asked.

“And can your throat muscles actually produce proper Ancient Bugbear syllables?” Jilya asked.

“Mostly. Somewhat. I’m working on it. I mean that’s what you do for your crew right?” Little’s objection was as proud and defiant as it was amusingly missing the point.

“That’s what you do for people you love,” I said.

“Whatever you can do, whatever they need,” Jilya said.

Over us a star winked brightly in divine agreement.

That was the world we were building.

It would be the effort of the rest of our lives, even as long though they looked to be, and probably many lifetimes beyond that.

A world built not on amassing cataclysmic amount of power, but on doing what we could for each other. Making life worth living, guarding the things that mattered from slipping away, and shining as brightly as we could so others would be able to follow in our footsteps.

Fledgling Gods – Burning Devotion – Ch 45

“Our Lady has been gone for quite a long time, I hope she is doing well?”

“Of course she is doing well Pity, Our Lady Malgenia is supreme and foremost even amongst the Neoteric Lords.”

“Of course. Still though…”

“It has been over a year since she had appeared before us.”

“Yes, what will happen with the little ones?”

“The Overseers will raise them as Malgenia instructed.”

“But what about their names? Only our Lady can bestow a name to those who are taken into her service.”

“She must have accounted for that. Perhaps the ones who will have waited the longest will be gifted with the best names?”

“Do you think so Foresight? Could that be what she’s doing?”

“Searching for new names? I doubt she would need a year and a half to spend on an endeavor like that. I doubt she would even need an afternoon. She is our Lady after all.”

“Yes. Yes. Of course. But what could take so much of her time?”

“I am sure it is not for us to say, though I have heard whispers.”

“Whispers? Of our Lady?”

“No. Of her brother.”

“Vitor? Who cares about Vitor?”

“Hush! He is a Neoteric Lord as well, and you know our Lady is fond of him.”

“Is she? His visits always seemed to annoy her, even more so right before she left.”

“Yes. Left and took Responsibility and Clarity with her. You know I have wondered, do you think both of them have been granted an Assumption?”

“Would she have granted a double Assumption to them? Were they special in some manner?”

“Not that I am aware of, though our Lady of course sees more than we do.”

“Of course. And will reign eternal. The lies of her being slain are so foolish.”

“Where did you hear such blasphemy?”

“A servant of Vitor’s. This was over a year ago though, several months after she left us. Before we were sealed in here, away from all that. I have never doubted our Lady I will have you know however! I think Vitor’s people are simply vile little things, which is probably why he left them.”

“I shall have to interrogate one the next time I see them.”

“For that the Overseers would need to allow us to rise up from the Grand Mausoleum. We’ve been locked in here so long all sorts of terrible thoughts are breeding among the Deaths.”

 “We are safe here, and here we shall endure until our Lady comes to…what’s the commotion over there? Wait, is the main door opening? Has someone arrived!”

– The Death of Pity and the Death of Foresight on the day when Malgenia’s hidden vault was at last discovered and opened.

Privacy was not something I could just magic up for us. My poor house had been pretty thoroughly wrecked and while the last intact study room was sufficient as a refuge for Responsibility, Clarity and I, we needed a somewhat larger space for our current group to work in.

So Diyas grew us a church.

“Do you mind if I make a few alterations?” Draconia asked, pausing at the threshold of the cathedral of vines and flowers and living wooden beams and buttresses.

“So long as you allow people other then us to eventually gain entrance,” Diyas said.

I’d forgotten for a moment what Draconia’s primary domain was, but the gargoyles which rose to adorn nearly every inch of the cathedral’s roofline reminded me that we would be rather well guarded inside.

“All may enter,” Draconia said. “Though those will ill-intent towards those within will find themselves somewhat poorly accommodated.”

“And those who remain outside will perceive nothing of what goes on inside?” Clarity asked.

“Divine eyes, or Blessed ones, can pierce the veil, but those inside will be aware of the scrutiny,” Umbrielle said, joining us with Theia, which brought buzzing tingle to my fingertips at all of the divinity we had gathered so precariously close together.

Don’t worry, our power largely rests in our domains, even if we were to fall here, the world would be in no danger, Diyas whispered to me.

Oh! Is that part of how your existence has changed? Responsibility asked.

Which…

Okay…

What?

Are you Blessed now too? I asked mentally, intending to whisper it to Responsibility, but it reached more than just her.

In a sense, Clarity said.

They do not bear my Blessing as you did, but it is through you Deaths that Life returned to this world and so you will always be my Beloved.

I’d felt the bond I had with Diyas reforge itself, but I hadn’t questioned what form the new bond might take. It had been enough that it was there.

She’s not just talking about you three, if you’re curious, Beauty said and hearing her voice was the most surprising of them all.

I had to pause at the door and take a moment to just breathe as people filed in past me.

Beauty, Inhibition, and Reason were still with me? Why would that matter? I mean it wasn’t like they were 97% of my sanity for the last few years? Sure, they’d been the only ones who were there with me from the day when I killed the woman I’d worshipped and shattered every last piece of my whole life. Why would that make them important? Why was I unraveling at the thought that I hadn’t lost them either?

“Insight needs a quick rest break, Responsibility’s going to help her with that, but we can get started without her,” Clarity said as Responsibility did, indeed, sweep me away from cathedral and back to house.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I can help.”

“Nope,” Responsibility said. “Nope to all of that.”

“I can help!”

“Good. Then you can help me,” Responsibility said, steering me upstairs through the growing collection of Deaths who were migrating back into the house and forming into larger groups.

“What happened?” I asked Responsibility, turning to look her over to see if I’d missed anything.

I was looking for blood, or a missing body part. 

I don’t know why, the destruction we’d touched on was far more thorough than that.

Maybe it was because I’d seen her bloody before. It was a problem she might have that I knew how to address (and, embarrassingly, how to cause as well).

“Everything. Pretty much everything,” she said. “I do have this problem at the moment though that I could use some advice with.”

She nodded to Dignity and Mercy who were discretely leaving the study to guard its door again.

“Your problems are my problems,” I said. “Well, your problems are usually me, but hopefully that’s changed.”

“I am willing to bet that will never change,” Responsibility said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, sensing that she was teasing me but not being entirely willing to trust that.

There was some real problem there too.

And it probably was me.

So, you know, worrisome.

“Are we okay?” Responsibility asked.

“We are a lot better than okay,” I said and tried to prove it with a kiss.

But she held a finger up to block my lips from meeting hers.

“I love you,” she said. “And I know you love me. Are you or I okay though? After everything we’ve been through, do you think either of us can just go on solving the world’s problems as we are?”

I wanted to say “yes”. I had to say “yes” in fact. For all that we’d done, the world was far from “fixed”. It was still a broken mess, even a year in. We had a new start but, from the scraps of conversation I’d overheard among the Deaths, it was clear that we had a ton of things left to figure out. 

Also, there was the tiny point that the gods themselves had shown up on our doorstep, and there was a growing army of Blessed arriving, all of whom were still trying to figure things out.

I had to step up.

I had to…

“No,” I said. “No, we’re not okay.”

“Excuse us,” Beauty said. “You misplaced this one.” She and Inhibition marched Clarity into the room, one hand on each of Clarity’s arms, deposited her inside the door, turned and left.

“I can handle being the voice for the three of us!” Clarity shouted at the closed door.

The closed door she, notably, did not open despite the fact that it was very much not locked.

“I really like being able to talk to them like this,” Responsibility said. “It must have been a such a relief having them with you through all the time you had to pretend to be Malgenia?”

“It was. I…I wouldn’t have made it without them.”

“None of us would have,” Clarity said.

“So shouldn’t we be out there, working with the others. I mean ‘we’re all we’ve got, we’re all we need’ is why we’re still breathing here.” I made zero move to leave the couch, and instead siddled over to make room for Clarity to see between Responsibility and I.

“The other three have that covered for now,” Clarity said. “I guess. I thought I could stand in for you, but apparently…”

“Apparently the other three can tell that you’re in the same shape we are,” Responsibility said. 

“It’s not like they have it any better, though,” I said. “All of the Deaths here took the same hits we did, and heck, even Little and Jilya and the rest, none of them have had an easy time of either. We’re all just broken toys trying to stumble along as best we can now.”

“Not broken,” Clarity said. “And not toys. Not anymore.”

“It’s okay to be broken,” Responsibility said. “I mean I say that and the fear of being unwanted and cast away – by Malgenia of course – flares up in my brain instantly, but that’s got to be wrong.”

“Does it?” I asked, not believing it was any more than Responsibility did, but hungry to hear her words on it, which just had to be better than my own.

“Because of you two,” Clarity said, flopping down between us. “Is it okay for me to be broken? No, obviously, right? If I’m broken, I’m worthless and bad and unfit to be in ‘Our Lady’s service’. But does that mean I would say other people aren’t allowed to be broken? That they’re not worth anything if they are? That sits differently. Can I say, no, you two aren’t allowed to be hurt, you have to be perfect because I love you?”

“Doesn’t that mean that, broken or not, we should be out there? Helping the people who need us?” Their words filled the bits of me that needed to hear them, but I still wanted to make a difference, to…

“You have value too,” Responsibility said. “And before we rush into fixing the rest of the world, maybe we need to look at what it really needs.”

“Isn’t that what the big meeting’s for?” I asked.

“They’re going to talk about how to keep the people of the world from propping up a new set of Neoterics to replace the ones we killed,” Responsibility said. “I think it’s safe to say we, you especially, have some idea what the Neoterics were like and why that would be a terrible idea to let happen again, even if its what a lot of people feel comfortable with. That’s why they all gathered here.”

“And because we’re currently the closest thing to neutral ground between the various Neoteric cities,” Clarity added.

“So, I should be there?”

“That’s what they need, what you need, what the three of us and probably all the rest of the Death’s need, I think, is to be given time to just live,” Responsibility said.

“And grieve,” Clarity added. “As much as we might hate her, we’ve lost Our Lady and the place she held in our lives. We lost everything about the lives we had – and good riddance to them – but it’s a change, a bigger one than any of the living Deaths have ever been through.”

“And the ones we brought back? If we don’t make time for ourselves to figure out how to live, how are we ever going to help them?” Responsibility asked.

“You do have someone to save still Insight, but that someone is you, and trust us, you’re very worth saving,” Clarity said

Outside our window, a hundred flower covered vines grew, and with them came a voiceless nudge from the Life that was waiting for me that my god agreed.

I was loved, more than I could ever know, more than I could ever be grateful for enough, I was loved.

Fledgling Gods – Burning Devotion – Ch 44

“What shall become of us High Accessor?”

“You will survive and, please, I cannot bear that title any longer. I am only Dyrena now.”

“Survive? The world has died! The gods no longer answer us.”

“They have fallen, all but one, and it is Night’s cloaks which allows us time yet upon this world.”

“Can we fix this then? That cannot be. How can we restore a world this broken without the gods?”

“That is not your task. Your burden is simply to survive. What has been done will take far beyond a single lifetime to set right.”

“Can it be right at all though? Can all of this ever be undone?”

“Undone? No, we do not undo our pasts. Nor will things ever again be as they were, for which we must be ever grateful.”

“Grateful? For this ruination? We’ve lost…”

“I know. I saw you holding him in your arms before consigning him to the earth. I saw her take her last breath. I saw each one who was torn from us and I saw how unkindly their ends were. That is why you must survive. To make a future where their loss will not be repeated again. To find comfort from your grief in comforting others.”

“But this world cannot sustain us. And all the memories it holds have turned to ash on our tongues.”

“There, at least, I can provide some respite for you.”

“Our gods are gone and our lands have burned, what respite is left to be found?”

“What has befallen this world is a great and terrible change but that does not mean you must accept the change for what it appears to be. Is what you see intolerable? Then do not tolerate it. Continue to change, become something new if that is what will see you through.”

“Nothing can grow here anymore though.”

“Then we must find you a new place to take root.”

“You said nothing was spared. Everything in the world has suffered as we have.”

“And so it is. Pockets remain but they are closed to us, guarded by the other Neoteric Lords who called this ruin down onto everything in this sphere. To you I offer a different choice than they will offer those they shelter; as this world can no longer sustain you, let us find another where you may flourish.”

“One where you can rule unopposed?”

“I cannot leave this sphere. For my crimes I am bound here and must suffer whatever fate awaits me. I expect I shall not have to wait long for the doom I have engineered to come to pass, but I will have the time to see you all sent to a new beginning.”

“Why would you do this?”

“If I am right, this world will, lifetimes hence, throw off the cloak of Night and flourish once more under the care of new people and new gods. In you though, I would see the best of the world that was preserved. You will change and grow as well. Should we ever meet again, perhaps I will not recognize you, but I would not see your growth twisted by the designs of any Neoteric Lord, not even my own.”

– Dyrena speaking to the thousands she saved from the Sun Fall.

Birdsong. Insect chirps. Wind. 

I was resonating with everyone of them. No supernatural force was at work, no divine grace twisted into a miracle of someone else’s making. The boneshaking hum in my body was a purely natural reaction to being suddenly immersed in the environmental cues my cells had been missing since before I was born. Since before I was even conceived.

My mother had never heard sounds like these.

My father had never felt wind like this.

I didn’t know my parents. I never had. I’d only been told they died when I was very little and Malgenia had taken me in to care for me. I had no conscious memory of either one but walking outside with my family in tow, I could feel them both.

And my grandparents.

And their parents.

A chain of life passed from one generation to the next and tied into every other life in the world.

“How is this possible? How are there birds again so soon?” Responsibility asked.

“There can’t be,” Clarity said. “It would take a miracle beyond any of the divine fragments to wish life back to the world so quickly.”

“It’s taken a little longer than you’re thinking,” Diyas said.

Not in my head.

She was standing right there, in front of us, tall and strong and achingly beautiful.

“You…this is a divine revelation?” I asked, seized by the memory of the limitations on her ability to appear before us and already dreading the moment she would leave.

We’d been separated, and while we’d renewed our bond, the strength of my faith in her wasn’t quite the same as seeing her in person.

“Nope,” Diyas said, with a secretive smile that told me my god was teasing me.

I welcomed that, but I was still perplexed.

“Someone else is going to receive a divine revelation?” Responsibility asked.

“No, that’s not what she’s saying,” Clarity said. “The gods have changed, haven’t they?”

“Of course, I’ve said that all along,” Diyas said.

“This is different though,” I said. “You’re not fractured anymore. You’re not a fragment.”

“That is true. But it is also true that I am not what I was and, as I requested of you, I never shall be again,” Diyas said.

“The celestial realm? Is it there anymore?” Clarity asked.

“It is, though it is quite a bit less populated than it was, just a few of us keeping an eye on it,” Diyas said.

“More than an eye,” Dyrena said, appearing in a form quite a bit less solid than Diyas’.

“Guarding it against another Beast’s arrival?” Beauty asked as she and Inhibition and Reason joined us.

Diyas beckoned us over to a small grove which had somehow sprung up outside the ruins of my house. I didn’t recognize the plants which were growing there, though they looked similar to Shootgrass stalks with broad green leaves at regular intervals which provided shade from the dazzling orb of light which was rising above the horizon.

“There will never be another Beast that comes to end existence,” Dyrena said. “Our cosmos simply has no room for one anymore. That spot is taken.”

“Taken by what?” Inhibition asked.

“By the Beast she called in. It’s a part of everything now, isn’t it?” Reason said.

“Most everything,” Dyrena said. “Night remains untouched.”

“And is as smug as she deserves to be about it,” Diyas said.

“Not just everything,” I said, and glanced towards my shadow.

And noticed Responsibility and Clarity’s shadows give me a thumbs up?

“Oh, you’re far from alone in that,” Diyas said.

“We did touch the Beast with you,” Responsibility said and nudged my shoulder.

“All of us did,” Clarity said, nodding towards the other Deaths who were scattered around grounds of what I suppose was more properly described as an ‘estate’.

I couldn’t begrudge them the choice to gather in groups and simply soak in the world around us. The fact that there was a breeze and that my face was being warmed by sunlight, (sunlight of all things!), was still stirring an unfathomable need in me to drink in everything around me and never, ever stop.

“How long were we gone for?” Inhibition asked. “For us the Assumption Ritual took almost no time at all, and most of that was spent in frozen instants, but that’s not what happened for the rest of you, was it?”

“In a sense, it was just over in an instant,” Helgon said, flickering into view beside Dyrena. “From the moment you entered the ritual to the moment the gathered grace exploded through the Greater Beast and rained down on the world was a timespan far less than a second. Your return to the world however has taken a somewhat longer period of time.”

“What Helgon is trying to say is that a year and a day have passed since you completed your version Assumption Ritual,” Dyrena said. “The life you see around you is not the result of any one miracle but rather the result of thousands, or perhaps millions at this point.”

“Miracles from who?” I asked, wondering if Diyas had been recruiting other Blessed in my absence.

“From you,” Diyas said. “I will be fair and say that many other hands have been lifted that load as well, but it was you, all of the Deaths I believe, who chose to give the Beast the ability to change and the change it made of itself was to become the things it had consumed.”

“I’m sorry, are you saying that all of these things? These plants, and those birds, they’re all the Beast pretending to be the things it ate?” Beauty shied away from a Shootgrass leaf which chose the moment to flutter closer towards her in the breeze.

“I don’t believe the Beast was mathematically capable of pretending anything,” Helgon said. “In fact, I’m sure I have a paper on that back in one of my labs…umm, somewhere, probably?”

“You say that as though you couldn’t derive the formulas from first principals with a whiteboard and fifteen minutes of uninterrupted focus,” Dyrena said, patting his ghostly arm in support.

“So this is all real then? The world is fixed?” Responsibility asked, casting a glance towards me as though I could possibly confirm or deny that.

“Not fixed, changed,” Meluna said, appearing in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion from the shadows beneath the Shootgrass trees.

I still wasn’t certain what I wanted to be when I grew up, but she made a damn fine argument for one possibility.

“These birds are like the ones we once knew,” Diyas said. “But they are not the same. Their song continues the song that was, but it is in a new key, with new notes.”

“And yet still about the same old thing,” Meluna said. “Loud single Greyjoy seeking Quiet single Greyjoy to make many, many more Greyjoys with.”

“That’s not true,” Diyas said. “Not for all of them at least. Some of them are saying ‘The Sun! The Sun! Look! It’s the Sun!’”

“Don’t say that, you know she’s going to be…”

“Intolerable about it?” Sola asked. “Yes, I believe I shall be.”

That we had, by my count, at least three gods standing with us, should have been calamitous. That much divine energy gathered in one place threatened world ending annihilation, as my very recent experience illustrated vividly.

But the world wasn’t ending.

It wasn’t even being disturbed much unless you counted Beauty’s continued aversion to the wind blowing leaves in her direction.

“How are you all here?” I blurted out. “I mean, you’re welcome, of course, it’s just…aren’t you not allowed to be present like that all together?”

“We are more grounded than we used to be,” Sola said, which seemed particularly odd coming from the God of the Sun.

“Before we were the embodiments of our domains,” Diyas said. “If Sola had manifested in person, it would have been like the sun itself stepping foot where she walked.”

“You can imagine why I never did so directly like that,” Sola said, and I could. The Beast wasn’t the only thing that could have ended the world.

“Instead we worked through our Blessed, or at the most, through carefully limited Avatars,” Diyas said. “To survive losing so much of ourselves though we had to turn to you, the mortals in whose hearts we could still dwell, and in living with you, we became closer to you than to the celestial sphere.”

“Though some of us had to wait far longer than others,” Draconia said as she and Jilya both dropped down from the sky above.

Their arrival, being rather the opposite of subtle, was the one which drew the attention of the other Deaths, who decided that the dragon and the dragon-plant-lady looked friendly and approachable. 

To the Deaths’ credit, that was true, but I only knew that because I’d spoken to Draconia and Jilya before. I think anyone else might have felt a bit of reasonable caution towards approaching two people who looked to be substantially higher on the food chain than we were.

Or were they?

My shadow shrugged, and the thought occurred to me that though we were largely a group of lost children and young adults, the Deaths might not need to fear what the new world could throw at us. We’d given up godly power, but that didn’t mean we were necessarily powerless either.

“That is for me to apologize for,” Dyrena said.

“Save it,” Little said, as Zeph set her down. “You did a whole lot of bad, and a whole lot of good. Enough that I don’t think we’ll ever be able to sort it all out, but the fact is we’ll have ‘ever’ if people want to work on doing it.”

“They will, believe me they will,” Diyas said. “History and I have been friends since the beginning and I can just imagine how many papers, and treatise, and highly fictionalized novelizations, will be written about you.”

“I never wanted that,” Dyrena said. “It’s not fair.”

“When have you ever imagined that I was fair?” Diyas asked, viciously sharp glee slicing through each syllable she spoke.

“You give us all a chance,” Jilya said. “That sounds fair to me.”

“Better to say you all take your chances with me,” Diyas said. “I give very little.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Little said. “Though I have to say, I’ve probably gotten more than my fair share so far.”

“Says the woman who is desperately trying to avoid being named High Empress of the World,” Zeph chided Little.

“Yes. About that,” Little said, drawing in a serious breath. “If you all have a moment, I have a very simple request to put to all of you…Help!”