“Oh... kay?”

Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense. None at all.

(Well... maybe it makes sense for some of them... but...) Nyx says, trailing off.

“Then why are there so many wraiths on other planes? Or, don’t they just, appear from places with ‘dark emotions’ or whatever?”

“You see, that’s just it!” Abaris exclaims. “We don’t know for sure! But I do have a hypothesis – no one in the academic community ever considered that they might be a phenomenon related to divine intervention or a Mantle, but here we are! If they are in fact a phenomenon of the Mantle of Hunger, all the pieces just fall into place!”

I pause. “I thought Mantles had to be claimed for those effects to happen, at least that’s what Pearl said... Even if I’m built on the same soul as the Queen of Hunger – “

“But that’s even more important!” the mage interrupts. “It’s not a matter of the same soul... you are the Queen of Hunger, don’t you see!? All the data points directly to that, and therefore your own existence guarantees that further manaphages will continue to spawn across the planes in order to fulfill your divine prerogative to feed! And the fact that you’ve continued to reincarnate, even if possessing your Mantle was only latent, the mere existence of the Mantle’s bearer fulfilled the requirements!”

I can’t help but feel like that might be a stretch, but...

It feels like even accepting that as a hypothesis comes with a lot of implications.

“I... think, I’m just not going to think about that for now, and focus on what’s in front of me.”

(Ah, there’s the old you. I knew you were still hiding in there somewhere.)

You know what? Fine. You never change, you’re always like this.

Nyx actually looks kind of sad at that. (It’s not like I have much else to do.)

Really, it’s fine. I don’t really care anyway. I’m just assuming it’s a human thing I’m never going to understand.

I grab Izahne’s hand and head for our room. Somehow it feels like laying down will help my exhaustion.

***

I blink.

…

What just happened?

I look around, trying to get my bearings.

This is my room... and this is definitely my bed...

The lumpy, warm weight on top of me shifts, producing a quiet “mmph” in response to my movements.

…

Was I just asleep?

(Yep,) my Assistant says matter-of-factly.

Since when can I sleep?

She shrugs. (There are legends about some gods sleeping for centuries, so I’d assume it’s at least possible.)

Huh.

Then why is Izahne on top of me?

(You literally dragged her in here, pulled her on top of you like a blanket, and passed right the fuck out.)

And obviously, she didn’t resist. I think I understand.

...

Like hells do I understand!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I slowly sit up so as not to displace my wife, especially since she stayed right where I apparently put her. She continues snoring lightly as I shift, stopping once I’m upright with her leaned against me face first. And I just... stay there for a while.

It feels peaceful somehow.

***

Another hour and a half passes before my death knight wakes, with the day moving into what I assume is evening – maybe, it’s hard to tell when it never gets light. She stretches and yawns with her face still against my chest, but it takes her a moment to realize our situation. With a gasp, she practically leaps backwards off the bed, only spared a nasty fall because I snagged her arms with a pair of feelers and jerked her upright.

“Wha-wha-wha-wha-” she stammers.

“Nyx explained it,” I cut her off. “Apparently I can get tired and sleep now. I dragged you in here, pulled you on me, and then fell asleep. I’ll have to be especially careful with reversing the age of anything if this is going to be the result.”

A few more minutes of Izahne blushing and stammering incoherently later, I leave the room and the house in general. It’s not like the day’s going to be getting any darker. I head away from the town in a different direction than the last two trips, trying to calculate approximately how large my range is so I can simplify this process. Obviously I can’t leave my pet monsters all over the plane, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s been keeping it from producing mana in the first place – that it in fact is still producing mana, they’re just Consuming it as fast as it’s produced, so there’s none left for anything else.

I continue calling and dismantling my kin for another couple hours until I’m interrupted by a feeling of distress from Izahne’s bond. I abruptly turn toward her.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

I didn’t really need to ask, to be honest. She looks very not alright.

“I, uh. I don’t know what is happening...” she quietly says, distress apparent in her voice.

I think for a quick moment before the answer comes to me.

“I know what is happening,” I say, but her eyes are already starting to glaze.

I grab her by the back of the head with one hand and pull backwards, exposing her teeth. At one time in the past they were smooth and square, but they’re visibly no longer the teeth of a human, all coming to points better used for tearing flesh.

Then I force my other forearm into them, puncturing the surface. It’s more or less the same thing I did last time, though she had a lot more agency then. Well, whatever, she’s my Agent now, it’s my responsibility to see that she’s fed.

It seems to be working, too. Her eyes remain glazed, but her once-panicked breathing has slowed, and I can feel her drawing on my mana through the wound. After a few moments, she releases from me on her own, and after looking around blearily for a moment she blinks and appears to come to her senses.

I take her by the shoulders and square her face to mine. “That was your Mana Thirst. Remember that feeling well, you were a hair’s breadth from losing control. Also, it would seem that your limit without feeding is around three days.”

Stunned, Izahne just stares at me for a moment before her eyes wander and she notices my as-of-yet-unhealed wound, starting to radiate worry through our bond before I dash it entirely by dissolving and reforming the limb.

“I...” she starts, but then trails off.

I turn to keep walking and brusquely say, “It’s fine. I already thought about it. I’m your patron god now, right? It’s my job to keep you fed, so this is normal if I don’t find you other prey. I regenerate my own mana, though I won’t pretend that absorbing my kin’s mana doesn’t feel great, because it absolutely does.”

A few moments of walking later, I feel a tug at the hem of my robes. A quick glance confirms that she’s holding on to it instead of taking my hand for some reason. We continue like this, and after a while she speaks, quietly enough that a mortal would barely hear her.

“Thank you.”

***

When we return to the claimed house, the others are already long since asleep. It would seem they locked the door as well, but it’s hardly a barrier to entry for me. I simply phase through it, unlock it, and open it for my death knight. She follows me inside and locks it behind us.

Omorth was thoughtful enough to leave a dish of semi-edible almost-stew on the table for Izahne, covered with a note saying they were going to rest. She slurps it down in a hurry, complete with a grimace at the last swallow. We really need to figure out something else for the humans to eat.

Meanwhile, I can’t help but wonder what exactly happened. Wasn’t she this gallant paladin, headstrong, party leader and so forth? Isn’t she way too timid now?

I sigh quietly. More human things, I probably won’t ever understand.

After retiring to our room, my death knight promptly falls asleep against me per our usual, and I prepare my mind for another grueling night of grinding Skills.

***

“GREAT NEWS!”

Izahne shoots upright quickly enough that she practically falls from the bed.

Our loudly-crashed-open door hosts Abaris, the mage hopping up and down with a manic glee rivaling what he was showing the other day after practically dissecting a complacent wraith. He promptly rolls right into a tirade of technical terms I’m fairly sure I haven’t learned in any of my lives.

“Woah, stop, stop!” I interject. “Slow down! You always go so fast with this stuff! Or better yet, show us what you’re flaking out over!”

“Ah, yes yes yes yes! You must see, you need to see! Yes, come, come! Come along!” he babbles, grabbing us each by the arm despite our pajamas and the... early? Late morning? I have no idea.

Right out the front door he goes, with us lagging behind, before he promptly drops face-first on the ground outside.

“Abaris? Are you ok?” Izahne asks, ever concerned for the rest of the party.

The mage’s head shoots up to stare unblinkingly at us as he points downward, rapidly bleating, “This, this this this this!”

I follow his hand to find fresh green sprouts breaking the soil.