D'Argen talked with Amastas and Marsha well into the night, questioning the women about the area and the path toward Sky Mountain. Shabir had decided to retire early in a cot near the fire and Marsha did not have much to say as her pre-birth pains started coming more and more often. But Amastas had a lot to share. She told him even more outlandish stories than what Matias had told them. They all sounded so fantastical and unreal that D'Argen was not sure whether to worry about the demons being real or that there was something strange in the water here.

D'Argen may not have returned to the peak of Sky Mountain since his fall, but he had been near and around the mountain before. He had never seen any of these creatures she spoke of. But then again, he had never gone near the clouds, which is where the birds that turned into mist and grew fangs were, along with the screams of mortals being tortured by demons.

It did not sound like any of the demons D'Argen or the rest of the Never Born had encountered during the demon wars. He also did not remember any screaming when he was last near the mountain a few centuries ago, but he listened to Amastas intently.

When the old woman started yawning, D'Argen bid both her and her quiet companion a good night. Amastas raised her chin awkwardly but Marsha barely moved, her entire face scrunched up in pain as another contraction took over. D'Argen wished he could do something for her but he had no idea what. Instead, he left the mortals alone in the common room with the fire and joined his friends in the single room.

The wooden door creaked when he opened it and then screamed even louder when he closed it. D'Argen played with it for a few squeaks before Lilian scolded him into stopping. They always got grumpy when tired and it was even worse when they were cold. D'Argen loved it when Lilian started complaining about everything and urged them on with every new grievance that came out. He made the door squeak two more times before remembering that their hosts were right there and he closed it softly. Abbot and Yaling, long used to Lilian's protests and D'Argen's goading, easily ignored the two.

Abbot was lying on the pallet further from the door. He was using his mahee to shine a light from his hand on his sketchpad where he was drawing the layout of the village. Yaling was lying on the same pallet as him and using his light to read a book. Lilian was spread out like a starfish on the other pallet with their eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

D'Argen smirked and none-too-gently shoved Lilian around until he could lie down beside them. Lilian's grumbles only made him grin. Two pallets were more than enough and it would help them share some warmth as the heat from the common room fire barely touched the private room.

"Is his sentence not over yet?" Yaling asked, apropos of nothing.

D'Argen knew exactly what she was talking about and immediately jumped to correct her by saying, "It wasn't a sentence." Then he thought about her words and added, "and it's not. He has around another twenty years left."

Yaling let out a long whistle from between her teeth. When D'Argen looked at her in question, she shrugged. "A thousand years. Can you believe it?"

"What is a thousand years to one who is not touched by time?" Abbot asked from right over her head though his voice sounded distracted and his hand kept moving, drawing lines on his papers.

"He is so close to home. Do you think—?"

"No way," Lilian answered this time before Yaling could finish her question. "Zetha would never allow it. A thousand years is a thousand years."

"I still think the banishment from Evadia was a bit much," Yaling responded.

"Plus," Abbot spoke up again though his voice remained distracted, "we are not really that close to home. Kaariai is closer and, if I remember correctly, he was not banished from there."

D'Argen did not know what to add to the conversation because it was an argument he has had in his head thousands of times since it happened. He still did not agree with the punishment that the First Five bestowed upon Thar almost a thousand years ago.

"D'Argen? You were the last of us to see him... how long ago was that?"

"I doubt I was the last one," he said, latching onto that instead of actually answering the question. "We'll have a tiring next few days, we should all get some rest." With those words, he pulled up his winter cloak to use as a blanket and turned with his back to his three companions, signifying the end of the conversation.

A few quiet murmurs behind him were all the others said before Abbot extinguished his light and threw the entire room into darkness.

D'Argen was looking right at the sliver of faint light under the door as it danced. It reminded him of a canyon on fire, a village used as a beacon, the bodies of the dead piling so high that they—

He closed his eyes tight and curled up further under his cloak. After a moment, he felt thin arms wrap around him from behind and pull him closer to a small chest. Lilian did not say a single word but breathed calming breaths on the back of his neck and that was enough to put him to sleep.

Sleep, however, did not last long.

While D'Argen was drifting in the world of dreams, he was assaulted by past memories he wished to be forgotten and left behind. A sword, not his own but made for his hand, cut through the bodies in front of him as if they were nothing at all. His bow's string had snapped under the pressure of too many arrows fired too fast and now he had to see the devastation he caused up close.

The sword sunk into a mortal's chest but the man did not scream. Instead, he looked up at D'Argen with pleading eyes and reached out to grab him. When he opened his mouth, it was like he was D'Argen, consuming the sounds of battle around him and hushing the death and fighting.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

It was when D'Argen pulled the sword out that the man finally screamed. It sounded panicked, rather than pained. He shook D'Argen harshly then tried to drag him down to the ground as he fell. D'Argen stood firm and watched the packed dirt turn to wooden boards. The mortal's blood splashed out and started running too fast, staining the wood dark even as it sloshed around a bucket—

"D'Argen!"

He jumped out of bed, opening his mahee without meaning to. He needed to get away from the hands that held him. He did and ran right into a wooden wall that cracked with the force of his speed. His sword was fully drawn before he even realized he was in a small room in an old house in a tiny village near the base of Sky Mountain.

Lilian was staring at him with wide eyes from the pallet they shared, their arms still stretched out towards him.

Yaling looked worried but she quickly dismissed him when another panicked scream sounded from behind the door. She opened the door and ran out of the room, Abbot hot on her heels.

D'Argen had a hard time splitting the memory dream apart from reality.

Lilian approached him slowly, both arms raised to show they were unarmed.

"I am here," Lilian said quietly. "You are here with me. We are both safe."

A scream of pain came this time and it was much louder with the door open. D'Argen clutched his sword tight and closed his eyes tighter. It was all in his head and—

"Marsha is giving birth," Lilian's words interrupted his thoughts and had him snapping his eyes open. "Come." They finally reached him and one hand went to his sword. "Put that away. A sword is not needed when life is being created."

"Yes." D'Argen nodded along and let Lilian take the sword from his hand. And then the words truly registered. "A baby? Now?!"

Lilian nodded and though they smiled, it looked pained.

"What do we... do we... I mean... what can I...?"

"Let us go ask them if they even want our help before jumping to it," Lilian suggested when D'Argen could not even settle on a question.

D'Argen nodded. Lilian took the sword's scabbard from his other hand and sheathed the weapon. They placed it back down beside the pallet where D'Argen had left it before going to sleep, then guided him out of the private room and into the chaos of the common room.

The fire was blazing strong but it was Abbot's light that chased the shadows away from every corner of the room. They revealed both Shabir and Amastas looking right at them.

"Good, you're here. We will need your help as well, please... milord" Amastas said, tacking on his title at the last moment even though she had not used it even once during their earlier conversations. The two old women looked tired and worn thin.

Marsha was squatting over a thick quilt with Shabir kneeling right behind her, arms under Marsha's pits to support her, and Amastas was kneeling in front of Marsha.

"Missir Lilian?" Amastas looked right at them. "Missir Abbot said that you can help with getting us warm water?" The use of their titles threw D'Argen off.

Lilian gave one last glance at D'Argen before moving to do just that. As the two naturalists in the group, only Lilian and Abbot could create fire from their mahee. With Abbot using his mahee to shine light, it only made sense for Lilian to use their own mahee and switch to a spell from Yelem's repertoire to make the fire burn hotter.

"Marsha," Yaling spoke in a gentle tone, a hand reaching for the woman's sweating face. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

Marsha nodded and then bit her lip to try and hold back a groan. They all heard it.

"I can help, but I need your permission," Yaling was saying. "It will not go away completely, but I can numb you a little."

"D'Argen, there is a salve in my pack for softening skin. It is in a—"

"Got it," D'Argen interrupted Abbot, already knowing what the other carried and each of the containers. He was glad to have an excuse to leave the room.

The moment he started ruffling through Abbot's pack he heard Yaling whistling out a soft melody. It changed volume a few times before it finally disappeared completely as she found the right pitch to reach only Marsha.

D'Argen found the salve and when he returned to the common room, Marsha's pained face was much more relaxed. D'Argen had seen Yaling use sound many times before to help with pain.

"I will need more water," Amastas said.

D'Argen latched onto that as if it was a command given by his queen. He placed the jar of salve near Amastas, making sure Abbot saw him, then looked around for the bucket they used earlier. It was near the fire where Lilian was transferring the water into a metal pot and warming it with their mahee. Once the bucket was empty, he took it and ran out.

Marsha's earlier screams of pain and the panic from the two elder women must have awoken the entire village. Every door was at least partially open and the mortals standing nearby were all staring at D'Argen in wonder as he used his mahee to pull the water up faster. He heard only a few phrases here and there, questions about who he was and what he was doing there, before he returned to the house.

"Marsha, dear," Amastas was saying quietly as D'Argen put the bucket down. "I can see the head crowning, you're going to have to push."

"No, no, no," Marsha started chanting, the fear clearly taking over her entire body.

"We can't—"

"No, please, no." Marsha was screaming at that point, with so many different emotions and tones that D'Argen felt her anxiety as if it was his own. Her chants were intersected by the occasional sob or grunt of pain. Yaling's whistle could only do so much for the woman.

"Come now, Marsha, push," Amastas ordered quietly.

Marsha screamed as she pushed. When she calmed, she started chanting a soft, "please, please, please," over and over again. She reached for D'Argen where he stood and he felt like he was bound in one of Acela's spells, moving to her outstretched hand without thinking.

When he reached her, Marsha grabbed him tight by the hand and then she screamed again. Her strength was almost unnatural with how hard she gripped him.

Amastas was guiding Marsha, telling her when to push and when to breathe. D'Argen found his breath syncing with Marsha's completely and then gripping back when she held him tighter. He could only look at Marsha's eyes as she screamed and pushed and screamed. His hand was going numb but he knew it was nothing compared to what Marsha was going through.

Then suddenly the grip Marsha had on his hand became so tight that he was sure she broke something. When it loosened, he heard the cry of a baby.

A sword was not needed when life was being created, yet Amastas used a sharp knife to separate the babe from its mother. Since D'Argen was closest, she turned to him and said, "He needs to be washed."

D'Argen had no idea how to hold a baby or what to do. Fortunately, Lilian came to his side immediately. They guided D'Argen to the fire and the pot of warm water. Lilian started gently cleaning the newborn while D'Argen could only stare.

Marsha finally collapsed on the quilt once Amastas deemed it safe and then Shabir was using the same bucket of warm water to help clean her up. Suddenly, Marsha started laughing. It sounded hysterical.

Amastas took the baby from D'Argen's arms and then handed him over to Marsha, who was crying as she cradled the small child.

"My little man," Marsha said to the child, a smile so wide on her lips that it looked painful. "You came a little too fast, didn't you? Did you know that four of the gods just helped bring you into this world?" She started laughing again.

Shabir and Amastas joined in laughter a moment later, then Shabir said, "you will be considered blessed for all of your life."

Marsha looked up at D'Argen through her tears. "We know you have your old language... both my son and I would be honoured if you named him in it."

D'Argen felt like the entire ground disappeared out from under him. It was like he was flying. It was like he was using his mahee to its full extent and running the entire known world. They did not have a word for blessed in their language, but they did have a word for gift.

"Hastess."