“Ah!” Brittle shot forward with a gasp. His hollow eyes searched his dim surroundings as his fingers moved up and down his rough trunk, taking stock of whether or not all the necessary pieces were still there. He had arms, legs, toes, and antlers again, all in the areas they should have been, thankfully. The deep fissures splintered across his trunk were there as well, but the wounds didn’t hurt like the dickens anymore. In due time, with a little bit of swamp mud and pitch, the bark would fuse back together again, leaving only scars of both the inner and outer variety.

That, fortunately, was a concern for further down the road. At the moment, Brittle was simply overjoyed to be counted amongst the living once more. “I don’t believe it,” he said softly. “It’s a miracle. I’ve been reborn!”

A pair of arms shifted beneath him in surprise, making Brittle suddenly aware that he was being cradled like a newborn. Ordinarily, he would have taken great offense to being held in such an infantile manner, but Mara got a pass. “Brittle?” she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

His vision was still taking its sweet time getting out of bed it seemed. Brittle reached out and touched Mara’s face with his twiggy fingertips and confirmed it was her. He felt hot tears streaming down the sides of her clammy cheeks. “Did you see, Mara? Did you see me? I came back!”

Thankfully, he was born with clothes this time around. Brittle wasn’t sure his pride could handle being babied and bark naked.

“I don’t know how,” Mara said, squeezing him tight, “but however you did it, I’m so very glad you did.”

He squirmed uncomfortably in her arms. There was so much he wanted to tell her, it all started to pour out at once. “Guess what, Mara? I was a cloud, and there was a light, but I ran away from it. And then there was this girl, but she wasn’t actually a girl, she just thought she looked more inviting that way. She found me and told me to go back to the light, but I said no. And then they gave me a job!

“Oh,” Mara said, refusing to release her vise-like grip. “Who is ‘they’?”

The world steadily came into focus around him. He and Mara were seated in the grass outside a smoldering pile of wood and stone. Amidst the smoke and ash, Brittle smelled the sweet scent of saw tooth grasses and wet mud. As his blurry vision cleared, the memory of what happened faded, slipping from his mind like loose sand between fingers. “...I don’t remember.”

Edvin’s deep voice pulled Brittle from his fuzzy thoughts. “And this new job of yours, loggo?”

“Edvin!” Brittle twisted around in Mara’s grasp, only now realizing the others were gathered around as well. Some of the joy swelling within his hollow chest dissipated at the god’s black-and-blue appearance. “You look terrible!”

“Eh, you should see the other guy.”

Sir Thomassin was there as well, face coated in soot, sweat, and blood. What remained of his singed eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What other guy?”

“The job, Brittle,” Mara prompted. “Did you say someone gave you a job?”

“Did I say that? Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Brittle’s gaze swept from person to person, searching for the one familiar face that was missing. He found her lying curled on the ground amongst the swamp grass, watching him from hooded eyes. Gilly’s scaled sides heaved in and out at an unnatural speed. Brittle pushed from Mara’s arms and staggered closer. “Gilly?”

Her mighty tail managed a single, pitiful thump before going still.

“Uh no.” Brittle dropped to his knees and cradled her head. “I only just got back. You’re not leaving, are you?”

A pained smile flicked across her scaled snout as she gazed back up at him.

Mara’s hand touched Brittle’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Brittle. We tried, but–”

“I’d like a moment alone, please.”

Wordlessly, Mara withdrew her hand and led the others away. They lingered along the tree line, trying not to stare while Brittle said his goodbyes. He stroked the top of Gilly’s head as tears rolled down his face. Freshly reborn and, already, his new heart was breaking all over again. The suffocating pain welling up inside of him made it difficult to speak. Brittle’s words scraped like sandpaper over his tongue. “Oh, Gilly Girl, I’m sorry. I take back every mean thing I ever said about you. You’re not a yellow bellied snake, you’re my best friend.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She huffed air out of her nose in protest.

An unexpected laugh caught in Brittle’s swelling throat. “I am not going to put that on your headstone. I don’t even think I could spell it.”

Moments from taking her last breath and still, Gilly was somehow as ornery as ever.

“So what if I can barely spell my own name? That’s besides the point!”

She responded with a slow flick of her tail.

“Well of course I’d be too ashamed to ask! I’m putting best friend on your headstone and that’s that.”

For a few, precious moments, they went back and forth just like old times. Finally, the effort got to be too much for Gilly. The old lizard lowered her head into the grass with a faint sigh. Brittle could see the fire dancing within her dark eyes had already begun to dull around the edges. “Thank you for everything.” He curled his twiggy arms around her thick neck and held her tight. “You can go if you’re ready. I won’t keep you. And don’t bother worrying about me either, alright? You helped me find a new family. I’ll do my best to keep them out of trouble.”

Brittle sat with her until first rays of sunlight peeked up over the hills in the distance, painting the gloomy forest floor in soft shades of pink and yellow. Gilly’s spirit was gone by time the sun lifted into the sky and chased the shadows away. But Brittle remained by her side, determined to enjoy one last sunrise together. While the hurt of losing his closest friend ravaged him from the inside out, Gilly’s final words had evoked a small sense of peace.

She’d done her best to raise him in the absence of his Mama. Gilly may not have been the most maternal caregiver but, given the chance, she would’ve done it all over again. ‘Just don’t waste your second chance moping over me all the time,’ she’d said. Insisting three or four years of solid mourning would do – and yes, she did expect him to don all black. A new adventure awaited him. And while Gilly was disappointed she wouldn’t get to take part, she’d be sure to watch from the other side.

The morning light slowly moved across the mossy forest floor. The breeze rustled overhead, stirring the scents of cypress and chokeberry as the songbirds warbled away. Although Brittle didn’t know how exactly, deep in hollow bones, he knew to enjoy the peace, because life would never be the same again.

----------------------------------------

Amaia stood amongst the cypress trees, cloaked in shadow, watching the pitiful scene unfold before her. As the Goddess of the End, death was all too familiar. Each passing still hurt in its own unique way, however. And today’s death was no exception. Amaia leaned against the nearest tree trunk, enjoying the cool morning breeze as the little bog log beast returned to his new family across from her. Brittle was met with hugs, tears, and all of the love he would need to defy the odds that darkened his future.

A flash of pink and orange lit behind the Goddess of the End. She kept her eyes forward, conscious of the sound of claws and a mighty tail dragging through the soft dirt towards her. “You certainly dragged that out,” Amaia said. “Had to make it as dramatic as possible, didn’t you?”

“Of all the stupid tasks you’ve ever talked me into, that was by far the stupidest.” Gilly lumbered up and sat on her tail at the goddess’s feet. Her long tongue flicked out of her mouth in irritation. “Longest twelve years of my life.”

“You’re a deity. Years mean nothing to you.”

“Felt like forever.”

“And yet, you still wear the lizard form,” Amaia countered. She glanced down at Gilly from the corner of her eye and smiled. Gillian, Goddess of Trickery, was the most talented shapeshifter in the realm of deities. The fact that she had yet to resume her godly form was telling. “You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?”

“Like week old fish,” the lizard said as moisture pooled around her dark, black eyes. “Still don’t see why you sent me. Boy didn’t need it.”

“While I had my suspicions, I wasn’t sure. I had to see for myself.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to have told him from the start? ‘Oi, you, stump boy! You’re a bit different than the others of your kind, yeah? Suppose you already know that, don’t you? Anyway, you’re a demigod. Good Luck. Try not to die.’”

“Oh, Gilly. You know it doesn’t work that way. He had to accept it for himself. Otherwise the fates would have accused me of tampering.”

“Oh, yeah, like sending me to watch over him wasn’t tampering.” A wolfish grin curled over Gilly’s scaled snout. For a few blissful seconds, she said nothing, content to watch the strange collection of people across from them, mourning her cold corpse. It was only a matter of time, however, before she felt compelled to share her thoughts. “It is deeply ironic, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?”

“The Goddess of Ill Fortune unknowingly creates the embodiment of good luck stubbing her toe in a swamp? Who bribed the fates to come up with that one?” Gilly’s eyes widened, matching the grin that split across her mouth. “Oh, now there’s an idea! He hasn’t been titled yet. I vote we dub him Brittle, the Break-a-Leg Demigod.”

“That’s terrible, Gilly.”

“Ooh, ooh! No, Lucky Strike!”

Amaia tilted her chin skyward, refusing to give Gilly the satisfaction of an eye roll.

The Goddess of Trickery carried on undeterred. She rose up onto her stubby legs and hopped about with glee. “You know, because he’s a twig? And matches are made out of twigs? Don’t act like you don’t love it, Amaia. You know it’s brilliant.”

“Come on, we’ve lingered enough. There’s work to do.” The pair turned, moving towards the portal Amaia summoned with a flicker of her fingers. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with sticking to the classics.”

Gilly trotted alongside her, long tail swishing as she disappeared into the glowing portal. “This is why you weren’t granted the Goddess of Life position, you know. You’re terrible at naming things.”

“I am not. Brittle, Demigod of Luck, will do just fine.”