Auraco, eighth princess of the Demon Empire, idly leaned back against the mountain. The warm spring air didn't quite reach up that far and further up was still packed with snow.

Her quarry was somewhere in these mountains, but she'd been elusive so far only leaving cities of dead humans for her to find.

That was the fun though.

Her father might seek to crush this world, but that was a foregone conclusion. Even if they could stand against his army, who could stand against him?

No, the hunt was much better. Less concrete.

[Fate's Guiding Current] showed her the business of her camp twofold. One set of real demons breaking down their camp and another further along in the process. She enjoyed watching the flows of destiny even for something as small as this.

The purple blurs that represented the future suddenly all paused and stared at her. For a moment, she panicked looking for whatever enemy might be attacking her, but no... They were listening to her.

What new commands might she have given them?

Without one of her demons giving her a report, there was only one way she even could get new information.

She sniffed the air.

[Winds of Destiny] brought her the scent of this era. In the other world, it was the smell of fire and brimstone often associated with the demons that was overbearing.

When she'd first come here, it was joined by the crisp scent of winter and the smell of a field of flowers. Winter's scent had fallen when the capital of the humans in this mountainous area had.

Now, there was something new. It smelled fresh like a sunbeam warming an ancient book in a study. It was small, but pervasive. Every way she turned her head, the scent followed. It wove through the barest scent of the sea and easily cut through the brimstone.

The [Winds of Destiny] were changing.

"Halt!" Auraco yelled and her army turned to look at her just as they had in [Fate's Guiding Current]. "Our objectives have changed. We abandon our quarry and return to the capital at once!"

****

Shadows clung to Kumo's fur, unwilling to let her be illuminated by the light. From her perch in the mountains, snow gently laid across her, obscuring her even further.

[Awareness] told her that she was still unseen by her enemy, but Kumo had learned not to take the demon princess lightly. Kumo crept to the lip of the crag that she rested on, gently pushing more Aether into [Shadow Meld].

Strangely, Auraco seemed to be leaving. Was it some sort of trick?

The demoness had proven herself time and again to be a crafty sort, but Kumo couldn't understand her current angle. What would make her give up the hunt? Had her empire called her back? Kumo hadn't seen any messa-

Kumo's breath caught in her throat. A warmth filled her chest like a soothing ointment over pained wounds and the shadows around her seemed to boil with an internal light that wanted to spill out across the countryside.

She barely managed to crawl away from the edge before the light engulfed her. Healed her.

"He's back," she whispered into the mountain's wind. She couldn't understand how such an impossibility could be true, but she knew it was. With every fiber of her Heart, she knew it to be true. Her Soul of the Sanguine Depths practically shrieked in joy as her path to the heavens had reopened.

She was connected to the universe again.

Only the long months of being hunted by Auraco stopped her from immediately breaking cover, but once she was far enough away, she sprinted. Boulders and cliffs were no impairment to her C grade stats and experience maneuvering around the mountain.

It didn't take her long to get their latest encampment. Auraco had gotten close, too close this time, but none of that mattered now. Having abandoned all sense of stealth, Kumo leapt over the human's wall and landed in the center of their city.

Dried blood and human bodies still littered the streets, but none of the Hunters or Inquisitors even noticed anymore. Instead, all of her Otters held various expressions of disbelief, many holding one hand to their chest as they felt the old wound close.

Sanya wandered over to her. "Is it... real? It's not some trick?"

"It's real," Kumo said. "I don't know how or why, but it appears even death couldn't restrain our Progenitor forever."

Kumo felt a vindication for her righteous belief. She'd left Igna for vengeance against Gi's enemies, but had found herself murdering humans in their beds to survive. With Gi returned though, they no longer needed to scurry away from the demons.

The hunted would become the hunters.

Her eyes fell across the crowd that had gathered outside, waiting for her. Tomlen's youthful face had grown a hard edge to it over the course of their time in the mountains, but some of his exuberance shown through in the wonder plastered across his face now. Even Floren had shut up for once and Kumo might have to personally thank Gi just for that.

But there was really only one person she wanted to see.

Uncaring of the thoughts of her clan, she raced into the human's city until she found the nicest house with the nicest bedroom and the softest bed.

Wane's shriveled form was tucked under the covers and Killer was curled up beside him. His body had suffered from the months of his coma, but they'd cared for him as best as they could.

She placed a gentle paw against his forehead, feeling the slight wind of his breath that proved he was still alive. "He's back, my brother." She placed a hand against his chest. "I know you can feel it too. Gi can fix you. You can be whole again. We can be whole again."

With hope coursing through her veins for the first time since Gi's death, her Body demanded that she gather everyone at once and go to find Gi, but her mind knew better. She didn't have much information and Igna was the only place she could conceive of him being.

There would be time for that journey, but for now, Kumo rested her head against her brother's arm and basked in the warmth in her chest.

"He's alive."

****

Sweat seemed to pool in Eitina's sweaty palms. Her relationship with the King had elevated her station within the church, but she'd never been privy to the Table before.

The Table wasn't the square table in front of her, but the eight elders that sat around its edges. The Matriarch of Matar cherished her like a daughter, but the words she'd brought from their goddess had been hard for even her to believe.

What would the others think?

Barring the King himself, these were the most powerful people in the Thousand Islands. Her eyes shifted nervously from elder to elder until they landed on Elder Altman - Patriarch of Hyshtel, the Sword of Justice, the first among equals.

"Let us bring order to the Table." Elder Altman's voice was a rich bass that easily carried across the table with a strength that belied his age. If it weren't for the wrinkles across his face and the white of his hair, one might confuse him with a warrior in their prime such was his bearing.

The Elders fell silent.

"We've had little word from the Empires. With winter passing, each day of Spring kills any hope that they may still be alive. If the likes of Veridia or Frosthelm could fall so quickly, that brings dark tidings of the state of the Monster Surge on the main continent. Does anyone have anything else to add on this topic?"

Silence greeted him. "Motion to return to the topic at our next meeting?"

Seven lights that floated in the palm of the Elders' hands greeted him and Elder Altman added his own spark of divinity to the vote.

"It is decided. The next order of business... the King."

Here, they didn't follow the well worn rites of the Table. Matriarch of Velin, God of Daylight, immediately spoke up.

"This Father has infested our people. His influence clouds their mind in a way that our magics can not heal. Something must be done."

Elder Altman held up a hand to stall what might have become a rant. "Elder Bohlen, I believe we're aware of your position. Before I open up the floor for discussion, let me remind the Elders that it was we who started a war to test the King.

"We watched him and gauged him and decided that he was the one to lead us once his Father fell. I, too, share Elder Bohlen's concern about The Father, but I would like to remind everyone that King Rellington united the Thousand Islands after his Father's death in direct opposition to us all while still planning for the Monster Surge.

"He is a shrewd King and strong warrior. If we must discard him, let it not be in haste."

Elder Altman then stared at each of the others in turn as though daring them to break order. None of them did. They may have come here to discuss the King as though he were rabbit that snuck into the garden, but all of them respected the Patriarch of Hyshtel.

First among equals indeed.

Eitina's breath caught in her throat as her Matriarch lit her spark of divinity and Elder Altman's attention turned to her.

"The Table sees you Elder Tisch, Matriarch of Matar. What do you have to add to the discussion?"

Her Matriarch turned back to gaze into Eitina's eyes and she could see the question within. Was this truly Matar's will? Do you understand the implications of what you bring forward today?

Eitina had been fearful many times in her life. She'd face death in the Dungeon and fought against the island of monsters that had appeared during the Surge. Even in this moment, she might have been fearful, but she was no coward.

She nodded and her Matriarch turned back to the gathered Elders.

"Matar, God of Graves, Keeper of the Final Rest, has broken the blessed silence of the graves so that we might hear his wisdom. I request from the Elders that I might bring Eitina to the Table so that she may share the words of Matar with us."

Elder Altman lit his spark of divinity and the others quickly followed suit. Even for the Elders, it was uncommon for their gods to speak to them directly.

Taking a deep breath, Eitina stepped forward. No matter what the Elders decided, Matar's words would change their fate today and she would be their catalyst.

***

The white light eventually receded and Tiria was gently placed back on her feet. Wonder placed a hand on her chest as she felt the sudden healing of an old wound.

Her disbelief kept her rooted in place. Was the nightmare finally over?

Silence reigned in the small space. Only the sniffs of the human child broke it. The child and her mother remained pinned in place by Orchid's webs, looking towards the body of their dead family.

Samba laid at his feet, his wounds keeping him there as much as her defeat of him. Killing this human that Samba seemed to cherish pained her and whatever anger she'd felt leaked out now that it was done.

After all this time, she found herself scared to look at him. What if it hadn't worked? What if it was some type of illusion had only covered the wound in her chest and opened up the stars to her?

With only the pain of the people she'd hurt to get here surrounding her, eventually her desire for it be true outshone her fear that it wasn't.

She looked.

Light glimmered off of his body and dripped down like the sun had taken a monstrous form and now wept for the struggles of mortal. His fur which had formally had a golden sheen cut through by scars and silver was now pristine.

His fur was still gold in the same way that someone might compare a star to a diamond. Its warm glow felt more like kelp drifting beside the Lake Encampment had turned into rays of light.

At the time of his death, he'd possessed a Robe of Demon Steel that he'd received from Galvina, but that had been left with his body. Instead, he wore a robe of resplendent white that only seemed to accentuate the natural shine of his fur. Over the robe, a gleaming steel breastplate lay on his chest and a trio of rings adorned his fingers. Lastly, a small pendant rested just above the breastplate.

His mere presence had changed too.

During the Battle of Igna, he'd awakened a feeling of the ancients like a line had followed him from the start of history all the way to where he was, but now? He was divine. Looking upon him felt like she was looking upon Danna herself.

And he was whole.

His divine gaze rested on his paws, both of which now moved under his command. The scars that had carved through his fur from his time in the Eldritch Forest was gone. His form was the pinnacle of what every Otter dreamed to attain of.

He was the incarnation of perfection, but most importantly, he was back.