The end of the world was a peaceful place. The gray rocks of mount Gatheon had stopped rumbling after weeks of unease. The giant fossilized tree stump Loften sat on had sunk back to the ground, back to its roots. Camille – Karla’s aunt and de facto leader of the pact – was having a moment. She stared at a vial of blood, willing it to move.
It did not. This was a problem.
Her position in the pact was predicated on two things: being good friends with the thieves guild, and personal power. The latter was gone, and now she was starting to regret some of those times when she had been what the Americans called “a colossal bitch”. Half of them. A quarter, maybe. Jeremia totally deserved everything that happened to him and more.
In her mind she was transported back to the day when they had come here, she and her classmates. She had drawn up plans while everyone was in denial, tried to solve the issues for food, water and shelter, and none of the adults had listened to her. Now, it was only a few of her classmates left, and a ragtag mix of people from all ages over that really shouldn’t have mixed so well.
The pact was a weird mosh pit of people, one she had grown attached to over the years. These people in the pact were still dealing with the ramifications of losing their boons and soul-given stats, no matter how small, and that there would be no more convenient bowl-teleportation.
Camille was still thinking on the ramifications of not having instant fire starters when suddenly, the door to her office slammed open.
“Camille, miss.” It was one of the thieves’ guild members. One of Zane’s friends. Crow-something. He shot her a quick salute which did nothing to hide the fact that he was sweating steadily from just running up a few stairs. “I’ve come to report.”
“Yes? Stop standing there like I am about to bite you and come in.”
He approached, and stared at the vials for only a moment before returning to his work. “We’ve confirmed that without fail everyone is affected by the losses. Greater souls, bone shards, the works, all gone.”
“Do magic items still work?”
“Some of them. We didn’t have the time to check every one. But there’s one thing we did find out.” He removed his ring of humanity, the one that undead used to cover themselves in an illusion of humanity. It was a ubiquitous, highly valued item they always kept in stock. What astonished Camille was that without the ring he did not look any bit more like a wrinkly prune than before.
“Is that…”
He nodded brusquely. “The rings are obsolete because we’re human again. Or maybe the symptoms of undeath are just suppressed. Either way, we’re mortal. Jeffrey discovered that when he tried to juggle some knives and added a couple of holes to his hand.”
She slowly blinked and, setting the last of her blood vials on the table, let out a sigh she didn’t realize she had been holding. It was over just like that, like waking from a bad dream.
“And the dregs?” she asked.
“All of them turned to dust at around the same time.”
She closed her eyes. They had just started to get their farms set up right. Now they didn’t have the manpower, didn’t have the knowledge. There were two people tops among hundreds that knew enough about farming to actually start something resembling a sustainable food supply.
“We are going to starve,” she groaned. “In the best of cases, our belts will grow very tight.”
Crow-something didn’t look any less uncomfortable than when he had entered. “I don’t suppose we can teach the aristocrats how to till a field, can we?”
“They’ll have to learn to earn their cake the hard way.” Despite the situation being what it was, a smile bloomed across her face. This was a problem as much as an opportunity. “As do we all. We will use this cleared board and make something of it. Gather the people for an announcement and a referendum. We’re going to put some decisions to a vote, such as where to go from here, and what to do.”
“Those are important questions. Are you giving everyone a choice in that?” He looked confused. “We need a strong leader during trying times. I read that in a book once. On kingdoms and castles.”
“And I intend to prove that I am the right one by action and responsibility. We’re starting from zero; now is the best time for a republic.” A plan was forming in her head, ticking numbers on a mental sheet. “Are there any other changes I should be aware of?”
“Zane isn’t a bird anymore.”
One of her eyebrows arched up. “That is good news. And is there anything about my niece?”
“Well, about that…”
“Out with it.”
He cleared his throat. “We met her party during a supply run towards Rhuna’s palace, to check if it really was no longer on fire. We exchanged some pleasant words, and then they left.”
“And where exactly did they say they would go?”
“The scouts didn’t ask, but they were seen leaving through the northern gate. With all due respect, sending someone after them now will take weeks to get an answer back, months, and they’re not likely to be found once they go past the Twinpeaks.”
“My niece is going on one of her adventures, again, but this time she isn’t protected by her tough skin.” Camille sighed, then fixed Crow with a glare. “I want you to send your best. And tell them they shouldn’t show their face in front of me again until they’ve brought her back. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
***
The end of the world was a peaceful place. Calm gray rocks lounged next to pools of crystal-clear water that reflected a sky filled with gently wandering clouds. A wall of the endless maze lay toppled in a field of grass, its bricks put to better use. Somewhere at the edge of it, a small, abandoned farmstead had been co-opted by an unlikely trio.
Rye wiped her forehead, resting a hand on her hoe. They had spent close to half a year in this place, retiling roofs, fixing holes in the walls, and expanding their gardens into fields.
So much work. So much sweat. Ugh, I can’t believe I missed having a fleshy body.
She waved idly at Sam as she brought in some laundry. Her love blew her a kiss, sashaying in a way that had to be on purpose.
There are perks, especially at night. Gods – er – man, how I missed sleeping in the dark. Though, couldn’t I have kept a little bit of super strength?
With the curse of undeath as well as her boons and greater souls gone, the work never seemed to stop piling up. The cellar was still damp and the grain silo had fallen in on itself last week, but in general, things were looking up. Nothing kept her thinking of Arvale, except perhaps that she’d go there one day and see if there was anything recognizable left, like her family estate, or a tombstone.
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But her and Sam’s feelings that were tied to that place were mixed and after Karla declared she wanted to leave the pact, starting something new had been on all their agendas. They happened upon this place in their first week of journeying, and perhaps by fate, perhaps by blind luck, it had the makings of something amazing.
She spotted a curly mop of hair of someone lying in the tall grass.
“Karla!”
The girl didn’t hear her, or perhaps she wasn’t listening. Again.
Still a princess, at least in mindset.
A grin formed on her sun kissed face. With a flourish of her hoe, she sent a hunk of mud flying in her general direction. There was a yelp, then the sounds of someone trying to spit dirt out of their mouth.
“Tomato-potatoes don’t plant themselves, princess!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll get back to it.” She sprang up, gripping her tool as if it had personally wronged her. “And I’m not a princess!”
Rye shook her head as Karla attacked the ground with enough vigor to split a rock. She was doing better than she was, and Rye tried not to be too hard on her. It was hard to lose your first love, and Karla seemed to fill that hole by spending the entire day watching the clouds pass by. It must have been new to her that there were so many, and that no two were ever alike. The look on her face when the darkness of her first night had rolled in was priceless.
She always observes them from the same spot. I wonder…
Quietly, Rye snuck over to Karla’s spot and laid down. It was a small hill underneath a willow tree, where the ground was soft and the grass was green. There in the distance was mount Gatheon, sitting perfectly in a breach in the treeline.
She’s still hoping she’ll come back.
Rye couldn’t blame her for that. Day after day, Rye looked at the distant mountain peaks, and day after day, the same thought came to her.
You really did it. You’re awesome, Elia. I just wished you were here too.
The flap of wings drew her attention. There, right in her fields, a vile thing had landed. A jet-black crow. A bird.
It pecked the ground. It made eye contact with her. And as if to say that she couldn’t stop it, it gulped down the first of many seedlings. Apparently the reason for why so many seeds had disappeared during her time was that birds had still existed, but they were simply imperceptible. A quirk of the grail. It must have done the math and discovered that simply turning birds invisible was cheaper than removing them entirely..
Personally, she could do without these thieving pests.
“Away you seed fiend!”
The bird looked at her, as if not understanding what she was going to do with her hoe if it let her get close enough. Then it left, in search of more polite company.
Rye sighed. All things had a price, even a peaceful life. But as far as they were concerned, hard work for a new beginning was a trade they could live with.
She hefted her hoe and broke the moist earth.
***
The end of the world was a peaceful place. There were no gods to rail against. There was no revenge that needed to be sated; the only threats people lived in fear of were the mundane ones: Wolves, lice, and twisted ankles. Among all things only two facts stayed constant: the fickleness of bekki, and the folly of man.
Screams filled a cave laden with traveler’s goods. Terrible, inhuman screams, like a one-ton cat torturing herself with the world’s largest hairball.
A blue crystal orb warbled in considerable distress. “I thought you said you were a man of medicine!”
“I said that I was an intern at a hospital for two weeks.” The man, who had introduced himself as Zane, wiped his forehead. “I can hit a vein with a needle three out of four times, but that doesn’t mean I know much about… about this!”
“You will do what you must in my stead, as I do. Not. Have. Hands!”
“Shut!” Gnawen yelled, sitting on her bed of reeds with her legs spread. “You making the baby nervous. Won’t come out.”
She flicked her one remaining ear. The bekki could be so obstinate. She had even demanded to hunt deer even while she was in her third trimester, which had led them directly to this debacle.
I regret so many things, Pawil thought. The crystal orb that held his consciousness rolled shakily.
“I have to ask, how did this even happen?”
How did it come that a man-made marble and the queen of beastmen were grasping hands, looking at each other with an expression of regret, confusion, panic, and a little bit of anticipation? Pawil wasn’t so sure on the specifics.
“When a man and a giant cat woman hate-loved each other very much… sometimes, small mistakes happen. Life happens, is happening right this moment. So, mister Zane, if you would.”
“Right, right. Um, Gnawen, if you could uh… push?” Zane said, and Gnawen thanked him immediately by kicking Pawil, who rolled across the cave.
Right in the orb. If there are any cracks in me, I swear I will force her to learn advanced trigonometry.
“Know what am doing, Pawi,” Gnawen growled. “Not first daughter.”
“And how, please, are you sure it won’t be a son?”
“I know. Am best Mom–“
Her face suddenly contorted into a rictus of pain. As all things divine had diminished over the last months, so too had his magic, and her unnatural physique. There was a real chance she could die from giving birth.
If only we had better technology. If only we could do this anywhere else besides a mat of reeds in a cave.
“Push harder. Yes, like that – I can see a head. One more time.”
You are still a queen; show me you have it in you.
“Ggrrraaah!”
With a rush of strength, it was done. A small, scrunkly, cat-person-shaped bean was in his conjured arms. It was a girl, and she looked at him through a wisp of fiery hair with such big green eyes it had doubtlessly gotten from Gnawen, while it had inherited his nose. Her ears were a bit fuzzy. Hopefully she had gotten his wit.
Pawil almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Zane’s mask of horror.
“It’s not crying,” he muttered. “Babies need to cry. I… shit, what did the wetnurse do? Slap it?”
“Don’t you dare,” Gnawen said weakly.
He looked to Pawil.
“If it will help.”
Zane nodded and slapped the baby on the butt. The baby cried a cry of life and just as he was about to sigh again, a poof of flame blasted from its fingertips, covering his orb in soot.
Zane yelped and dropped the baby. She laughed a gurgly laugh as Gnawen caught her with one arm, then – still out of it from exhaustion – gently cradled the baby against her chest. Their baby.
Our child can cast. This is going to be a logistical nightmare. How am I supposed to make a fireproof bed? How am I supposed to make a fireproof anything, I don’t have hands! A great father I will make.
He coughed, then, remembering that he didn’t have a body just this moment, asked Zane to clean the soot from his immaculate surface as reality slowly dawned on him.
Heavens. I’m a father now.
It was not an unpleasant feeling, slightly overwhelming, yet warm at its core. All the strain in the world was nothing compared to the face of Gnawen as she gave their daughter a finger to play with. He wanted to hold his daughter too, wanted to shower her with affection, but alas. One thing after the other.
“You wouldn’t happen to know someone who could lend me a body, would you?” he asked the traveler.
“Um, no? Weird thing to ask.” Zane rubbed his surface until he needed to swap the towel for a new one. “But there was this one girl back in the pact. It’s a weird story. She showed up one day, ignored all the rules, and turned everything upside down…”
Pawil listened to the young one regale his odd story of triumphs and tribulation, all the while, his mind raced onto the next step of his plan. Every possible contingency he had come up with was thrown straight out of the window because apparently kids could be born fully capable of using magic now.
He looked at his daughter again and – seeing her yawn and close her eyes with such a peaceful expression – his heart softened a smidge.
She was born healthy. And yet he couldn’t shake that feeling. Something about her face felt awfully familiar…
THE END