“Hello,” Vy greeted a mayor who was holographically projected over her desk. “I speak for Ariock Dovanack, Bringer of Hope and conqueror of worlds.”

The military mayor of Median City looked impressed. Supercoms were new to the liberated people on the planet Verdantia. Freedom was new to them.

And Vy supposed that everything about herself, and her office, looked imposing. Angled windows were scooped out of the walls. Those walls were polished meteorite, softened by tapestries and carpets.

“Ariock requests that you designate a flat area in which to assemble your voluntary soldiers,” Vy went on. “Please spread word that anyone who wishes to aid in the conquest of a Torth city should assemble there.”

The vast majority of liberated people were illiterate. That meant no emails, no letters, no calendars, no texting, no social media. Everything had to be a spoken conversation. Vy preferred to work while sipping a spiced drink in a cafe, but that was too noisy for calls.

“Have them ready by two hours after daybreak,” Vy said. “Your time.” According to her converter software, it was currently evening in Median City.

The govki mayor looked honored. “Thank you, your humanness!”

Vy didn’t like that makeshift title, but she smiled and accepted it. At least the mayor had not accused her of being a Torth.

Every appointed mayor received informational videos, distributed by Kessa. One of those videos outlined how to differentiate between Torth, penitent Torth, Alashani, and humans. People got mixed up anyway. Some called Vy an elder. Others called her a boss. Some called her an angel from paradise, or the mate of the Bringer of Hope. At least the majority of people understood that she was not a mind reader.

Vy updated the battle diagram.

She contacted more offices, making preparations for Ariock’s next battle. She also added meetings for herself, determined to stay up-to-date on developments in construction, small businesses, healthcare, education, and the burgeoning justice system. It all worked in a helter-skelter kind of way.

She tapped her workstation to bring up a playlist of low key music. Her office was wired with speakers.

Vy and Cherise had stealthily downloaded TV shows and other media during their jaunt to Earth. Torth devices should not be able to parse data made by humans, but Thomas had modified a few Torth gadgets. Thanks to him, Vy had gained petabytes of media simply by walking around downtown San Diego.

Now, if she or Cherise wished, they could beam movies to wall screens. They could beam music to speakers. It felt like having a superpower.

But it was a power they used sparingly, aware that they might make a cultural impact crater. The freed aliens were developing an entirely new culture—their own theatre, their own music—and Vy found it all too fresh and interesting to want to hijack it, or disturb its formation.

“Would you accept a gift from me?” The voice was silken and feminine.

Vy hadn’t heard anyone enter. She looked up from her workstation, and sure enough, the winged Lady stood across from her granite-top desk.

Evenjos fingered one of Vy’s favorite knickknacks; a quartz statuette of a thunder god ready to throw a lightning bolt.

Evenjos placed the figurine back on the desk. She was expressionless, but her outward appearance was an expression itself, with luminous eyes, and wings, and long hair that rippled in an intangible breeze.

She was a goddess.

Vy stood. She reminded herself that she could call Ariock with a tap on her earpiece, but surely she was safe? She told herself that she was overreacting. It was embarrassing.

Evenjos offered a disarming smile. “I mean you no harm.” She held out a decorative purse. “A token of my goodwill, if you wish to accept it. This purse contains longevity pills. Take one per day. When you run out, you can ask Thomas for more.”

Vy studied the winged Lady, trying to ascertain if she had any ulterior motive. At least her gown was modestly cut and artfully draped. Evenjos must be in a rare, non-seductive mood.

Evenjos blushed. Had she overheard Vy’s thoughts?

“I truly come in peace,” Evenjos said. “I want to make that plain.”

Vy accepted the purse. Inside, there were clear bags of tiny white pills.

She could have asked Thomas or Garrett for some longevity pills at any time, but that had never occurred to her. Her own distant future was never at the forefront of her mind. She was so busy all the time, preoccupied with the next few days, or the next week.

Decades and centuries? Those were light years away.

“Thank you,” Vy told Evenjos with warmth. It seemed sweet, to think of someone else’s health and future.

And was it really so out of character for Evenjos? No. It was not. Evenjos had led the healing of Thomas. She was a miracle worker in hospitals.

The former empress offered a gentle smile. “I resented you at first,” she admitted. “But I no longer think it strange that Ariock chose you. How can I resent someone with as much love and compassion as you have?”

Vy blushed. Evenjos had forgiveness in her heart, and kindness. Never mind Ariock’s grumblings about her selfishness. Perhaps he judged the Lady of Sorrow too harshly.

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“I am letting go of the jealousy I felt towards you,” Evenjos said. “I cannot bear ill will against a fellow healer.”

Tension evaporated from Vy’s chest. She had not consciously acknowledged the threat. But now that Evenjos herself had cleared the air…

Well, there was no enmity between them, after all. They did not have to be a commoner versus an empress, or Ariock’s human girlfriend versus a jealous dust hag.

Perhaps they could be friends?

Evenjos’s smile tightened for a split second, and Vy felt a stab of fear. She didn’t like being within range of a telepath. She should have guarded her thoughts.

But when Evenjos spoke, she sounded kind. “I wish I could regrow your leg for you.” She indicated Vy’s prosthetic. “Unfortunately, such healing is beyond my power.”

It was a kind sentiment.

Vy offered a shrug in appreciation. In truth, she had begun to feel at peace with her loss of limb. These days, she understood that the galaxy was big enough to offer multiple possibilities to any individual, no matter what array of abilities they had.

She was a pilot, for instance. She might not be at the level of the combat pilots, who corkscrewed through mountain valleys and slid into unlikely docks cut into cliffs. But she was also a medic. She could read and write, unlike many people in Freedomland. And she had the ear of the messiah. Few people even knew that she had a missing limb, and no one commented on it anymore.

“I really appreciate the longevity pills,” Vy assured Evenjos. “That was very thoughtful.”

Evenjos smiled. “It is a meager gift. But I see how much you care for Ariock. I figured you want a chance to keep pace with his non-human aging. You know, at least for a century, or maybe two.”

Vy frowned. Non-human aging?

That made no sense. Ariock was mostly human, more or less.

Before she could ask, Evenjos spoke with delicate sympathy. “His non-human aging is a side effect of his unchecked growth mutation.” She blushed, as if flustered by a sensitive topic, or as if the need to explain had caught her by surprise. “Ariock is in a perpetual state of adolescent rapid growth. His bone palates will never close off or seal. His whole body regenerates cells, and replaces them, at a rapid rate, as if he is always a teenager. His cells are adolescent. He cannot age normally. And he will keep growing. Forever.”

The sentences fit together, but Vy struggled to make them gel with reality. How could someone just keep growing without running into certain limits set by biology? Would he just gain a ridiculous amount of cells and blood vessels to support his mass? Or would his very atoms become titanic?

Evenjos must be mistaken.

“Those of us with legendary power may bypass the limits of biology.” Evenjos gestured to herself. “I cannot say how it will work for Ariock, but he may hold together by sheer force of gravity, plus his endless power to heal. He doesn’t get sick.”

Vy had noticed that it took quite a lot to injure Ariock. It only seemed to happen when he was on the inhibitor.

“Of course…” Evenjos looked even more embarrassed and flustered. “If he ever does run into trouble, whether it be injury or old age, I must give him regeneration healing. He is too vital for the universe to lose.” She seemed to realize that she had left out something important, and hastily added, “And you, too.”

Vy felt as if she needed air. Her lungs were empty. She wanted to be alone, to ponder the implications. It sounded as if she and Ariock might be granted a semblance of immortality. They would never age.

But Ariock would never stop growing like a teenage boy.

Vy had somehow forgotten that his growth disorder was an ongoing medical condition. It was not an immutable adult trait, but a process.

Unstoppable. Unending.

“He will keep growing,” Evenjos affirmed. “For him, there is no end to puberty.” She rested manicured fingers on her hips, as if her words were not devastating.

Vy attempted to persuade herself that size did not matter.

She loved Ariock. She loved the size of him, along with everything else. She loved holding onto him, the way his body seemed endless—especially if she feared enemies, or when she felt lonely.

She always knew right away if Ariock was nearby. He blocked light. He made floors or furniture creak. Whenever he was around, she slept soundly. Otherwise she was restless, and suffered from nightmares. His presence alone made her stress vanish, and gave her a wholesome, safe and protected feeling.

Yet sometimes.…

Ariock loomed. He couldn’t help it, but he was like a living thunderhead, or a tsunami.

A survival-oriented part of Vy remained alert around him, aware that he could hurt her by accident. All he had to do was forget she was there.

Vy had seen Ariock kill armored Torth by smashing them into pulp against stone walls, or by stomping on them, or even by tearing them in half, armor and all. Those glimpses of him in battle were impossible to forget.

Evenjos’s sympathy looked pitying. “Ariock is taller now than when you first met him.” She spread her hands, as if in apology. “He will be over eleven feet within another five years.”

Vy shook her head.

She had hoped to introduce her mother to her boyfriend. But even before this news, she had known it was a bad idea. A fantasy. How would Mrs. Hollander, the founder of a home for disabled children, react to a titan who slaughtered people in battle? A mutant who had accidentally killed his own mother? And who had failed to shield Vy when a Torth blasted off her leg?

Mrs. Hollander might not like Ariock.

She might consider him a brutish, thuggish freak of questionable heritage, descended from a rapist and murderer, and too unapologetic to be worthy of her daughter.

“And he is yet young,” Evenjos mused, apparently oblivious to Vy’s thoughts. “He grows another foot taller, and adds more mass, every few years. In a hundred years? I imagine he will be a true titan, if he lives as long as I have.”

Hundreds of years old. A titan. Skyscraper sized. Inhumanly large.

It would be impossible to be intimate with that.

Evenjos gave Vy a coy smile. “His relentless growth is remarkable, isn’t it? Both a blessing and a curse.” Her gaze flicked over the length of Vy’s relatively petite body. “I suppose it is your blessing—and curse—as well.”

Vy opened her mouth. She wanted to spew angry retorts. She wanted to scream defiantly that her relationship with the ever-growing storm god was shatterproof.

All traces of sympathy vanished from Evenjos’s face.

“If you truly love him,” Evenjos said crisply, “then consider being less selfish. You could urge him in a more caring direction. Understand that Ariock must always guard himself around you. If he caves into raw sensation, that would be extremely dangerous.” She paused, and seemed to decide that clarification was required. “For you.”

Vy barely noticed the hard shapes of the pills in the little purse she was squeezing. She felt assaulted.

By what? Facts?

Ariock admitted, often, that he had a fear of hurting Vy. That fear was in his eyes.

Vy had assumed it was leftover anxiety from early mistakes. With hard daily practice, surely he had mastery over his own power by now? He no longer killed or maimed people by accident.

Or at least, Vy didn’t think so.

Evenjos stepped back, her tone lighter. “I suppose you have both taken the risks into consideration.”

Ariock probably had.

Vy felt mocked. She was so naive, so oblivious to her own fragility. So selfish. No matter how much she cared for Ariock, she was unfit for him.

She was nothing special. Just an ordinary human.

“I hope I am not being rude,” Evenjos said. “Please forgive me?”

Vy was no longer certain about anything. Her feelings for Ariock were undeniable, but what if that was just an immature infatuation with a storm god? She was twenty-three. Anyone with hormones and attraction towards a strong man would want to spend time with the Bringer of Hope.

“I don’t know if I believe any of this.” Vy’s voice was shaky, but she needed to hang onto a shred of self-respect. She was not going to quit Ariock just because a former empress told her…

Evenjos disintegrated into a swirl of colorful dust.

The ghostly female shape broke apart, and flew through cracks around the edges of the closed door. Vy was alone.