I feel… bloated.

My tendrils slither through the shattered streets, twisting under rubble to provide lifesaving touches to the crushed and dying… as well as collecting the dead. So much for no casualties, but I never really thought we'd manage to pull that off. I don't doubt that everywhere else on the island is suffering even worse than Skyhope, but I still came back here right before the final moment.

I hate this place, but it's the only home my human self ever had.

I don't really feel like that helpless, starving girl anymore. She certainly defines parts of me, but… at some point I need to let go of her pain and trauma in order to function as someone on the complete opposite end of the power scale. I'm about as far from her as I can be, now. I am, after all, the most powerful being on the island. Probably the most powerful being on nearly every island.

Hence, I feel bloated. I engorged myself on metal today, more than doubling my channeling capacity and nearly completing the body that still writhes within my chitinous shell. I can swat aside nations. I can probably give the Progenitor a run for her money, though I'm not arrogant enough to assume that grandmama doesn't have any tricks up her sleeve for an entity like me. Not that I plan to fight her, just… you know.

I know, Taal agrees. We're power incarnate, and we can keep going. Keep ascending. Keep getting stronger faster than anyone else. But none of it matters. Not in the face of… that.

We glance up, the broken sky black instead of yellow. A darkness alien to us descends on the world, lit only by the white pinpricks in the distance, and the blue reflection of a world utterly incomprehensible to me, getting torn apart and devoured with meticulous, practiced precision.

To the people of this world, I am a goddess. To the world itself, I am a fly.

The blue orb serving as the Mistwatcher's lunch is considerably smaller than the Mistwatcher itself, but the fact that it's comparable at all is horrifying. A tiny marble next to the whole of existence is a damn big marble.

It's a terrifying sight. The Mistwatcher cracks the sphere open with the sort of finesse only describable as such from very, very far away. The outer layers of the world crack and splinter, pulled away in tiny chunks with kineticism. Inside them, a glowing, red-orange center is revealed, burning and spiraling up into the Mistwatcher's body, who drinks the world dry of its strange, liquid center. The liquid on the exterior—water, I think—is pulled away alongside the broken fragments of stone, and, little by little, pushed towards us.

The Mistwatcher is turning the exterior of this sphere into new islands, and the interior is simply food. Interesting. Very interesting.

Does this imply there are more of these spheres? Taal asks, and I think it actually does. Is this where our island comes from? All islands? But… if so, where did the spheres come from?

I shake my head, not up to answering questions like that, especially not when I have work to do. I continue floating along above the streets of Skyhope, twisting myself into and around every nook and cranny to pick up the souls and people in need. Should I do this across the entire island, I wonder? Normally that'd take way too long, but if the Mistwatcher isn't around right now, will it pick up the souls?

I glance up at it again, this time without moving my head. Though my soul is… not quite the same shape as I'm used to, it still has eyes and through them I stare at the Mistwatcher's soul, the hungry mouths and tendrils which… are indeed reaching back towards us, even from farther away than usual. Damn. I'll need to pick up the pace. But my tendrils are just a bit more… solid than usual, and I'm still getting used to the whole variable intangibility thing.

We really picked a terrible day to manifest this particular evolution, didn't we? Taal comments dryly.

No kidding. We feel like our chitin is about to burst, but we're still not ready yet. Our torso is still mostly pseudo-liquid, our legs have barely started forming properly, and our wings just take forever to fill up with the proper amounts of anima because of their biological construction. Still, progress is being made, and the end result is so exciting that even the current horrific circumstances can't quite drown out my anticipation for it.

I'm going to get a body I actually like.

Not just a body I tolerate. Not just a body that's better than all prior ones. A body I like, one I'll actually feel like is properly me. Because it will be me! My soul, expanded and shifted and solidified into something both flesh and anima. It's been the work of many months, with theory and design assistance from both Penelope and grandmama, but once we figured out how to use a slurry of carbon, water, and a handful of other things to hold a soul without catching the Mistwatcher's attention, the trick became how to dissect anima tangibility spells in such a way that allowed us to deepen the connection between my two home universes.

Anima and mana don't interact with matter or other energy types under normal conditions because they're foreign to this world, sourced from where Nawra, the Mistwatcher, and I come from. But they can interact with our world, and they do. That's what magic is. Mana lends itself to this function quite easily, but getting anima to work the same way took some doing. It's arguably not anima anymore, not quite, but it's anima enough to be… y'know.

Me.

We're getting distracted, Taal reminds me. I should probably be in front right now.

Would if I could, Taal. I don't really control when I'm in control. But you're right, let's get back to optimizing our lifesaving techniques. I want to just do a grid travel method and be done with it, but what we need to do now that there's a clear time limit is optimize based on population density, so we probably want to circle over to oh hey there we go.

I sigh, stretching our body and speeding up towards the next most effective area to spread our talents. There's one more thing we almost forgot about as well, and we need to swallow our pride and stop wasting it.

"Braum!" I shout, pointing with one arm. "One hundred and twenty-nine yards!" I point a different direction. "One hundred and thirty-four yards!" Yet another direction. "One hundred and fifty yards!"

He and I did this years ago, shortly before the bastard decided to arrest me. I've always looked back at that with some level of regret. I certainly don't think I was making a bad decision when I tried to run the fuck away, as I doubt I would have liked anything that would result from trying to cooperate with Templars, but would it have been worse? I'm starting to suspect now that it wouldn't have been. To give up most of those souls would have been a viable compromise (Penta, Angelien, and Norah obviously excepted) and ultimately, compromise probably would have made a difference.

Sure, the Templars are arrogant, selfish, and fundamentally wrong, but I was so caught up in that, so caught in my hatred of them, that those facts superseded even my own well-being. I wonder what my life would have been like as an Inquisitor rather than a prisoner. Working alongside many of the people I ultimately killed. Maybe figuring out the deal behind Ars before I unwittingly unleashed him on the world a second time. I don't know. I guess I'll never know. Just another of the infinite what-ifs.

Heh, now you're the one getting distracted, Zoi chides. Also, fuck the Templars. We didn't have Malrosa's influence back then, so I doubt we could have gotten our head out of our ass even if they gave us a pretty good deal. Which they didn't, may I remind you.

Yeah, but you don't really make deals with someone who just tossed a Wight at you. That would be insane. We escalated that fast and hard and I can't really blame them for putting us down even harder. Braum might have stood up for us, had we pleaded with him enough.

Yeah, but we couldn't do that, Zoi reminds me, and I know she's right. We couldn't compromise because we couldn't believe in a world where compromise worked out for us. It was us against everyone. That's how Vita was raised: alone, abused, and starving. What is a person like that supposed to do, other than take and take and take just to have hope of seeing tomorrow?

Okay, okay, I know, I know. Sorry, I just… wish we could have healed a bit sooner, I guess.

Well, we didn't. And I don't think I'd call us healed now. We're a fucking mess that just happens to be getting better.

That counts as healing.

Healing, sure. But not healed.

Ugh. What is it about mass, cataclysmic death that makes us so damn introspective?

We continue teleporting, rescuing, and collecting the fallen. What else can we do? It takes nearly another hour to finish, leaving us with a deep, hanging exhaustion as we return to the refugee camp to make sure it hasn't exploded while we weren't looking. Overall impression of the souls in the area indicates… it could be worse, I guess. Nobody's happy, but why would anyone be happy? Pretty much everything everybody owned just got broken and now they're watching a god eat an impossibility. They're taking their first look at heaven and realizing it might not be what they personally had in mind.

Took 'em long enough.

The important thing is that they're not rioting. They're not calm, per se. They're definitely terrified. But it's the stunned kind of fear, certainly at risk of evolving into the dangerous kind of fear but not quite there. Now comes the really hard part: making sure all these people can believably expect food, water, and shelter before that stun wears off.

And frustratingly, I think I'm going to be almost entirely useless at this. I am not an engineer or architect or civic planner, I am a hammer and I am altogether too good at seeing other things as nails. I spot Penelope and float over to where she's shouting directions at people, winding a tendril around her as I approach.

"Life was a lot easier when I could just use violence to solve all my problems," I sigh.

She chuckles.

"It was certainly simpler, but that's the thing about violence," she says. "It is very, very good at solving problems. It's just equally good at starting them, too."

"True enough," I agree. "You got things here? You have horde control if you need it."

"I'll be fine, darling," she assures me. "We're getting to the fun part, now. Where are you headed?"

"Back to Mimas," I tell her. "Gotta go make sure everyone's okay before I go crazy."

"Alright," she nods. "Rest well. Ah… you wouldn't happen to know what exactly is going on up there, would you?"

I shake my head.

"Not a fucking clue."

Penelope takes a moment to stare up at the hole in the sky, her soul twinging with that mortifying mix of melancholy, nostalgia, and hate that usually means she's thinking about Galdra. I can't help but wonder why, but I know better than to press right now.

"I want to find out," she says. "Somehow I feel as though it changes everything."

I nod. If no one else, Nawra probably knows. We'll be sure to ask her. …But later. I just spent all day teleporting around the entire continent and devouring metal supplies while yelling at people to shut up and get away from unstable structures. And frankly, it didn't go well. I don't want to think about the number of people who inevitably just died. I'm grumpy and exhausted and my everything hurts. My soul hurts.

…Though that could also be growing pains from the metamorphosis. Also the new holes in my Athanatos body. I really need to rest.

"We'll figure it out," I say, not really knowing if we will. "Love you, Penelope."

"Love you, Vita."

I pull more of myself into the world, my mana channel glutted, swollen, and sore, before shaping it into a teleportation spell and appearing in the center of Mimas. Next to my home. The emotional spectrum of souls here is noticeably different from the Skyhope refugee camp, as while everyone is still terrified of the sky, no one is in personal danger beyond that. It's a deep general anxiety, but one mitigated by the people here still holding their loved ones in the comfort of their own homes. No one seems to be injured, no homes seem to be destroyed. I make a mental note to do something special for To-Kill-From-Above. His architecture knowledge, even if it's just something passed down to him from the masters of his craft before him, is why my people can rest so easily.

It's so easy to see why Liriope makes our men this way, Zoi comments. Who wouldn't want an army of perfect servants? It's like if all our Revenants were also masters at anything we could ever want them to do.

And yet it feels wrong. Because they're controlled. They're free insofar as anyone who desires servitude can be free. And that's the question which keeps bothering me: is it wrong to control someone who wants to be controlled? It feels like the answer is really obviously 'no,' but things feel like they break down when I wonder why.

I feel like we've had plenty of evidence as to why it's bad, though!? Theodora. Norah. Fucking Penelope!

Yes, of course, that's all horrific and fucked up, but it's horrific and fucked up because none of those people wanted to be controlled. At least not while they weren't being controlled, anyway. But is that universal? Was it wrong to have made To-Kill-From-Above, a born servant who loves servitude and by all accounts lives a very happy life here? Would it be wrong to control someone who, without being coerced into it, asks to be made into a servant? And if yes, why? What element of morality is more important than the happiness of the society and people for whom the moral system is built? What the fuck am I missing?

Why is Liriope and humanity so damn incompatible?

"Weird time to be lost in thought, don't you think?" Lyn asks, exiting our house and giving me a cocky grin.

"Actually, it's my experience that world-shattering acts of god make for an excellent backdrop for introspection," I say, glancing up at the sky again. The Mistwatcher seems to be drinking the last of the sphere's glowing center, the chunks of crust that formed the shell heading towards us, likely to become new islands.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lyn chuckles, walking over and giving me a one-armed side hug. I lean my head onto her shoulder.

"So, uh. What the fuck is going on, exactly?" she asks.

"Why does everyone keep assuming that I know?" I grumble.

"Because, honey, when one of my kids starts eating souls and growing tentacles and ranting about how the very foundation of our world is a lie perpetuated to maintain the power of the Church, I feel like I wouldn't be a supportive mother if I didn't have faith in your ability to be the cause of every wrathful act of god thereafter."

I chuckle, wrapping a few tendrils around her.

"I love you, mom. I'd be so dead without you."

"Yeah, probably. Not like that would have stopped you."

"True enough," I smirk.

We stand together, holding each other and staring up at the impossible sky. Quiet and loving, it's exactly the sort of beautiful moment I need after today.

"...Okay, but when I asked if you knew what was going on I was hoping for at least a general guesstimate, you know?" Lyn says, clearing her throat. "Y'know like, uh, are we all about to die, or…?"

"Oh!" I jolt. "Oh, no, no no no. You're not gonna die. This has happened before, apparently, I know some people who survived… whatever this is. You're fine, you can relax."

"Oh thank fuck," Lyn sighs. "We're good? Everything's good?"

"Yeah! Yeah, so far as I know. There might be some falling rocks later but I'll take care of 'em. Also I think the calendar is about to stop working? Like. Years will be different. Uh. That sort of thing."

"Cool!" Lyn grins. "Awesome. Okay. Who needs calendars anyway? Good luck with the rocks, kiddo."

"Not a kiddo!" I protest.

"You'll always be my kiddo, kiddo!"

I sigh, shaking my head as I pull away from her. Now that she mentions it, I should probably at least go reassure people that we're not all about to die. I'll start with people I know personally, mostly because I'm tired, and then do a general announcement.

"Bye, mom. Tell everyone hi. I'll be by later once… well, all this is taken care of."

"Alright, I'll let them know you are one hundred percent taking care of this whole 'the sky opens up and god walks through it to eat a marble' thing," Lyn nods, giving me two thumbs up. "Knock 'em dead!"

"Thanks mom," I smirk, and walk towards Jelisaveta's house. She, uh, feels like she's freaking the fuck out about something, so I should see if I can help. I could just teleport, but… eh. I'm tired as fuck.

I stroll down the uncharacteristically quiet streets, wondering how much damage was done in places I can't see. Were loose and fragile objects secured? I wish I knew anything about any of this. I suppose the downside to being used to servants taking care of everything is that I end up kind of incompetent at those tasks.

Unlike most of the town, I find Jelisaveta outside her house, still staring up at the sky with a look of horror on her face. I take my time getting to her, glancing up to follow her gaze but not really able to see whatever it is she's freaking out about.

"You okay?" I ask instead, since I'm pretty sure she's not and that's the polite way to breach the subject.

"There's people up there," she says quietly.

I can't help it, I have to do a double-take at that.

"What?" I ask. "On the marble?"

"Yes," she says. "On it and on the rock coming off it, too. I can't see them very well, but… there are buildings. Enormous structures. Farms. People. Millions of them. Maybe billions. And it… it's all being torn apart."

Holy shit. Okay.

"I'm not… I'm sorry, Jelisa, I don't think I can help them," I say softly.

Jelsaveta doesn't react for a moment, just staring up at the sky until her mind catches up with the conversation and she turns to me in shock.

"What? Oh, Watcher, no no no. I didn't mean it like that, Vita. You've done enough. Thank you. It, ah, it looks like some of them are surviving, at least. Somehow. I think the Mistwatcher is keeping them alive on purpose, on top of those new islands it's making."

"That's crazy," I sigh. Shit, is that where we come from? "How do they not all fall off that orb? Are they all on top of it, or something?'

"Um… I don't know," Jelsa says, squinting up at the ongoing apocalypse. "I'm not sure the orb has a top, really. I think they were all over the outside. And I mean, I always thought that down was just the direction of the Mistwatcher, but… now he's up there, and we're not falling up, so…"

"So who the fuck knows how anything works anymore," I finish for her. "Yeah. I get it. I managed to catch a glimpse off the edge of the island during my rounds, and… I'm not quite sure how to describe it. There were islands below us, and then the spot where the Mistwatcher usually is was empty, and then beyond even that were yet more islands. But like… upside down. The ones on the far side of the Mistwatcher were oriented the other way. Like a big sphere all around him. And I knew that's how the world was shaped, but… seeing it without the centerpiece was a little jarring."

"I can only imagine," Jelisa says quietly.

"The Mistwatcher isn't a god," I say. "He's just… whatever I am, but way, way bigger. I've known that for a long time now, but… fuck. I never really got how much bigger until now. The matter of scale is… I'll never catch up with that. I'll never even come close to touching it. Not in a million years. Not in a billion. So what am I supposed to do?"

Another pause. Jelisa doesn't seem to have an answer, so we just continue staring upwards until she decides on another subject.

"Lark's not home yet," Jelisa states evenly, though I suspect her torrent of worry would be pretty obvious even to non-empaths.

"She was okay last I saw," I reassure her. "You know Lark. She'll probably be out helping until she collapses."

"Yeah," Jelisa nods. "That's exactly why I'm worried."

…Oh, okay. Point.

"I'll go find her when things calm down a little," I promise. "I just need to make sure I don't collapse. Unlike Lark, I still have to sleep."

"Of course, yeah," Jelisa agrees, staring back up at the sky.

"...You, uh, you get some rest too, okay?" I prod her. "I'm not sure it's a great idea to go out of your way to witness a civilization's last moments."

Jelisa doesn't budge, instead just shrugging helplessly.

"Who else is going to?" she asks.

Oh, Jelisa.

"...Alright, if you're sure," I tell her, because I doubt I'll argue you out of it. "Let me know if you see anything that looks like it might be falling our way, alright? We're not technically out of the woods yet."

She nods, so I nod back and depart. I have a short list of things to do here in town—praise To-Kill, do the rounds with my Revenants to make sure they're okay, reassure the villagers that the worst has passed, stuff like that—but once I finish it all up there's only really one more thing I plan to do before passing the fuck out: introduce my sister to… well, my sisters. And brothers. And mom and dad. It's time for Tala to meet my other family.

I find her soul by the Liriope teleportation platform and fly on over to meet her. She, uh, seems to be directing a few dozen workers for some reason. As in, Liriope workers.

"Most people here are just going to attack or flee from those on sight, you know," I tell her, floating down to stand beside her.

"Huh?" she asks, blinking up at me in surprise. "Why would… oh, right, the war and stuff."

"Yes, Tala," I smirk. "The 'war and stuff.'"

"Well… phooey!" she sighs. "Dang it, I thought I was being all clever getting some men donated for this. I just… I'm not sure how else to help, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," I nod. "Uh… gosh, I mean, we could maybe have them set up homes and stuff in a completely separate clearing from the one we're keeping the humans in, then move them in afterwards? No contact?"

"Oh, yeah!" Tala agrees, brightening up again. "Good idea, Mal-Mal!"

"Every few days or so I'm allowed to have one of those," I joke. "I'll let Penelope know they're on the way."

I cast a quick communication spell designed to only be detectable by a specific spell that Penelope has active to send her the information, then help Tala give the men instructions so they actually know where to go. Then, finally, with all our work done, we can go talk to Lyn, Rowan and the kids!

"Come on!" I laugh, yanking her along by one arm.

"U-uh, is now really the best time?" Tala hedges. "There's sort of an apocalypse going on."

"Yeah, but it's not our apocalypse," I dismiss. "Besides, someone will give us a heads-up long before any falling debris can get close to us."

'Uh… yeah, I mean, I guess…"

I chuckle.

"You're nervous about meeting the rest of my family, aren't you?" I prod her, again phrasing it as a question instead of a statement of fact. I'm getting good at that!

"I just… it's… y'know. A bunch of humans I've heard you tell stories about?" Tala says hesitantly. "I don't know them. I won't even be able to understand them. It's gonna be suuuper awkward so if I'm being honest I'm really tempted to just wait like, what, fifty or sixty years until they die?"

"Tala!" I chide, punching her lightly on the shoulder. "Don't be like that, it won't be that bad! Besides, they're not gonna die of old age anyway, they're gonna be immortal."

"Uh, wait, really?" Tala blinks. "Won't the Progenitor get super mad at you if you uplift a savage species like that?"

"She'll only get mad if I do it," I dismiss. "She doesn't care if Penelope does it. It's fine if a species uplifts themselves, right?"

"Uh. I mean. I guess so. …You haven't helped her though, right?"

"Not in any way I can't cover up!" I answer cheerfully. "Anyway, we're here!"

We land on my porch and I let Tala inside, calling out for my family. A swarm of children soon converge on us from around the house, Lyn and Rowan behind them.

"Greetings, sisters of my sister," Tala says, bowing with excessive formality. "Mother and donor, as well. Your flesh is my flesh. It is my honor to be one with your lineage."

Hmm. How the fuck do I translate this? She's excluding the boys bar Rowan mostly because of a quirk of culture where Queens and Princesses don't really have brothers, and even Rowan is being called 'donor' because dads aren't really a thing either, except for animals and, er, 'savages.' So she's actually being really respectful by calling him my donor instead of my father, but I don't think that'd come across well. Also the whole 'it is my honor to be one with your lineage' line is mostly for like, when a Queen has dated another Queen for so long that they're basically married and consider each other's parents to be their parents and that's… I mean, it's the closest cultural equivalent to what's going on here but explaining that might feel a little incesty by human standards so I can't really say it that way. Um. Shoot, this is unexpectedly difficult, uh…

"...She says hi," I decide.

"Well hello to you too!" Lyn greets. "It's nice to meet you, Tala!"

"Yes, we've heard a lot about you," Rowan nods. "I suppose it's largely thanks to you that our daughter has been able to be happy on your island, so I thank you for that."

"Can I climb you!?" Ronnie nearly yells. "Vita lets us climb her!"

"...They say hi back," I translate for Tala. "Also, Ronnie wants to climb you."

"Is that, um, a normal human greeting?" Tala asks.

"No. It is not."

"...Then I respectfully decline."

The conversation continues, and I'll be the first to admit it's awkward. I really wish I had Penelope or To-Kill here to do the translation for me, because I'm super bad at this. I let Ronnie and whoever else wants to climb on me instead, and the conversation mostly goes okay. It doesn't go badly, at least, so I'm glad it happens at all. I want my family to at least know each other. I'm not really sure why. I guess it's important to me that the people who are important to me get along and have some connection beyond my stories. I want to be a part of the things the people I care about are a part of, and I likewise want them to be a part of the things I'm a part of. The interconnectedness is… comforting, in some way.

A prod from Nawra jolts my attention and I scowl slightly, focusing on the mana world for a moment to see what she wants.

Still sapient, honey? she asks jokingly. How's your island?

About as good as can be expected for a place with no comprehension of what the fuck just happened, I answer. Speaking of: what the fuck just happened?

Hmm. Well, the short answer is that as big as big brother is, the world outside his loveless cradle is infinitely bigger, perhaps literally so. So he roams around with us in tow, slurping up metal and new prisoners and whatever else catches his fancy. This sort of thing happens every five hundred to a thousand years or so.

That's… wow. I manage. So this is where we all come from, I assume? Humans and Athanatos and everybody? We're from those weird sky orbs? And he just like… breaks them apart and steals us?

Right on the money! Nawra confirms. It's nasty business. The new souls he puts in everyone he keeps alive tend to wipe their memories or drive them mad, too, possibly by design. I believe he tries to destroy the cultures of the people he takes on purpose, resetting them to minimize the chances that they'll be able to fight back. Of course, some things always remain stuck in the cracks, like written works and whatever technology he fails to destroy.

That's still so horrific, though. I comment, awed. But… wait. If every species here actually comes from one of those sky orbs, where do the sky orbs come from?

I have absolutely no idea! Nawra answers cheerfully.

Well, fair enough I guess!

Indeed! So anyway dear sister, the reason I'm bothering you is that this situation actually presents a unique opportunity for convenient travel. With him all the way out in the great void, he's not really capable of paying much attention to little things like you and I. So rather than taking a long, frustrating journey from island to island, constantly fearing big brother's wrath, you should be able to fly straight here! I would greatly love for you to visit, it'd really put a nice bow on this stinking pile of shit that is the Skybreak happening at least fifty years before my plans were in ideal condition. And I'd have to wait ten times that for this to happen again!

Aw, sorry sis. I commiserate.

It's fiiiiine, she groans. Don't worry about it. What's another thousand years, really? Anyway, I'm getting the place all cleaned up for you. Please come by soon! I never get good company these days! Here, I'll make you a map.

She forms herself into an image of the current island configuration, labeling both Liriope and wherever she is, an island that, on the map, looks like any other. A quick mana-made image of the island closer up also appears, and though it, too, looks unremarkable I do my best to memorize its shape. We're pretty damn far from Nawra's island, but I suppose with the power I've recently acquired I can probably fly people there without too much difficulty.

Thank you, I tell her. One concern, though: it looked like the Mistwatcher was getting pretty close to done eating that sky orb thing? If I start heading over there and he finishes, won't I absolutely, definitely die?

Oh honey, no! Nawra dismisses. No, we're nowhere close to done, darling. This is just the appetizer. He targets occupied planets first, you see, but there's far more than that nearby. Don't you worry about a thing, darling Vita. I'd give this twenty days minimum before big brother even thinks about coming back.

Alright, I tell her. It looks like you're a good way away from where I am, but I should be able to make the trip within the next few days? I'll keep you posted.

Wonderful! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. It'll be so lovely to meet you in the flesh, love!

Likewise, I answer back, surprised at my own honesty. My girlfriend and I have actually been taking bets on what your body will be like. I think you'll like her.

Exciting! Well then, I shan't spoil the surprise for you any more than I already have, darling. See you soon!

See you, Nawra.

"Vita, honey?" I hear Lyn say as I come back to my body. "You alright?"

"Sorry, what?" I ask, shaking the fog from my head.

"You spaced out a bit there," Tala says.

"Just talking with Nawra," I answer. "Looks like we have our flight plan figured out. You sure you don't wanna come with us, Tala?"

"Noooope, count me out, sorry," Tala answers firmly. "Your humans are weird but at least they're not illegal to talk about by decree of the Progenitor. That's a level of 'fuck this' that exceeds my thresholds, sis."

"I understand," I nod. "What about you, Lyn?"

"What about me what?" she asks. Oh, right, the language barrier.

"You sure you don't wanna come with me to meet Nawra?" I ask.

"Oh. Nah, I should stay here with the kids," she answers, shaking her head. "Bring me a souvenir, though?"

"...You want me to bring you a souvenir from the crazy biomancer's lair? The place called 'The Island of Life and Death?'"

"Uh, yeah? Now I want one even more, that sounds kickass."

"...Please don't bring us anything dangerous," Rowan sighs.

"Sure. Okay. If I can find literally anything on the island which fits that criteria, I'll see if I can nab it," I drawl.

"Thanks, honey!" Lyn grins. "Maybe something for the kids, too?"

I sigh, clutching both sides of my face.

"What are they saying?" Tala asks me.

"...It's difficult to translate," I lie brazenly.

Tala starts to call me on it, but Jelisa sends me an alert about a rock falling our way, so I respectfully but rapidly bow out of the conversation, teleporting into the air to intercept. It's just a big rock, nothing I can't handle.

…It's weirdly embarrassing that my genocidal bug person relatives are somehow the sane side of the family.