Chapter 92

I stepped home to the smell of dinner.

Mirri stood in the kitchen, working over the stove with the quiet focus she always had when cooking. Nim swept the floor nearby, moving the broom back and forth with surprising calm. Vel and Thae stood at the table, carefully cutting vegetables under Mirri’s watchful eye.

Tansy and Moss were embedded in the wall like Han Solo in carbonite.

Clo was nowhere to be seen.

I wrapped Mirri in a hug and kissed the top of her head. My girlfriend. I suppose that was what she was now. What all three of them were. No longer just companions. They were girlfriends. Mates. Lovers.

Maybe someday they’d be wives.

“So,” I said, glancing around the room. “What did the troublemakers do?”

“Moss bit Nim,” Mirri replied, not even looking up from the pot she was stirring. “I stuck her feet in the stone, but she fought so hard she broke her ankle. I healed it and moved her to the wall instead. I’ll let her out in a few minutes.”

She jerked her chin toward the other girl.

“Tansy tore up one of Issa’s books. She’s in time-out too. Fifteen minutes left.”

I kissed Mirri’s head again. “Where’s Clo?”

“I think she’s outside with Torvek, Mak, and Ashlara.”

I nodded and walked over to the two ferals embedded in the stone. On the way, I ruffled Nim’s hair and gave him a smile. That seemed to confuse him more than anything else, but he kept sweeping.

I stopped in front of Moss. “Why did you bite Nim?”

She growled and twisted against the stone.

“Use your words. Why did you bite Nim?”

“He was in my way,” she said.

“And what did we say about biting people?”

She frowned. “No biting.”

“Right. Next time don’t bite him. Ask him to move. Nicely.” I pointed toward Nim. “He’s part of the family. Part of the pack. We protect the people in our pack - we don’t hurt them. That goes for everyone here. Torvek. Tib. Lilae. Brinja. All of them.”

Her eyes flicked toward Nim for a moment.

“What are you going to do next time Nim is in your way?” I asked.

“No biting,” she muttered.

“And?”

“Ask him to move,” she said, pouting.

“Good.”

I raised my voice slightly. “Can I let Moss down, Mirri?”

“If she promises to behave,” Mirri called back with a smile in her voice.

I looked back at Moss. “You going to behave?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I sang softly. The stone softened and slid away from her body. Moss stumbled free, stretching her arms and legs. She was nearly the size of a nine-year-old now.

She took off.

“Go play with Ashlara,” I called after her.

I stepped over to Tansy. “Why did you tear up Issa’s book?”

“It was stupid,” she spat. Her face reddened as she strained against the stone.

“That’s not a reason. Why did you tear it up?”

“I couldn’t read it,” she snarled.

“Did you ask someone to help you?”

She looked away.

“If you’d asked, someone would have helped. Issa. Brinja. Elarion. Any of them.”

I leaned closer. She snapped at me, teeth clicking in the air inches from my nose.

“No breaking things,” I said calmly. “That’s rule number three. You remember the rules: no biting, no hitting, no breaking.”

She glared.

“So what are you going to do next time you get frustrated?”

“Biting, hitting, breaking,” she said through clenched teeth.

I sighed and straightened.

“Give her another fifteen minutes, Mirri. She still needs to think about what she did.”

* * *

After dinner I made my rounds.

First I asked Torvek to help me in the smokehouse. We checked the brine barrels together - making sure the meat stayed fully submerged, skimming the foam from the surface, adjusting the weights and lids. It was work I’d done a dozen times by myself, but that wasn’t really the point.

Teenage boys don’t spend time with father figures unless there’s a reason.

So we worked. And we talked.

I asked about his studies. Mirri handled magic, Serah taught history, and Ashlara drilled them in how to defend themselves. Everyone got all three - whether they liked it or not.

Torvek, unsurprisingly, favored Ashlara’s lessons.

He was shaping up to be a solid fighter. Strong, aggressive, comfortable with fists and blades. He didn’t have much patience for the bow or the spear - he liked to get close.

I suggested we go hunting sometime to put his archery lessons to use. He shrugged, but didn’t say no. With Torvek, that was practically enthusiasm.

Eventually I asked about Wolfsend. About going back. He paused, hands resting on the rim of a barrel as he stared down into the dark brine. For a moment I wondered if he’d forgotten entirely that he had family there - that the whole plan had always been to reunite them.

He’d only been here a month. But he’d folded into our little chaos fast. And I knew he cared about the others. He never really answered the question. So I told him the only thing that mattered.

“That door’s always open. No matter what you decide.”

He nodded once, thoughtful.

After that I found Elarion and suggested a walk. We started in silence, the cool night air settling around us. Eventually conversation came easy.

I asked him the same questions about his studies. Unlike Torvek, Elarion loved the bow. Short blades too. Quick weapons. Elegant ones. And he was excelling in Mirri’s and Serah’s classes. The kid had a sharp mind.

I offered him the same hunting trip idea. His eyes lit up immediately. The contrast between the boys couldn’t have been clearer. Torvek brooded like a typical fifteen-year-old. Elarion, at eleven, still had that eager spark.

I asked him about Caelwynne - about finding his family in the spring. He was torn. Part of him missed them. Missed other elves. Missed something like the life he’d known.

But we were family now too.

I told him the same thing I told Torvek. “Whatever you decide, you’ve always got a place here.”

Finally I found Issa in the common room, curled up with a book.

I grabbed one from the library - something dense and political about Morentis - and sat beside her. We read in silence. After a few minutes she leaned her head against my shoulder and stayed there, eyes scanning the page with quiet focus.

When it got late, we tucked everyone in. The girls and I set up our watch schedule for the ferals. They gave me the last shift - apparently they didn’t trust me to wake anyone up if it was my turn earlier. Which was fair.

The ferals were improving. Still violent sometimes. Still prone to biting when frustrated. But better. Maybe we wouldn’t need the night watch much longer.

I fell asleep between two beautiful women and slept deeply, only waking when it was time for shift changes and I had to pull someone new into my arms.

Mirri woke me for my turn. She looked tired, but amused.

“The girls started becomin’ women tonight,” she said. “There were some… complications with the blood. I managed to calm them down. Explained what was happenin’. How to handle it.”

I stared at her for a moment. Then I quietly thanked whatever **** governed destiny that it had happened on her watch and not mine.

Because if I’d walked in and seen blood everywhere, I would have assumed someone had been hurt and panicked accordingly.

* * *

Yveth returned the next morning while we were eating breakfast. I hadn’t seen her since my birthday.

She once again wore the same plain, pale gray dress, her white hair braided neatly down her back. The kohl around her eyes had returned to its usual streaked state, as if the tears that marked it had never truly dried.

“May we speak?” she asked. Her voice carried that same mournful weight it always did.

“Sure,” I said. “In private, or here?”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting over the children gathered around the table. It lingered on the ferals - Vel, Thae, Tansy, Moss, Clo, and Nim - before she looked back to me.

“Here will be fine.”

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked, pulling out a chair for her.

She shook her head and sat. “I hear you convinced Aurelion of your innocence.”

“Solenna did that,” I said. “I just told the truth.”

She nodded slowly. Her eyes drifted again toward the children.

“The… children are growing quickly.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Keeping them clothed and fed has been a challenge, but we’re managing. That first night was… rough.”

“There are others,” she said bluntly.

“Others like ours?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It appears Urzan-Brak’s destruction affected every pregnancy in the world. Children came to term within moments. Many mothers died during the birth. Many of the… children died as well.”

Mirri’s expression fell, her ears drooping slightly. “I hoped it was just the goblins,” she said quietly. “It must have been terrible.”

“In many cases,” Yveth continued, lowering her gaze, “the… children attempted to consume their mothers. Panic followed.”

The room grew still.

“But some survived. Mortals have begun naming them.” Her voice remained steady, though there was something heavy beneath it. “Bloodchildren. Devourlings. The orcs call them Khar-vek. The dwarves call them Valgrin. Among the elves they are known as Caereth Valmyra.”

“There have been other changes as well,” she added. “There is bloodlust in the world. Soldiers fight until **** rather than retreat when wounded.”

“I’ve seen that firsthand,” I said. “The Iron Nation and Arvellia were already fighting when I arrived. It was… brutal. Wounds that should have stopped someone barely slowed them.”

She nodded.

“I have witnessed the aftermath of a god’s **** before,” she said slowly. “Urzan-Brak’s Faith now moves through the world without direction. Nothing restrains the horrors of war. Nothing slows the escalation of ****.”

She paused. “But it is not entirely uncontrolled.”

“You mean there’s a new god of carnage already?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. It is far too soon. His Faith still floods the world.” Her eyes shifted to me, troubled. “But not all of it.”

She looked deeply uncomfortable before continuing. “What did Lunythera tell you when she visited?”

“That I wouldn’t start this war,” I said, “but that I’d end it.”

“What else?”

“That the High Witan didn’t make me a god. I already was one. Or at least… I was swarming when they found me.”

“And what did they do?” she asked.

“They infused me with Faith.”

“Whose Faith?” she pressed.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Yveth looked at me with quiet certainty. “I do.”

* * *

“Hold up,” I said, raising a hand. “Are you telling me they pumped Urzan-Brak’s Faith into me to help me ascend?”

She shook her head. “No. That likely would have driven you mad. They gave you Faith from each of the twelve.”

“And what - some of that is still in me?”

Again she shook her head. “It is no longer theirs. Whatever they gave you has already been spent.”

“Then what are we talking about?” I asked.

“I do not know the method they used,” she admitted. “Nor how they did the same for Brand. But I believe some of the Faith that fills you now is not only belief without proof.” She studied me carefully, as if measuring something she could not quite name.

“Most mortals can touch only a handful of aspects of magic,” she continued. “Elements. Schools. Weaves - whatever term they prefer. You, however, draw upon them all. You have imposed your Will upon leaders - mortal and divine. You shaped this keep from bare stone and fallen timber. You shield those you care for.”

“And that means I’m somehow siphoning their Faith?” I asked.

“Not from them,” she said quietly. “From the world. As though fragments of their aspects have become yours.”

I rubbed a hand across my face. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Nor do I,” she said. “But the signs point in that direction.”

I let out a long breath. “So what does that mean for me? I don’t even know who the twelve are. They didn’t exactly introduce themselves this time.”

“You have already named several,” she said. “Aurelion. Lunythera. Miralis. Solenna. Urzan-Brak. Elyndra.”

She counted the rest off with quiet precision.

“The others are Ashira, the Hearth that Devours. Dromaia, the Stone Womb. Kaelira, the Tempest Queen. Elthira, the Verdant Breath. Kareth, the Patient Hand. And Thalos, the Far Horizon.”

I leaned back in my chair. “So I’m some kind of super-god now?”

“You are… exceptional,” she said, though I doubted she caught the joke.

“Alright,” I said, pushing past that. “Different angle. Can I control more of Urzan-Brak’s Faith and stop this war?”

“I do not know,” she replied. “When I… broke, the new Faith did not come to me at once. It gathered slowly - over centuries. So slowly I barely noticed it happening.”

Her eyes lingered on me again. “But you are unlike anything I have ever seen. It is possible you may become the Beast’s successor. Or you may continue to grow, claiming more aspects while carnage finds another vessel.”

I let that sit for a moment. “Alright,” I said at last. “Then I’ll stick with what I can do right now.”