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The buzz of the market dulled around her, the crowd’s lively faces fading into a shapeless blur. Margaret stopped in the middle of the road, her basket dangling from her hand. For a moment, she couldn’t recall why she was there. She knew she was looking for something—something important—but the thought slipped through her grasp like water.

She stepped forward, her feet moving out of habit as her mind strained to remember. That something—it was small. It was warm. It was infuriating at times. It was a piece of her, inseparable, yet somehow she’d lost it. She had searched high and low in the house, but the more she looked, the heavier its absence had weighed on her. It was…

“Mam.”

The voice struck her like a bolt of lightning, familiar yet agonizing to hear. She froze, her breath caught in her chest. In that instant, she knew. She remembered what she had been searching for all this time. Slowly, almost fearfully, she turned around.

There he was. Not a day older than when she’d last seen him. That same mischievous grin, that same spark in his eyes—

“Junior!”

Her basket tumbled to the ground as Margaret broke into a run, throwing her arms around her son. His warmth enveloped her as he returned the embrace.

“Where’ve ya been?” Margaret choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We been worried sick, boy,” Johannes added, somehow already wrapping his arms around both of them. Margaret hadn’t even noticed when he joined the hug.

“Sorry I’ve been away, Mam, Pop,” Junior said softly. “There was this huge snake that bit me on the ankle. I couldn’t move, couldn’t do nothing—it hurt so bad. But then, a big ol’ bear came and saved me. Brought me here, even. You already met her before, right? She’s real kind, always looking out for us.”

“That so?” Johannes ruffled Junior’s hair, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you better.”

“That’s okay, darlin’.” Margaret wiped her tears, trying to keep her voice steady. “Now, let’s go home. I’ll make yer favorite puddin’.”

“I can’t.” Junior shook his head. His expression turned somber as he looked his parents in the eye. “Mam, Pop…I gotta go.”

“…What’re you talkin’ about?” Margaret’s voice cracked. “You’re here. With us. Our family’s finally complete again.”

“I gotta go,” Junior repeated, his voice heavy. “I shouldn’t even be here. Miss Bear—she gave me my wish; To say goodbye.” He paused, his gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son.”

“Nonsense,” Johannes said, his voice gruff yet trembling. “Yer the best son a father coulda asked for.”

“Where are you going?” Margaret whispered, her voice breaking further. “When’ll we see you again?”

Junior gave a small, bittersweet smile. “I’ll be by His side—”

“—Watching over you.”

Those last words echoed in her mind as Margaret jolted awake, gasping for breath. Her hand instinctively touched her face, feeling the warm trail of tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned to her side and saw Johannes lying there, his arm draped over his face.

“Margaret,” he groaned weakly, his voice trembling, barely concealing the sobs threatening to escape.

“Yeah, Johannes,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Lord be with us.”

♢♦♢♦♢

The air was electric with life from the bustling streets below, but the balcony of the Blue Orchid Pavilion’s finest suite remained a haven of quiet serenity. Abigail stepped outside, unfazed by the chill of night as she extended a hand toward the sky.

From her palm, a small ball of light emerged, glowing softly against the dark expanse. Its radiance was warm and gentle, a comforting contrast to the crisp night air.

“Thank you, Abby.”
“Mm,” Abigail murmured in reply.

The light gave a soft, childlike giggle as two smaller motes of light joined it, dancing together. The trio of lights drifted upward, untethered and unbound, ascending higher and higher until they melded into the constellation of stars above.

Abigail stood there, her silver hair gradually fading to grey as she watched the light embark on its new journey.

“Have a safe trip,” she prayed in a whisper.

The world seemed to hold its breath as she gazed at the stars, shimmered like scattered jewels against the dark canvas of the sky. Finally, she turned away, sliding the glass door shut behind her.

Warmth radiated from beneath the wooden floor, quickly chasing away the chill clinging to her skin, and the waft of spiced tea hit her nose immediately.

“Are you done?” Hildara asked, crossing her legs as she set her cup on the coffee table.

“Yes.” Abigail nodded.

“I see. Mind sitting down? I believe we have a lot to discuss.” Hildara gestured to the empty chair across from her.

Instead of taking the chair, Abigail walked over and sat on the bed.

Hildara made no comment on it and continued. “First things first, I’d like to know why you disappeared on us yesterday. If we did something to offend you, I want to apologize properly.”

“You were planning to exorcise the children. Nicholas told me about it.”

“Nicholas?” Hildara repeated the unfamiliar name.

Abigail turned her head toward the empty chair. Hildara followed her gaze—and there he was. The ghostly boy, casually sipping from her cup with both hands.

“Oh.”

“Puh-hah!” He lifted his face from the cup. “It’s spicy!” Exclaiming so, he politely put the cup back on the coffee table, completely empty.

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Hildara said, lamenting her tea. “Your own cute little spy that can turn invisible and phase through walls—guess that means there’s no use hiding anything from you. What about you, Abby? Anything you want to ask?”

Abigail pondered for a moment before speaking. “…Where’s Yamato?”

“Lady Yamato is en route to the Land of the Rising Sun. She departed yesterday—probably sleeping in the hull of an airship as we speak.” Hildara gestured absently as she explained. “May I ask why you’re asking?”

“Something about her feels…” Abigail paused, searching for the right word. “Nostalgic. But I didn’t see her in the grey-haired girl’s memory.”

“Which means this nostalgia comes from your other half—the ghost-like entity?” Hildara asked. Seeing Abigail’s hesitant nod, she sighed. “Well, talk about bad timing. A trip to, err, Hinamoto usually takes a week at most. Add in all the Celestial Bureaucracy nonsense, and the fastest we’ll hear back from her is a month from now.”

“I see.”

“You don’t look disappointed,” Hildara observed. “In fact, you’re not very expressive. I’ve seen my fair share of Deities, and they’re usually the most expressive bunch. I just want to know—why is that?”

“It’s the Snake,” Abigail answered readily.

“The snake?”

Abigail nodded. “My emotions influence these children, and in turn, they influence mine. I have to be careful with how I feel—otherwise, the Snake that tortures them might awaken.”

Meanwhile, Nicholas was peacefully nibbling on the tea sweets. Hildara, doing her best to ignore him, found herself wondering—not for the first time—why a ghost needed to eat and drink, and more importantly, where all of it went.

“Right, the snake,” she muttered absentmindedly.

“What about you, Hildara?”

“Hm?” Called by Abigail, Hildara’s attention snapped back to her. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“Ah, well, when there’s an unknown God on the loose in a town of 15,000 people, you tend to stay awake, like it or not.” She exhaled, then waved a hand. “No, wait, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry…”

“…Actually, let’s not beat around the bush anymore,” Hildara leaned forward. “Abby, while I believe you bear no ill will, you must understand—your power alone makes you a threat. Your very existence could trigger a national crisis.”

“That’s not my concern.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that. But it doesn’t change the fact that, if left unchecked, you’re a wild card that could endanger the people of Dragonsworne. And whether I like it or not, your ties to the Old Empire put you under the jurisdiction of Internal Affairs. Which means you’re my problem to deal with.”
“…”
“Alright, let’s put it this way. Say you were to wreak havoc right now—”

“I won’t,” Abigail interrupted.

“I know you won’t. Just humor me.” Hildara leaned back. “So, let’s say you, a fully realized Deity, decided to destroy this nation right at this moment. How long do you think I could hold you off before you kill me? An hour? Two?”

She scoffed. “No—it’s one minute, tops. Of course, that would be enough time for me to call for backup, and Lancelot would arrive using Portspell. A giant of a man, capable of splitting titans in a single swing. You’d kill him in under thirty minutes. The only person with any real chance of stopping you is Adalhard, and even that battle would drag on for days. How many innocent people would die by then? How many orphans would you make? How many children would you kill?”

Abigail’s mind flashed to the fiery pit. The Snake had claimed it was part of her, the other side of the same coin. Perhaps she had no intention of harming anyone—but if the Snake were ever to reappear, wielding her power—

“…I never asked for this power.”

“That’s the nature of power, Abby.” Hildara’s voice softened, but her gaze remained firm. “It never falls to the right people. The question is—what will you do with it? What do you want to become?”

Faced with the question, Abigail’s gaze drifted to Nicholas, who was just finishing his sweet treat.

“A baker,” she said firmly. “I want to be a baker.”

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