#planar posting

Aster wiggled a little in her place at the front of his saddle. Guitirre gave her a reassuring pat. "Almost, Aster, almost," he said. "I know." The mastiff yawned and made a whimpering bark. He gently hushed her and pet her a few more times, massaging the folds around her face.

Soon enough, just long enough to get the haughty bastard glaring at the High Marshal, a large and broad paladin properly dressed in his full plate appeared alongside a few of his own subordinates as well as a priest. It wasn't his husband, he noticed. Perhaps he was busy elsewhere.

"Arturo," Guitirre greeted, gently getting his horse to begin plodding forward. Once they were close enough, he stopped, turned his legs to mist, undid Aster's holdings and dismounted as he gently released the mastiff onto the ground. His attendants continued onward, wheeling their horses about.

"High Marshal," Arturo greeted, dipping his head out of respect. Guitirre smiled and came forward to take his arm.

"The rest of you can go about your various business," the High Marshal told the waiting attendants. "Plenty of paladins available to act as guards if you find the people here too intimidating." He made a broad gesture at the other paladins that were flanking Arturo. A few of them made barely disguised looks of disgust at the insinuation. One of the women took charge -- of course she did, she was Her Majesty's sixth cousin or something or other that Guitirre didn't bother remembering -- and they trotted more thoroughly into the small patch of territory that the Legion claimed for themselves.

"What are they here for?" Arturo asked once they were far enough away. Guitirre raised his brows a little, tilting his chin. He gently guided Arturo away a little. Aster trotted alongside dutifully.

"Her Majesty is all but furious about your report," he said, keeping his voice low. "Not at you, mind. She is glad that you aren't getting into trouble, but she's pissed, lad."

"Over what?" Arturo asked with a scowl. The large paladin's features creased. "We've been doing everything that has been asked of us!"

"As I said," Guitirre said, putting up his hand, "it isn't at you directly. She's mad that you're all idling here, which is why I am here."

"So why do you have those softies tailing you?" Arturo asked, tilting his chin over at the attendants who had now dismounted and were interviewing one of the priests. Guitirre made a motion with his hand, part of their war-sign that meant quiet.

"Because if I find that what you have stated is true and proper and you haven't been slacking --" he paused to put up his finger to forestall a comment that he knew was coming "-- I am to ride onwards to speak with the Emperor and demand an explanation. They are here because they are supposed to not only ensure that I am doing my job," Guitirre nodded at Arturo's open-mouthed and open-eyed expression, "but also in case we need to throw a bit of diplomatic and economic weight around."

"Ensure you are doing your job?" the Marshal asked, the words all but snarled. "After all that you have been doing?"

"Oh, trust me lad," Guitirre said, patting him on the shoulder with a smile that was all teeth, "I am quite pissed about the ordeal myself. But Her Majesty is tiring of me apparently dragging my feet despite myself, your mother, Sarria, Costanas, and Arguel now also having to catch the newest of our number up to speed --"

"You found a successor?" Arturo looked surprised. "Already? When was her confirmation?"

"Only..." Guitirre closed his eye to do some figuring. "Oh, less than two weeks ago."

"What?"

"Mhm." The High Marshal nodded. "And Her Majesty wants her out on campaign already. Two weeks."

"That's-" Arturo stopped himself, but Guitirre knew that there were several things he wanted to say that were borderline treasonous. Guitirre felt the exact same, so he just nodded and put a finger to his lips.

"So tell me what's been happening," he said, gesturing for Arturo to lead a little. "You've been idle."

"Yes," Arturo said with a bit of a sigh. "I don't want us to be, but here we are. We came into the bastion, we got all settled, and then I took myself and Lazaro into the nearest township to get ourselves a bit more acquainted with the local peoples."

"A good idea."

"I then returned to the bastion and we waited a couple of weeks to see if anything would happen. I invited for some of the other knights to head off and meet with the people of Kamigawa, which they have been doing."

"And there has been no trouble?"

"None," Arturo said with a nod. "There was a bit of a fuss when one of my paladins returned with a strange collection of books, but it has been settled."

"Oh?" Guitirre rose a brow at him. "How strange?"

"We have been enlightened to the nature of a form of Kamigawan literature called a 'yaoi'," Arturo answered. "We initially thought it was something meant to insult us because it contained some depicted obscenities, but we learned that this is more normalized in Kamigawan culture, and thus no insult was intended."

"You were shown some of their obscene literature?" Guitirre asked, blinking a few times.

"It does not always contain these things," Arturo said, putting up a finger. "But it can, and this one did. It is literature depicting a knight and his prince as lovers, so I think it was intended to act as a sort of bridge for us and the Kamigawans."

"It is homosexual literature?"

"Made by a normal woman, for other women," Arturo said. "You can tell." He paused. "Or... well. I suppose if you are not a homosexual, you would not know. But I can tell."

"Right," Guitirre said slowly. He put a mental pin in that. Maybe it would be educational, should he decide to follow through with what he and his wife arranged.

"I am told it is a somewhat popular art form in Kamigawa," he said. "I have read some parts of it. I had our translator working with me, and she explained the overall essence of the story."

"I do not think the Church would approve of obscene literature being passed around the bastion," Guitirre said. "I don't care, but I'd rather not rock the boat with them if I can help it. I already had Theodors on my hindquarters for long enough, and I'd like to keep them sympathetic to the Legion as long as I can."

"I know," Arturo said with a small shrug. "I told the paladins to keep it away from the priests for now. But we are also thinking of returning the favor and giving them a piece of our literature, but I do not know what we should send."

"They might enjoy something like Umbral Awakening," Guitirre suggested. Arturo tilted his head.

"Which one was that?"

"The de Mello work, the one with the woman who fought that beast that was hidden in the depths of a keep nestled in the Deoro."

"Oh, the one where her squire tries to betray her to that lord?"

"No, that's... oh, I can't remember the name, but no, this one is the longer poetic one, not the prose."

"The one where it's the king who turned into that beast or something?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"OH! I used to love that one when I was still a squire," Arturo said, nodding enthusiastically. "I didn't even think of that. I'll see if anyone has a copy."

"If not that, then see if you have anything by Generosa, I like her works well enough," Guitirre suggested. He waved his hand. "Regardless, I am glad to hear that we seem to be ingratiating ourselves with the Kamigawans well enough. Her Majesty ought to be happy as well." He kept an eye on the various paladins that were moving about, most doing training drills if they weren't on patrol. Plenty of them gave salutes or shouts of greeting, which he returned with a smile. His attendants were out of sight by now, but would be wanting to be moving on with him soon, he knew.

"Things are going well, we are simply... bored," Arturo said simply, shrugging. "There isn't much for us to do in an official capacity at the moment. No threats have materialized. And it isn't as though we aren't looking for them, of course we have been. Lazaro is out with one of the priests right now just to do some rounds and be certain."

"I was wondering where he was," Guitirre said. "How have things been with you two?"

"Very good."

"And how has the pregnancy gone?"

Arturo stopped, looking slightly startled by the question. Guitirre had a smile on his face, and he laughed.

"I'm in that little conversation on the communique too, you know," he said, keeping his voice low and giving him a wink. "Is all well there?"

"Yes," Arturo said slowly, looking like he was remembering how to speak. "All is well. He's definitely starting to get hungry."

"Any of the vomiting yet?"

"Bless the Saint, no," Arturo said, making a small sign of the rose. "Not yet. His younger sister didn't experience it with her recent pregnancy with her twins, but she did mention being exhausted more than usual."

"He isn't showing anything yet, is he?"

"No, not yet. Well." Arturo tilted his head. "Nothing through clothing."

Guitirre nodded, understanding well what he meant. "My grandson is currently going through it, though he's traduco, so he didn't go through the same route you two are. We're working on getting him settled as things ramp up."

"He-" Arturo blinked, then shook his head. "Nevermind. I won't ask."

Guitirre laughed again. "Well, it seems as though you've been doing your job plenty, which means I don't have to come out and do the whole, 'you need to improve, you need to do this, we're representing Torrezon,' blah blah blah." He made a wave with his hand. "This just means I get to tell Her Majesty's ears and eyes that all is well and we need to go poke around with the Imperial Court and ask what happened with this impending threat of theirs."

"I think they were just worried about a counterattack or more of a push after they lost everything," Arturo said, scratching at his beard.

"Perhaps," Guitirre said with a shrug. "Regardless, Her Majesty wants the Legion to be committed to getting Torrezon back for her. The Saint shot her some interesting looks as she made such declarations, so I am sure that Her Majesty is getting a fine education in how to stop being a warmongering bloodthirsty monarch from the Blessed One."

Arturo grunted. "I think she'll argue that we have to be as such," he said. "I've heard some of the paladins talking about that. Obviously wanton destruction, like that of the bat, is terrible because it will leave nothing left, but what will happen to us afterwards?"

"With any blessed luck, we'll hang up our weapons and armor and simply get to be," Guitirre answered. Arturo gave him a bit of a look. "That is what all of this is for, lad. We fight so that one day others may not have to. It doesn't render us completely useless, mind; we'll always need to have the Legion, but it means our days of being incredibly vicious and antagonistic and being bull-headed conquerors is behind us. We need to focus on reconciliation and managing what we already have."

"I know, but--"

"Ah," Guitirre put up his hand again. "But nothing. We won't be made obsolete, lad. See what we're doing here?" he gestured to the bastion. "This is what the Legion will be doing elsewhere, on other planes, so long as these omenpaths exist. Exploring, trading, meeting new people, fighting new battles for new friends or defending our homes against new enemies. There is already rumblings of ill tidings from Innistrad which has all but exacerbated the need to ensure you are being put to good use here. If not, we'll be recalling you."

Arturo's lips became a line, his fangs poking through them just a little. He tilted his head back and forth. "I am content with this, but I do not know if others will be."

"Well, that is for them to sort out, not you," Guitirre said with a shrug. "You are their commander. If they do not listen, then try reasoning with them. If that doesn't work, try unreasonable things. And if that still doesn't work, throw them to the wolves. I'm sure the condemners would love them." Guitirre held out an arm to stop Arturo as one of the courtiers approached them.

"Where is the condemner that is attached to the bastion?" she asked. Her voice was high and forced, as though she wasn't used to seeing Legionnaires as much more than focused weaponry. Guitirre gave her a smile.

"He is elsewhere with the junior clergy that was attached with our company," Arturo answered. "Why?"

"We wanted to ask about the potential disciplinary actions that have been taken against those residing here," she answered.

"None have been needed nor taken," Arturo answered. "We've been doing our job."

"Well, if that were true, then we wouldn't have had to come all this way to the middle of nowhere, now would it?" she asked, giving a smile and a forced laugh. "We could all still be at home, and we'd all be doing better things."

"Now that feels a bit harsh, Jacinta," Guitirre said, now glad he had his arm out from the way he felt Arturo's weight shifting behind it. "Kamigawa is a wonderful plane."

"Oh, I am sure it is," she said, still keeping a smile on her face.

"That aside," Guitirre said carefully, flashing Arturo a look so that he'd wipe the deep scowl off his face, "I already spoke with my Marshal. All is well; the paladins have ingratiated themselves with the people and have been keeping themselves sharp and orderly."

"Wonderful," she said, clapping her hands together. "Well, if we can't find this priest, then I suppose we should be heading off?"

"You don't want to stay for a day?" Guitirre asked, putting a hand on his sheathed blade and tilting his head. "Is the stonework not to your liking?"

"I prefer beds made with more than just straw or a handful of feathers, yes," Jacinta said, tittering and covering her mouth as she did so. "We were promised excellent lodging in their heartcity."

Guitirre couldn't tell if it was Aster or Arturo growling. "I haven't been able to make a full assessment. I will need at least two or three nights to verify what I've been told and to see what concerns my lads might be able to raise. But if you lot want to ride on, you have the maps and know the roads as well as I would, so go ahead and get your better bedding. I will meet with you in three nights. That should be enough time for their Emperor to be ready to speak with us, and enough time for you lot to get your good graces in with the people of the city."

"Perfect! I'll let the others know." Jacinta didn't give much other thought to Arturo, instead turning on her elegantly-crafted heel and making her way back to her fellows. Arturo huffed.

"Soft-handed fops," he growled.

"Easy, lad," Guitirre warned. "I can only protect you so much."

"I know." Arturo crossed his arms with a small clank of his plate. "I will see if I can reach my nephew Calisto to give a warning to the Emperor about your arrival."

"Is Koda not available?"

"I think he is off with his..." Arturo paused. "... friend? Partner? I do not fully remember what their relations are." He frowned a little, shaking his head and making a dismissive gesture. "They are on a hunting expedition on his home plane."

"Ah." Guitirre nodded. "Well, good for him. I hope it goes well, the lad deserves a bit of a break."

"Me too," Arturo agreed. "As do all of us, I think."

"Is this not a break for you?" Guitirre asked with a raised brow. He laughed and gently nudged Arturo as he was about to respond. "I'm just teasing, lad. You're right. Though, speaking of which..." He rubbed his short beard. "I think I'd like to meet some of the Kamigawans in the area. We can bring some of the lads and lasses with us to do it, make it a small cultural exchange or something."

Arturo brightened up a little at that. "I'll see what books we have to swap with them."

"Good lad. I'll leave you to organizing who's coming and who isn't. I need to take Aster on a short walk to make sure she does her business," Guitirre said, patting his shoulder. "I'll meet you in the courtyard."

"Yes, sir," Arturo said with a small salute. Guitirre whistled to grab Aster's attention before the two parted ways. He heard Arturo already starting to call out names like it was a roll call, and he shook his head and snickered to himself.

He took Aster out towards the boundaries of what the Legion was occupying, letting her do her own sniffing and exploring. He saw some evidence of the wolf that Arturo had brought with him and gently booted Aster away from it. Best not to make that wolf anxious or irritated.

The mastiff went along and did her business, then Guitirre went to return to the bastion before he noticed that she wasn't moving much. He called for her and whistled for her, but she was intently focused on something in the ground. Guitirre came over, his brows drawing together.

"What is it?" he asked, crouching next to her. "Hm? Do you smell something? Hear something?" He looked at the ground that she was staring at, her ears raised and her nose twitching. He paused and waited. He let his lower half dissolve into mist, just to see if maybe something would happen if his presence wasn't felt. He waited and watched.

Nothing.

But he knew better than to dismiss a mastiff outright. Though his gifts through the Rite were many, mastiffs had better noses and sometimes better ears for things than even vampires did. He stayed there for a short while, letting his other senses drift outwards a little. He wasn't as skilled in the magics that were granted to him by the Rite aside from those necessary to do his duty -- most of that was for the priests, anyway -- but anyone who had taken it knew how to feel for a pulse and feel the flow of life around them.

So he let that sense uncurl and unfurl outwards, and he was surprised at how much he couldn't feel. The Pestoxy had most certainly done a number to this place. So much of it was dead or dying. There were swamps and other quagmired badlands like this in Torrezon, yes, especially after the invasion, but this was almost new.

Until... hm. His brows drew together a bit further. A flicker. Of... something. Something not living, not like an animal, but rather more like a... plant, he thought. And something... else.

He slowly backed away, patting his chest. Aster whimpered at him, but he patted himself again, and the mastiff finally broke away.

Something for the priests, he decided. Perhaps they wouldn't be staying so idle after all.

Food for consideration. But he'd have to be careful about how it was framed. Arturo was on thin enough ice as it was, and he'd rather not see him go under entirely. Besides, how would he be able to know about this? That wolf of his was a rambunctious thing, with the potentiality of being a good fort guard, but nothing too focused. It was a wolf, not a dog.

He shook his head, made sure Aster had nothing else left to do her business with, then went to go join his lads and lasses in the courtyard in order to get a better familiarization with Kamigawan life and culture. He did, just before he left, put a bug into the ear of a nearby idling priest to let them go check it out, not saying anything other than, "Aster seemed to think there was something out there. You might want to poke your own head over, just to be safe." The priest had given him a bit of a bored and tired look, but shrugged and said that he would.

If he came back to a ruckus at the bastion, he'd know that there was something there worth worrying about. There was the potential for this being known already, and it just being a quirk of Kamigawa. He didn't know, but he'd find out. Just later.

For now, he had new things to learn and faces to see. The paladins were already hotly debating the literature and poetry and art to be shared the entire way in. Occasionally Guitirre would weigh in, but he decided to let them do the deciding. They might know a bit better than he did when it came to what these people would enjoy. Their translator came with them, naturally, and Guitirre made proper introductions and thanked her for her infinite patience. From the slightly tired look on her face, she appreciated it.

"Has the Marshal told you about the books we received?" one of the lieutenants asked. The translator had a more tired expression come over her, but Guitirre nodded.

"Oh, aye lass, I know," he said. "I am curious to see what more they will be showing to us in regards to their fine literary traditions."

That got a laugh from the paladins, and Guitirre joined in with a chuckle of his own. It felt good being able to laugh with his soldiery.

Even if it did make their guide appear as though she was contemplating her entire career path. If anything, that made it better.

"Maybe they'd even enjoy what we have to offer when it comes to such texts," he suggested. That got another laugh from the paladins.

"I have a copy of Odes to a Midnight Dream!" one of them said excitedly. Arturo snorted.

"That one is childish. A Song of Stars is far more fitting," he said.

"Oh, Saint's teeth, I forgot about that one, you're right!"

"I have a copy of that too!"

"Do you think they have anything like Thorns from the Stem or Nightheart?"

"They have to. We can show them and ask."

"I really loved the intrigue in Nightheart, it made Thiago's death all the more tragic."

"Hey, I haven't finished reading it!"

"Oops. Sorry."

Guitirre smiled to himself as the paladins went about talking with each other. Saint and stars, he missed this. His last few weeks had been full of nothing but planning and numbers and movements and court appearances and church appearances and signings and everything else that made him want to bite somebody. This reminded him what all that pain and endurance was for. It made him feel a bit lighter, the burden eased off his mind and heart a little.

From the look on Arturo's face, he was feeling the same way. Good. He liked knowing his commanders were comfortable and felt at home with their subordinates and fellow Legionnaires.

He still had a ways to go before he'd be fully ready to inherit a position like his, he knew. Not that he was intending to vacate it if he had the choice, but with the death of Andreas and the very close call with the Antifex... he'd like to be ready.

He shook his head. He shouldn't focus on that for now, even if he might rather wish for an end with all of the impending bureaucracy that he was walking right into.

For now, he had fine Kamigawan literature to look forward to, and... well.

Maybe fine Kamigawan people as well. He could practically feel the chiding of his wife over the thought. He doubted he would, but he wanted to keep his mind open.

The cave that the Progenitor Dragon was still inside of had not changed much. Its blood still coated the cavern floor. Its coils still wrapped around every twist and turn. Its breathing was still labored.

“Come on, Drakôn,” I coaxed as I carefully approached its greatly-horned head. Its deep violet eyes locked onto me as I stepped closer. “I won’t lie to you, it’s going to hurt, but we need to move you. There’s a swamp now. You can heal. You just have to let me help you out of this cave.”

My second-eldest sister, who predated every goddess but our creator, studied me warily. I waited, my hands extended, my paws still against the blood-tacky stone, my wings carefully folded to minimize my possibility of seeming like a threat to a being who predated me many millennia over. Kholkis remained wrapped around both of my shoulders, studying her source in turn.

Drakôn let out a noise that may have been a sigh were it not for how pained and raspy it was. It slowly uncoiled its body with a hiss that even I recognized as pain, allowing me to support its head as it unthreaded itself from the cavern that had been its protection since the Phyrexian Invasion.

“I know,” I murmured as I pet one of its great horns. “I know. It’s not going to get better until we do something about it. You’ll heal. I know you will.”

The next steps – Drakôn dragging itself along the stone and then the grass by its trembling legs – were difficult. So was every step afterwards. But I stayed by my sister’s side, supporting it when it stumbled and keeping its head up.

The swamp I had restored was not far from its cave, but the trip was still made longer by its injuries. It took an hour to get there – an hour of stumbling, an hour of hissing, an hour of blood seeping into the ground, an hour of pain and misery on the behalf of the Progenitor Dragon.

But the moment Drakôn stepped foot into the restored swamp, it was all worth it.

I watched, mesmerized, as the horrible ripped gash in its throat began to close, folding in on itself and sealing back under muscle and tissue and skin and scale. The trembling of its limbs subsided. Its wings spread to their full strength. It raised its head without my help and let out a roar that shook the very earth.

I grinned and pumped my fist in the air. My wings flared out as I did so. “Yes!” I laughed. “Yes! We did it, Kholkis!”

Kholkis let out a delighted chirp and slid down from my shoulders. I watched in real time as she also grew. Her teeth finally came in, her dark grey python-patterned body continued to lengthen, her grey wings with white patches – my own healing work – grew in size and strength, and her bright yellow eyes remained clear and focused.

It worked. It worked.

Drakôn leaned down and pressed its forehead to mine. I reached up with my left hand to cradle its jaw. “You’re welcome, adelfí,” I murmured. “I’m glad I could help you.”

That was when I felt something else. A summons from our mother. That was...odd. Usually she waited until the ten-year meetings to speak to most of us. Especially me.

I brushed that off and looked at Kholkis. “I’ll be back,” I promised. “You keep...growing, I guess.” Kholkis chirped and began to roll around in the swamp water.

I smiled and focused on the divine realms. With a flash of light from my horns and feathers, I stepped sideways and up into my creator’s domain.

My mother’s divine realm was a classic wooden temple. The Dea Xenia did not need the shows of power that the other goddesses made of their realms, because the fact that Thyrsus existed at all was evidence of her strength. The long table for visitors remained in the middle of it all, running the length of the worship hall and leading up to the roaring fire of the hearth that remained eternally lit for sacrifices. And there, standing with her back to me and facing the fire, stood my mother.

My paws padded on the wooden floor. “Dea Xenia,” I called as I approached. I stopped a few feet away from her, not climbing the dais that led to the hearth. “Uh, Mother. Is something wrong?”

“No, Soteira. Quite the opposite, in fact.” My mother’s voice rumbled with power. I sometimes thought about how stressful it must be to be so strong that even your own voice shook. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been working hard for half of the year in order to alter the landscape and restore swampland.” My mother turned around to face me and, as usual, I was struck by her resemblance to Lily over the rest of us. Sure, we all had the same skin tone and black hair, though Cinderblaze and I both cut ours short, but the differences were in the details.

I bore two black horns leading to four green points, freckles across my whole body, four black and green and white feathered wings, and the paws of a lion for feet.

Cinderblaze had four black horns where the front two turned red at the points and the back two turned green, roan patterning on his shoulders and furred hips, black and red and green draconic wings, furry legs leading down to hooves, and three draconic tails.

But our mother was once human. She had no horns, no wings. She had scars across her face that marred her features greatly; I often wondered if she was permanently scarred or if she just preferred to bear them. Her black hair was pulled back in a braid, though some shorter chunks framed her face. And Lily looked the most like her, with a small scattering of freckles in place of scars and a ponytail in place of a braid.

But while Cinderblaze had red eyes and I had yellow, both Mother and Lily bore green eyes. Even though Lily was made of water like I had been made of light and Cinderblaze had been made of fire, it wasn’t reflected in her eyes like our sources were.

Sometimes I was jealous of that. I wanted to look like our mother. I wanted to bear a greater resemblance to the powerful woman who had created all of us and our home. Other times, the idea of being in such a feminine body made me recoil. Sometimes, being called a goddess felt...bad.

But in the present, I kept my shoulders squared. “I have,” I confirmed. “Drakôn had been injured by the invasion and was hiding to heal, but she couldn’t heal because Húdrā had turned all of the contested ground into forest, and because she was injured, she couldn’t just turn it back. I realized what happened when one of the satyrs I was hunting a dragon with found a baby dragon that didn’t grow, and that brought my attention to the problem. I found Drakôn’s hiding place and realized what the problem was. So I’ve been working on studying swamps and ecological restoration methods introduced on other planes, because Lily said I should give it a look.”

Mother was rarely a woman who smiled, but to my surprise, that was what I saw as I finished speaking. “Thank you, Soteira.”

I blinked a few times. Then I folded my wings more properly against my back. “I didn’t do it to be thanked.”

“No,” Mother agreed. “You did it because it needed to be done. You did it because you saw the problem and did not want to let it remain a problem. And THAT is why I thank you.”

“...Oh,” I said. That was what I had done.

Mother stepped down from the dais. We were the same height, though my horns and wings and layered robes (...that were still stained with dirt, I realized) made me visually larger than her. But I still felt smaller than her. It was so easy to remember the process of my own creation, how she cradled light in her hands until it turned into me. I was the youngest of my sisters, the youngest creation before Dea Haliplanktos made manticores. And with how tired Mother seemed, I was pretty sure I would be the last thing that she personally created.

Mother’s palm cradled my cheek like my own had just cradled Drakôn’s. “You have done something new and impressive, Soteira,” she said, trying to make her voice softer. “I am proud of you. This was an oversight that I should have addressed myself, but even I did not realize what was happening. You have done something good, something that benefits the whole of Thyrsus. I would like to offer you another domain, another aspect, to make this easier in the future if it becomes necessary again.”

My wings fluttered against my back. I raised my gaze to my mother’s in shock. “Really?” I asked. “That’s...I can have another domain?” I already bore light and battle as part of my duties. And Lily had claimed trickery several months ago, but it did not occur to me that Mother could just...grant it.

Mother nodded. “If you would like, you may bear the duties of ecological care, expanding your duties as the Saving Goddess from saving not just mortals, but also to the lands they live and rely on.”

I thought about that as Mother’s hand fell away for a moment. I was busy and often called to aid or bless mortals who fought monsters. Some even called me to bless their hunts. Already, mortals considered my duties to expand from battle against monsters to more of a battle against hunger itself. So why not expand that further? If I were also involved in monitoring and caring for the land itself, it would be easier to see what was a threat and what animals or monsters needed time to recover their numbers. I’d be able to better help with the balance between Drakôn and Húdrā. It would be more work, but I wouldn’t be doing it alone. I could get the help of other goddesses, of mortals, of people past Thyrsus, just like I already had.

I finally nodded. “I accept, Mother.”

“Then I name you Dea Soteira, the Saving Goddess, the Light of Battle, Sword-Sister, the Savior of Land and Beasts.”