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Lindi had underestimated just how quickly the Demons’ influx was hastening.

There were scores of them rapidly making their way through all the forests in the world to decimate and destroy everything in their paths.

Austrális was just fortunate that the desert surrounding the Veil had kept them at bay for so long, as travelling in the reflective sunlight coming from the moon was painful for those void-flesh creatures.

But that moment of peace was ending even there.

Humans had already begun to flee, but the droves of Demons entering into the water meant no one had seen a boat returning to shore in at least three years. Pandemonium had truly set in, and everyone was terrified, which only fuelled the rabid beasts to be even hungrier.

And thus, the Anzúli making themselves known beforehand, warning all of the impending doom, had ensured they were at the pinnacle of the most trusted.

Those who had disregarded them, namely other religious leaders, were now thrown out as incompetent.

Who would trust them when they so fervently denied such dangers were arising?

Either their gods were not talking to them, or they didn’t exist in the first place – quickly becoming the mutterings of the disillusioned in a time of ruin and chaos.

Faith was being turned on its head, and with the Anzúli offering up no gods to worship, they themselves were becoming the very beings to follow.

Yet they offered no followings, no teachings.

They weren’t here to rob the faithful of coin to create beautiful temples of glory.

No, their temples were merely homes. Places for them to practise their magics and alchemy, as well as create medicines, protective salts, and other much-needed tools in this time of destruction.

The Anzúli didn’t want pretty, flowery words, or grand gestures and glittering baubles. They even denied offerings, whether they were items of beautiful artistry or servants.

They could be harsh and cold people. To outsiders, they were callous and as sharp as a knife, and only soothing when needed.

In Lindi’s case, the temple inhabitants trusted her cautiously, so she was brought into their fold. She had magic. She was set apart. They knew she had lived a full lifetime and still appeared the same as the day she turned two and twenty.

To them, she was not human, and stranger than them.

Nothing will take away my humanity, Lindi muttered in her mind, stirring the frothing pot until the seed-like consistency shifted to only grainy. I’m human, even they deem me otherwise.

She kept telling herself this, but she believed it less with every year that passed.

They said she was sanctified and touched by their magnificent god, whose magic was just as black as the glittering sands she wielded.

Since she played ignorant, claiming she didn’t know how she obtained such power, she let them believe what they wanted. But Lindi knew better.

She’d been touched by the lukewarm hand of a demi-god who lurked in shadow and mist. Well, his tendrils, really. She’d never been touched by Weldir, other than when he made her stomach swell.

She often thought about how their god and hers were similar in their dark makeup. She often thought about Weldir, and her life, in the many years that had passed since she last stepped foot on Austrális.

I wonder how they are doing out there, Lindi mused, looking up at the wall in front of her. It was a shame the wall itself was partially blocked by the hearth, since it was so beautiful.

It’d been painted with a landscape she wouldn’t have believed was real, if they hadn’t told her that their home, Anzúla, had floating pillars of rocks.

Dragons and wyvern were in flight, each having a gemstone of dragonite glinting in their foreheads – oddly enough, in the same location the Anzúli had their third eye.

One creature on the mural caught her eye. A fanged beast with thin antlers bearing only one off-shooting tine on them.

“You always stare at the siluk,” Karlann commented, drawing Lindi from her thoughts.

Her answering response was quiet. “They remind me of something.”

Or, rather, someone. Then again, it was difficult – impossible even – to not think of her children, especially as she’d only parted ways with her third one three years ago.

Dymphna was a little different to their brothers, Nathair and Orson.

When Lindi had come across a fanged deer, she’d mistaken them for a predator and had hunted the creature to feed them to her new child.

How was she to know water deer were purely herbivores when they had such menacing fangs?

She was in a new part of the world, had never spoken to another human here, and she knew little of the landscape, its people, its culture, or its animals.

She eventually deemed their tusks cute and helped them obtain their antlers from another deer and let them run wild when it felt right.

Which had taken her over two years, as she wanted to navigate this part of the world first and ensure their safety in her placement of them.

Once she deemed they had plenty of food, considering the number of Demons sniffing after Lindi’s meat, she let them go.

Her pregnancy had been dangerous. She’d spent much of it trying not to be incorporeal in fear or to escape danger, especially as that prolonged the length of how long she was to carry them.

It was an adverse side effect. If she was in her Phantom form, she was technically dead and it halted the process, to her dismay.

What had only taken five weeks with Orson had been stretched to nine with Dymphna because of the way Lindi fled most altercations in the wilds. Nowhere had been safe, except behind walls that were still being built.

And she’d known not a lick of the language.

Thankfully the people were so petrified, nobles and commoners mixing in the chaos, that a stray Lindi had barely been noticed.

She’d stolen food and water from the already hungry, needing to fuel her body that only desired nourishment when she grew new life.

Her child preferred hearty, meatier foods, which were being kept hidden in stores for the truly selfish members of society, but they were no match for Lindi’s ghostly hands.

Lindi ate abundantly, pitying those who couldn’t, but unable to do little more than offer biscuits to a child who had lost her parents in the great city.

No matter how she tried to help them by holding their little hand as she searched, she couldn’t find the kid’s parents.

Her stomach had become so large she’d needed to leave the city before she could complete her sympathetic task, but she’d given them as much food as they could hide on their person and had just hoped someone else kind took them in.

Then, once more, Lindi was left to the wilds, in danger as she gave birth under a protective dome with Demons bashing to get to her.

It’d been a frightening time, which had only been eased by Weldir giving her haven in his realm.

With her newborn in her arms and biting at her, she struggled to hold on until she was safe there, and she finally felt relief.

Lindi didn’t think she could still be traumatised after so many years, but she’d proven herself very wrong that night.

Why had her body decided to give birth in the darkness?

As always, Lindi shuddered at the memories and looked down to return to her task. She gasped and quickly stirred the pot that was bubbling over.

Karlann tsked in the background, came over, and removed the pot from the fire.

“Seraphina won’t be pleased if you burn this,” she stated firmly, her third eye darting to Lindi while the other two concentrated on stirring in her stead. “We only have so much dragonite powder. You know how rare this is.”

Lindi’s lips flatted into a hard line. “You have an entire room of it,” she argued, although, in her heart, she knew she should have just apologised.

“An entire room to last us however long we are on Earth.” Karlann raised her dark brows.

“There are no deceased dragons here for us to grind the bones of. This is all we have, and it’s our best conduit.

It’s the one item we cannot be wasteful of.

We also don’t know when the Elvish will be gracious enough to give us another portal to resupply, if ever. ”

“I’m sorry,” Lindi said with a sympathetic wince. “My mind has been elsewhere of late. I think I’ve been studying too much.”

“If you’re sick, take rest. The humans will get their medicines when they get them. We can only do so much with only a few dozen of us here.”

Lindi offered an apologetic smile. “I’m fine. This is part of my learning.”

Karlann huffed in annoyance and scrunched her nose. “I don’t see why you insist on the teachings of concoctions and poultices to be one of your firsts. There is little mana on Earth, so what you learn in this room won’t be useful. You won’t have the right ingredients in your future travels.”

“But there are many that will work,” Lindi argued, pushing her out of the way with a hip bump. Then she gave a dark laugh. “Back home, the people there would call me a witch if they ever saw me standing over a bubbling cauldron.”

Karlann snorted. “This pot is hardly big enough to be considered a cauldron.” She waved a hand in front of her nose, fanning away the waft of smelly steam.

“You’d stink of one, though. You should work with the other teachers.

Your magic might be better suited for it.

Try Elis, he is proficient in earth-based growing magics. ”

“It hasn’t rained in a few weeks.” Lindi checked the poultice, making sure it had survived her blunder before adding in medicinal weeds that could be found all over the world. “Elis believes my growth magic is best with all the right components. Dirt, seeds, and rain.”

“You’re the only person I know who needs rain to grow their plants. We need sunlight.”