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Leaning her hands on the rock behind her and one leg bent so her foot was tucked under the opposing thigh, Lindiwe kicked her other leg back and forth as it dangled over the edge of a cliff.

Bright, barely warm sunlight showered over her as orange-and-brown leaves fluttered around her from a light gust and swept into the canyon below.

She soaked in the crisp, cool air, taking in deep, refreshing draws, as she kept her eyes closed and tilted her face towards the sun.

The tangle of rot was present in the air, a sweet decay, but Lindiwe was so used to being in Weldir’s mist that her mind was able to separate it from the rest. Most might consider it foul, but she knew the truth of it.

It was the result of healing. Of Weldir fixing the tainted souls Demons destroyed, then purging that sickness from his realm to here. It would dissipate and return in waves, depending on if he was actively healing and consuming new souls or not.

Today wasn’t too bad, especially as he hadn’t done it for almost a year.

Then again, he had not spoken to her in that long either.

He slept all that time, and had since she was last in his realm.

The use of destroying a soul to save her from Ari, and the excess use of his magic during their intimacy, had taxed him exponentially.

She’d been alone, and oddly enough, it gave her space to miss his voice. His very presence, despite it never being next to her on Earth.

Her heart and mind had flipped regarding him ever since that fateful day. He’d made her body sing, and it hadn’t stopped humming since – even despite the stretch of time. She often found her lips curled upwards, and her pussy throbbing in memory.

For the first time since she gave him her soul, Lindiwe felt... hope. The desolation wasn’t as pressing, the loneliness not as yawning and deep. The feelings were still present, but that was because they had much left to resolve and Lindiwe doubted either of them truly knew the solutions.

We’re still worlds apart.

He was there, and she belonged here. He didn’t have a real form, and she did. Despite the pleasure they’d shared, she didn’t know if there were any deeper emotions present from him, and she still felt empty regarding that.

A loveless marriage. An unsteady bond.

The foundations of them were rocky and as weak as his magic, coming and going in strength. Pushing and pulling, barely warm and then cold.

It was a lot to think about, and she’d been reflecting much in the quietness he’d given her.

Lowering her face from the blinding light, she opened her eyes to look down at her brightly coloured skirt, yellow and red in bold patterns.

Balancing back on her left arm, she placed the right on top of a small white skull, and petted the baby Duskwalker currently nestled up in her semi-folded lap.

Her skirt was like a temporary hammock for them, making sure they were truly comfortable and supported.

Leonidas wasn’t as much of a lion as her dear Ari, but they bore a similar feline skull, and she believed that was enough.

She couldn’t quite remember who the name belonged to, but she remembered reading that it was related to some kind of warrior.

They’d need that loan of power in this violent world, and she hoped the name could give that.

Except her lips pouted as she looked down at them. “You’re pretty lazy though.”

They reminded her of Nathair. They wanted nothing more than to lie in her lap and cuddle, often burying their nose into some crook of her body.

They were also a rather curious creature, quick to be alert and chase after any new scent and sound with tenacity. She kind of admired that about them.

Hooking her thumbs underneath their gooey armpits, she lifted them into the air. They gave a feeble mewl of protest, their tiny hands closing and opening in her direction, as their long feline tail curled in agitation.

“I wonder what colour your eyes will be,” she asked them with a laugh, unafraid that she was dangling them dangerously close to the Veil’s deathly fall.

She’d never drop them. They were utterly safe in her hands and embrace at all times.

They eventually gave up protesting and just hung there. Their lower end sagged as their middle stretched, but she knew they wouldn’t tear in half. It would eventually stop, and it did when their back paws just brushed against her knee.

“What horns or antlers should I give you? I want you to be different to your brothers.”

They gave a yawning yip before reaching out a back paw towards her – desiring to kick and move now that they were awake.

“Maybe goat horns?” She tilted her head, eyeing their features with a thoughtful inspection. “No. That might make you look too much like Ari. What about a ram’s? They could curl down the sides of your head.”

A bright grin spread her lips apart, revealing her teeth as she decided.

She dropped her gaze to the lizard spikes going down their forearms and calves – the result of their curious explorations.

She still remembered finding a tail hanging from their mouth when she was unaware, and how they slurped it down like a noodle.

Thankfully, they’d already consumed the mountain cougar she’d stumbled upon, a creature she hadn’t known Weldir had brought to Austrális.

I guess he isn’t all that bad.

He obviously cared enough about Earth and the occupants on it to move creatures around to stave off the impending doom of Demons. It’d been short-lived, as those nightmarish creatures preferred the taste of human blood, but his efforts did allow Austrális more time to prepare.

More than other countries she’d visited.

She laid Leonidas in her lap once more, and they sat with their back to her front.

She grabbed their little hands and waved them up and down, playing with them, as they were so free-spirited that they let her.

They never nipped, never growled, and so far, had been one of the easiest of her children to keep young.

So much so that she was extending it for as long as possible.

Lindiwe had all the time in the world to help them obtain their horns. She could spend just that little bit more time with them, especially as she knew both Orson and Fenrir were doing well.

They were safely apart from each other, Orson traversing the Veil while Fenrir explored the northlands. She’d like it to stay that way for a little while longer.

Should I wait until Weldir wakes up? He did like to witness the whole process of their children’s evolutions, even if he couldn’t actively participate.

He’d missed the birth of Leonidas, as well as them gaining their skull. Would he be annoyed if he missed their final growth too?

Probably not. He didn’t seem to feel much emotionally.

It was another reason she didn’t open her heart to him.

Apparently there was no pain greater than unrequited love, other than losing a child, and she’d already done one of those things. She’d lost much and gained very little. She had a closed and tightly locked cage around her heart.

She only ever shared a piece with her children, including Orson and Ari, who were the most harmful.

Giving away any more, especially to a shadowy being who struggled to understand basic social etiquette, might just be too much. Forever was too long, and she didn’t want to suffer for all of it.

Just when her heart began to sink, and she stopped playing with Leonidas’ hands, a familiar, deep, and tantalising voice reaching into the recesses of her mind.

“Hello, Lindiwe,” Weldir rumbled, louder than usual, as if he was right there next to her. It didn’t even have the aura of an echo to it like usual.

With her sitting among his mist, he very well could be there – just like when she’d first met him... and gave him her soul.

“Hello, Weldir,” she answered, feeling her tribulation melt at finally hearing his voice. She let a weak smile curl her lips and resumed playing with her feline-skulled child’s hands.

“A long time has passed.”

Lindiwe paused as her brows furrowed. “How do you know that?”

Weldir didn’t ever notice the length of time that passed. To him, his little nap could have been a few days or years.

“Because I can tell by our offspring that much has changed.”

I guess a few have grown stronger or even gained their genders. Who knew, with Lindiwe so far from the rest of this impossibly large world.

“All good things I hope,” she stated with a humourless laugh, trying to keep herself uplifted.

“Unfortunately, no.”

Lindiwe sighed, suddenly wishing he’d go back to damn sleep. She’d been enjoying the day, sipping at the peace and basking in the way it made her heart fuzzy.

“You would have woken up if one of them...” She trailed off to chew her bottom lip, while wrapping her arms around her youngest and most feeble child. Then she whispered, “If one of them died. Right?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

A strong gust of wind scattered autumn leaves off the cliff and punctuated her next words. “Then who?” Or were multiple of them in trouble?

Can’t everything just go right for once?

“Orson,” Weldir stated in a low, slow voice, like he’d been worried about stating his very name.

“But I just checked on Orson,” Lindiwe replied with a groan, palming her face and rubbing at her closed eyes. “How much trouble could he have gotten up to in just a few weeks?”

“You and I both knew he was wandering the middle of the Veil. It seems he’s caught the eye of our foe.”

A sickly, cold trickle ran down her spine. Suddenly the warmth of the sun faded under the weight of her fear. “Jabez?”

“Yes. It appears they have found... a companionship.”

Lindiwe swiped her hand up to her forehead before pushing a few tresses from her face. She blew out a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know whether to be annoyed that this has happened, or relieved that he isn’t being targeted as an enemy.”

“I doubt it will go well if Jabez is to learn the truth.”

“Then do we withhold it? Do I intervene, or do I leave it alone and hope they drift apart?” Her eyes bowed as she looked over the eery mist and the never-ending treetops of the Veil. “What do I do, Weldir?”

For once, she truly needed his advice.

“I would prefer none of our offspring to be near him, as that will only bring them danger, but...”

But... There was always a but .

And he didn’t know either.

He was leaving the choice up to her, while putting aside his general disfavour of Jabez.

Once more, Lindiwe looked down at the small child in her lap, barely the size of a newborn human baby – yet so much more mobile and agile. So much less fragile, yet precious all the same.

“There’s nothing I can do right now,” she muttered, her features tightening as her lips thinned when she pursed them. “I need to spend time with Leonidas. Gain their horns, help them navigate their new world.”

Even if they pushed her away once they gained their sight. Even once they forgot their name, and who she was to them – that she was safe and welcoming. Even if they somehow came to resent her nearness.

Lindiwe would always try to be there.

Weldir rumbled out a hum of thought and apparently accepted her inactivity as a temporary solution for now. He moved onto something else she said instead. “Is that your name for them? Leonidas? Does this have deep-seated meaning like all the others?”

Of course it did, just like all her children had carefully selected names. She’d continue that endeavour, no matter what. Because despite what they were, and how dangerous they could be, they were her children and she loved them all the same.

She’d give up her life for them, her happiness, so long as they all continued to roam.

She opened her mouth to tell Weldir all that he’d missed in the year he’d been asleep, the conversation welcome.

A reminder that, even if it felt like it, she was never truly alone.

End of book one.