Losing Regnąfels had been too deep a blow for recovery to be feasible, as far as their short-term trade goals was concerned. For a god, territory was a more flexible term than it was for the fell—save for the lost settlement, most of Sáinz's domain floated above the sea.

Fitting for a seafarer, if a former one at that.

Still, with the passageway through land all but lost to her people, the former ruler found all connections to the lands beneath the waves faltering. Going through the sea itself was possible—ascension did not erase the nature of one's birth, after all—but it would be bothersome.

Bothersome enough that she'd arranged for this, a last ditch effort for some information. By the edge of the platform, she waited. Today she wore the form of Anastacia Sáinz Picapiedra—how long had it been since the rays of the sun last touched her? A mixture of nostalgia and sorrow clung to her like tar in her lungs, each breath more labored than the last in a way she had not felt in millennia.

Her reflection warped as a figure rose from it, breaking through the surface to cling to the edge without a word. Soaked in seawater as it was, her visitor's hair appeared ashen instead of its usual hue. It almost suited her better—with how pale she was, locks the color of snow made for a strange appearance.

The {Ira} demon raised herself in one smooth motion, respectfully bowing with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "I greet the Aureate Mistress."

"Gyda," Anastacia Sáinz nodded back, the sense of nostalgia intensifying. Their human lives had overlapped, at one point. Back when she had been a conqueror and the latter an Executor. "If you've taken a title, it has not reached my ears."

"Ban-Breaker will do," the demon said, her smile widening. The expression spoke of just what might have befallen the fell under her 'care'. "I have much to tell you—perhaps, some might be enough to start repaying my debt to you."

"I genuinely doubt that, but I will hear you out as agreed," Sáinz motioned for her former acquaintance to follow. While she may have held a place in the memory of today's Gyda, she would be a fool to consider her the same person she'd known, before her fall. "Progress has ground to a halt, since your last visit. The Deity of Fragile Eternities and I had some words, mind you—the idea of restoring lost obits might have been too ambitious."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Irksome, but not unexpected."

"True enough," Sáinz agreed as they descended the length of the spiral staircase. This was not where she usually kept the body, but ally or not, she had no desire to invite Gyda into the heart of her home, even if moving the tank with the care it deserved took hours out of her day. "My hopes remain untarnished."

Gyda hummed, saying nothing else. She pressed a delicate hand against the glass, eyeing the figure within. Clear as the waters were, the numerous enchantments keeping the body in perfect condition appeared to make it blurry, in shifting degrees, as if it were in movement. Black hair floated around it, though it was not as long as it had been in life—Sáinz had found herself cutting pieces for one reason or another through the years, some for her testing, some for more selfish reasons. It did make for quite the high-quality material.

Braies and a tunic were all the modesty she'd been able to afford her friend's body with how rushed the initial job had been. She'd been focused on making things easy for herself, to remove all possibility of failure, and not once had she considered how desolate it would all look. She'd seen fell burial shrouds that showed more love and care than this.

If any of it bothered Gyda, she did not let it show. Unlike Sáinz, she was interested in the outcome for purely scientific reasons—she was not personally invested in any of this.

"I had a child with one of them, you know," Gyda spoke absentmindedly. "With how much effort it took, I'd almost given up, by the time he came along."

"Interesting," Sáinz understated—the woman before her was one of the few of her ilk to remain embodied, making this quite the rare result. "Are you the first to manage to carry a child instead of fathering it?"

"I suspect so," Gyda shrugged, lowering her hand. "This was what I wished to tell you about, actually—while it will likely be years until we can know anything for certain, this might be of use to you. I am documenting everything I can, about how he grows."

"I appreciate that—though I know not how I am to use such information here. My purpose is quite narrow."

"It may yet help. Perhaps much, perhaps not at all. I simply seek to share, as a trade."

"Of what you owe, this would not account for much," Sáinz narrowed her eyes. "And much of what may apply to your offspring will not apply to my friend."

"Yet it would be a start," the demon raised an eyebrow, a smile still lingering on her lips, "would it not be?"

Sáinz had to concede on that point, unable to deny any knowlegde of the Kind's physiology had the potential to be of use.

As she led Gyda to a table above the waters so that they may discuss in earnest, the god couldn't help but complain.

Of all inquires I've sent out, why did this one have to be the one to pan out?

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