Slumping to the ground, I felt at peace. The tree kept me upright, but that was the only thing that did, my muscles broken and will hanging on by a thread. I couldn’t even summon the magic to just stem the bleeding, never mind doing enough to save myself.

Death, my mother, I knew I would soon meet her.

My breath too deep, a sharp pain cut through me and I ended up coughing. Then I laughed. I couldn’t imagine many people in the world found it comforting to cough up blood, but the bright red reassured me—brown and lumpy was the worrying kind of blood.

With the last of my strength, I lifted my head up so it rested against the trunk and let me see the sky. The sky I would never know. Only one of my kind had I ever spoken to, but it was liberating to know they had that same desire.

After one last breath of fresh air, I accepted my death, soul slowly being pulled back into the ever-churning currents of magic.

Of course, that was when a bolt of lightning cut through the sky, ground trembling as the thunder roared, and I heard the pained cry of the great beast that had sentenced me to a futile death.

“Fate… is cruel,” I whispered.

After another crack of thunder, there was silence, then there wasn’t silence, a voice loudly saying, “Yes, I am sure—there’s a stench of blood this way.”

And then there was a witch. I knew before I even saw her, my minuscule grasp of magic enough to feel how eagerly it wanted to serve her, drawn to her, the churning becoming docile, like the oceans becoming a pond.

Barely alive, all I knew was that she turned that magic upon me. Bones and skin and even scars and my tail, everything became as new, yet too late.

I blinked a few times, the world coming back into view. Slowly, the witch’s words reached my ears: “Are you okay?”

“You’re too late,” I said.

Her magic flared again, searched me for anything still broken, desperate.

So I told her: “Magic can’t hold magic, just as water can’t hold water. My soul will return to the world.”

And I knew she understood because I felt her try, for a moment even believing she could do it. But matters of life and death were beyond even the gods.

“I’m so sorry, if we were quicker—”

“Death always comes,” I said, cutting her off.

Tears in her eyes, head bowed, she said it again: “I’m sorry.”

I laughed, reaching up to lift her chin with a claw. “What is your name, child?” I asked.

“Siya,” she whispered.

“A beautiful name. Mine is Derga, a sacred name to my people. It means one who has the strength to protect others. Alas, I lacked the strength to protect myself. So do not be sorry, instead blame my mother for giving me this name,” I said, ending with a chuckle.

She let out a hollow laugh—how polite of her.

“Is there something I can do? Someone to tell, or a burial rite…” she said.

The disconnect between my soul and body growing, she sounded distant. “Can I ask you for something selfish?”

Vision fading, I saw her nod, her quiet voice saying, “Anything.”

“Protect my people… if you ever… have the… chance,” I said, every word harder to say than the last.

“I will. Anything I can do, I’ll do,” she said, and I vaguely knew she held my hand, clutching it so tight it would have hurt me—definitely hurt her, spines on the back of my hand.

Knowing I had done all I could, I died at peace, returning to my mother’s embrace.

---

Already so old, so weak, I watched the last of my children pass and knew I would soon succumb, nothing more than a swirl in the vast chaos of the universe.

However, the unusual circumstances of her death and the small power I still held left me a choice: the choice to die now in silence, or to live a moment longer.

I did not live to die.

So I fell, the essence of my being coalescing inside a body that lived without a soul—that of my last daughter. In a moment, I went from being aware to being blind, soul binding to the mind and learning to interpret the world through mortal senses.

Flickers and echoes and spasms and aches, as if being forced through a childhood in seconds instead of years. Intensely maddening.

Yet I survived.

In spite of everything, I survived.

Coming down from the ordeal, my eyes slowly focused on the worried gazes of a group of people—rightfully worried people. I moved my jaw, checking it worked as expected, then said, “Pray do not fear. Derga has safely passed and I, her goddess, have taken her body as a vessel.” Looking at the witch, I smiled. “My thanks to you for suitably preparing it.”

There was a very long moment of silence that followed before the witch said, “Zom bee?”

“Forgive me, I do not know why bees are relevant, nor do I recognize Zom,” I said.

I looked amongst them and saw a mix of weariness and fear. Putting on a soft smile didn’t help.

To the witch again, I said, “May I ask of you—do you recall Derga as she was? My child has gone through many trials and tribulations and I would honour her body by keeping the marks she gained.”

After a few seconds of silence, she said, “You want me to put the scars back? And cut off the tail?”

“Please.”

Another pause, then she reached out and touched my hand. Immediately, I felt the magic churn, writhe, engulf me and reshape me. Not just the scars and the tail, my scales darkened, thickened, and I felt her even try to change the colour of my eyes.

“The eyes are the window to the soul, and I am a different soul,” I said.

Her magic stilled.

I moved a little, clenching my fists, feeling the slight stiffness to the body. Then I sighed, tendrils of smoke rising from the corners of my mouth. Oh the witch flinched, pulling away.

“Do not fear, I shan’t hurt you,” I said.

“That’s exactly what someone who wanted to hurt me would say to get my guard down because they’re afraid of my immense power,” she replied.

I chuckled, mouth settling into a smile. “What an imagination this witch has.”

Silence again, I carefully stood up, using the tree to help, my balance off with the shortened tail. Then I felt what it was like to breathe, to smell the fresh earth, to feel the wind blow against my skin, to hear the quiet chirps and buzzes of insects, to have my thoughts and senses entwine.

No wonder mortals struggled so much, hard to separate emotions from reactions. But that was what they needed to survive—what I needed.

The group of travellers, strange companions, lost some of their fear while staying wary. Except for the witch, who looked determined.

Seeing me look at her, she asked, “You’re a goddess?”

“Well, I was. I have become mortal.”

“Why?”

I smiled, my lips knowing how to convey the insincerity of it. “Derga was the last of her people and so the last of my children. Without them, I would die.”

“W-what?” she said.

It was strange, this mortal body feeling so strongly about her, perhaps echoes of Derga still lingering. A convincing feeling of trust and hope and even desire. After all, what dracohym didn’t admire power?

“Have you read the Holy Chronicles?” I asked.

She winced.

Softly laughing, I waved her off before she made excuses. “Would you like to hear the essence of the Story of Creation? I think a witch would appreciate it,” I said.

After a long second, she nodded, so I gestured for her—and everyone else—to sit, myself settling into a comfortable position for these stiff legs. It didn’t escape my notice how closely everyone sat to the witch, even my tortoise niece, though the squirrel seemed rather attached to the fox.

Everyone still, I took in a deep breath.

“In the beginning, there were only animals. They existed to exist by eating and mating. As they moved, they moved the magic around them, and eventually that magic moved in a way that became life. Everything living exists to exist, otherwise it will die out. That’s true for animals, magic, even knowledge.

“The living magic didn’t eat and mate, so, to keep existing, each one helped the species of animal that created it. They became the gods. Although they have no gender, many see this nurturing as feminine, so call them the goddesses. And by helping their animals, they moved the magic, thus another god took shape. The god of gods. More accurately, the god of the desire to continue existing.

“This god created the hyms. An animal that can sweat in the hot desserts, wear furs in the cold tundras, eat everything from berries to large animals, even consciously grow food and pasture animals. So the hyms flourished anywhere and everywhere.

“Seeing this, the goddesses wanted to have their animals flourish, so they created the hymoids in the image of the hyms. However, they couldn’t be too similar, otherwise the hymoids wouldn’t contribute to their existence, instead empower the god of gods or bring to life new gods. Thus the hymoids took on features of their animal, both physical and mental.

“And so ended the Age of Animals and began the Age of People.”

I was pleased by the silence that followed, each looking to be in thought. While the Holy Chronicles were correct enough on matters, I more than most goddesses had learned to weave stories for mortals, which mostly consisted of choosing an aspect to focus on, leaving out unrelated details.

After all, it was better to be asked for more than to put to sleep.

“So, without your children, your magic stops moving?” the fox said.

“Correct. I turned myself into a soul with the last of my magic to live longer, but a soul is not eternal.”

A second passed, then the witch said, “So… Derga’s wish.”

I smiled, conveying sympathy. “This body is the last of her people.”

For a moment, there was a heavy silence, the witch’s head bowed low, then she suddenly looked up, wide-eyed, a kind of manic about her. “Y-you are, or were, a goddess? So can you—I mean, I’ve been… searching for a way to change myself to, um, sire children with my lover,” she said, and I noticed her squeeze the rabbit’s hand at that moment. “What if I, like, you don’t want to die, right? You could show me and I could… sorry, are you—your body—is it male or female? If you’ll teach me, I can, um, birth them, or sire them, so….”

Even with a somewhat divine clarity to my thinking, I struggled to piece together what the witch said. However, the more of her mental picture I saw, the more I felt an eagerness—an eagerness to perpetuate.

“Am I correct in saying you wish to continue my people?” I asked.

She hesitated, but nodded.

I thought over how best to say it. “The hymoids are only created in the image of hyms, they are not related. It is impossible for a hym and a hymoid to have a child together.”

Her face fell, body slumping.

However, I was not finished and so reached out, coming to touch her chin with the tip of my claw. “But you, Siya, you are not a hym, are you? You are something else entirely, with your own reason for existence.”

She stiffened, then slowly looked up at me before whispering, “You know?”

I smiled, the answer clear to me who knew intimately in what image I shaped my first children. Then I listened, trying to feel how her body shaped the magic, finding the answer curious. “You are fluid, unbound. Not so much a person, more… a desire manifested.”

That seemed to surprise her and I had to wonder if I had spoiled part of her journey. Well, the truth liked to be free, something to be protected and cherished.

“Are you saying…” she said, but couldn’t bring herself to ask the question, so I gave her the answer.

“I can teach you, yet it is not a simple matter,” I said.

“Okay,” she whispered.

I had the urge to laugh, this witch—who was as capable as any of my bastard children—acting so obedient. However, the desire to exist filled us all, so I did not laugh, did not pity her, instead treated her as my equal.

For that would be the price she paid.

“First of all, you must understand that our children will not be of my people. You are not a hym, but similar, and so our union will bring about a new people that are somewhere between us. And I will not be their goddess, for this body”—I touched my chest—“is my limit. This act of union… is not to save me, but to let my existence linger. That is the first understanding you must accept.”

She listened closely, then said, “I feel like… this doesn’t answer Derga’s wish.”

“So kind,” I whispered, neither patronising nor praising. “There is no simple answer I can give. However, for now, think of it as that, even if they are not her children, the resemblance of her people will echo in our children and their descendants.”

She nodded, nothing else to say at this time.

“The second understanding, then, is that they will be our children, and they won’t be, and they will be many. To create a new race, I will make them as strangers, neither siblings nor cousins nor our children. And yet I ask you to love them each and all as your children, to offer them safety and warmth. That is the second understanding.”

Apparently a simpler ask this time, she merely said, “How many?”

“I shall be more generous in my clutch sizes, but I would say we may have to mate up to twenty times.”

She stiffened for a moment, then looked away, scratching her neck. “So, um, that’d be like… a hundred kids?”

“More is better, but I think that many of around the same age would suffice. Especially with your influence, I think they will not have the same troubles reproducing that my children had,” I said.

“Okay.”

There was more on that I wished to say, but, like with stories, sometimes a focused approach fit better for mortals.

“The third understanding is that I can only teach you to mate with my people, and it is also not something to apply to others as they lack your fluidity. However, your greater understanding may help you in more aesthetic endeavours.”

She nodded and went to speak, but I held up a claw, stopping her.

“In my case, my people are already gone. For other goddesses, their people remain, so take into consideration the first understanding. If you were to mate with the rabbit, then her children will not be lagohyms, but they will be able to mate with lagohyms and, like a disease, that will spread until no true lagohyms exist. The result of that is—”

“The goddess’s death,” she whispered.

I smiled, pleased my equal listened well and understood. “That being said, we are not blinded by our desire to exist, nor are we blind to how the hyms have once again flourished to the detriment of our children.”

With my silence, she eventually asked, “What exactly are you telling me?”

“If we take the second and third understanding together, pray think on what that gives,” I said, curious how much my equal perceived.

She dutifully thought—as did the others, but I paid them little attention at this time. After a while, she came to some kind of answer.

“If I take good care of our kids, the other goddesses might trust me to look after theirs?” she said, unsure.

Oh I loved her, so sweet, and showed that by scratching under her chin. “A simple answer, yet it encapsulates the core truth.”

Whether my words or action, she smiled, and she had a rather pretty smile. I felt that come from the echoes of Derga. After all, being the last of my children, she had only seen one other of her kind, had lived among hyms and high-hymoids, thus grew up to find them beautiful.

Or perhaps it was the mortal urge to procreate, driven by intimately knowing this witch to be my mate. That, no matter how she looked, I would come to find her intensely beautiful.

Having been staring this whole time, she now looked away. A simple action, yet I found it charming, bringing about an urge to tease her, echoes of Derga’s memories overwhelming my choice of reaction.

“Siya,” I whispered, my voice deeper, almost a growl.

Instantly, she stiffened, but her glance at me lacked any fear.

“Do you agree with my understandings?” I asked.

She hesitated, then shook her head, ending up with her gaze on her lap. “We are sort of a big mess of lovers, so before I agree to anything, I need to ask them,” she said, her voice strangely level for how she looked.

“Please, do. However, I hope that, if you decide this is not something you can do, you would still be open to helping me in a smaller way.”

She gave a somewhat lopsided smile. “Honestly, I don’t think you need to worry.”

I wondered what that meant while they all went off a little away to talk.

After a while, they returned and she sat in front of me once more. “There’s… two, kind of three things,” she said.

I smiled. “Please, go ahead.”

“The main one and, I mean, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it, but—” she said, stopping herself there to take a breath. “They want to be parents too and help us raise our kids. Not give birth or sire them, but… raise them.”

“You are correct—I would even welcome their support,” I said, bowing my head to them.

“The other big one, um, I don’t know if it’s possible, well—do your people have cloacas?”

“Cloacae,” I said, enunciating the different. “And yes, we do.”

She gently nodded. “Can you teach me how to, um, give myself one?”

A surprising request, but she was a surprising witch. “I would still have to teach you how to sire so that you could change my body; however, if that is what you wish—”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “Um, I’ll still… sire for you, but one of us has a medical issue and I think learning how to make a real cloaca might let me help her more.”

“Oh, then I am more than happy to. After all, if we are to be, in essence, a family, it is only natural to assist each other,” I said, smiling.

She let out a long breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

A silence then settled, so I reminded her: “The sort of third thing?”

“Oh, right,” she said, tapping her fingertips together. Long, slender fingers, I noticed, Derga’s lingering echo rather liking how they looked. Then she spoke, pulling my attention back to her face. “Well, we’re… lovers. And we want to know if you want to be part of that, or if you just want this to be about… mating,” she said.

I thought I knew, but I asked, “Are you asking if I want to be your lover too?”

Her face scrunched up, rather cute. “I mean, my lover, or if there is one of us you… feel attracted to. Fuck, it’s weird saying that to a goddess.”

The situation dawning on me, I chuckled, then I reached out and rested my hand on her knee. “I am mortal now, with mortal urges,” I whispered, enjoying how she stiffened for a moment. “However, I still see you all as children. For the time being, I can put aside that feeling to mate, but I am sure that, gradually, I will adjust to this body. In other words, I am open to having such a relationship if I could have some time first.”

“That’s fine, even if it never feels right. We just, well, we’re pretty open with our… mating, so we don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I chuckled, overcome by a sudden feeling of dissonance. This witch, capable of so much, would so naturally care for my feelings. I thought a world of her children would surely be a kinder place to be.

“Well, I have heard and accepted your understandings. What do you have to say of mine?” I asked, looking her in the eyes.

Many emotions swirled inside her, colouring her soul. “We accept them.”

I felt my eyes prickle and blinking only managed to push the tears out, feeling them trickle down my cheeks, and she reached up to wipe them.

“You know, you didn’t tell us your name—or do you want us to call you Derga?” she whispered, as if speaking softly to protect me.

“Vutty,” I whispered back.

“A beautiful name. Mine’s Siya.”

I had already known it, yet, hearing it from her own lips, I felt like I had never heard such a beautiful sound.

However, she had only started with her name, then went through her lovers. “Dandee—short for Dandelion—Ka’ne, Mo, Artie.”

Each name sounded so beautiful, coated with her love. “It is my pleasure to make all of yours acquaintance,” I said, bowing my head.

“And yours.”“Good to meet you too.”“A-and you.” Lagging behind a second, the tortoise—Mo—said, “So the dragons are all dead too?”

I seemed to not be alone in not expecting such a question. However, there was a certain interest, especially from my little witch. “Siya, do you know of dragons?”

“Um, let’s say no,” she said.

Curious phrasing aside, I had expected as much since it was a part of the Story of Creation. “Although I have spoken much already, do you wish to hear more?” I asked.

After a second, she—and everyone else—nodded.

“Very well. Alongside the Story of Creation is the Story of Destruction, for life and death must always mingle. At this time, there were already monsters, creatures of death. If life exists to exist, so does death. As animals died, they moved magic and that magic formed into something that caused more death, perpetuating itself. Thus monsters were made.

“These creatures did not eat or mate, simply sustained themselves through killing, yet they still had some semblance of intelligence, such as avoiding stronger creatures. But they were ultimately vortexes of chaos, isolated and fleeting, and not enough to bring about a god.

“However, come the Age of People, the spread of civilisation saw mass deaths. The slaughtering of cattle, plagues and other city illnesses, and eventually the start of wars. As well, natural phenomenon became more deadly simply to there being more people in the areas affected.

“So there came to be beasts and eventually abominations, and there will be more as long as there are so many people. When people speak of dragons, they speak of the twenty-seven greater abominations that are now seen as myths. How they came to be is best left for another time.

“They were, in a way, anti-gods, beings of supreme might that wished to destroy instead of nurture. However, they lived and so moved magic, their scale large enough to manifest a goddess. That goddess is I.”

I paused there, thoroughly amused by the reactions of that “reveal”. Once done indulging, I continued.

“Indeed, I am the youngest goddess, and my creation was to perpetuate bringers of death. So there seemed to be only one answer: to create bringers of life. After all, to kill more, they needed more people. Thus I made the dracohyms and bestowed on them immense talent for slaying beasts, by sword or by magic, and to heal and tend to those injured.

“From there, the tale is long and meandering and best recounted over days or months. What I will say now is that the dragons were slain through the last millennia and so my existence became tied to the dracohyms alone.”

Silence followed, then the tortoise said, “Good to meet you.”

The rest of the group chuckled and giggled, to which I smiled. More Derga’s instincts than my reasoning, I thought they really would make wonderful co-parents, full of the warmth young reptiles needed.

However, my thoughts turned to a sobering topic thereafter. “If you all would indulge me a little more, I do have one… I suppose you could call it a suggestion,” I said.

“Sure?” Siya said, a touch confused and intrigued.

“News of our children may cause some amount of alarm. Even if not, I do not know how welcome they would be in the southern countries.”

Trusting her reasoning skills, I let her think it through, as did the others. Sure enough, she came to the answer I expected. “You said you had a suggestion?”

I smiled. “There is a defensible region I know of, about large enough for a city and the agriculture required to support it. While currently a dessert, I believe your ability is sufficient to gradually settle it, of course with my support. And I believe many hymoids would be more than eager to emigrate to a place of… equality. Somewhere they can flourish.”

She listened closely—and truly exceeded my expectations. “And when the southern countries see a flourishing city with no alliances?”

My smile deepened, baring my sharp teeth. “Did I not say it is defensible? If you are half as powerful as I suspect, then you can bury any army that tries to cross the mountains, burn their supply train, flood their camps.”

She stared at me, her expression rather flat. Then she said, “You really are the goddess of death.”

I didn’t take offence. “As I said, some of my bastard children spawned from wars, so it is natural that I understand these matters.”

There was a moment where I thought I may have gone too far, but then she softly smiled. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“In that case, we simply have to make sure the southern countries do not see an easy target.”

She nodded, a tiredness to her action, then she turned to the others. “Let’s think it over for now and find somewhere to rest, yeah?”

There were muttered agreements and nods.

Turning back to me, she said, “Well, welcome to the group, Vutty. It’s going to be interesting with you.”

“I am sure it will be.”