D’Argen slid to a stop much sooner than he had expected, his feet digging deep furrows in the earth and the leather bottoms of his boots burning from the friction. He quickly extricated himself from the holes and hopped around on the spot until the heat subsided, then focused back on the sight that had him slide to a stop so fast.

Barely a few steps from him was a group of mortals. None of them noticed him as they were all dragging a large stone block with ropes on rounded logs. Two of them released their ropes and rushed to the back, collecting the log that the stone was no longer on and moving it to the front. That was when they finally noticed D’Argen.

If not for his speed, the log would have fallen on one of the mortal’s heads when the two others dropped to their knees in the dirt.

“Be careful,” D’Argen admonished and let go of the mortal he had moved two steps aside. The man collapsed right there as well, though it took D’Argen a moment to realize he was unconscious and not kneeling.

“Uh… c-carry on,” D’Argen waved them, unsure of how to proceed, and then jogged around them. Not much further, there were more groups. Some were dragging along large stone blocks like the first, others carrying buckets, and some trying to coax bears into carrying their wares for them.

D’Argen moved toward the old wooden and clay houses, hiding in their shadows to avoid being seen. When he came to the great wooden hall, he sped up the last few steps before sliding inside and away from the mortals.

Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was more of them. The entire ground floor of the hall was covered in tables and all the tables had at least one of the gods standing over papers or scrolls and surrounded by mortals.

Asa passed him with an armful of scrolls. D’Argen grabbed one that slipped out before it hit the ground and held it out. “What is going on?” he asked even as he helped Asa put the scroll in their arms so it would not fall again.

“Construction. Acela is mad at you, by the way,” Asa answered without looking up at him. Their eyes were firmly fixed on the papers in their hands.

“Why? What did I do this time?”

“You are oh, about a decade late?” Asa finally raised their eyes to meet his.

D’Argen startled at the news and immediately turned to look for Acela. He did not find her at a cursory glance, so he turned to ask Asa for directions, but their small figure was already gone. Instead, D’Argen noticed a group of mortals leaving one of the tables where only a single other stood. He quickly made his way over to him.

“Vain, my old friend, I’ve been—” D’Argen cut himself off when Vain rolled his eyes.

Vain liked to call himself a historian. Considering that they had been living in the mortal realm for a little over a millennium, there was not much history for him to study. Even so, he had tasked D’Argen with gathering stories from all mortal settlements he came across and to bring them back.

The stories that D’Argen brought back had Vain rolling his eyes so often that it had become an ingrained reaction.

“What is it this time? Fire falling from the sky again? Waters rising? The earth cracking to reveal the abyss?” Vain asked, a note of exasperation in his voice. “No. Wait. Flying contraptions or sea monsters.”

“You know they are all possible. But no. Nothing so dramatic this time. Only a volcano and islands running away.”

As expected, Vain rolled his eyes. “She is upstairs,” Vain said in lieu of continuing.

D’Argen scowled and glanced up. The second banister of the hall had more mortals but the third was empty.

Instead of going straight there, he looked back at Vain. “Here.” D’Argen unhooked his satchel and dropped it on the table before Vain.

“I will look through it later,” Vain said and brushed the satchel away with a wave of his hand. It was too heavy and took some of his papers with it.

“What’s going on?”

“The hall will not last another decade. Stone fares much better in both snow and heat.”

“You are building a new hall?” D’Argen asked in wonder and when he looked around the hall again, he noticed Halen. “Where is Lilian?”

“Down south,” Vain answered and nudged the satchel once more.

D’Argen made a show of opening it and pulling out a bundle of papers and depositing them right by Vain’s hand.

Vain murmured a quiet thank you but nudged the bundle away to go back to his readings. For one who never forgot anything at all, Vain was too often engrossed in cramming new knowledge into his head rather than sharing what he already knew.

D’Argen did a quick round of the hall, delivering other bundles and single sheafs, the occasional scroll or clay object with them, and sometimes leaving bundles behind with some he knew would see their recipients before he did. Once his satchel was filled only with notes for the first five, he glanced at the stairs leading to the banister.

Darania was on the second level, head lowered with Delcaus and Nocipel—the three were the most powerful users of the mahee when it came to the earth—and Upates was with another group of mortals in front of a tiny wooden contraption. D’Argen delivered their notes quietly, careful not to interrupt, then stood at the bottom of the stairs leading one level up.

He stood there long enough for Darania to look at him with narrowed eyes. Just as he squared his shoulders and took the first step, Acela appeared at the top. She startled, smiled, then her eyes narrowed when she realized who was there.

“I have to run to see Lilian. Here,” D’Argen said when she neared the bottom and handed her the last bundles with messages for herself, Zetha, and Vah’mor.

“Will you not stay a while?” Acela asked, turning the bundles over without opening them. “You took your time to stay with Abbot out east.”

“Abbot did not put him to work,” Vah’mor answered from the top of the stairs.

D’Argen swallowed the lump in his throat and moved out of the way so both he and Acela could clear the landing.

“Your help would be appreciated, but not needed,” Acela said to D’Argen. “I do not want you to feel like you are only wanted here for work. We appreciate your company.”

D’Argen very much doubted that when he saw Vah’mor glaring at him, as usual, but said nothing of the sort. Instead, he asked, “Anything to send out?”

“Only to ask the others to visit when they can,” Acela answered with a serene smile and finally opened one of the bundles. She handed one of the other two to Vah’mor and D’Argen was inordinately pleased to note it was smaller.

“I’ll be off then!” He did not wait for a response and jumped down the stairs and then ran out the hall.

Vain had said south but not exactly where. In fact, D’Argen did not bother to ask for further directions and it took him a few years to find Lilian.

When he finally reached Lilian, they were sitting in the middle of the flowers of the large flat fields that made up most of the southern peninsula. The only reason D’Argen did not run past them was because he had his mahee open to search for them.

Mahee calls to mahee.

Lilian had their mahee wide open and the scent of dew—like night rain and fresh grass—was overwhelming. Lilian’s winds were strong enough to scatter some of the flowers but, more importantly, to scatter their seeds.

D’Argen loved watching Lilian do this and he sat down in the flowers. Lilian looked so carefree and relaxed when they closed their eyes and opened their arms to the sky. They bared their throat without a thought of any danger and the winds picked up their long wheat tresses to throw them about with the light.

He said nothing at all until Lilian reigned in their mahee and let the winds continue on their own.

“I have a message for you from Abbot,” D’Argen said in greeting and took the scroll from his breast.

Lilian took it with a smile and slipped it in their skirt without opening it. Their pale skin had a rosy tint all over their bare chest and the sweat there appeared like morning dew.

“Hey, Lilian. I have a random question for you: do you remember when you and Abbot first met?”

Lilian looked confused and smiled through the question, “What?”

“Just thinking.” D’Argen focused on a yellow flower in front of his crossed legs.

“We all met in the field,” Lilian answered him after a while.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I meant… after. You know? The first… uh…”

“Ah,” Lilian sounded in the silence after D’Argen trailed off. “Our first meeting.” Lilian clarified with a smile. “Yes. You were there. What about it?”

“I just have a feeling that—” D’Argen felt his words stolen from him by a strong wind and as he watched, the flowers around him were torn from the earth. The wind became strong enough to whip his hair about painfully and when he stood, it lifted him off the ground and dropped him.

He had nothing to grab onto and could do nothing but scream when the wind picked him up again and flung him about, trying to tear him apart. When it dropped him again, D’Argen dug his fingers into the bare earth and forced himself flat and low. Then he heard Lilian screaming in pain and started crawling in that direction.

“Lilian!” he called for them, but the wind stole his words again and then tried to force them back down his throat. It hurt and he had to close his mouth and eyes. He could do nothing but wait it out because Lilian would be done soon. Their attack was violent, but it did not last long last time and—

“D’Argen?” The soft call startled D’Argen into opening his eyes. He was staring into Lilian’s brilliant blue eyes, furrowed in concern. A glance around revealed the flowers gently swaying to the wind.

“What happened?” Lilian asked, smiling and calm. D’Argen could have sworn there was a stream of blood running down their temple a moment ago.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. He picked the red flower in front of him to spin it between two fingers. Lilian dropped their hand from his shoulder. A moment later, their gentle breeze made the flower’s petals curl closed and then bloom open again—yellow, not red—to release more of the flower’s scent. D’Argen brought it up under his nose.

“They should call you the God of Spring,” D’Argen said with a smile.

“You should tell them that,” Lilian responded and smiled back.

“I will.”

“What is it D’Argen? Something is on your mind. Share it.”

“Nothing,” D’Argen answered with a shake of his head. “I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“Nothing important.” D’Argen waved it away. It was not. The winds were calm, and the sun was shining down. The scent of flowers around him was a comfort and Lilian was smiling as their fingers danced over the tops of the flowers. He knew that he lied to Lilian but also did not.

“What did you see?” Lilian asked in the comfortable silence.

“I almost forgot! I was just in the stone forest earlier with… with…” he trailed off as he tried to remember the other person’s name. They were close. They were important. They were someone who D’Argen had known for millennia and been through horrible moments with. That person was the reason he was fine and sitting here now. Then. Will be.

D’Argen’s brows furrowed as he tried to focus and then realized that he was not with anyone at all. He was alone a few days ago, for the past few years since leaving the construction in Evadia that—

D’Argen looked at Lilian and noticed their smile fall.

“Never mind,” he lied, hoping to see that smile bloom again. A moment later, he was smiling as well, not remembering what made him pause, with a name edging at his consciousness that was not important and a white shade running away from the corner of his eye.

“If you say so. Now. Tell me. How has Abbot been fairing with his followers?”