"You serve a monster," Crysha said. Her voice was even. Measured. The voice of someone choosing words carefully while a very large creature stood in front of them. "One that's only recently been surfacing. That's not a path worth walking."
Revy looked down at her from where she stood — antlers brushing the ceiling, red eyes half-lidded, crimson wool spread wide in the dark.
"Wrong, little hare, you've misread the room — before the wolf dragon now, there was one more in bloom."
She flicked her hand.
Something floated in from the back of the shop. rectangular, glowing faintly at the edges — a device none of them recognized, suspended in the air at eye level, flickering to life with images that felt wrong for this world. Too bright. Too flat. The colours moved differently.
"All that you see here — every shelf, every blade — came from our master's world, brought here in magic. But long before this one, before the current name, our clan walked a different road — until the other came."
The images on the screen shifted. Old things. Mountains. A clan scattered across a landscape that didn't match anything any of them had seen.
"We hunted when hungry, slept when we could, a peaceful enough life — as wendigo should. Then came a wolf dragon — Drago, his name — and everything quiet was never the same."
Revy yawned.
It was a genuine yawn — wide, unhurried, the kind that came from someone who had told this story before and found it long.
Derrpy saw her opening.
She launched herself off the desk, crossed the room in what appeared to be zero steps, and landed directly on Lenora's lap — both hands planted on Lenora's shoulders, face inches away, red eyes enormous and very serious.
"Though we were wary," she said, low and dramatic, "he had this force — this destructive, incredible, terrifying force — that made every single one of us want to follow him. You know? Like deep in the wool. But he didn't want us to." Her voice dropped further. "He said — he said 'my time here is limited. Focus on the next wolf dragon god.'"
She paused for effect.
"And then our clan leader asked to challenge him—"
"Our leader lost."
Slurry. Flat. Precise. Not unkind — just accurate.
Derrpy turned to look at him with her whole face.
"I was getting to that—"
"The power between them wasn't close," Slurry continued, hands in his hoodie pocket, looking at the wall somewhere above Lenora's head. "Our leader accepted it. Ordered shrines built across each kingdom. Something to catch the attention of whoever came next." He paused. "That was a very long time ago."
Derrpy pointed at him with one finger.
"You always do that."
Slurry said nothing.
Lewd raised her hand.
"Um. Excuse me." She looked at Slurry. "Mr. Sheep. Your sister said we were claimed. What does that mean exactly?"
Revy had not stopped looking at Crysha.
Slurry answered without turning his head.
"You've been around our god. Close enough that it left a mark — even if he didn't mean for it to." He glanced at the ripple still moving slowly through Lenora's shadow. "This one's newer. Just woke our clan up after a long time. But the mark's there. We can't touch you."
Derrpy's hand shot up.
"But—" She turned, and her gaze slid sideways to Crysha with a grin that had too many layers to it. "That doesn't mean we can't touch your friend."
Crysha looked at her.
"I would prefer," she said carefully, "that you didn't. I'm traveling with them. I have no interest in releasing my power in an enclosed space."
Revy's head tilted.
"You think your strength could match us three, dear hare with all your dignity? We're older than your bloodline's roots — we've centuries in these old boots."
Red ice crept across the floor from where Revy stood — dark, deep crimson, wrong in the way that ice isn't supposed to have colour — spreading toward Crysha in slow, deliberate tendrils.
Crysha stepped forward and her own frost met it. White against red. The two held at the point of contact, neither giving.
"I am a patron in this establishment," Crysha said. "You don't eat paying customers."
"Unfortunately dear, we don't eat those who pay — Derrpy, Slurry — take her, sell her something today. And no eating her while I'm not in the room — or I'll have the pair of you before the next moon."
Two small sounds came from behind Revy.
"Epp."
"Epp."
"I have words for the claimed ones — just us three."
Slurry materialised at Crysha's elbow with the energy of someone who had been standing nearby for longer than anyone had noticed. Derrpy was already bouncing toward the nearest shelf, bell chiming, skull charm swinging.
"Come on come on come on," Derrpy said, grabbing Crysha's sleeve. "We have so many things. Do you like weapons? We have weapons. Do you like potions? We have those too. Do you like things that glow? Everything glows if you look at it long enough—"
Crysha threw Lenora one look over her shoulder.
Lenora gave her a small nod.
Crysha went.
The shop was quieter without them.
Lenora stood, stretched — the maid dress pulling in three directions at once — then sat back down and looked up at Revy, who had begun, slowly, to shrink. The antlers receded. The ceiling came back. The red eyes stayed the same.
Revy settled into something that almost looked like a person again, crossed her arms, and looked at both of them.
"So tell me of him — what's his face, what's his name? Is he near, is he far, is he hiding in your shade?"
"Okay, stop." Lewd held up both hands.
Revy blinked.
"You're asking too many questions and it's a lot." Lewd straightened. Smoothed her front. Took a breath. "Let's start over. Hi. I'm Lewd. I'm twenty. I was born in Whisperfen. Nice to meet you."
A pause.
Lenora cleared her throat. "And I'm Lenora. Born in a small village — location's private, sorry. Nice to meet you."
Revy looked at them both for a long moment.
Then, in a voice that had dropped almost all of its performance:
"Revy's the name — eldest of three. Wendigo sheep, as you can see. A pleasure, truly. Now — if you please. Tell me of Derpy. Put my mind at ease."
The others came back in before Lenora could begin. Crysha carrying something wrapped in cloth she hadn't had before. Derrpy bounding through the door. Slurry behind her with his hands in his pockets.
They all sat.
Lenora took a breath.
"Well. When I first met Derpy—"
"I'm right here," Derrpy said.
Everyone looked at her.
"Not you," Lenora said. "That's his name. Derpy."
Silence.
Derrpy looked at Slurry. Slurry looked at Revy. Revy looked at Derrpy.
Then Revy reached over and patted her sister on the head — once, slow, deliberate.
"Your name holds more meaning now, little one. Carry it well."
Derrpy sat very still for a moment.
Then her ears went flat and she looked at the floor and didn't say anything, which for Derrpy was essentially the loudest response available.
Lenora watched it land. Then she continued.
"When I first met him — he fell from the sky. Landed right in my campsite. I was shocked." A small breath. "Flustered, honestly. I wasn't expecting a person to fall out of the air. At first he was scared — then he ran. I couldn't tell if he didn't want trouble or if something had frightened him badly enough that running was just what he did now."
The three sheep sat without speaking.
All back to normal. All watching her.
"Interesting," they said — not quite together, not quite separately.
Lenora held up her wrist.
The bracelets caught the light before she said a word — yellow, warm, the kind of glow that came from something alive rather than something lit. The letters along the band were faint but legible.
Celica's Embers.
All three sheep looked at them.
Derrpy leaned forward so far she nearly fell off her seat. Slurry's hood came down. Even Revy's eyes sharpened slightly — just enough to notice.
"At first I didn't know what they were," Lenora said. "He told me eventually. A calamity book — bound into this form. Dragon authority. It allows him to give orders to dragons." She paused. "He hadn't used it. Not on any dragon. Not until recently."
The three of them nodded slowly. In sync, without meaning to be.
Lenora continued.
"We agreed to travel together. That was the arrangement — simple enough. Then a dragon named Vespera arrived." Her voice stayed even. "She came to take him. His pets and I tried to stop her. We didn't manage it." A breath. "The bracelets did. Celica moved on her own and stopped Vespera where we couldn't. After that, Vespera became a traveling companion — bound by a contract."
She looked at her wrist.
"He sealed it with a kiss."
Nobody spoke.
"I was jealous," Lenora said, simply, like she was stating the weather. "A dragon appeared from nowhere, got a kiss, and started following his orders. That was — yes. I was jealous."
Derrpy pressed both hands to her cheeks.
Slurry stared at the middle distance.
Revy said nothing, but something in her expression had shifted into something that was paying very close attention.
"After that I made my own contract with him. To be his teacher. I started training him — " Lenora stopped. A small pause. "He was already learning on his own. Faster than I expected."
She said it plainly. No decoration. But the words sat heavier than they sounded.
"We made it to Whisperfen. There was a girl there — a mouse. I told him not to get involved. I didn't want more complications. More people tangled up in something that was already complicated." Her ears tilted slightly. "He didn't listen."
She glanced sideways.
"We met Lewd."
The chair beside her scraped back.
Lewd rose — unhurried, deliberate, smoothing her front with both hands in the particular way she reserved for moments when she wanted to be taken seriously. She looked at Lenora.
"I'd like to take it from here," she said. "If that's all right."
Lewd folded her hands in her lap.
She sat the way she sat when she wanted to be taken seriously — back straight, chin level, the kind of posture that cost something to hold when your hands wanted to do other things. She looked at the three sheep across from her and she told it plainly.
"That day I met Derpy — he was kind." She said it like it was still slightly unbelievable. "He tried very hard not to make it look like he was helping. Like if he kept it casual enough I wouldn't notice what he was doing." A breath. "I noticed."
Her hands moved to her lap. Fingers curling inward.
"I'd been having a bad time. For a while." The words came measured, each one placed carefully. "Bullied. Looked down on. Lost my job. Lost my boyfriend. There were people who chased me into the sewers once — because that's the kind of thing that happened." She opened her hands again. Set them flat. "I was used to being the person nobody bothered to help. The one you step around."
The three sheep said nothing. But they were listening in the way that very old things listen — completely, without moving.
"When he helped me I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why. Why would someone like that help someone like me." Her voice didn't waver. "I didn't have an answer. So I did something stupid."
She paused.
"I spent the rest of my money on flowers. Walked up to him. Gave them to him." A beat. "And left before he could reject me."
Derrpy made a sound like air leaving a balloon very slowly.
"It felt right at the time," Lewd continued, with the tone of someone who had made peace with a decision while still acknowledging it had been terrible. "Then about an hour later I realized I had no money left for food. So I sat in an alleyway and thought about my choices." She tilted her head. "That's when I found it. A calamity book. Blight Vain — it came to me there, in that alleyway, like it had been waiting for the right moment to show up."
She looked at her hands.
"And that same evening, we were attacked. People from the Sinister Seven. Joker and King."
The room held that for a moment.
Then:
"A question, if I may, before the tale moves on its way—"
Revy. Leaning forward slightly, red eyes direct.
"The book you carry — Blight Vain — is that what rests with you today?"
"No." Lewd reached into her coat. The book that came out was dark and quiet and old in a way that had nothing to do with age. "Blight Vain found me that day. But this—" She set Phantasm on the table between them. "This was given to me by Derpy. When he was imprisoned in the White Tiger Kingdom. After he fled the Elven Empire."
Derrpy stared at it.
"So what book do you have?"
"Derpy's calamity book," Lewd said. "Phantasm."
Silence.
Slurry looked at the book. Then at Lewd. Then at the middle distance, in the way he looked at things when he was doing arithmetic that wasn't about numbers.
"A person wielding two calamity books," he said quietly.
He put his hands back in his hoodie pocket.
"That's our god for you."
Lenora had been quiet through all of it. She looked at the book on the table. At Lewd. At the three sheep. At the painting on the wall behind them — the dragon, the wolf, the thing in between, rendered in strokes that had known what they were painting.
"I feel," she said slowly, "that there's more to him than any of us have seen yet."
Nobody argued with that.
"I agree," Lewd said. She was still looking at the painting. "How does he keep getting stronger? Every time I think I understand what he is, there's more."
A voice moved through her head. Quiet. Precise. The way Phantasm always spoke — like it had already considered the question from every angle before answering.
We are responsible for that.
Lewd went still.
Parts of us were used to make him. Celica. Blight. Myself. Lunara — the sister series of Celica. Lunara's lover, a wolf god. And harpy feathers — from three harpies that fell into Dragon Valley. A pause that carried weight. Though I do not consider him my spawn. I prefer to claim him as my partner. My mate, when he is older.
The silence in Lewd's head lasted exactly one second.
Then she relayed it.
She kept her voice even. Professional. She reported it the way someone reports a weather forecast — factual, complete, no commentary.
Lenora looked at her.
Lewd looked back.
Neither of them said anything about the last part.
The three sheep had gone very still.
Then, low — barely audible — they began.
False god. False god. False god.
Not loud. Not aggressive. Just persistent, the way a sound becomes unbearable not because of its volume but because it doesn't stop. The room responded. The amber lights dimmed. The air thickened. The weapons on the walls shifted in their cases — not falling, just aware. The painting seemed darker than it had been a moment ago.
Lenora stood up.
"Listen." Her voice was sharp and clear and cut straight through the sound. "He is more dragon than anything else. More wolf. I have traveled with him, trained him, watched him fight — I have never seen anything in him that looked like a harpy. Whatever he was made from, what he is is something else entirely."
The whispering stopped.
The lights came back.
The room settled.
Revy, Derrpy, and Slurry looked at each other. Then at Lenora. Then at the floor, in the particular way of creatures who had nearly done something they couldn't take back and were quietly grateful for the interruption.
Slurry spoke first.
"For a moment," he said, with complete calm, "we thought we were going to have to eat you."
He put his hands back in his hoodie pocket.
"But why pieces?" He looked at the table. Not at anyone specifically — just at the space where the question sat. "Why use pieces to make a god instead of having the creators make one? Isn't that how the originals worked?"
Crysha, who had been quiet through all of it, turned her head.
"What do you mean," she said carefully, "originals?"
Slurry glanced at her.
"Before the harpies," he said, "there were only three gods. Everything else came after." He said it the way he said most things — flat, unhurried, like facts that had simply always existed and he was tired of being the one who had to repeat them. "Ruineth. God of destruction. Eveliette. God of creation. And above both of them — Auralithra. The one who creates and destroys. The main goddess."
He paused.
"After the harpies were created — Ruineth and Eveliette disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to them. Nobody's seen them since." His eyes moved to the window, where the purple energy still crackled faintly against the dark outside. "But Auralithra didn't disappear. She's still out there. Still creating. Still destroying."
He looked back at the table.
"She resides in the Kingdom of Reflections. Somewhere."
The word somewhere sat in the room like a stone dropped in deep water.
Crysha said nothing. But her expression had shifted — the careful blankness of someone filing something away very quickly before anyone could see what it meant to her.
Lenora looked at Slurry.
"If the creators existed," she said slowly, "why would anyone use pieces to make him instead of just — asking them to make one properly?"
Slurry looked at her.
"That," he said, "is exactly the right question."