The Young Lady Is the Substitute Harvest Goddess Vol 1

a Harvest Goddess?

Demeter Serraffield was having a peculiar night.

That was the only real way it could properly be described: peculiar.

Demi could still recall having read into the early hours of the morning, cozy in her own bed, in her own house, on her family’s securely guarded country estate, Forest Home.

She had gotten to the end of her favorite book, completing a journey she had already undertaken dozens and dozens of times, and clasped it to her chest as she let out a sigh of absolute contentment. Then she had giggled, then wriggled, rolling from side to side in the tangle of blankets, books, and pillows that were strewed across the surface of her massive canopy bed. Her heart had been sparkling with pleasure and nostalgia, so much so that it felt as if it would be impossible to contain it all inside of her body.

So she had rolled around for a while, wriggled some more, giggled some more, and at last fallen asleep with her arms around her beloved Miracle Lacey dakimakura.

It had been worth it to stay up late to finish her book, even though such a decision would surely make the next day exhausting. It didn’t matter how many times she had read it or how excruciating staying up extra late might make the next day’s schedule. It would always be worth it to stay up and finish reading it. That was a true fact of nature.

And she had gone to sleep.

She felt relatively certain that she had gone to sleep in her bed in a relatively ordinary way.

(Ordinary for her, at least.)

And yet now—she was not in her bed.

She was not in her bedroom.

She was not in the manor house nor on the estate, which was surrounded on three sides by a vast and eldritch forest. The view from the window nearest to her seemed to look out upon a whimsical Arcadian glen, not on the gardens and park of the estate nor the labyrinthine forest.

But even more confounding than the inexplicable environs was the person sharing the space with her.

There, sitting directly across from her at the painted farmhouse table was the most peculiar thing of all.

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The girl on the other side of the table was Demi’s perfect double—almost down to the last eyelash—with very few exceptions. Rather than chestnut brown, the goddess’s absurdly long, curly hair was a milky jade color, each strand almost luminous in the way it caught and reflected the light. She also appeared to have golden antlers, the points curling above her head in a natural crown. Her ephemeral, diaphanous dress flowed over her in soft layers, shimmering in variable hues of green as iridescent as a beetle’s carapace or the plumage of a kingfisher.

It definitely looks like the kind of thing a goddess might wear, Demi reflected.

She was garlanded in pink roses, cool with the blush of life, and several butterflies and moths fanned their wings in her hair like living ornaments.

The person sitting across the table from her looked positively divine.

And that was apparently because she was, or at least, so she had explained.

And yet, even with all of the divinity—the golden antlers, cascade of roses, and jeweled butterflies—the resemblance was uncanny.

It’s like looking at a palette swap, Demi thought to herself.

It was quite a lot to take in.

Demi’s own interior mental deliberation society, the Council of Demi, a membership of various facets of herself who generally convened to unanimously agree with her, were once again in full agreement.

“Secret Twin Sister?!” read one sign held up by an industrious member. “Magic Twin Sister?!” read another. The members conferred quickly and returned with “Secret Magic Twin Sister!!!”

Demi tapped a finger against her cheek.

“Let’s go through this again,” she said, faintly exasperated. “I need to make sure I’ve got all of the pieces in place.”

The self-proclaimed goddess gave a positively angelic smile and fluttered her hand to indicate that Demi ought to continue.

It wasn’t only their outward appearance that made them seem nearly identical. Their physical mannerisms were also echoes of one another. They both had hands like live birds, always in motion as they spoke, but never frenetic, never sharp. There was also a kind of wistfulness in their grace, like scattering cherry blossoms.

“You’re Hollyhope, the Goddess of the Harvest,” Demi noted, keeping her eyes focused on her other half.

“Pimpom!” Hollyhope chimed, and then brought a dainty hand to her mouth. “Ehee hee, for the peoples of this world who practice agriculture, I am indeed the Goddess of the Harvest. But for eeeeeeeeveryone who lives, from velvety dormice to spongy fungus to the great ferene trees to all of my little ones, the archaebiota, I am the Goddess of Life.”

She looked to Demi like she ought to be riding in the back of a convertible during a parade, or offering very loopy autographs while appearing at a handshake event with a line that wrapped around the building.

“Aha ha,” Demi laughed weakly. “I’m sure the archaebiota appreciate your divine protection, and the, um, ‘ferene trees.’” Thus far, the Goddess of Life had given Demi the general impression that she was sweet and well-meaning, but maybe, perhaps, possibly? A little bit scatterbrained.

Ah, in this situation, it’s hard to admit that people sometimes think the same thing about me, she thought to herself.

“You’re Hollyhope, the Goddess of Life and the Harvest,” Demi corrected patiently, raising the index fingers on both of her hands and bringing them together in front of herself. “And now we’re both sitting together, if I am not mistaken, in a small house in the divine realm?”

“Pimpom!” the goddess chimed, and began politely clapping, although whether she was clapping for Demi or for herself was entirely unclear. “Although you shouldn’t say ‘the’ divine realm. You should say ‘a’ divine realm, because there are many many, many many many, many many many many, many realms. Some are so close together that they’re directly connected, and some are very very far apart. But that’s really beside the point,” she said with another winsome smile, tilting her head to the side. The very air around her seemed to shimmer with her general presence every time she smiled. She clapped her hands together and then swayed back and forth in place. “This is my weekend getaway cottage! Isn’t it cute? I designed and decorated it allllllllll myself.”

Demi had to admit, the goddess was factually correct on that point. The cottage was very cute, and as a connoisseur of cute things, Demi felt well qualified in making that assessment. This room alone was full to bursting with cozy furnishings and other charming decor. All of the furniture was solid wood, oiled and polished until it gleamed in the warm light. The wood of these familiar household articles was beautifully carved, showcasing small woodland animals, flowers, and grains, and the surfaces that weren’t carved were painted in the fashion of toleware, with a motif of pink roses and clover. The throw pillows in the comfortable-looking Morris chairs had ribbon embroidery. There was a patchwork quilt hanging on the wall, and a braided rag rug on the floor.

As if to multiply the already astonishing power level of this adorable room, there were two cats asleep on the overstuffed needlepoint pillows and a very small golden kitten asleep in a basket filled with neatly rolled balls of candy-colored yarn.

This cottage was definitely a place that Demi would rank high on her list of possible vacation destinations, most particularly because this place was practically bursting with books: on every shelf, in every nook and corner, and even piled in less expected spots, like on top of the refrigerator.

If there was any single thing that might have qualified this place as a divine realm in Demi’s estimation, then it was, without question, the superabundance of books.

It was taking every ounce of Demi’s self-control to keep from leaping up and beginning a thorough investigation of every book on the premises.

(She had already performed a cursory examination when she had first arrived and then a secondary one some time after that. She wasn’t made of stone.)

But despite the powerful allure of the books, Demi felt that it was her responsibility to keep them on track. If she didn’t, then Hollyhope was likely to meander off into further rosy digressions about traditional cultural handicrafts or the growing seasons of her favorite flowers.

(Complete with illustrations the goddess provided on a magical whiteboard she had introduced for this specific purpose.)

“And so I can be certain that I am not misunderstanding anything, let me confirm,” Demi continued, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “We’re no longer on Earth.”

“Pimpom! Ehee hee. It’s more correct to say that we’re on one of many worlds called ‘Earth,’ just not the one where you originated!” Hollyhope cheerfully explained, motioning toward the whiteboard, which showed a drawing of a terrestrial planet. “The people of this place still call it ‘earth’ in their own language, a word that means both the land where they live and the soil underfoot. That’s actually relatively common across realms, on terrestrial planets where sentient life originates. It can be a little different on ocean-dominated planets where sentient life is aquatic, and of course it’s different among space-faring peoples who settle multiple planets. Calling every single one of them ‘earth’ would be confusing,” she pointed out sensibly, a single finger raised for emphasis. She was still exuding her “sense of being an idol” and smiling her beatific smile.

It was honestly healing to look at her, even if their conversation about Very Important Details was somewhat roundabout as a result of her personality.

“So as I understand it, at this moment, we are on a different planet,” Demi began cautiously.

“Pimpom! Or mostly pimpom? Technically pimpom?” Hollyhope answered, tilting her head quizzically. She got to her feet daintily and caught hold of the corner of the whiteboard and flipped it over, pointing at an illustration of a subtly different terrestrial planet. “This is not the planet where you originated, that is correct, but it’s a little more complicated than that.” She began to sway back and forth on her feet, humming, and then turned to flip the whiteboard over again.

The first time she had done this and revealed entirely new illustrations, Demi had applauded, as if she were at a magician’s stage show. Caught up in the moment, Hollyhope had also begun applauding, as if she were both audience and exhibitor at the same time. Both then and now she gave the impression of being an idol presenting prizes on a variety show.

“You wouldn’t be able to find this place on a star map, even if you were a member of a type-three civilization,” Hollyhope said, pointing at a simplified diagram of a barred spiral galaxy. Then she turned back to face Demi and raised a slender finger to her lips and tapped on them thoughtfully. “Of course, it is possible to open a gate between realms if you have sufficient energy and understanding. I think it would be possible for your people in the future, particularly if you were to cooperate with dragons.” She laughed again lightly. “Of course it’s possible to forge a connection between realms,” she pointed out. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to summon you, and yet here~ you~ are~!”

“Ehee hee,” Demi echoed, tilting her head to the side and smiling. “It seems you have me there!”

The two of them smiled peacefully at one another, the space in their general vicinity practically trembling with the power of their combined ultracute sparkling idol energy. They both seemed carefree, and yet totally content.

But on the inside, Demi’s mind had been thrown into overdrive yet again.

It wasn’t the first time that Hollyhope had used a fantasy-sounding word in her roundabout explanation of the situation at hand, but the words “dragon” and “summon” were particularly powerful ones.

This was, without question, a game-based world.

My hundreds of hours of playing video games have prepared me for this very day! Demi swore to herself with fiery resolve.

It seemed to be a very particular sort of game-based world at that.

This was a farming game world, and Hollyhope Fieldcraft was the Harvest Goddess.

(And the Goddess of Life, which was admittedly a more impressive title in any context apart from a farming game.)

While Demi was considering this, the goddess clapped her hands together.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked cheerfully. “I’ll make some tea! I have some delicious snacks. Ufu fu fu. ~ I’ve been preparing for this all week!”

They had been talking things over for some time and Demi was beginning to feel both parched and peckish, but she did her best to wave Hollyhope off, concerned that the goddess was about to become even more distracted than she had been thus far.

“No, no, it’s fine!” she attempted, but Hollyhope had already trotted into her sweet little kitchen and was humming happily.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she called. “You can keep asking questions.”

With a half-hearted sigh, Demi got to her feet to follow Hollyhope.

This goddess certainly does things at her own pace, doesn’t she? she reflected absently.

It was probably good to remain philosophical in this situation, she decided. Hollyhope was her only source of information about this place, and she doubted it was wise to antagonize a goddess, regardless.

Demi was, as a rule, a nonbeliever, but she was also a rationalist. Just because her own world didn’t have anything approaching a godly figure did not mean that other worlds might not have such. What the word “goddess” might mean was surely dependent on the circumstances of that particular place.

And when in Rome... she thought as she lingered in the open arch that divided the quaint breakfast nook from the somehow even quainter kitchen.

As Demi was thinking things over, she stopped to lean against the obverse side of Hollyhope’s magic whiteboard. There was a very cute ideographic depiction of a farm surrounded by a forest on it, an illustration that occupied all of the space on the board. Naturally, it was upside down.

Distracted by her own thoughts, she did not recognize immediately that the whiteboard had obscured a bookshelf that was standing against the wall behind it, just beside the entrance to the kitchen.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Demi’s eyes began absently sweeping across the books on the shelf in front of her. It was subconscious reflex, something as natural as breathing, and she wasn’t even properly reading the titles as her eyes moved over the letters...

Until she did.

She felt a little jolt inside as she brought a fingertip up to touch the spine of the first in a neatly ordered sequence of similar-looking books, both eyebrows raised.

“The Shadowstep Alchemist,” she read aloud, her eyes round and curious.

This was—

This had to be—

There was no mistaking it.

The size, the shape, the sense...

It didn’t matter in the slightest that this was some sort of fantasy farming game world.

Demi had held enough of them in her own hands to know what it was.

She pulled that first book off the shelf to look at the cover, the color rising in her cheeks as she turned to look at Hollyhope.

“This is a light novel, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes shining. She looked as if she had just discovered a holy grail that did not require summoning servants as a prerequisite.

“Fu fu fu fu. ~” The goddess laughed, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. “Indeed,” she confirmed. “That is what it is.”

Hollyhope’s own cheeks were rosy, and as their eyes met, the goddess straightened her spine, puffing out her chest a little and looking—

Well, she looked quite insufferably smug.

I suppose she’s proud of the fact that she owns all of them? Demi wondered. I mean, I know that I would be deeply proud of such a collection.

There were at least three dozen of them, after all.

Still slightly confused by the goddess’s reaction, Demi looked down at the book.

A whole series about alchemy and I haven’t read a single one of them! she trilled to herself as she looked at the book in her hands. Today is a wonderful day! This world is splendid. It gets an A++.

“Wait,” Demi said, her fingers tensing on the book as a new thought took root in her brain. “This is a fantasy world with magic, isn’t it? Does that mean, does that mean this world not only has magic, but it also has alchemy? Alchemy with a cauldron and everything?” she asked, so overwhelmed by the possibility that she rose up on her toes and began bouncing in place.

Hollyhope blinked. This was apparently not the direction she had expected the conversation to go, but she recovered herself quickly, leaning her cheek against her hand.

“Ah, yes, we do. After a fashion, at least,” the goddess answered, but Demi had promptly tuned out any words that came after “yes” to suit her own picture of things.

Alchemy, alchemy, magic and alchemy. ~ She was singing to herself. Fantasy worlds are the best! She pulled the light novel to her chest and spun around in place as a way of expressing her feelings on the subject.

When she looked at Hollyhope again she could see that the goddess was smiling fondly.

“Alchemy is just so mysterious and fascinating, isn’t it?” Hollyhope asked, a flush in her own cheeks.

“It absolutely is!” Demi agreed. “Magic is good because it’s magic!”

“And alchemy is good because it’s alchemy!” they both declared together, then broke out into laughter.

“You’re going to be fine,” Hollyhope said with a nod of absolute certainty.

Demi hugged the first volume of The Shadowstep Alchemist to her chest and repeated the words softly. “I’m going to be fine.”

“Besides, if you ever find that it’s just too much, he’ll be there to help you,” Hollyhope said with a warm smile, nodding toward the book Demi held against her chest.

Demi looked down at the cover of volume 1 of The Shadowstep Alchemist with its grim-faced protagonist, a young dark-haired boy with slender, pointed ears. He looked as if he were ready for anything.

It’s true, she thought to herself. Books have helped me through some really difficult times. I look forward to our journey together, Shadowstep Alchemist.

As Demi was leaning back against the whiteboard again, delighting over the book she was cradling, she got a very intense sense of foreboding, something that gave her a jolt as surely as touching the light novel had, only this jolt was decidedly more alarming.

She immediately scanned the area around herself and tried to determine where the most interior wall was, so she could put her back to it. She had been through enough drills with bodyguards to know what to do in case of an attempted assassination: Put her back to a solid interior wall and get under cover. But as she was scanning the area around herself like a startled deer, she got another unpleasant jolt from behind. She wheeled around to lock eyes with a dark shape that had such a menacing and powerful gaze that she was unable to look away from it.

She felt like a mouse staring into the eyes of a snake.

Somehow, she marshaled all of her courage and let out a little shriek, pointing at the shape.

“There’s something terrible hiding on top of your refrigerator!” Demi warned. And indeed, the thing on top of the refrigerator was exuding intense Final Boss vibes.

But Hollyhope was completely unworried. She didn’t even turn to look.

“Leonard,” she chided. “You’re making her uncomfortable. Stop being so grumpy!”

There was a quiet, indescribable noise from atop the refrigerator and the low shape sat up, and although it did not stop staring at her, Demi felt a tangible drop in threat level.

Did that cat really give me a Newtype flash? she wondered, her mind spinning. Twice?

“Just ignore him,” Hollyhope suggested pleasantly. She was currently engaged in hand-whipping fresh cream. “He looks like the biggest stick-in-the-mud grumpy-puss in the whole world, but he’s really as sweet and soft as a marshmallow underneath!”

“If you say so,” Demi answered, not entirely convinced. She was a great fan of cats in general, and cranky, unfriendly ones in particular, but she had never experienced this level of existential dread from any four-legged creature before. “Leonard seems very, very powerful,” she observed to Hollyhope, keeping the cat squarely in her field of vision as she moved fully into the kitchen. No matter how alarming he was, Demi couldn’t help but admire him.

“Ah yes, he is very adorable, isn’t he?” Hollyhope answered, nodding in time as she tested the whipped cream. “I love him to bits. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

As a way of punctuating this statement, she spooned a little of the whipped cream into a pretty, pale pink dish and with the aid of a step stool, she scooted it behind the books on the top of the refrigerator.

Leonard remained as still as a statue, staring at Demi for several seconds, but at last his desire for fresh whipped cream overcame his stoic fortitude and he disappeared behind the books again, apparently to eat his cream.

Hollyhope then busied herself laying out teacups on a toleware tray. Each cup was delicate and beautifully painted with a design of pink roses and clover.

That seemed to be the goddess’s dominant motif.

With the looming threat of Leonard passed, or at least the sword returned to its scabbard, Demi felt she could move back to their previous topic of conversation, the light novel still pressed against her chest like a security blanket.

“Can you explain exactly why you summoned me?” Demi asked frankly.

Hollyhope looked up in surprise.

“Ararararara,” she trilled out, tilting her head to the side. “I haven’t told you yet?”

Demi’s forehead wrinkled. “No,” she reminded the goddess patiently. “You have not.”

I really need to know what I’m doing here!!!

It had taken some time for the Council of Demi to reconvene after repeated assaults by Hollyhope’s cute expressions, her meandering detours, and well, Leonard, but by now, they had gathered together again and were feeling decidedly antsy.

One was holding up a sign that said, “we need to know what’s going on!!!” Two other members were pointing at the sign and holding up their own exclamation points. Another raised a sign that said, “What if we don’t have enough time to read books?!!!” Once she had, the other members became agitated and began pointing at that sign. Only one member was contentedly waving a little flag with a charming pink sheep on it.

A few such sheep could be spied grazing outside one of the windows in the cozy little kitchen.

The kettle at last began to sing, so Hollyhope paused to fill the pretty teapot while Demi waited for her answer.

The goddess picked up the top of the tea stand that had been packed full of little sandwiches, scones, cookies, and other small sweets and offered it to Demi with a serene smile.

“Everything is ready, so we ought to go back to the table and enjoy our snack,” she suggested.

Some members of the Council of Demi were still pointing at the book-related sign, but several of them had been sidetracked by the promise of food.

Demi herself tried to remain stalwart and focused, but then her stomach growled in a very embarrassing way. She flushed pink and meekly accepted the tea stand, tucking the book under one of her arms.

Hollyhope picked up the tray with the tea on it and gave another smile that could have made flowers bloom.

“Eating lots of good food is very important,” she said mildly. “You need to nourish your body and your heart. Besides,” she said cheerfully, “sugar is good for the brain! I’m sure we’ll be able to think lots and lots of wonderful thoughts after we eat. There’s no use trying to figure things out on an empty stomach. You’ll just become a grumpy grump.”

She had a point. And she had even used a justification that came directly from Demi’s own personal “Strategy Book for Doing Whatever I Want.”

Sugar was good for the brain.

Demi carried the tea stand to the little farmhouse table and again sat down in the spot she had occupied before, carefully settling the book in her lap and protectively covering it with one of the sweetly embroidered cloth napkins that the goddess had brought along with her tea service.

Hollyhope poured the tea. It had a rosy color and smelled a little of citrus. It was very refreshing.

She then passed Demi a little round plate and proceeded to put both cream and sugar in her tea.

One, two, three, four.

Demi counted the sugar cubes, then, as Hollyhope gracefully stirred her tea with a little golden spoon, Demi proceeded to make the exact same cream and sugar concoction for herself.

They both raised their teacups in unison, pinkies out, and then sipped their tea.

“Ahhh, so healing,” the goddess sighed at the same time that Demi said, “So refreshing.”

This made them both giggle. It was difficult for Demi to stay perturbed when she was sitting in an adorable room, drinking delicious tea with a pretty girl, and eating sweet and savory snacks. Hollyhope settled her teacup back on the table and chose a scone.

She began speaking as she split it and spread it with cream and jam.

“Because of various things that have happened, I’m the primary resident administrator goddess of this realm,” she explained with her healing smile.

She absolutely has the aura of an idol, Demi thought to herself as she chose her own scone from the tea stand. I wonder if all goddesses are like this?

Demi had no difficulties imagining Hollyhope onstage in a frilly outfit while a sea of cyalume glow sticks waved in unison.

“But being the only active resident administrator is really tiiiiiiiiiring,” the goddess confessed, miming rubbing her eyes. “I’ve had a lot of things to do recently, and it’s left me too exhausted to do everything. If I keep working like this, I’m going to shrivel up like an autumn leaf and blow away in the wind.” As she described this dramatic outcome, she lowered her voice to a whisper and she wrapped her arms around herself to mime getting smaller.

“That would be really really bad for everyone!” Hollyhope declared, steepling her fingers together in front of herself. Then she smiled again, tilting her head.

“That’s why I brought you here to help me with things!”

Arara, Demi thought. Here we go! I suppose even Harvest Goddesses need heroes, or heroines in this case. I wonder what that entails? Will I gather a party of agriculture-related allies and go battle the demon king of crop failure? Or is this the kind of scenario where I have to revitalize a certain small town with amazing advances in farming and ranching?

The Council of Demi held up their own signs in prediction of the possibilities.

“Dramatic quests!” “Thrilling adventure!” “Finding true love!” “Making friends with all of the magic beasts in the world!” “Reading all of the books in the world!” “Vacation!”

The members of the council conferred among themselves briefly after looking at one another’s signs, but quickly reached a consensus. They soon had a new sign that read, “Make friends with all of the magic beasts in the world, read all of the books in the world, find true love, and have a nice vacation!” They all seemed to be earnestly in support of this one.

Demi felt she was ready for whatever Hollyhope required from her. This was a world based on farming game logic, after all. She loved farming games and had played dozens of them over the course of her life. There was something very relaxing about tending to crops and taking care of sheep and chickens, befriending the local villagers, and romancing and marrying the most serious and cranky bachelor who was on offer.

I wonder if I’m expected to do that here, Demi thought to herself. She did say that I could be here for years with no repercussions. Then her cheeks turned pink and she was forced to cup them with her hands. Kyaaa ~, she thought to herself. In a game is one thing, but it’s different in real life!

Demi had captured dozens and dozens of targets in games, and romanced even the most difficult hidden characters—usually redeemed villains, final bosses, and alternate timeline versions of the aforementioned. She’d read lots and lots of books about romance, stacks of manga, and several hundred doujinshi. She might not have much experience having normal human relationships with actual, living people, but she considered herself a pro when it came to having relationships with imaginary ones.

(That was probably an embarrassing thing to be proud of. It was definitely an embarrassing thing to be proud of! All she had to do was think about it for five seconds and she realized it! She might just be a failure as a human being. It was best not to think about it.)

Still, even with hundreds of hours of experience courting entirely fictitious people, Demi wasn’t sure she was emotionally ready to romance an actual person, even in another world. It wasn’t really that she didn’t want to. She wanted to! It remained a huge preoccupation of hers, which was one of the reasons she had played so many games (and read so many doujinshi).

There would be holding hands, and kissing, and then this and that! And that and this! And everything in between!

Demi had a world class imagination. In seconds it had entirely carried her away.

Ahhhh she couldn’t think about that! Not here! She was at some strange otherworldly tea party with a goddess! She was going to die of embarrassment!

She gripped the book on her lap like it was a beloved stuffed animal and willed herself to stop existing, her whole face pink.

Hollyhope watched the silent tableau unfolding in front of her while peacefully sipping her tea and nibbling on her scone.

It took a while for Demi’s imagination to run its course, and she felt that she was left panting from chasing after it, hobbling along unsteadily until she crashed to the ground and resolved to pretend that nothing at all had happened. Ever. Ever.

When Demi finally recovered, she managed to verbalize a question that was not related to her overactive imagination regarding potential future paramours.

“What is it exactly that you want me to do?” she wondered curiously. She tilted her head to the side as she quietly waited for Hollyhope to outline her expectations. She could not escape the painful awareness that she had been the one to initiate the most recent elaborate detour.

Fortunately, it seemed that the goddess was actually ready to provide an answer.

“Oh, it should be easy for you,” Hollyhope reassured her. “I want you to take my place as the Goddess of Life while I rest up. Once I’m feeling a little better, it should be much easier for us to get everything done if we share the duties.”

She said it with such gentle certainty that Demi nodded along, saying, “Ah, I see. That makes perfect sense.”

And then a moment passed, and Hollyhope had a little more tea and chose a tea sandwich to begin eating.

And at last the words fully penetrated Demi’s brain.

“Wait wait wait!” she cried, throwing her arms up in an X before her. “Goddess? You want me to be a goddess? Not a hero or a farmer or something? You want me to be a goddess?!!!”

The Council of Demi had all raised exclamation points. Some of them had more than one.

“Fu fu fu, well, during the course of your duties, you probably will be farming, and even doing some hero-type things. You’ll need to do things within your sphere of influence to acquire experience and gain control of your powers. If they were just all unlocked from the start, you wouldn’t have any idea what to do with them,” Hollyhope explained, sounding quite sensible. “But don’t worry too much about it. You’ll probably want to do most of it anyway. It’s all to have a wonderful country life! Don’t you think all of that sounds fun?” she asked encouragingly.

“But why?” Demi asked, still confounded. “Is this something that just happens sometimes? Random people get summoned to random worlds and become goddesses?” she asked incredulously.

“Ehee hee~” Hollyhope laughed. “Of course not! This is absolutely a special circumstance. I actually thought about a lot of different possibilities before I landed on this one,” she assured her. “But this is definitely the best plan I came up with. And of course I didn’t choose you at random,” she chided with a smile. “I needed someone with a very high compatibility with the role. That’s not very common, you know!” she lectured, raising one of her fingers and closing one eye. “They also needed to have sufficient capacity to take on the position of administrator. Not everybody can become the Goddess of Life! After I thought about it, rather than spending a really long time searching for a candidate, and then maybe getting someone with a bad personality accidentally, the best idea was to bring over another ‘me’ from a different realm. I can always trust myself, after all,” she declared with an officious nod. “And you were the ‘me’ with the most experience, so that’s why I chose you,” she explained.

“Another ‘me’?” Demi asked in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“Well, you’re the ‘me’ of your world,” Hollyhope answered, as if this ought to be obvious. “That’s why we look so similar. In the same way, you could say that I’m the ‘you’ of this world.”

Demi’s head was spinning. “You mean to say that we actually look almost identical? You didn’t just take on a familiar form to make me feel more comfortable?”

“No,” Hollyhope said, waving one of her hands like a fish tail. “That would be super weird. We do actually look alike.”

“And we don’t just look alike?” Demi pressed, leaning her cheek into her hand. “We actually are alike?”

“Ara ara ara ara,” trilled out Hollyhope. “Don’t you think so?” the goddess asked, adopting a mirrored pose.

Ara ara ara ara, when she puts it that way... Demi wavered.

But then she squinched her eyes closed tightly for a moment, collecting herself. When she opened them again she began waving her own hands. “Look, I think you may have gotten confused,” she said. “I might be named ‘Demeter,’ but I’m not actually Earth’s Goddess of Life. I’m just an ordinary girl.”

That wasn’t strictly true. Demi was an aristocrat and beyond that, she was the heir to her family’s title as well as to their seat in the Curia of Lords. Provided she survived to take her seat, she would one day be one of the most powerful people in the world, with absolute dominion over her territory.

All of that made her not very much like an ordinary girl at all. And yet, with reference to being a goddess, this still felt very relevant to point out.

But Hollyhope seemed utterly unperturbed.

“You’re definitely the ‘me’ of your world,” Hollyhope insisted. “I checked your parameters before summoning you, and now that you’re here, your parameters have adjusted according to the rules of this world.”

As if in illustration, she drew her fingers across the air, and letters and numbers glimmered into reality.

Ahh, Demi thought nostalgically. The fabled status screen.

Then she gave herself a mental shake and began reading the information on the screen.

It listed some very normal things, like her name and age, but under species, it listed “divine being” and beyond that, her title was listed as “Harvest Goddess from Another World.”

She had no idea how to explain that.

Hollyhope moved her fingers again and brought up her own status screen so Demi could compare them. Her age appeared to be some sort of mathematical expression and did not make much sense to Demi. But her species was also “divine being,” and her title was listed as “Harvest Goddess,” and under that, “Goddess of Life.”

“Once you raise your divine rank a little, I’m sure you’ll also gain the title ‘Goddess of Life from another world.’” Hollyhope assured her, as if this might be at the forefront of Demi’s concerns. “Until then, there are plenty of things you can do as the Harvest Goddess. You can have a wholesome, laid-back country life, filled with the joys of nature!”

Still trying to deal with this new information, Demi stuffed a whole petit four in her mouth and looked at her own status screen again.

She was level one, as might be expected, and while she wasn’t entirely sure about the meaning of her current stats (most especially when compared to Hollyhope’s, which, like her age, were somewhat inscrutable), every single one had an infinity symbol listed after the number.

“What exactly does that mean?” asked Demi. Am I going to have insanely overpowered goddess abilities? she wondered to herself.

“Ehee hee~” Hollyhope laughed. “That’s your potential. Since you’re a goddess, you have infinite potential within your sphere of influence. It means you can grow as strong as you want, so long as you work hard to level up. You might even become stronger than me someday!” she said with a flash of her hands. It was a sweet little cheer. “You can gain experience doing anything that you can somehow relate to being the Harvest Goddess. If you believe that it’s connected in your heart, it will work naturally and you’ll gain lots and lots of experience!” Hollyhope advised, this time moving both of her index fingers in unison to trace the shape of two endless circles.

“So it doesn’t actually have to be related to being the Harvest Goddess?” Demi asked, her eyebrows raised. “I just have to believe that it’s connected?”

“So long as you can justify it to yourself, it will count,” Hollyhope assured her with a wink so charming that it generated a sound effect.

Demi’s eyes widened and she shook her head slightly. “That’s some system you’ve got there.”

“Ehee hee~” laughed Hollyhope. “The most effective goddesses know to use their systems in the most effective ways!”

That seems like a very cute admission of gaming the system, Demi thought dryly to herself. No wonder she’s got such crazy stats.

“So what exactly should I do?” Demi asked. “I’m touched that you have so much confidence in me, but if I’m the most qualified candidate among all of the other... ‘me’s, then that’s honestly a little concerning. I mean, I do love animals, and I’ve helped in the gardens at the country house, but I’m definitely not a farm girl.”

Suddenly it was if Demi was struck by a clear, electric bolt of inspiration. She sat up straight and gripped the book in her lap before beginning to flutter her hands rapidly.

“Books!” she cried in excitement. “Do you have any books about farming? Or ranching? Or other Harvest-Goddess-related activities?!”

Demi had an unfailing faith that books could solve all of her problems.

Hollyhope beamed. “I have lots of books about farming and ranching and Harvest-Goddess-related things!” she said. “I even wrote some of them myself! And I prepared a whoooooooole set of tutorials for you. Don’t worry. You’ll definitely do fine! It’s in your nature to be a Harvest Goddess, after all.”

Demi smiled weakly in response. “I can’t say I understand where your optimism is coming from, but I suppose if anyone knows about being a Harvest Goddess, then it’s you.”

By this point they had completely finished the well-appointed tea, and Hollyhope yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh I am sorry,” she apologized, this time authentically rubbing at her eyes with her small fists. “I’m just very, very tired. Summoning you here must have taken more out of me than I expected.” She yawned again and then she fluttered her hands. “Well, it all turned out fine in the end. You’re here and I’m sure you’re very excited to begin your wonderful vacation as a Harvest Goddess.”

“I suppose,” Demi said hesitantly, looking at the books that crowded the wholesome little cottage. “Once I’ve had a little time to do some research and become accustomed to the idea— Wait, wait, wait—” Demi began in alarm as Hollyhope twinkled into a very sweet nightgown, complete with a little twin tailed cap on her head.

“Don’t worry,” Hollyhope assured her again as she yawned. “I know you’ll do a great job! I believe in you! I’m sending you to one of my favorite places to get started. Just plant some crops, cuddle some animals, and do all of the other things that farmers do and you’ll be off to a perfect start! I know you’ll love it! And don’t worry, I’m sending along a holy beast to assist you!”

“But—”

“Oh, and take it easy! Don’t try and take on too much at once. I often have that problem!” came the last bit of cheerful advice from the fading voice of the goddess.

Before Demi could even get another protestation out, she was no longer in the quaint little cottage. She did not think she could be anywhere remotely near it.

The fledgling Harvest Goddess had come to the earth.

the goddess and the world’s most beautiful chicken

Demi was so surprised by her sudden translocation that she landed with a whump on her behind.

The ground underneath her was a little uncomfortable, hard and somewhat dusty. She appeared to be at the edge of an open area with dry, swaying grasses. An optimist might have called it a meadow, but it felt a bit too desiccated to qualify for that word as it was currently. She seemed to be at the thin edge of a woodland.

When she looked down at her hands, she realized that she was still tightly gripping the prettily embroidered cloth napkin from Hollyhope’s table, along with the first volume of The Shadowstep Alchemist.

Well, Shadowstep Alchemist, it looks like it’s just you and me now, she thought weakly. I do feel bad about running off with the first volume though. I hope Hollyhope won’t be too upset about it.

She stood up and dusted herself off, tucking the book and napkin into the pocket of her dress for safekeeping.

Upon her arrival in Hollyhope’s “weekend getaway cottage,” the goddess had kindly provided her with a change of clothing more suited to their discussion than a pair of pajamas. Demi wasn’t sure where her original pajamas had gone, as Hollyhope had accomplished this feat with a sparkle of magic.

(It had had the feeling of a magical girl transformation. Demi had already put “learning how to change her clothes like a magical girl” high on her list of priorities as a fledgling Harvest Goddess.)

The clothes that Hollyhope had furnished her with had likely been to her taste, and they ended up being to Demi’s taste as well. She had a calf-length skirt made out of a soft and durable material over a pair of frilled leggings that approached her knees. They gave the appearance of being something like pantaloons, but they felt more like pajamas, which was something Demi could absolutely appreciate. For socks, she had pretty clocked stockings with ribbon garters that went to just above her knees. Her blouse was fitted, given structure by delicate pintucks down the front and small pearl buttons carved in the shape of flowers. There was extravagant ribbon embroidery down both of her sleeves, a line of crimson flowers over crisscrossing silk trim. Her cuffs were fitted at the wrist, but belled gently with frills that were tied with red ribbons.

Her dress was quite folksy and trachten in its style.

Ahh, I look like a maiden from the Alps, she thought to herself, turning around in a circle. I feel like I ought to sing a song to the mountainside.

The dress was predominantly a rich hunter green with a fitted bodice trimmed with red piping and the delicate embroidery of roses, clover blossoms, and woodland flowers like forget-me-nots, wood sorrel, and daisies. Five gleaming red buttons in the shape of four-leaf clovers ran down the front, and a robust Tyrollean ribbon was tied in a bow at her throat, with a red rose brooch pinned to the center.

The dress’s pendulum skirt was a confection unto itself, a profusion of frills, ruffles, pintucks, and picot edging. It also had two very ample hidden pockets, big enough to hold light novels, chocolates, accidentally purloined napkins, and other sundries a girl might find herself in possession of.

She even had a very practical half apron, or well, it was practical in the sense that it was an apron, at least. It was embroidered with roses and clover and ornamented into the stratosphere with ruffles, two different kinds of jacquard ribbon, flowery lace, and rickrack trim.

Roses and clover were Hollyhope’s primary motif, and it seemed as if they were bound to be Demi’s as well. Fortunately for the both of them, Demi approved of Hollyhope’s design sense. Perhaps that was to be expected. Hollyhope had insisted that she and Demi were simply different versions of one another. According to her, they were closer even than identical twins. It was probably understandable that they liked the same kinds of things: the same kinds of colors, the same kinds of patterns, and the same kinds of cuts when it came to dresses.

They even had similar sensibilities in footwear. Her new shoes were very reasonable work boots that came to mid-calf, two tone in chocolate and milk tea, with scalloped trim and little flower patterns in the decorative brogue cutwork. The toe boxes were large and rounded, giving good stability, and the soles were hobnailed. Of course, the laces danced heedlessly into the fanciful: red ribbons with pompom tips tied into generous bows. The best things were both lovely and functional.

Of course, for all the similarities in their sartorial sensibilities, there were some differences in the details. Hollyhope’s decorative roses were pink while Demi’s were red. In general, Demi’s color scheme was deeper and more jewellike than Hollyhope’s had been. Demi’s dress was a deep, saturated green, and the ribbons that trimmed her skirt were a beautiful cardinal red. Hollyhope had favored lighter colors: aquamarine and Persian greens, apricot, and of course, rosy pink.

That suited Hollyhope well, given her mass of almost luminous milky-jade-green hair. Demi’s own hair and very fair skin made her more suited to jewel tones, and this was one reason she favored them in her own wardrobe. But the truth was, Demi simply loved colors, and she loved beautiful clothes. They weren’t simply pretty things to wear. They were armor, and her own kind of defiance. They were courage and joy, a way of becoming the self that a person aspired to be, even when they found themselves lacking. Clothes were practical magic, and Demi adored them.

Given their similarities, Demi suspected that Hollyhope had taken extra care in preparing Demi’s clothing for a very good reason (beyond the fact that she had probably thoroughly enjoyed herself in putting together the coordinates, just as Demi herself would have).

Ultimately, a very pretty set of clothing was good bribery to make up for the fact that Hollyhope had dumped her down on the planet without adequate time to prepare for, well, anything.

Just then an incredible thought occurred to her.

I wonder if I’ll be able to make clothes like this at some point? Demi wondered with vaguely suppressed delight.

It was enough to make her do a little hop dance, turning around in place.

She loved imagining and sketching out dresses on drawing paper or even the blank pages of her lesson books, but she was not particularly good at sewing nor was she patient enough to embroider. She hoped that the process for creating clothes in this place was more gamelike than reality-like. Demi always had a robust wardrobe in any games where that was even a remote possibility.

Her impromptu dance had caused her hair to swish out behind her. She reached back to smooth it lightly. The top part of it had been pulled into a pollyanna that was adorned with some sort of ribbon. This was a way she commonly wore her hair when she wasn’t wearing a hat that precluded it. It had been nice of Hollyhope to take her habits into account. Perhaps it would have been more expedient to braid the mass of it, but Demi honestly preferred to have it loose down her back, although she did braid it fully when it was absolutely necessary.

It was a lot of hair to braid, after all. She usually ended up looking like Rapunzel by the end of it.

Although she didn’t have a wide-brimmed straw farmer’s hat, she did have a head covering. There was a neat, frilled kerchief over her head that she assumed was there to keep her hair from going absolutely everywhere, but a stray strand was still sticking out from it, curled into a question mark that was a good barometer for her feelings at any given time.

Perhaps overalls or trousers might have been more practical for a farm girl, but there had to be some perks for being a goddess, right? Demi had long ago resolved that looking cute was nonnegotiable.

Fortunately it seemed that some inherent goddess blessings were in effect over her current clothes. Although her work boots were extremely cute, they also felt very sturdy and comfortable, and despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing a petticoat, her dress behaved as if she were, taking on a very nice shape, and keeping itself out of her way. And perhaps most miraculous of all, her great mass of curls seemed contained and managed by nothing more than the kerchief on her head and the ribbon in her hair.

Cute shoes that were also comfortable and a skirt that looked nice and yet stayed out of the way were truly the blessings of a goddess, to say nothing of the magic that went into containing her massive amount of hair.

Still, although she was quite satisfied by her current coordinates, Demi did hope that her pajamas hadn’t been lost entirely. They had been favorites of hers, fluffy and well suited for autumn weather.

Wait.

What season was it anyway?

It had been autumn back at home, but that didn’t mean it was autumn here. Looking around herself, it was not entirely clear. The grass in the not-quite-meadow was dry and wispy. That could mean late summer or fall. Since she had no real idea of her location or altitude, she couldn’t really tell by the temperature, but it did not feel particularly warm or cold. The trees in her vicinity seemed to primarily be deciduous, with some conifers among them. She could see no autumn leaves nor spring blossoms, but she couldn’t determine based on these observations alone.

One thing was absolutely clear, however. This place was a far cry from the verdant Arcadian paradise dotted with fluffy pink sheep that she had seen from Hollyhope’s cottage windows.

I guess that’s the difference between the realities of a terrestrial world and a divine realm, Demi thought to herself philosophically.

Still, she would have trouble beginning her idyllic farming life if she didn’t have any idea what time of year it was.

“Ahh,” she said aloud to herself, leaning her cheek against her palm. “I should have asked Hollyhope what time of year it is.”

“It’s the first of spring,” came a very cultured voice from behind her. “It’s the first day of the month of Gwlanog, which makes it the first of spring, and it is also the ninth day of the month of Fearn in the season of sumor.”

Demi turned around in surprise and found herself looking at the most beautiful chicken she had ever seen in her life.

He was such a beautiful chicken that Demi was at first unsure that he was a chicken. His long, luxuriant tail would have put a peacock to shame, and he had the bearing of a bird of paradise. His long, phoenixlike tail feathers did not trail along on the ground in any manner pedestrian, but instead floated along behind him idly. His feathers undulated gently, despite the fact that the air around them was relatively still. The feathers did not really look as if they were being carried by a breeze. Instead, it looked almost as if his tail were moving with the flow and ebb of slow water.

Upon very close observation, the majestic comb and wattle clearly identified the bird as a chicken, and as a chicken Demi recognized, no less.

“Onagadori,” Demi said without thinking, pointing at the majestic bird.

“Young lady, it is very impolite to point!” huffed the chicken, although his breast feathers did seem to puff out a bit after having been clearly identified. He seemed a bit tsundere, like a celebrity that is pleased at being recognized but trying very hard to pretend otherwise.

But the chicken before her was unmistakably an Onagadori. They were a rare breed of chicken, prized by the nobility, bred for generations to prioritize the length of their gorgeous, phoenix-like tails. A genetic mutation caused them to molt only rarely, and with proper care, their tails could grow as long as twelve meters by the end of their lives. They were generally docile and friendly, and the hens laid small light-brown eggs. They were not robust egg producers; they had been bred entirely as ornamental and as companions for the nobility.

Demi was confident in her knowledge because she was proud of her Forest Girls’ merit badge in domestic poultry identification.

There had also been a small flock of them at the family estate, given as a gift to her mother when she had married into the aristocracy. Demi had often watched them as a girl or spent time chatting with them, but they had never replied to her before.

Still, the gorgeous chicken was correct. It was impolite to point at someone without good reason.

She stopped pointing and bowed briefly in apology. She wasn’t actually sure what the most appropriate bow to give a chicken was, so she decided to err on the side of caution and give a bow that would have satisfied one of her tutors growing up.

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “It’s just not often that I see such a beautiful chicken.” Then, for good measure, she added, “I was so surprised by your gorgeous feathers that I forgot my manners.”

Demi was good at flattering people, and she judged, based on the chicken’s previous behavior, that he would be malleable with a liberal application of praise.

She was correct. Upon hearing her words, the chicken threw back his head and puffed out his breast even fuller, flipping his gorgeous tail so that the long, slender feathers fluttered. The chicken shot her a look that might have come from the leader of a visual kei band or the highest earning host at a host club. Everything about him sparkled, and beyond that, the sound sparkled, as if someone were playing a small xylophone and a collection of hand bells.

This chicken was wearing eyeshadow.

“You are forgiven,” he declared generously. “I must confess that this does happen somewhat regularly. It truly is a sin to be as beautiful as I.”

After basking in himself for a few moments, he at last came back to reality.

“It’s the first day of Gwlanog in the season of spring, and it is the 9th day of Fearn in the season of sumor,” he repeated. “I am the holy beast that the goddess sent to assist you in your activities. My name is”—and here the chicken struck an incredible pose again, his feathers flying behind him to the tinkle of bells— “Glimmer.” He gave another smoky look.

Well, that name absolutely fits, Demi thought weakly to herself.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Glimmer,” Demi said with another bow. “I’m Demeter Yavanna Kobayashi Serraffield, and I seem to have become the substitute Harvest Goddess. I look forward to your guidance.”

“Of course I already know who you are, my little goddess,” he said, pronouncing the final three words very deliberately. “Beautiful me will absolutely look after you.”

It’s a good thing I’m immune to the charms of guys like this, Demi reflected to herself in amusement. Even if he is a chicken.

And it was true. Demeter Serraffield was quite immune to the charms of all but a very specific subset of serious, reticent, tired-of-life gentlemen. Her capture targets in games with romances always fell into this general category.

Her new avian companion could send an endless array of glamorous, smoldering looks in her direction and they would be met with nothing more than wry patience, which was likely the best for their working relationship.

Their introductions concluded, Demi felt that she had to ask an obvious question.

“How is it the first day of spring and also some time in summer at once?” she asked. “Does this place have two different calendars, or is there something else strange and goddess-y going on?”

Glimmer looked at her shrewdly. “You’re surprisingly clever,” he noted. “Yes. We keep two separate calendars: a solar one for agricultural life and a lunar one for pastoral life. The solar calendar has four seasons: ver, aesta, autumn, and hiem, and the lunar calendar has two seasons, sumor and winter.”

When he said the word “ver” Demi instantly translated it into “spring” in her own mind.

I bet I did that earlier, she realized. The first time he said it.

“Ah, thank you,” Demi answered politely, choosing to pointedly ignore the fact that Glimmer had implied that her cleverness was surprising rather than expected. “That’s handy to know.”

It made sense that a world structured according to pastoralism and agriculture would have careful ways of reckoning the time.

And it’s pretty standard to start on the first of spring too, Demi reflected.

Well, there was no time to waste. As a veteran of farming games, Demi knew that the sooner she understood her new farm and got some seeds in the ground, a couple of chickens in a coop, and a cow in her barn, the better.

It was time to homestead!

“So,” she said, walking over to her new chicken guide. “Where exactly is my new farm?”

The ordinary pattern of a farming game was to suddenly inherit a charming but somewhat dilapidated property left behind by a beloved grandparent, usually with the bonus of a free cow or at least a bag of turnip seeds. Exactly how well-appointed the farm was varied, so Demi was prepared for some work to get it nice and functional again. She was counting on the tutorials that Hollyhope had prepared to at least give her the basics in what that entailed in this world. If they were not up to the task, then she was going to have to depend on what she had learned during the course of amassing merit badges as a Forest Girl.

But then the very beautiful chicken said something very shocking.

“But my little goddess, this is your farm.”

the goddess has a challenging first morning

Demi was immediately struck with a sense of foreboding, but she forced a smile and said, “Ah, then we must be in one of the fields. Would you mind guiding me to the main buildings?”

House, she was desperately wishing to herself. House, barn. House, barn even with holes in the roofs. House, please at least house. Even shed would be all right. I will accept shed.

But exactly as she’d begun to worry, Glimmer matter-of-factly announced, “There aren’t any buildings.”

Not even a shed.

“I thought you said that this was a farm,” she pointed out incredulously.

“It is a farm,” the chicken insisted. “Depending on how you think about it.”

Demi managed to contain a mild shriek and then asked the obvious. “Where are we going to live? Are there any structures at all? Even ruins? Caves?”

“There aren’t any,” the chicken announced, unworried, then added, “Not close enough for an easy walk. Why on earth are you asking about ruins and caves? Surely you don’t plan on sleeping in some place like that. Were you raised in a barn?”

It was surreal to be lectured on appropriate accommodations by a chicken.

“I would absolutely sleep in a barn over outside in the weather,” Demi pointed out, doing her best to keep her temper. “This is spring, isn’t it? It’s bound to rain! And I doubt the temperature will be so comfortable at night!”

“If you’re so worried about the facilities then you ought to just build a house,” the chicken pointed out nonchalantly.

Demi’s eyes widened and this time she could not contain the small shriek that escaped her.

“Alone?” she asked. “With no tools, no equipment, no plans, and no experience?”

At last, Glimmer seemed to be coming to understand her point. He tossed his head and then suggested, “Well, you ought to at least check your inventory. I’m sure the goddess anticipated this and prepared some useful items for you.”

I hope at least one of them is “instant house,” Demi thought peevishly to herself.

If there was at least a tent and a sleeping bag then she’d have something. If she set them up in a good position, then she could make use of them until she could build some sort of more permanent dwelling.

Glimmer instructed her on how to open up her inventory, and she did. She was apparently the only one able to see her inventory screen when it was open.

To Demi’s great relief, there were some things in her inventory.

Item one: pajamas. They were apparently safe and sound.

Item two: Goddess’s Lending Library. Those were probably the books and tutorials that Hollyhope had prepared for her.

Item three: bedding. Demi hoped that this was some kind of sleeping bag.

And most promising of all, given the situation...

Item four: Goddess’s Emergency Supplies Kit.

Demi selected that one immediately and pulled it out of her inventory.

It landed on the ground, in a space where she indicated. She was glad she hadn’t actually had to pick it up or move it herself, since it looked heavy. It was a very cute chest about the size of a steamer trunk.

She unhooked the latches and pushed it open, hoping that it would be filled with the sort of emergency supplies that an emergency supplies kit ought to contain.

Inside the chest, there were snacks.

And snacks.

And more snacks.

And some bottled water and other drinks.

And more snacks.

The entire chest was filled with nothing but snacks. Demi made sure of this by methodically going through every wrapped tea sandwich and box of cookies. There were jarred jams and sliced sausages, sweet pickles and potato salad. It was a very robust array.

Well, at least she wouldn’t starve today.

As Demi silently packed the snacks back into the chest, Glimmer said, “Well, that was thoughtful of her. You’re a goddess, so you have a perfect inventory. Nothing kept inside of it will ever go bad or spoil.”

At least she wouldn’t starve in the next two weeks.

Demi put the trunk back into her inventory.

Then, without much enthusiasm, she pulled out the item marked only as “bedding.”

Out came a tangle of blankets, pillows, dakimakura, books, and manga.

It was what had been in her bed when Hollyhope had summoned her.

It was a little cheering to see that her favorite book had come all of this way with her, along with her beloved Lacey-tan dakimakura. The flashlight had apparently come along with her too. She separated it from the pile and put the rest of it back into her inventory, then put the flashlight in separately.

Well, she had some blankets, some ordinary pillows, a comforter, and a dakimakura. If she could build a shelter for herself, then at least she’d have something to put inside it to help keep warm if it got chilly.

It was lucky that she had the flashlight. That would be useful once it started to get dark. Still, she would have to use it strategically. She didn’t know when she’d be able to replace the batteries. She didn’t even know if they had the right sort of batteries here.

Putting the flashlight back into her inventory, she lamented that it wasn’t the hand crank one that was in her camping kit. She could have used it more freely, even if it did take some physical energy to get it to work.

Thinking of it made her lament that she didn’t have the rest of the things in her Forest Girls’ camping backpack. Having those things would have gone a long way toward reassuring her in the current circumstances.

Take a deep breath, she told herself. The goddess didn’t summon you here just to let you die of exposure.

Probably.

Members of the Council of Demi returned with their own signs that also said, “Probably,” although one of them held up a sign that said, “I am concerned.”

While reflecting on all of the things she wished she had but did not, she made another realization.

She didn’t have any tools.

Not an axe, nor a mallet or hammer, no hoe, no rake, no watering can, not even a hand trowel or a pocket knife. There wasn’t even a bag of turnip seeds in her inventory.

So now she was on a farm with no farm buildings, no tilled ground, no tools, and—

“I don’t even know if there’s a water source around,” Demi said, feeling mentally exhausted.

Forget an idyllic country life. Forget homesteading. She was currently in the “basic frontier survivalism” phase.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Glimmer with characteristic indifference. “But if there is water nearby, then you’ll be able to discover it. Just use divination.”

“You mean dowsing?” Demi asked, raising an eyebrow. “With a forked stick? Does that actually work here?”

“Of course not,” huffed Glimmer, apparently personally offended. “Just close your eyes and concentrate on finding water, and you ought to be able to get a sense of where the closest source is.”

Demi sighed and closed her eyes, concentrating on the idea of water.

After a minute or two, she said, “Well, there’s a river about seven miles to the west, and a small lake thirteen miles to the south. I could feel groundwater here, but it’s pretty far down.”

She shook her head.

“We do have some bottled water, so I think we’d better stay here for tonight. Tomorrow we can plan to wake up early and then decide if we ought to start walking toward one of the other water sources. I”—she wrapped her arms around herself and studied the ground—“I’m just going to have to trust that the goddess put us here for a reason.” She briefly closed her eyes and steadied herself, slipping her hand into her pocket to feel the now-familiar spine of The Shadowstep Alchemist. When she opened her eyes again, she had found her resolve.

There was no point in dwelling on negative thoughts or wishing for things that she didn’t have. She was just going to have to do her best.

It was time to read those tutorials.

the goddess makes some tools

Based on the weight listed for the Goddess’s Lending Library, Demi surmised that it would be a large object. When she selected it to pull it out of her inventory, it had a footprint almost four times the size of the chest of emergency snacks.

And once she placed it on the ground, it became clear why it was so large and heavy.

The thing was very nearly a room all by itself, with two enormous shelves that met in an L shape, a secretary desk with a small stool, and a step-up library ladder, all of which was absolutely crammed to bursting with books. It was all apparently one unit, and while Demi could take books and documents out of it, she did not seem to be able to remove or rearrange the furniture. It was all one massive thing.

Unfortunately it did not have walls, a floor, or a roof. Briefly Demi considered trying to build some sort of temporary structure using the shelves as a center support, but her care for books was too great. She could not allow them to be damaged in case of storm, inclement weather, or just the ordinary wetness of morning dew.

After pulling out the books and documents that seemed most important at the moment, including some marked with little green and pink flags that Demi could only assume were the tutorials, she loaded the entire knowledge complex back into her inventory.

First order of business: Figure out how to make some basic tools.

When she found the section of the tutorial with recipes for her first tools, she almost sat down and laughed until she cried.

“These are all rock plus stick,” she announced with a (slightly unhinged) laugh.

Well, it was time for a Neolithic agricultural revolution, then.

I think I need a hammer before anything else. Not like a proper hammer with a handle and all, but just a hammerstone, she decided. Something to knock other stones into a suitable shape. I don’t really need a specific type of stone for a hammerstone. The size and the shape are the most important parts. I wonder if I can find one the same way I found water.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, and after a moment, she had located one that was likely to suit her purposes. It was only a few dozen feet away, so she went and retrieved it, along with a few deadwood sticks that she hoped were sturdy enough to withstand the demands of testing exactly how the recipes worked.

Hammerstones were among the very first tools used by any tool users in the human lineage: practical, simple, and effective. They were rounded stones that felt comfortable in the hand, which could be used to bash things: nuts, bones to get at the marrow, and of course, other stones to make more sophisticated tools. Demi was relatively well-versed in the making of stone tools, at least for a school-age girl from the modern era. This was because she had gone through a wolf girl phase at a certain age, after watching a particular influential animated movie.

She had been so inspired to run off into the woods and become a wolf daughter that she had devoured every book she could find that she thought would be remotely useful to her new life in the wilds. And then it had turned out that she had found the subject of early toolmaking quite interesting, so she had continued on with it for some time.

(Due to her voracious appetite for books, Demi’s mind was a bizarre catalog of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. She read what she thought was personally interesting, never minding whether any of it might become relevant to her daily life outside of the acquisition of merit badges as a Forest Girl. Reading was one of the few vices she protected like a dragon. She might be coerced or harassed into giving up other parts of herself, but not reading. Never reading.)

(The Council of Demi unanimously agreed: Never reading. They would raise their weapons to fight if necessary.)

For proper tools, flint is probably best, Demi resolved as she considered what she needed most. Flint was much easier to shape than a stone she might pick up randomly. It was easier to bring it to an edge with knapping. I wonder if I can hunt for things more specific than just “roundish stone?” she mused.

Demi closed her eyes and thought more specifically about the characteristics of the kind of stone that she was looking for, and she did indeed locate a small seam of flint that was only a short walk away, near a cliffside.

She had already learned how to control the automapping function, so she wasn’t worried about getting lost. She still only had a very basic idea of where she was, but she was confident that she could at least get back to where she had started from.

“Come on,” she said to Glimmer resolutely. “We’re going to go get some rocks.”

“Of course,” he said, posing elegantly. “Beautiful me will accompany and advise you.”

Demi was both surprised and pleased because she thought he might complain about having to take a hike, given that Onagadori were not really made for trekking, but then Glimmer presented himself before Demi.

“Put me upon your shoulder and I will whisper wisdom into your ear, my little goddess,” he commanded, taking a very artistic pose.

Well, I suppose I should have expected that, Demi reflected with an inward laugh.

Despite his magnificent tail, he was not a very large chicken. Whether or not he was some sort of magical beast, the least she could do was carry him. It wasn’t really his fault that he had been born to be ornamental rather than strictly useful.

She knelt to pick him up and settle him on her shoulder.

At first she was a little concerned that he might slip off, given that her shoulder perches were quite diminutive. She was an extremely small person. It was good that the lending library had included a step-up ladder because Demi was not quite 4 feet 10 inches tall. Of course, Hollyhope herself was of identical stature, so she had likely included it as a matter of course.

Fortunately, Glimmer had immediately latched onto one of the decorative ribbons on her blouse and seemed to have comfortably secured himself. Even his absurdly long tail had somehow flipped over her shoulder and was now being handled by whatever magic was also handling her hair. It streamed along behind her prettily, but it did not get in her way.

With her chicken companion secured and pins dropped on the map to mark the flint outcrop and their starting location, Demi set off to acquire her rocks.

It was easier going along the fringe of the woodland than trying to go through the fields. Although the ground there seemed level, the grasses were high, and they concealed little ruts and holes, natural unevenness that would have made walking a challenge even without grass up to her waist.

Having grown up on an estate with a wooded park, managed timber, and a forest reserve, Demi was comfortable at the forest’s edge. She watched her feet so that she would not trip, and so she would not accidentally tread on any small living thing. This was not a new awareness born from having recently become a Harvest Goddess. It was just common courtesy, honestly.

But that, perhaps, was one of the reasons that Hollyhope had been so confident that being a Harvest Goddess was simply in her nature.

It didn’t take much extra care to keep from stepping on things she might badly injure, and observation of the ground kept her steady when she might otherwise have slipped.

Fortunately, she was able to keep at the fringe of the woodland, where the walking was relatively easy for most of the trek to the flint outcropping. The ground did rise gradually, but it did so slowly so that it wasn’t too difficult to walk.

Looking back at the dry, swaying grasses of the dried-up meadow, Demi wondered what they were. She was not particularly good at identifying cereal grains from a distance, something that she would likely have to improve on if she wanted to be a successful Harvest Goddess, she thought.

Were they wild oats? Indian grass? Maybe some kind of domesticated grain that had been left to run wild? Some combination of all of the above? She paused for a moment to rest and focused her eyes on the dry grasses as she thought the question over, and quite unexpectedly, she heard a little chime, something that absolutely sounded like a game event notification, and some words appeared in the air over one of the nearest plants.

Sadgrass.

It was such an absurd name that Demi couldn’t help reading it out loud.

As she did, Glimmer turned his head to look at it.

“Ugh. It’s awful stuff. It isn’t from here. It’s come from someplace else and it’s been messing everything up. It’s one of the reasons this place is so dreary,” he complained.

“Oh!” Demi said in realization. “It’s an invasive species. I can see how that would be a problem.”

Out of curiosity, Demi drew her fingers across the plant’s ostentatious name in hope of calling up more information.

She was rewarded with a very technical block of information describing the plant in detail, from its stems (glabrous and slender) to its leaves (pubescent) to its cleistogamous drooping panicle. After this came some information that was easier for her to parse.

It was a prolific seed producer and germinator, meaning that it spread aggressively whenever a disturbance in the environment gave it a foothold. It was also dangerously flammable and highly susceptible to wildfire, and apparently also released a toxin into the ground that functioned essentially as an herbicide. When the plant burned, the flammable sap inside it exploded, and the toxin showered the vicinity.

There was an additional note under this alarming description which informed her that the sap caused chemical burns and rashes on the unprotected skin of animals, including humans. It was also toxic to livestock.

And there was one other very ominous note that stood out in large, red letters: ENEMY OF THIS PLANET.

Well, that was something for sure.

The whole of the dry meadow was apparently one large expanse of it.

“No wonder it’s called sadgrass,” Demi said after reading all of that. “It’s making me sad just thinking about it.”

She dismissed the information window and looked back into the woodland. Now she no longer wondered why the trees at the fringes of the meadow looked so sickly. They were being actively poisoned by the meadow of horrible grass.

It’s good to know that my new farm is currently the home of a huge colony of nasty exploding poison grass, she thought tiredly to herself. Why on earth did Hollyhope send me here?

There was always the possibility that this was one of the more hospitable places on the planet, but that thought was so alarming that Demi immediately dismissed it.

If that really is the case, no wonder Hollyhope called for a backup Harvest Goddess, she thought dryly.

Fortunately, as they neared the flint deposit, the ground became rockier and the dry meadow left off, transitioning to open woodland.

Now that she knew what it was, it was honestly a relief to leave the sadgrass behind, at least for a while. Although nothing in the information about the grass had indicated that it had any ability to explode randomly, now that she knew that it did explode under certain conditions, she was expecting it to explode on her at the next possible opportunity.

Arrival at the flint site distracted Demi from contemplating exploding grass. She situated Glimmer on a high rock, where he could oversee her activities, and then pulled the hammerstone, the deadwood, and the tutorial books out of her inventory.

She opened the book with the beginner tool recipes and made a plan for herself.

At this point, the things she needed most were an axe, a hammer, a knife, and a shovel. She would leave the more agricultural tools for when she actually had crops to look after.

As she had previously discovered, the recipes for each of these tools was essentially “stick plus rock,” with the exception of a knife, which was simply “rock.”

That meant she needed three suitable sticks and four appropriate rocks.

She had actually gathered enough sticks so that she had room to experiment if some of her tool making attempts were less than successful.

The shovel needed the longest handle, and both the axe and the hammer needed handles that were a good length for her to swing. Since she was such a small person, ordinary tools made for an adult man were too large and awkward for her to use. In that sense, her full-sized axe would probably look like a hand axe to a taller person.

After setting aside the best stick with relation to her height for the shovel, she picked up several different sticks and swung them experimentally before deciding on the best candidates in terms of feel.

When it came to stones, she already had a suitable one for the head for the hammer: her hammerstone. Still, the hammerstone would be much more effective for knapping as a hand tool, so she would keep her eyes out for a suitable piece of limestone and save assembly of the hammer for last.

When it came to the stones for the other tools, the axe needed a stone that was longer than it was wide, that could be knapped to a good cutting edge on both ends. The stone for the knife needed to be long and thin. She would probably make a good enough piece to use as a knife during the knapping of the axe. Cutters were often produced this way during the Paleolithic.

The real challenge was the shovel.

The shovel needed a large, relatively thin piece of stone that could be knapped to a cutting edge along the bottom, to facilitate digging. It would be important to balance the relative structural integrity of the stone with the weight and cutting edge. If it were too thin, it would likely break easily, but if it were too thick, it would be heavy and difficult to use for its intended purpose.

Ah, I can’t wait until we advance to the bronze age, Demi lamented to herself. A good shovel really demands metalwork. Oh well. Needs must.

With a general idea of what she was looking for, the young lady went out prospecting for flint.

Demi was more than aware that having read some textbooks and academic papers on flint knapping did not make her an expert flint knapper.

It did not even make her a beginner flint knapper. Flint knapping was a highly specialized skill with a lot of waste produced to get one, final, suitable piece. It required patience, method, and experience. In an ordinary world, it would take months—if not years—to learn how to properly knap stone and to properly finish wood for a solid and dependable handle. Demi was hoping that the rules and systems of this world would even out her painful lack of experience.

It ought to work so long as she followed the recipe.

That was what she told herself, at least.

Using a focused search of the area, Demi found flint nodules that suited her purposes. In fact, she had discovered that so long as she could clearly envision what it was that she was looking for, she could find it, provided it actually existed. This cut out a lot of time and labor that she would have otherwise spent gathering and comparing stones.

She brought her prospective axe-head and shovel point and laid them out near her collection of sticks and then sat down on the ground and looked at them. Finally, there was nothing else for it. If she was going to do it, then she needed to do it. After one last read over the tutorial chapter concerning crafting, she picked up her hammerstone and whacked it against the axe-head.

As she brought it down for the first strike, she went into a mild panic, because the motion felt completely unfamiliar and difficult to control. She wasn’t sure she would even hit the stone she wanted to hit, let alone in anything close to the place she had intended.

But then something very strange happened. It was as if she could see a seam in the stone, a fracture line lit up clearly as if marked with fluorescent paint. She hit the axe-head right on the fracture line, and a clean piece of flint was knapped right off.

This surprising success made Demi’s eyes widen, and she leaned back in astonishment, looking first at the hammerstone in her hand, and then at the freshly knapped flint.

But then the urge to investigate further overtook her and she brought the hammerstone down a second time to an identical result. This was so exciting that it set off a frenzy of flint knapping for Demi. She might have knapped her axe-head entirely out of existence if a great big red X hadn’t appeared over it when she tried to continue knapping it past the point of no return.

Her shoulder was a little sore from deliriously hammering chips of flint away from her axe-head, but the result was so pretty that Demi couldn’t help but sit and admire it. It was a beautifully knapped axe-head, the sort of textbook depiction of a Paleolithic tool that a person found in, well, a textbook.

Even though she knew that the current state of the axe-head was the result of the liberal assistance of the world’s inherent systems rather than any innate talent, she still couldn’t help feeling proud of having made it.

Well. Now it was time to really see if this would work, although her success in making the axe-head left her feeling more confident.

Demi opened up her system menu and selected “crafting.” She chose the recipe for “Stone Axe” and then selected her preferred stick and the knapped axe-head as the components. Then she chose “combine.”

And then, after a sound effect that sounded like hammering and sawing, she was suddenly holding an item in her hands.

But it was not “Stone Axe.”

It was “Harvest Goddess’s Improved Flint Axe ++.”

Demi was so surprised that she almost dropped the axe, and let out a long string of ararararararararara as she beheld it.

Glimmer was apparently similarly impressed, because he said, “That actually looks like a real tool that someone might use.”

“Doesn’t it?” Demi asked in delight, dancing around with her axe in a way that was probably not entirely safe. “One hundred percent perfect success!” she declared.

And this success lit the fire of creation in her. Hungry for more encouragement after the discovery that there were no buildings on her new farm, and that it was covered with insidious sadgrass, once Demi had carefully put her finished axe away in her inventory, she threw herself fully into the completion of her new tools.

She finished the shovel and the knife in short order, and they also came out as “Improved Flint Shovel ++” and “Improved Flint Knife ++.” Her hammerstone had by this point become a precious partner, the true MVP of the day, so she was unwilling to sacrifice it to make the hammer. She found another suitable stone, and soon added “Improved Limestone Hammer ++” to her inventory.

Having constructed all of her desired tools to standards that well exceeded her expectations, Demi collected Glimmer and settled him back on her shoulder, and began the hike back to the place where they had first arrived, stopping to drink some water from the emergency supply chest and share a sandwich along the way.

the goddess organizes sticks

On the way back to her starting point, Demi kept a careful watch on the vegetation, looking for any sort of grass that was not sadgrass or otherwise toxic and liable to explode. She did find a small area with more ordinary grass in the open woodland, and she cut a very small amount of it for making twine, taking a few stems and leaves from each plant, but leaving them intact and standing.

Demi wanted to leave the plants with as much of a fighting advantage against the peril of a hostile takeover by sadgrass as she could.

She must have already had some inherent bonus to reaping, because she somehow got considerably more grass than she actually cut.

That was the logic of this world, she supposed, at least if you were a Harvest Goddess.

Slightly perplexed, Demi put away the grass in her inventory.

It’s a good thing I didn’t try cutting any sadgrass, she reflected to herself. I definitely don’t want to multiply that.

With her grass stowed, she continued on her way.

Demi could not say for certain why she went back to the spot where she had first landed on her bottom. It did not really have any special significance, so far as she could see, and it was alarmingly close to a lot of plants that had the potential to explode.

Given her...reluctance...to be in close proximity to sadgrass, Demi elected to move her intended campsite a safe distance into the woodland. She only went around fifteen feet beyond the tree line before starting her search for a suitable location, so she felt that this was a good compromise between safety and whatever it was that compelled her to stay near the spot where she’d been dropped.

And there was a purely practical aspect of it too, one that surpassed the potential hazard of exploding plants.

The shelter that Demi was planning to make required the proximity of trees as part of its basic structure.

Despite careful perusal, Demi could find nothing that fit the bill of “temporary shelter” in the tutorial recipes or materials. The smallest dwelling that she had blueprints for was a log cabin, a structure that clearly required the felling of several large trees to build. That was far beyond what was possible for one girl to do by herself in an afternoon, even with “Harvest Goddess’s Improved Flint Axe ++.” The smallest building that she had blueprints for was a wattle and daub shed that required clay to build, clay that she did not have, from a water source that was miles away.

Fortunately, Demi had already decided on the kind of shelter she was going to build. It was a shelter that she had built herself at least twice before, once with a group, and once alone as a Forest Girls’ senior ranger project.

She was going to build a lean-to.

In terms of structures, it was relatively easy to build, but provided it was assembled properly, it was also sturdy and would keep the weather out even if it chanced to rain. Best of all, she could put it together without much heavy lifting and with only the use of the tools that she currently had.

The choice of the site was most important. Ideally you wanted it to be in convenient proximity to water, but that was not currently a possibility. It was also important to choose a spot that was slightly elevated, rather than a depression where rainwater was likely to pool.

Upon discovering the volatile nature of the sadgrass, Demi had immediately resolved that she would not attempt to build a campfire. Once the little structure was complete and filled with bedding, it ought to be warm enough to pass the night comfortably without the added risk of a stray spark setting off the sadgrass apocalypse.

Perhaps most important was the nature of the central tree. It needed to have a robust split around four and a half feet from the ground. So based on these criteria, Demi chose the place for their campsite.

It was— Well, to be honest, it was a little bit dreary, like everything else in even vague proximity to the sadgrass. The trees along the outer woodland fringe were certainly the worst off, but even the trees a little ways into the forest looked dry and tired. It did not feel very much like a springtime forest, even accounting for the fact that it was very early in springtime.

That sadgrass is the absolute worst, Demi thought to herself, ready to heap all of the difficulties that she saw around herself onto the offensive grass. I’m going to have to figure out some way to get rid of it if I’m going to actually make a farm of this place.

Of course, with no water source, it was probably better to just move, but Demi already felt some sense of responsibility for the place. Glimmer had called it her farm.

If it was really and truly hers, then she needed to solve its problems herself.

But survival came first. She might have to establish herself someplace else, build herself up, and then return to battle the sadgrass.

Well, those were all problems she could make up her mind about tomorrow.

Today, she needed to build a shelter.

First, she unloaded the sticks and branches she had picked up earlier, dividing them by size and general shape. Then, using the search function, she rapidly identified other useful branches in the immediate vicinity and collected those as well. Once she had, she had a respectable collection of building materials, but she was still missing two crucial pieces.

The most important thing she was missing was a very sturdy branch with a Y split at a similar height to the split in her tree, 138 cm.

While Glimmer had watched on while Demi amassed her neat piles of deadwood branches, he had been vaguely curious, but not overly interested.

It was when she pulled the axe out of her inventory that he reacted.

“How barbaric!” he shrieked, apparently mortally offended. “I hope you don’t intend to use that axe on living trees. You’re a Harvest Goddess! If you need wood, just ask a dryad!”

Demi paused, and then pointedly set her axe down, leaning it against a tree.

“Glimmer,” she said tiredly, “up until this point, I have only collected deadwood. I did not even know there were dryads”—her voice rising in timbre—“let alone that I could ask them for building supplies!”

“Well,” said Glimmer vaguely, clearly unwilling to admit that he’d been wrong, “it doesn’t seem that there are any dryads this close to the meadow. But don’t ever cut down a tree unless you know who it belongs to!”

“I wasn’t going to anyway,” she pointed out again, then rolled her eyes. “But I still need to use the axe on the deadwood to trim it and get it into shape. I also need to use it to trim bigger pieces of deadwood down so I can actually carry them.” She paused weightily. “Is that morally acceptable?” she asked blandly.

“Oh, don’t be ugly,” Glimmer huffed. The way that he said it made Demi certain that for Glimmer, “ugly” was the worst possible thing one could be.

With Glimmer feigning aloofness and yet still watching her out of the corner of his eye, his beak upturned to the sky, Demi spent a little bit of time trimming down the sticks and branches that she had gathered. Then she circled her chosen tree again, did some figuring in her head, and estimated what else she would need.

The search function turned up a spot with numerous suitable branches relatively close by, including one that had a split at a good height. She couldn’t tell for sure if it would work for her purposes until she examined it, but it seemed quite promising.

“I’m going to collect some more supplies,” Demi informed the pouting chicken.

It really wasn’t very far away at all, just a bit farther than she had gone when collecting branches from the immediate area. It was probably for the best that Glimmer was still sulking, because that meant Demi didn’t have to balance a delicate ornamental chicken on her shoulder while she lugged back a branch that was essentially as tall as she was.

Glimmer let her depart without much protest, so Demi went off to collect what she was most in need of.

the goddess’s unexpected encounter

In the interest of efficiency, Demi plotted her course to her most desired branch along a route that allowed her to pick up other sticks and branches. As a result, when she finally came upon the large branch she needed, her arms were already full of sticks.

As she paused to consider this dilemma, she was startled by a commotion in the underbrush. Unsure of what might be about to leap out at her, she backed up and sidled behind a nearby tree for shelter.

I hope it’s just an overenthusiastic bunny headed this way and not a girl-eating cougar or something, she thought to herself anxiously.

She would prefer it not be a girl-eating anything, honestly. At the moment, all she had to defend herself with was her assortment of sticks.

If it’s dangerous, I’m just going to have to run, she decided to herself.

But it was not a bunny that burst from the undergrowth. It was not a cougar either, fortunately. It was not like anything she had ever seen before (not in the flesh, at least).

It was pale and round and glistening, about the size of the kind of ball that children used for playground games. It was bouncing forward frantically, as quickly as it could, as if it were desperate to tag a child out in a heated game of dodgeball. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this self-propelled dodgeball (other than the fact it was self-propelled) was its face. The bouncing ball had several black splotches and lines arranged in a pattern that was unmistakably recognizable as a face—and not just any face.

It looks exactly like an ASCII emoticon, Demi realized immediately.

But the expression on that face was...

Absolute terror.

“Pipipipipiiiiiiiiiii!” the ball was squeaking as it bounced toward her hiding place. “Pipipiiiipipipiiiiiiii!”

It’s a slime, Demi realized in a burst of simple pleasure and nostalgia. She had a great soft spot for slimes of all kinds. There was something about them: squishy, round, soft, doing their best every day to live their slime lives. She was always rooting for them.

When she had been a younger lady, and the first game became available in which monsters could not only be fought, but also tamed and befriended, the first creature Demi had tamed had been a slime. She imagined this was true for many people, but she still had a great deal of nostalgia for slimes. Seeing one bouncing along the ground in front of her warmed her heart.

But Demi soon found she did not have the luxury of idling behind the tree, her face cupped in her hands as she thought about how much she liked slimes.

Because the reason for the slime’s fear and flight became inescapable.

Oily black tendrils shot out from the undergrowth, seizing the slime and wrapping around it. It struggled, bouncing and wriggling wildly.

The moment Demi saw the tendrils, she got a sick feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t just that she was being confronted by the spectacle of an adorable and charismatic animal fighting for its life against a grotesque animal. Some things ate other things to survive. Even cute things were eaten sometimes. That was how the food web worked, and every ecosystem depended upon it. No creature deserved scorn or ridicule just because people found it frightening.

But seeing those tendrils lash out from the brush made all of Demi’s hair stand on end, as if she were a small kitten that had seen herself in the mirror for the first time.

And then the rest of it labored out of the bush and Demi no longer wondered why she was so terrified because it was self-evident.

The tendrils were attached to the back of something that looked vaguely like the top half of a humanoid figure crawling on its belly, although it was easily twice as large as she was. It had two arms—or front legs?—dragging itself forward. Like the tendrils, it was mostly black, with a wet, oily sheen to it, although there were patches that were a pale greenish-white color and looked like velveteen. She thought they might be dense growths of mold. Its lower body terminated around the place where a human navel would be, and a mess of what appeared to be entrails dragged along behind it. The entrails tapered together into something like a thick tail that vanished into the undergrowth.

And then there was the mouth of the thing. It looked like nothing that was ever meant to be glimpsed outside the nighted depths of the deep ocean. The bulbous, onion-shaped head opened like a hooked, five-pointed star, and revealed a large sack of loose skin, like the throat pouch of a pelican.

It was dragging the slime toward its mouth, to force it into the skin sack.

“Piipiiiiiipiipiiiiiiii!” begged the slime, large teardrop-shaped blotches forming at corners of its eye-spots. “Piiipipipiiiipipi!”

It was begging for help. Whether or not this little slime knew she was there or not, whether it knew she was a goddess or not, it was begging for her help.

Her hair was still on end, and her palms were slick with a cold sweat that had broken out over her body. She no idea about the rules that governed this world. No idea about the origin of the monster in front of her, no idea what she could even do herself to rescue the little slime. She had no weapon, no combat training, and was physically very weak and small. Looking at the gruesome thing, there was no mistaking that it was more than capable of killing and eating a girl her size. It was very possible that all she would accomplish by getting herself involved was that there would be two bodies stuffed into that horrible thing’s throat sack.

And she already had responsibilities. She had been called here for a very specific reason that did not have anything to do with getting herself eaten by a horrible monster scant hours after being turned loose. Hollyhope had insisted that she needed Demi’s help. There were probably far more pressing matters to attend to, more impactful actions she could take as a goddess. If she got herself killed, she would be letting the people who depended on her down. It would be beyond reckless to attempt to help the slime given the state of her knowledge and abilities.

And it would be selfish. She would be putting her own desires before her responsibilities.

But in spite of all of this, Demi knew one thing for certain. She did not want to be the kind of person who cowered in fear when someone was asking for her help. She did not want to be the kind of person who would let others suffer and be hurt because she was afraid of facing the consequences of her actions, afraid of the possibility of failure.

She did not even wait for the ping of the words ENEMY OF THIS PLANET to appear next to the monstrosity from the brush. Whatever that thing was, it was absolutely an enemy of her. She wasn’t about to see the slime dragged into its maw and digested alive. She dropped all of the branches and sticks she had been carrying except for one, the thickest and heaviest she thought she would be able to swing with any amount of accuracy, and leaped out from behind the tree shrieking like a little Valkyrie.

Shockingly, shrieking like a Valkyrie seemed to have some effect, as the horrible thing lost its hold on the little slime and it desperately bounced away.

Run little friend! Demi wished hard. Get out of here! Gripping the branch in both of her hands like a baseball bat, Demi brought it down as hard as she could on one of the thing’s front arm-legs.

The impact made a sickening, sloshy sound, like smashing through layers and layers of wet tissue, and caused the creature to scream in turn. This was a horrible sound, a wail so dreadful that it felt like the air itself was howling, as if somehow, every cell of the thing was screaming independently.

Demi gritted her teeth and hunched down instinctively, because the sound was overwhelming, but out of a sense of self-preservation, she kept her grip on her improvised weapon.

But then suddenly, she felt something soft cover her ears, and the sound was shut out as effectively as if she had put on noise-canceling ear protection. She brought up one hand to touch and felt something soft and pleasantly squishy. She looked back over her shoulder to see that the little slime had not fled, as she had thought, but had taken up a position behind her. It had shot two perfectly sized blobs of slime to cover her ears like earmuffs.

The little slime’s eyespots still had tears at the corners, but now it had a much more determined expression.

I’ll help! Demi understood as she looked back at it.

But she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the thing in front of her. She tightened her grip on the branch.

The belly-crawler had pulled the arm-leg she had struck protectively back against its body. It moved in a very unnatural way, bending at a place she did not think it ought to bend. This caused the thing to lurch off-balance, and it compensated by using two of its back-tendrils as proxy legs. This somehow made it look even more strange and upsetting.

It raised the two remaining tendrils on its back high, and Demi realized it was going to try and catch her with them. She was at a disadvantage when it came to range. The branch she was holding gave her some reach, but not enough. As long as it had those tendrils, she wouldn’t be able to hit its core body.

This is one of those battles where you’ve got to take out the parts of the boss before you can take out the main body, she thought grimly to herself. Let’s just hope it doesn’t regenerate or anything extra cheat-y.

She might not understand all of the rules of this world yet, but she had lots of experience playing games. With no other relevant experience to draw from, it was an act of self-soothing in the face of horror to fall back on something she knew and understood.

Demi was currently out of range of the tendrils, but she had seen how fast the thing could belly-crawl. As if sensing her weakness, the creature began a belly-charge straight at her.

Then it halted abruptly with a lurch, like a dog reaching the end of its leash. There was a glob of gloop securing the creature’s remaining arm-leg to the ground. The little slime had fired it.

Demi glanced over her shoulder and gave the slime a mental thumbs-up, thinking, Good job!

The line that represented its mouth curved into a small V-shaped smile briefly, but then it focused again on shooting gloop at the monster to keep it pinned in place.

Since it could no longer advance, the torso-monster raised all four of its tendrils into the air, lurching to the side in the process. They hovered above it like cobras, ready to strike.

If we don’t defeat this thing or force it to retreat then it’s just going to come after us again once it gets free, Demi thought grimly to herself. And there is no reality where I want this thing even remotely close to my farm, not even a farm that has no buildings and is infested with sadgrass.

I guess, she thought to herself, it’s a little like playing tag.

Tag had been one of her favorite games when she was a little girl, and she had often played it with the senior Forest Girls when she had still been a Buttercup.

Despite her small size and short legs (or perhaps because of her small size), she had been so good at getting away that eventually tag had become a variation of reverse-tag that they called “catch the merry little breeze.” This involved all of the other members of the troop, Forest Girls and leaders together, attempting to catch her.

These games usually concluded when Demi got tired of running around and decided she wanted to have snacks and punch, or when a large enough group of girls banded together in active conspiracy to lay a trap.

A trap, Demi thought. A game of tag and a trap!

This might work. It was certainly better than any other plan she had so far devised, which mainly involved crying hopelessly or fleeing for her life.

She knelt to pick up several of the branches she had dropped, and scanned the trees and obstacles around her. She took special care in studying the ground around the creature, looking for treacherous holes. If there was one thing any champion of tag had to be sure of, it was her footing.

She dashed around the creature in a half circle, testing its reach, and then dashed back to her starting point.

All right then. It was time to go.

Demi rushed in toward the half-prone monster, cutting into its strike range enticingly.

Just as she hoped, the oily black tendrils shot after her. She jumped over a low bush and then wove around a young tree, and just as it seemed as if the tendril would surely catch her and drag her backward, it ran out of length and jerked to a stop. Before the monster could withdraw its tendril, Demi slammed one of the branches she had left standing near the tree against it, using all of her body weight to drive the branch unto the ground like a post. She used living branches from the nearby bush to secure it in place, looping them around to form a knot.

At the impact, the monster had screamed again, but this time, Demi had ear protection. Her little friend was still working hard, shooting sticky gloop to keep the monster pinned to the ground.

One down, three to go, she thought to herself with determination.

If the monster acted according to thought and not solely blind instinct, then it would be more wary of her going forward. Given its screaming she doubted it was excited about having been hurt. With enough time, it might even be able to figure out how to free itself. She needed to keep those other tendrils occupied.

She dashed to the other end of her half circle and then cut into the monster’s range again, this time running a tiny bit closer, making herself as tempting a meal as possible.

And again the tendrils shot after her. She dodged around two young trees, and then under a dense set of hanging vines. The moment the tendril was tangled in the vines, Demi slammed it with another of the branches she had left behind, twisting it into the vines like a knitting needle and then jamming it into the crotch of a nearby tree.

That makes two, she thought with grim satisfaction. But she could see that her little slime friend was beginning to show signs of strain and fatigue. He had been sliming the monster for several minutes now. Have to speed this up, she decided.

If the monster managed to get loose from even one of its bindings, then they would both be in immediate danger, and until all of those tendrils were pinned down, she didn’t dare approach the main body.

With the two forward tendrils pinned, Demi had to approach a little more closely to tempt the monster to chase her with another one. She danced along gingerly, just in range, doing her best to look enticing, and the ploy worked. Demi got this tendril smashed under a large rock she had left tipped precariously on its side.

At this point, the monster was clearly angry or whatever emotion it might be capable of feeling that was most adjacent to anger. Its one remaining tendril was slashing the air wildly to communicate its feelings.

One more, Demi assured herself. Just one more. Just one more.

But unsurprisingly, after having its tendrils repeatedly smashed and confined, the torso monster hesitated going after her, even when she approached nearly as closely as when she had first struck it.

She danced and wiggled and tried to look delicious, but the creature was still hesitant to take the bait. At last she turned and patted her own bottom. “Look how tasty I am! This is a luxury product, sure to be tender and well marbled! You can’t get something like this just anywhere.”

Demi was uncertain what language the monster spoke, if it spoke any at all, but her coercion and insistent pantomime ultimately succeeded and she was forced to hastily scramble to get ahead of the tendril. Panting, she just managed to get the last tendril looped under a huge ancient root and staked in place.

And none too soon, because her little slime friend was clearly exhausted, just barely throwing slime. It could no longer even maintain the slime ear protectors, which dissolved into nothingness.

There was no time to waste. If she was going to do this, then she was going to do this now.

She reached down and picked up the branch she had first struck the monster with. It felt solid and heavy in her hands.

I don’t know where that thing’s brain is, but all I can think of is to strike the head, she thought.

She drew in her breath and focused her resolve, then she ran straight for the creature’s head, swiveling on her hips as if she were winding up, ready to hit a home run into the exosphere.

But then something dull and black shot out of the center of the monster’s back and Demi felt something wrap itself around one of her ankles. Before she could even react, she was flung into the air and found herself dangling over the hooked, toothed maw of the torso monster.

It took only a fraction of a second for her to realize what had happened, in that impossibly slow time when a person realizes that they are going to die and yet can do nothing about it. She tasted the bitterness of adrenaline on the back of her tongue and she understood that she was caught in the event horizon of her own death.

There had been a fifth, hidden tendril coiled on the monster’s back, nearly impossible to recognize because it was a dull matte black. She was now dangling over the monster’s mouth, held by one of her ankles. The little slime was desperately throwing out all of the slime it could, trying to slow the monster down, but it was impossible. She knew it was impossible. There was nothing really to be done about it, was there?

As she hung over the monster’s mouth, it somehow unhinged even further, opening like an upside-down umbrella, ready to swallow her whole. Hanging there, she could not help but come to the strangely hilarious realization that when the monster had hoisted her up, her skirt had not obeyed gravity. It was still pointed in the direction of her feet.

Well, at least my death won’t be quite as embarrassing as it might have been otherwise, she thought vaguely.

And then, in that singular moment, several things happened at once.

Demi felt the tendril around her ankle loosen slightly as the torso monster prepared to swallow her, and then she heard an unmistakable sound.

Triumphant, like a horn calling allies to charge, there was the splendid cackle and then crow of a rooster.

Demi would have been hard-pressed to say that she had ever heard a more beautiful sound.

There, at the edge of the clearing, shining brilliant white and ringed in golden magic circles was a certain unmistakable chicken, and he crowed, and crowed, and crowed.

The sound seemed to seize Demi’s heart, and she was filled with determination.

There was no way she was going to die here. She had far too much she still needed to do. There were countless books to read, hundreds of sweets she had never eaten, kittens to pet that had not yet even been born, and pink sheep to cuddle that she had so far only seen through a window. There was a future that no one had ever seen waiting just beyond the line of the horizon.

She felt as light as air as she twisted her body and delivered a magnificent spinning hook kick to the tendril that held her suspended. It seemed to deflate like a popped balloon, disappearing almost immediately, and Demi entered free fall. The hideous open maw was below her, but she was no longer afraid.

Using the momentum of the hook kick to bring herself around, she first struck one of the hooked, bony spines holding the grotesque mouth open with her descending heel, delivering a devastating axe kick that shattered the bone entirely, causing that part of the mouth to collapse, and then she brought the full weight of all of her determination to bear.

She was going to survive!

Demi brought the branch she was gripping in both hands smashing down on the thing below her.

And somehow, the edgeless, blunt branch she had picked up from the forest floor cut the monster nearly in half, and Demi landed lightly on her feet in front of it.

She stood there, stunned, looking at what remained of it.

“Ara?” she murmured, leaning her cheek into one of her palms. “Ara ara? Ararararararara?”

She had no way to explain what had just happened. She had somehow executed kicks worthy of a martial arts master, the sort of kicks glimpsed almost exclusively in the most technical of fighting games, and this despite having never attempted any such kick in the whole of her life.

And then she had cut a scary monster in two with a stick she had found on the ground.

Is this what being a Harvest Goddess is like? she wondered to herself vaguely. If it is, then it’s not really very much what I expected it to be like at all.

She was still staring in a daze when the motionless monster twitched and seized. Demi danced backward, worried about what she might be forced to confront next, but shockingly, the remains of the creature rapidly slid out of sight, disappearing in a blink, as if something were dragging it away by its tail.

The sight was so astonishing that Demi could do nothing but watch as the unresponsive monster seemed to almost dissolve into the forest that surrounded them.

Once the noise of it being dragged away through the underbrush subsided, the tension at last left Demi’s body and she fell back onto her bottom, her heart still racing from the chemicals released during her crisis fight-or-flight response.

She was still sitting there when Glimmer came strutting up.

“What did you think of my glorious song?” he asked, puffing out his breast feathers.

“It was very inspiring,” Demi admitted honestly, still swimming in adrenaline and feeling somewhat detached from the situation.

“Certainly it was,” Glimmer agreed, apparently feeling quite satisfied by his contribution to the altercation. “I am known to be very inspirational. People’s lives have been changed by this very crow.” But then he seemed to recollect where they were and what had just happened. “Now, would you explain how you came to be in a battle with that horrid thing? I thought you said you were just going off to collect some sticks.”

“I was collecting sticks,” Demi answered, and then looked down at the little slime who had come to sit next to her. It was bumping gently against her like a cat asking to be petted. She patted the top of it and found it was very pleasantly soft and springy, with a squishy, light, dusty feeling, very much like a piece of mochi. Petting it had an almost hypnotic effect on her as she let her fingers come to rest against the soft, warm, plump skin, and then after patting it experimentally, she gently poked and jiggled it, watching the ripples shimmy through the slime’s body. She could feel her adrenaline and stress simply melting away. “But this little friend needed help.”

“Piipipipipiiii!” agreed the slime, clearly pleased with the petting and jiggling. Its eyespots first changed into a relieved smile, and then into a blissful, contented one.

Every single one of its expressions just looks like an ASCII emoticon, Demi thought to herself again, warm with mild wonder and a gentle fondness. That feels so nostalgic. Petting the slime was like touching a warm, bouncy waterbed. Ahh, I want to rub my cheek against it, she thought in delight. Or maybe, maybe take a nap with it! Take a lot of naps with it! Take all of the naps with it!!!

Demi’s eyes were slightly vacant and glazed, but also sparkling as if a summer fireworks show were going off inside them as she constructed an elaborate, dreamy nap-time scenario in her mind.

Fuwa fuwa puni puni mofu mofu. ~

Every member of the Council of Demi was engaged with preparing this warm and squishy slime paradise: arranging clouds, putting down pastel rainbow blankets, scattering pillows shaped like konpeito...

But Glimmer was not particularly impressed, likely because he was not party to the warm, squishy, pastel dreamland filled with slimes that Demi was enjoying imagining. He was moved neither by the slime’s delightful squishiness nor its absolutely charming emoticon expressions and remained hung up on the fact that Demi had nearly gotten herself eaten.

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes and ruffling his own feathers. “Do try to let me know ahead of time when you expect to be in another harrowing situation. If I hadn’t come over to see what the fuss was about, I’m sure you would have been entirely gobbled up by now.”

Demi allowed herself to be drawn out of her slime daydream and back into the reality of her current situation.

I suppose it never occurred to me that Glimmer might be useful in any sort of battle, Demi reflected to herself as she looked down first at her chicken companion and then at the little slime. I’ll have to remind myself not to make judgments about that based purely on appearances or according to my own personal bias. He is absolutely right. If he hadn’t come to the rescue then the both of us would have certainly been gobbled up by now, she thought, gently patting her new squishy acquaintance.

Thoroughly chastised, she reflected on her deeds and then nodded.

“I’ll do my best not to go charging off into danger without letting you know,” she swore, then paused. After a moment of further consideration, she judiciously added a loophole, “Unless it just can’t be helped.”

Glimmer was apparently satisfied by this promise, even with the loophole.

“Now let’s get those sticks of yours and go back to the place where we’re staying,” he commanded. “I’d rather not linger here, even with that thing gone.”

That seemed like a sensible course of action, and Demi set about gathering the sticks and branches that were still useable. When the collection became a little too ungainly to carry, Glimmer suggested that she put them into her inventory instead of attempting to carry them the normal way, and Demi found this to be a stroke of genius.

That kind of thinking is why I need a holy beast companion, I suppose, Demi thought to herself.

This clever solution allowed her to neatly sidestep the issue of her small carrying capacity, and her desired Y-shaped branch went into her inventory painlessly, along with all of the smaller branches and sticks.

As she picked up the branches that had not been sacrificed in the battle with the gruesome monster, she cocked her head and asked her brilliant and capable holy beast companion a question.

“Is your song the reason I was able to do all of that?” Demi wondered, making an idle loop with one of her hands. “That spinning bird-kick-into-a-toe-pierce combo?”

Glimmer had hopped up to sit on a small stump, where he could oversee her activities appropriately.

“It’s called Individual Splendor,” he said with an elegant toss of his head, so his comb shimmered in the dappled forest light. “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re talking about, but I can say that yes, your fabulous abilities are very likely a direct result of the involvement of beautiful me. Individual Splendor wakes up the potential sleeping inside of a person. It gains power through belief and certainty.”

“You mean you were absolutely certain I would win, and that’s what unlocked the possibility?” Demi asked, feeling touched at Glimmer’s confidence in her.

“No,” Glimmer said offhandedly, quite dismissive. “You were absolutely certain that you would win,” he corrected. “And so that’s what unlocked your potential to do so.”

“I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or embarrassed by that revelation,” Demi said blankly, stopping to stand with a particularly knobby branch in her hands. “Does that mean that anyone who listens to your song can pull off incredible martial arts moves if they just believe in themselves enough?” she wondered.

That seems oddly similar to Hollyhope’s advice to just make-believe that everything I do is Harvest Goddess related, she thought to herself. If it really does work that way, then that’s an incredibly convenient spell.

But Glimmer remained dismissive.

“Not just anyone,” he said, throwing a wing out as if waving away a less-than-appealing odor. “It simply unlocks potential. It doesn’t create potential no matter how much you believe in yourself. Although I have to admit, the results were quite dramatic this time, weren’t they? I must have sung particularly gorgeously. And to have that much self-confidence,” he said with measured approval, “you must be very in tune with your inner rooster.”

“Ahh,” Demi began, uncertain how to respond. Being told she had the self-confidence of a rooster sounded like even less of a compliment than the previous revelation. But Glimmer had given her the words honestly, and he was certainly brimming with self-confidence, so she decided to accept it graciously as the compliment she believed it was intended to be. “Thank you very much.”

While she was gathering up the branches and sticks, the little slime had been following her, bumping at the sticks as if it was absolutely set on helping her however it could. Demi found this to be quite charming.

“Is this ordinary?” she asked Glimmer curiously. “Are monsters generally this genial and pleasant to be around?”

If they are, then that horrible thing must have been a standout exception, she decided to herself. She very much preferred the friendly little slime, and not only because it wasn’t actively attempting to eat her.

“I’d say it really depends, honestly,” he answered with a chicken-y shrug. “Some of them are quite nice and others are completely dreadful. Like anything, I suppose,” he noted philosophically. “That one though, it isn’t really a wild monster. It’s just feral.”

When Demi looked down at the pleasant little slime, it was hard to imagine connecting the word “feral” to it in any way, but as she looked at it, some information popped up that made its circumstances very clear.

It was apparently a type of domesticated slime called a Hanadango. They were often kept on farms for their ability to turn what otherwise might have been discarded as garbage or waste into valuable fertilizer. It was unclear whether this slime had been born in captivity and then ended up in the wild, or if it had been born in the wild and was simply descended from domesticated forebears.

It really does look like a big hanami dango, she thought to herself.

When she had first seen it, it had been white with terror. After they had emerged victorious from their encounter with the awful monster it had been a rosy pink color, and now it had settled into a very refreshing pale green. Hanadangos could change their body color and often did to communicate emotion to one another.

Ah, just like a squid! she realized.

Her information pop-up also informed her that they had developed the ability to use lines and eyespots to create facial expressions as a way to communicate with humans. They were only one among a number of different types of slimes that used this type of signaling to communicate with people.

“But I suppose it’s wrong to call it feral at this point,” Glimmer noted, fluffing his feathers. “After all, you’ve redomesticated it.”

“I have?” Demi asked, looking up in surprise. She hadn’t been attempting any such thing, but she did have to admit, the little slime was being decidedly cozy and helpful. For one thing, it hadn’t yet hopped off despite the danger having thoroughly passed. But when she looked down at the slime again, she recognized that its designation had changed from “magic beast” to “shrine beast.” She supposed that meant it was now domesticated.

But there was a forlorn space above this designation that said only “Unnamed.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Demi murmured to herself, and adopted a thinking pose.

She felt like she had already forged a strong bond with the little slime, and having rescued and redomesticated it, it was surely now her responsibility.

It’s so cute and squishy, she thought to herself. Like a delicious little mochi. Still, I would hate to give it the worry I might someday eat it. A cute, sweets-based name that isn’t too sweets-based, she ruminated.

“Ah!” she chirped out in decision. “Dollop! Like a dollop of whipped cream, or pudding, or trifle! That’s perfect.”

Demi was about to ask Glimmer how a person went about officially naming someone, but it seemed she already had. The little slime was no longer “Unnamed.” They were now “Dollop.”

The slime seemed to have immediately become aware of this change because they turned a rosy pink color and excitedly hopped around her in circles. A charming red heart drifted up from the top of them and then disappeared into the air.

“Ahh~” Demi trilled in contentment, twirling around in place as Dollop hopped around her. “This is definitely the best thing that’s happened all day!”

It even topped the astonishing discovery of her new expertise at flint knapping.

“I named them Dollop!” Demi announced to Glimmer, coming to a stop as her skirts swished into place around her.

“Yes,” Glimmer said a bit fussily, “So I gathered.”

Dollop stopped circling her and instead contentedly bobbed in place next to her.

Demi briefly scanned the area and once she determined that she had gathered up all of the usable sticks and branches, she let Glimmer get up onto her shoulder and she began to make her way back to their improvised campsite, with Dollop hopping along behind.

They were soon back, and as they neared the little spot, Demi touched her chin a little pensively.

“We really aren’t all that far away from where we fought that awful thing,” she said, feeling mildly concerned. She had cut it almost completely in two with a stick. She felt quite strongly that the thing had certainly been dead by the end of it, but still. “What if another one comes along?” she pondered, more to herself than to Glimmer.

“I can’t imagine there being another one,” Glimmer scoffed. “So long as we take precautions we ought to be—”

“The Leggity-Leg!” Demi cried out, inspired, bringing her small fist down into her open palm decisively.

Glimmer was caught completely off guard. “Excuse me?” he asked, sounding somewhat appalled.

“The Leggity-Leg,” Demi repeated conversationally. “I decided to call the monster that because it had so many legs.”

“But did it really?” Glimmer asked skeptically.

“Well, it certainly felt like it had an enormous number of legs when I was running away from them,” she pointed out practically. “It even had a secret cheat-y one it was hiding. We didn’t see it do this, but I’m absolutely certain that that thing could have flipped itself over and then just scuttled around on those noodles it had.” She mimed a turtle on its back flipping over and then dashing off with one of her hands, wriggling her fingers for extra emphasis.

“I—” Glimmer began, but then it seemed as if he was at a loss as to how to respond to this argument. Demi, however, had already moved on to another concern.

“You don’t suppose I could have negotiated with it, do you?” she asked, feeling faintly guilty. She didn’t regret having leaped into action to save her little friend, but she had attacked the Leggity-Leg without warning. That wasn’t very gracious behavior, honestly. Even if the likelihood for peaceful negotiation hadn’t been high, she felt vaguely as if she ought to have at least tried.

Fortunately, this time Glimmer knew exactly how to respond.

“Of course you couldn’t’ve,” he scoffed, sounding offended. “It very nearly ate you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Demi admitted.

“Piiipipipiipipi,” consoled Dollop, bumping against her boot. She reached down and patted them affectionately. As she did, Glimmer hopped down from her shoulder because they were back at the little campsite.

“Thank you for the thought, little one,” Demi said with a smile as she patted Dollop.

Glimmer pointedly looked away with his beak pointed in the air and it became rapidly apparent that he also desired praise and pats but was absolutely unwilling to ask for them.

Demi knelt so she was at a more comfortable angle to converse with Glimmer and said, “My, you do look lovely, and I’m still feeling inspired by your song. Do you mind if I touch your feathers a little?”

Glimmer made some noises that were somehow between a harumph and a squeal of delight, and tossed his head, saying, “If you must.”

And so Demi gave him some congratulatory pats as well.

the goddess builds a shelter

Once she had praised and petted and admired Glimmer an appropriate amount (as determined by him), he became quite motivated and declared that he would secure their campsite himself.

Demi wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but her recent experience with his unexpected and astonishing magical chicken powers had taught her not to underestimate his capabilities, and so when he gallantly announced his intentions, she politely clapped and thanked him for his efforts.

He then commenced strutting majestically around the campsite, his long tail floating slightly above the ground and fluttering like a banner.

Briefly Demi wondered if he intended to act as a sentry, but as he strutted, Demi began to see that a golden line was being laid down behind him. Upon completing his first full circuit around the campsite, his intentions became apparent.

He’s laying down some kind of protective magic circle, Demi realized. Magic chickens certainly are quite a bit more useful than I expected!

It seemed as if the magic circle would take some time to complete, so Demi left Glimmer to his important work and set about building her shelter, with Dollop hanging close to her and following her as she worked.

The first thing she did was to get out all of the other sticks and branches she had stored away in her inventory and sort them into their appropriate piles.

In the midst of trotting about, laying out sticks, Demi paused, suddenly struck by an idea. “You know,” she said conversationally to Dollop, “Now that I think about it, those moves I unleashed at the end were really very magical-girl-like. You know, sometimes you defeat your enemies with a hug and a great big pink heart, but then other times you just kick the daylights out of them.”

Dollop made a quizzical face, but then a smiling one again. It was clear that they were just going to go along with whatever it was that Demi was saying, whether or not they properly understood it, and Demi felt that she could really appreciate that in a friend.

“I wonder if I made a little hop, if I would end up in the stratosphere?” she thought aloud, tapping her lip with her finger. Usually the sorts of magical girls who could kick their enemies into nanoparticles could also jump so high that they could leap to the top of a skyscraper easily. Some could leap so high that they could surely peep into the windows of a low flying airplane. That would probably be quite useful not only as a mode of travel, but also as a way of getting one’s bearings or filling out the blank spots on maps.

And honestly, part of her wanted to investigate the possibility for no other reason than it would move her one tick closer to the somewhat nebulous qualification of “magical girl.”

“I should experiment with that the next time I think about it,” she resolved.

She felt she ought to be very especially nice to Glimmer as well, since it was his inspiring song that had allowed her to pull off that impressive aerial combo, advancing one more step toward magical girlhood.

But just then the consideration of high jumps was pushed entirely out of her head by a surprising discovery.

There was something in her inventory that she did not remember having put into it: a weapon classified as a staff that was called “Flowering.”

Did that just spawn into my inventory by itself? she thought to herself, blinking in wonder. Or maybe I got it as a drop from the Leggity-Leg? I still don’t know how things like that work here.

She pulled the staff out of her inventory to examine it, hoping that this might help her discern the origin of the mysterious object.

Once she had it in her hands, it somehow became both more mysterious and less mysterious at the same time.

The length, weight, and heft were familiar, as was the general shape.

This is the stick I used to clobber the Leggity-Leg, she realized in surprise.

Only it wasn’t, not quite. Or at least, that wasn’t the whole of it.

The branch she had used in her fight with the monster had been a very ordinary stick she had found on the very ordinary ground. It had been covered with bark—the way most tree branches are—and had been unevenly broken on both ends.

The weapon Demi currently held in her hands was smooth and polished wood, with nary a splinter nor any ragged edge. It still had a good heft and felt comfortable in her hands.

It’s longer than it was before, isn’t it? Demi wondered to herself as she experimentally twirled it.

When she had assaulted the Leggity-Leg, Demi had used the stick more like a club or baseball bat than a staff. Depending on where she gripped it, she thought could still wield it to clobber effectively, but it was now much more like a proper staff in terms of height. It was still scaled perfectly to her own frame, however, which was quite convenient. In addition to being beautifully finished, the staff called Flowering was now adorned by several wooden leaves and a number of large wooden buds.

I think those are hawthorn leaves, Demi mused, and as she did, her identification pop-up confirmed that her new staff was made of hawthorn wood.

It also revealed that the staff was now apparently a divine weapon.

Well, I suppose that makes sense, Demi mused. I am a goddess, so I guess it’s natural for the weapons I use to be classed as divine weapons. Still, that’s pretty wild. Will every stick I pick up become a divine weapon if I just bash enough things with it?

That question also begged further investigation at some point down the line.

Demi fervently hoped that she wouldn’t be called upon to bash anything else for quite a while.

With one last affectionate pat, Demi tucked Flowering back into her inventory.

She looked down at Dollop and gave them a resolute nod.

“All right, my little friend, let’s build a shelter!” she said, as cheerfully as she could muster. She found she could be more cheerful about it if she reclassified the situation from “bare-bones survival” to “camping trip with friends that is plagued with unexpected but whimsical incidents” in her own mind.

Perhaps if she pretended hard enough, she might will this version of events into reality.

She was going to give it a try, at the very least.

And Dollop was quite encouraging. They flashed a determined emote and then followed it up with a happy one.

Ahhhh, Demi squealed to herself. They’re so cute every time they emote. Slimes are truly the best.

Although she stood still thinking about how charming and squishy slimes were for several seconds, one hand against her cheek, eventually Demi managed to shake herself out of it and get to work building her shelter.

The first thing that needed doing was building the frame of the thing. That required two vertical Y-shaped supports. They would serve a similar function to the two poles that hold up either end of a clothesline. Then she needed a long, straight branch to lay across them horizontally. That was her clothesline, or in this case, the central beam of her roof.

She had the first Y-shaped support already up and standing. That was the tree she had scouted earlier. Perhaps due to the fact that she had staked a (temporary) claim to it, she thought it looked a little finer than the trees around it. It still looked anemic: tired and dry and sad, but in her opinion, it looked a little less tired and dry and sad than the other trees.

The second support was the large branch she’d ended up facing the Leggity-Leg over. It was already in excellent shape, so she just needed to trim it a bit to make sure she could drive it into the ground so that the notch at the top was even with the split in the tree.

She paced out what she thought would be a good length for her new cozy little home and then dug a little hole and tapped the support until she felt it was firmly in place. She then did a quick sight line check and decided that the two supports were well aligned.

Now she just needed her central roof beam.

Since she had just paced out the length of her new domicile, she knew exactly the length she would need. She had planned it with some room to spare, so that she, Glimmer, and Dollop could all fit neatly inside, and so she would have the space she needed to comfortably turn around without bumping into anything.

She found the young fallen tree she needed with the help of the search function. It ended up being not too terribly distant from their little home site, and she and Dollop retrieved it without incident.

Ahh, it would have been quite a workout if I’d had to drag this log back the old-fashioned way, Demi reflected. Having learned her lesson from the earlier trip, Demi had simply put her hand on the soon-to-be roof beam and loaded it into her inventory.

It was while walking back to the little home-in-progress that Demi came to a surprising realization.

She hadn’t even felt short of breath since coming to this place, not really—not even during her flint-knapping frenzy nor after the incredible finishing combo she’d used to level the Leggity-Leg. For Demi, who had asthma and regularly required the use of her rescue inhaler, that was a remarkable realization. The only huffing and puffing she had engaged in during her time as a goddess had come from normal exertion, not fish-out-of-water desperation.

I suppose it’s good that I don’t need it, since I don’t have one, she reflected philosophically. Although she was methodical in carrying and using it, she didn’t actually sleep with it in her bed. The closest inhaler had been on her nightstand, and Hollyhope had not seen fit to bring it along.

It was probably still on her nightstand in her bedroom at home.

Admittedly, it did feel very liberating to realize that she hadn’t needed her rescue inhaler once. In celebration of this realization she took a great deep breath in, then let it slowly out.

It felt very nice.

Being a goddess has its perks, she thought, not for the first time.

Once she got the small log back at her campsite, Demi trimmed it down to an appropriate length, then removed what remained of its branches, leaving each of them as a short notch. Once the narrow log had been worked into a suitable crossbeam, Demi rolled it until it was parallel to where it was meant to go, then shifted one end of it kitty-corner into place on the ground.

“There has to be a better way of doing this,” Demi observed to Dollop.

Dollop emoted a puzzled face but then another cheerful smile.

Dollop believes in me! Demi thought, cheering herself on.

“It’s time to gain a mechanical advantage!” she declared, pointing a single slender finger to the sky. “Of the six simple machines, this one is a contender to be the strongest of all. On top of that, it’s a real team player, good at cooperating with others. It’s time for the pulley!”

Dollop turned pink to mirror Demi’s self-induced excitement and hopped around her excitedly.

Of course, she wasn’t quite ready to make a pulley at that exact instant. Recognizing it was quite embarrassingly anticlimactic, she dropped down to sit on the ground in the same spot she’d been standing and quickly opened up the crafting menu.

Fortunately for her, Dollop seemed to be a very amiable soul. They were as happy dozing next to her as she shotgunned crafting recipes as they were cheering her on when she struck inspiring poses.

A rope, she thought to herself. First I need a good, sturdy rope. Oh and twine would be useful too, so I ought to go ahead and craft some now so I don’t forget about it.

She sang to herself as she crafted, sometimes humming bars when she became too distracted.

“Let’s head up toward a castle in the sky da da da da da spread wings to fly—”

Crafting with the system menu was easy, provided one had the ingredients.

Using the system this way is overwhelmingly gamelike, she reflected as she navigated menus. Do all of the people in this world craft this way? If they do, I wonder what kind of influence that’s had on society and culture—not to mention technological advancement. Of course, I don’t really have any idea what the norm is here in terms of technological level, she admitted to herself. For all I know, they could have interstellar spaceships. Hollyhope rattled on about type-three civilizations, after all.

There was no reason this couldn’t turn out to be a surprise space opera.

If it is, then I hope there are robots, Demi wished fervently to herself. If it’s in space, there have to be robots, right? It ought to be against the rules not to have robots. Super robots, real robots, I don’t care, so long as there are at least some robots. After all, robots are a maiden’s romance.

Demi was distracted for several seconds while she thought about how much she liked robots, sitting with her hand against her cheek.

She had just reasoned her way into the realization that there might still be robots even if this was a fantasy world, because of course, they could be magic robots, when she remembered that she was supposed to be crafting rope and got back to work doing that again.

“Chasing a dream I refuse to throw away, dah dah dada da dah dah dah dah love will rise again—”

It was quite a time saver to simply combine items through a menu rather than braiding stems by hand. It surely saved her a neck ache and sore fingers too.

Now she had “Harvest Goddess’s Wild Barley Twine” and “Harvest Goddess’s Wild Barley Rope.”

“But that’s only step one!” she declared to no one in particular, as Dollop had apparently gone to sleep and Glimmer still seemed to be engaged in chicken magic.

She shuffled through the books of simple crafting recipes and found what she was looking for. Fortunately, she had everything she needed already. Three crafting sessions later, she had produced “Harvest Goddess’s Simple Block and Tackle,” a set of pulleys with the rope threaded through them.

“This is an incredibly powerful item,” Demi declared to Dollop as she got to her feet again. The dango had promptly woken up as she rose and gave an encouraging and enthusiastic smile at her declaration.

Demi looked up at the living tree that was one of her post supports and identified a short knobby outgrowth that looked to be at a good position for her block and tackle. The only problem was that it was too high for her to reach it easily, and it was certainly out of the reach of Dollop and Glimmer. She debated gathering materials to construct “Harvest Goddess’s Handy Step Ladder” but ended up making herself what amounted to a wooden fire hook, and then used that to loop the block and tackle over the knob.

“Now it’s time to truly experience the marvel of mechanical advantage!” she declared to Dollop as she secured some twine around the central roof beam and then hooked the rope from her block and tackle onto it. The dango hopped up and down in place in excitement as Demi began to pull on the free rope and the crossbeam started to rise.

Once Dollop worked out what she was doing, Demi was surprised and charmed to see that Dollop hopped around behind her and somehow gripped onto the rope with their gloop and pulled with her.

Glimmer remained observing from a perch on a branch a short distance away.

Once the crossbeam was at the correct height, Demi tied off the excess of rope to a nearby tree, and then manually moved the suspended log into position. Once it was in the notch of the tree, Demi tied it with a length of twine for a little more security.

Then she unhooked her pulley and repeated her process with the other end of the log, hoisting it into position, maneuvering it into the notch at the top of the other post and then securing it with twine.

Glimmer watched her circus of pulleys with some interest, even commenting, “How sophisticated!” when Demi was securing the crossbeam against the Y-shaped support. Once she had finished getting the beam into position, he observed, “I do still wonder why you just didn’t drop it from your inventory into the correct place, but I suppose all of that was an entertaining novelty.”

“What?” Demi asked, planting her hands on her hips. “What’s a novelty? You don’t mean pulleys, do you?” she asked, looking over her shoulder and gesturing at the block and tackle. “Are you telling me that this place doesn’t even have pulley technology?”

If they don’t have pulleys, then they definitely don’t have robots, she silently lamented to herself.

“Ugh, of course we have pulleys,” Glimmer groused. “Do you imagine we’re in the stone age? You’re the one who wants to sleep in a cave and spent the morning banging rocks together. Humph.” He stuck his beak into the air. “I was just saying that you might have saved yourself some trouble if you just dropped that log into the place you wanted directly from your inventory.”

“Wait,” Demi stopped him, raising both of her hands. “I can do that?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. “I mean, I have enough control over where it goes that I could just fit it into place like that?”

“Of course you can,” Glimmer stated, as if the answer ought to be obvious. “Why don’t you try it out whenever you start doing the next part of”—he paused, eyeing the beginnings of the lean-to—“whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“All right,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll see what I can manage.”

Ultimately, it was probably better for her to practice this previously unexplored ability with sticks that were not heavy enough to cause bodily harm if they fell on her during the testing phase.

Before she could really start laying the roof for the lean-to, she made a little furrow in the earth as a guideline for where she ought to secure the sticks that would make up the first slanted roof of the structure. If she had been building the lean-to against a building, it would have only had one single slanted roof, because the other roof would essentially be the wall of the building it had been built against. Since she was building a freestanding lean-to, she would be laying out two identical slanting roofs that met at the central crossbeam, creating a small A-frame shelter where the roof also made up most of the exterior wall.

Digging the little furrow was almost like laying a foundation. Sinking the bottom of the roof slats into the soft earth would make them more secure. Since she had already taken the time to sort the sticks and branches by size, it was just a matter of collecting the appropriate ones and laying them with their bottom ends in the furrow and their top ends just over the center crossbeam.

Demi tried out placing items directly from her inventory into the places where she wanted them to go. If was a little imprecise and seemed to be the sort of thing that would require practice. Still, as she experimented, she got the sense that if she took her time and practiced, she could improve her handling and her precision.

If you think about it, this could really turn out to be a ridiculously powerful ability, she thought to herself. It doesn’t seem as if I even really need to be touching the place I want to drop it, even though that does make it easier to get it right where I want it.

She would keep practicing.

Demi used the widest branches to build the skeleton of this side of her lean-to’s roof, placing them as evenly as she could along the length of the crossbeam, and tapping their ends down into the soft soil of the little trench. Once they were all leaning against the central crossbeam, they made a good start to one half of the A-frame roof.

And once the main branches were placed, she worked in the more awkwardly shaped sticks as if she were doing a puzzle. Once all of the larger pieces were placed, she filled in the gaps with the thinnest sticks. When everything was in place, she took twine and lashed the most important branches to the crossbeam. Some of the branches were actually sitting against notches on the crossbeam, so altogether, it was quite sturdy.

To make sure the tiny abode was also insulated and waterproof, Demi collected a mixture of loose, loamy earth and last year’s autumn leaves. During the cycle of seasons each year, the denizens of the forest dropped many things on the ground. The trees dropped flowers and leaves, and eventually seeds or nuts. Plants that grew annually dropped their entire bodies, while perennial plants dropped leaves and seeds in the same way that trees did. Many animals went to the bathroom and some died. All of these things combined to make up the humus of the forest floor, the organic matter that enriched the earth and made the topmost layer of soil.

The leaves that the trees shed each autumn took many months to decompose, some taking as long as a year. This gave the small residents of the forest, insects and spiders, salamanders, snails, worms, and of course fungi and bacteria, ample time to make their homes there, to find their food there, or even to spin a chrysalis and transform there. The leaf litter of the forest was essential for its survival. Some people might have found fallen leaves to be messy and inconvenient, but Demi loved them for the transition between old and new life they represented.

That was why she was so thoughtful about what soil and dead leaves she collected. She wanted to disturb the forest around her as little as possible, so she would use the leaves with great care. The eggs laid in them would be able to hatch, and the cocoons hidden there would be able to keep the small ones inside safe until it was time for them to emerge.

Demi took the mixture of soil and leaves and spread it across the roof of her shelter, making sure to pile it thicker at the base so that it would naturally stay in place. The nature of the soil kept the dry leaves secure, and all in all, it looked much more in keeping with the natural landscape than it had been beforehand.

Collecting all of the necessary soil and leaves for the roof took some time and effort, even with the use of her inventory to haul and deposit it, but in the end, she felt quite satisfied by the results. She planted her hands on her hips to admire her work, and when Dollop saw her strike this pose, they hopped up and down, making an encouraging smile with their eyespots.

Demi leaned down to pat the slime.

“Now you can help me with the interior!” she said, and Dollop agreed by squeaking and hopping up and down in place.

Glimmer did not provide any material assistance during the construction of either the exterior or the interior of the little shelter—although it was questionable how much help a small ornamental chicken would be able to provide even if he were very enthusiastic about manual labor. From the middle of the process onward, he did comment on most everything, giving her many “suggestions,” most of which were aesthetic in nature.

Demi mollified him with amiable “yes, dear’s” and followed her own plans regardless.

It would be easiest to finish the interior of the shelter off before constructing the other half of the roof simply from an accessibility standpoint. As it was currently, the half-finished roof gave her shelter the feeling of being a dollhouse.

“First things first, let’s have some light!” Demi told Dollop. “It’s going to be quite dark in there without some kind of light, especially at night.”

“Pii pi pi!” Dollop agreed.

Demi already had an extra wooden hook she had made, leftover from making the block and tackle. She attached some twine and then tied the hook to the crossbeam near the center. Now she had a convenient place to hang something inside the structure once it was completed, like her flashlight.

“Now, let’s make a nice floor!” she said, moving over to look at the sticks and branches that remained after the construction of the roof.

Dollop followed her as she went, and once she chose some branches that would be good for the flooring, she gave one to the little slime to carry, since it was clear that they wanted to help. They carried the stick by balancing it on the top of their head. It was actually quite charming to watch.

Fortunately, the construction of the floor wasn’t particularly complicated. Demi took moderately thick but short lengths of deadwood and laid them out on the inside of her half-finished shelter, making two parallel lines that would be the frame of her raised bed. Then she capped them at either end, making a closed frame. In the end, it looked a little like she was laying out a raised garden bed.

“But really, it’s a raised Demi bed,” she observed with a giggle. Unfortunately there was no one around to appreciate her magnificent wit.

Well, there was Glimmer, but he didn’t particularly seem to appreciate it in this case, which was probably because he was still agonizing about having to sleep on a bed of sticks in a house covered in dirt and old leaves, so she didn’t take it as a personal slight.

Dollop seemed to like anything she said, whenever she said it, which was quite encouraging in its own way, but Demi wasn’t entirely sure that the little slime knew what she was talking about at any given time.

It was the thought that counted anyway, she supposed, and Dollop apparently had a lot of very nice thoughts about her.

Once Demi had built the bed frame, she found the driest autumn leaves she could and filled the frame with them, making several trips and pressing the leaves flat until the frame was full and neat.

Now it was time to give her leaf bed a little more structure. After a little searching, she was able to collect some medium-sized branches that seemed as if they would be good candidates for bed slats. After she trimmed them down to the right length, she laid them over her bed, almost as if she were laying out rungs on a ladder. She tested them a few times by lying down on them to make sure they would bear her weight and there weren’t any absolutely egregious poky-bits, and rearranged things until she was satisfied.

Finally, she collected some more dry leaves and mixed them in with some soft dried pine needles she foraged from under the base of some nearby conifers, then piled them as the top layer of her bed. Even without pillows and a blanket, sleeping on this raised bed would be much more comfortable than sleeping on the bare ground, not to mention drier and warmer in inclement weather.

Demi tested her finished bed one more time, to make sure that she could comfortably lie in it while remaining securely under the cover of her roof and that neither her head nor her feet were poking out either end. Of course, lying down on a bed made of dried leaves and pine needles meant that when she stood back up her hair was now liberally adorned with dried leaves and pine needles, but that was a reality she was simply going to have to accept, she supposed.

It wasn’t as if she had anyone to impress at the moment, apart from Glimmer and Dollop. Dollop was already impressed with everything she did (including having leaves and pine needles in her hair) and Glimmer was not at all impressed and more than ready to share his opinions on this subject.

Satisfied with the state of the interior, Demi decided it was time to begin work on the other side of the lean-to’s roof.

It was only early afternoon according to the helpful clock that Demi could access through the system menu, but the last thing she wanted was for dusk to fall while she was poking around at her lean-to, forcing her to either finish trying to put it together in the dark with her flashlight or sleep in a half-finished shelter that was not altogether sheltering.

Fortunately, making the second half of the A-frame roof was essentially identical to making the first, although she did have to stop once to gather more materials. Being able to identify them at a distance was very handy, though, and saved her a lot of fruitless rummaging.

This meant she was able to get the second half of the roof up by midafternoon.

Once the A-frame roof was fully complete and covered with loam and leaves, it looked almost cozy, and quite natural. She took the time to close off one end of the A-frame with sticks that leaned against the finished roof. This wall was not as thick or sturdy as the roof, but it served its purpose, most particularly once loam was piled against it.

Demi had intended to leave the other end of the shelter open, to facilitate entry and exit. She was not ambitious enough to attempt to construct a door for her lean-to.

But the abundance of pine needles nearby opened up another possibility. There was a beginner level recipe for a woven mat in the crafting book that called only for “fibers.” Demi knew that different kinds of pine needles were used for basketmaking and basket weaving, so she decided to experiment.

And she ended up making “Harvest Goddess’s Woven Pine Mat (S).” The S apparently stood for “small,” although it was of reasonable size: big enough to use as a doormat or simply as a place to sit that was not the bare ground.

With a little more experimentation, Demi also produced “Harvest Goddess’s Woven Pine Mat (M)” and “Harvest Goddess’s Woven Pine Mat (L).” She laid the large pine mat over the top of her bed frame. This made it even nicer and meant that when she did get her bedding out of her inventory, she wouldn’t have to worry about her beloved Lacey-tan getting dirty. She made a simple hinge for the medium-sized mat by putting three loops of twine along one edge of the mat, then hung it over the opening to the shelter.

With this final piece in place, her shelter was done, but there was one last thing she wanted to make before declaring herself finished for the day.

She took a long, straight length of dry wood and added a shorter crosspiece to the top, making a T-shape. Then she dug a posthole and drove it into the ground. When it was finished, she felt she had made an acceptable roost for an Onagadori.

She turned to Glimmer and gestured at it. “It isn’t very fancy, but I thought you needed a proper roost. You’ll probably want to sleep inside the lean-to tonight, because it’ll be most comfortable, but for now, please try it out and see what you think.”

Demi had never seen a chicken blush before, but Glimmer was certainly blushing—in a very self-conscious, tsundere way. He hopped down from his current perch and with a bit of flapping, made his way up to the new roost she had made for him.

It wasn’t tall enough to keep his tail feathers completely from the ground. Such a roost would have been considerably higher than Demi was tall, but it did allow his feathers to fall beautifully, and they ended up curled around the base of the perch, like the train of an exquisite dress.

“Well, it’s not as gorgeous as the one I have in the divine realm,” he began, slightly awkwardly, “but for your very first roost, I’d say that you did relatively well.”

Then he made a sound that was half cough and half cluck before sincerely adding, “I do appreciate it, honestly.”

Still blushing and looking away, she could not help but take notice of his thick, gorgeous eyelashes.

(This chicken was wearing mascara.)

And that made her smile.

“You’re welcome,” she said equally honestly, then stretched, arching her back and raising her arms over her head. Dollop mimicked her actions by stretching their slime body up before it bounced back into a more ordinary slime shape.

Demi felt that she had done a good day’s work, and by now it had been the better part of a day since her robust tea with Hollyhope, and several hours since the sandwich she had shared with Glimmer.

She deserved a reward.

She was going to read books!

(And she was going to eat. She needed to eat. She couldn’t forget to eat.)

She was going to read books and eat.

“Come on Glimmer, Dollop,” she called. “And we’ll have some dinner.”

(And some books.)

the goddess’s twilight

Although she had been initially somewhat dubious about the contents of the survival chest, now that she was good and hungry again, she appreciated it. Since she could craft so many things with simple supplies, good food was probably highest on her list priorities, after potable water. There was so much in the box of emergency supplies that it would last her for quite some time.

Otherwise I might have just had to eat things I randomly found on the ground, she reflected. A delicious dinner of mugwort and dandelion greens. The prospect was not exciting. Even during her most dedicated time studying to be a wolf daughter, she had not been inspired by the idea of having to scavenge for food. It’s so early in the season though. It would probably be hard to find enough to have a filling meal, even with divination and identification. That’s why we developed agriculture in the first place, after all.

Due to the unique properties of her storage, the food that was available was a lot more varied than standard survival food, or even summer camp fare. Not only was the food that was meant to be cold kept cold, but the food that was served hot was actually hot when she examined it. That meant that there were hot bowls of soup, hot sandwiches, and even warm cookies and brownies, but cold salads, cold drinks, and even some ice cream.

Along with the food, there was something else in the emergency crate, and that was a very small set of picnic supplies. She had two round plates, two mugs, two bowls, and two basic sets of utensils, including two sets of chopsticks. The utensils were sturdy enough, but not so sturdy that she could imagine converting them into tools, especially now that she had her flint knife.

Still, she did have bowls and mugs that would be useful when collecting liquids, provided she ever found a water source.

She, Glimmer, and Dollop ended up eating soup and sandwiches for dinner, and then splitting a very large brownie with a cow painted on it in chocolate. Her chicken companion ate a surprising amount for such a small bird, and Demi briefly wondered where it was all going, but then resigned herself to the mystery, because he was a talking chicken, after all.

After a very satisfying meal, Demi dragged her smallest woven pine mat to a spot where she got the best afternoon light and then proceeded to read. She had pulled a lot of books that seemed most relevant to a beginning farmer (and Harvest Goddess) so she had no shortage for choice.

(She had also been delighted to discover the first eight books in The Shadowstep Alchemist series were among those in the lending library, so she had also pulled those out as a matter of course.)

But she was determined to be a good Harvest Goddess, so she began by studying.

One of the first books she read was about alchemy.

(Because of course it was. Who wouldn’t read a book about alchemy if it was available? About real, actual alchemy that worked.)

In this world, alchemy was apparently one of the pillars holding up civil society, along with agriculture. It was woven into the fabric of everything, from the advancement of medicine to the production and preservation of food.

It turned out that very few sapient beings in this world ate meat, not meat that came from living creatures, at any rate. This was a little surprising to Demi, because she was certain that she had already eaten multiple kinds of meat since arriving in Hollyhope’s cottage.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for a farming game to avoid having foods with meats in them other than fish, because no one wanted to imagine eating a precious animal that they had raised like a friend, although fish were apparently not extended this courtesy.

But in this world, the meat that sapient creatures ate was something called alchemic meat, and it was produced by alchemists through transmutations of other materials. Perhaps most striking about this revelation, was that every bit of meat that Demi had so far eaten had been absolutely delicious. It had been some of the best meat she had ever eaten, and she had had the privilege of having very fine food, given her position in society. Alchemic meat did not have the taste or texture of a synthetic meat. It tasted like real meat, and had an essentially identical nutritional quality.

There were no downsides, apart from the fact that meat had to be produced by an experienced alchemist. The finer the meat, the higher the skill required.

“I’m definitely going to have to learn how to do that,” Demi resolved to herself. She would have wanted to learn alchemy regardless. Alchemy was good because it was alchemy. Magic was good because it was magic. That was just common sense.

And perhaps most thrilling of all was the fact that this world had more than one kind of alchemy! The older type was called Stable Alchemy. It had been practiced for more than a thousand years and most of the technical literature she could find was about this type of alchemy. It was also the type of alchemy that was responsible for the production of alchemic meat.

But this world also had Fluid Alchemy. There was less concrete information about Fluid Alchemy, but many references to it in historical and anthropological texts. It was only a few centuries old and apparently the result of the actions of a single figure: the Shadowstep Alchemist.

Just reading over that name had been thrilling and had made her put her hand into her pocket where she carried the light novel.

I never expected it to turn out to be historical fiction, she had internally squealed with glee, nearly vibrating in place.

Fluid Alchemy was enticing simply because it was more mysterious.

(And because her new favorite alchemist had invented it.)

Of course, there was also the fact that said alchemist had apparently used it in the course of raising a lost sunken kingdom from the bottom of the sea.

That was quite a lot to write home about.

“I’ll just have to learn both of them!” she announced decisively.

“Pii pi pi piii.”

Dollop, who had been dozing, popped up at this and sleepily emoted an encouraging face before oozing back to a more relaxed position.

With a pat to the top of her drowsing dango and another little thrill in place, Demi drifted back to reading.

She read contentedly until it got late enough that she could no longer make out the words on the page.

Then she put the stack of books back into her inventory for safekeeping and leaned back, looking up at the sky overhead.

It was past sunset, and the twilight was spreading delicately around her. There was still the tinge of orange off in the west, but the violet blue of the evening was falling as quietly as snow. All but the brightest stars above were so faint they could barely be seen.

“Is it really all right for me to be here?” she asked the sky.

Looking up at the pale points of light, she could not help but think of the velvet sky as it hung over the ancient and fathomless Deep Wood. That had been the sight from her balcony from a time before she could even remember remembering.

That was a difficult question. She wasn’t even really sure what authority she ought to be asking permission from.

On one hand, she had the carefree reassurance from Hollyhope, goddess “administrator,” that everything would be fine because “time was relative (or something).” In that sense, this was purely free time, and nothing she did here would adversely affect the people back at home.

Time wasn’t passing there, or technically speaking, it was passing so slowly that it was essentially imperceptible.

But it was hard to shake the anxiety that had been ingrained into her. It had been easy to throw herself into the concerns of immediate survival, but beyond that—

She knew. She knew it was true. Here or there, it didn’t matter.

Her actions had consequences, and she had to be flawless.

It was not something she wanted for herself. It was against her essential nature. She chafed at every restraint, always a whisker away from open rebellion, but she could not close her eyes to the consequences, could not look away from them.

Mistakes meant that people would suffer, and their suffering would be her fault.

What she chose to do, what she chose not to do. They were all first dominoes that could lead to catastrophic consequences if she acted heedlessly, if she acted rashly.

No. No that wasn’t it, not really. She could be honest here, honest with herself.

The most devastating consequences would come as a result of acting according to her own wishes or in her own best interest.

She could not afford to fail. Not at anything. If she did, then people would die, and even more would—

Honestly, it really might have been better if she had died.

Sitting there in the quiet of the forest, that thought felt inescapably hopeless, pathetic, sick, and small.

She did not want to die. She did not want to want to die.

But she felt it in her bones, like a heavy stone tied around her neck: It would have been better if she had just died.

The thought made her throat close up and her eyes sting, and she was suddenly angry, angry at what she couldn’t say. She did her best to breathe, forcing the air into her mouth even as she blinked rapidly.

Dollop, concerned at her sudden gasping, bumped gently against her, their body a very pale green.

“Pii pi piii pi pii pi,” the slime squeaked, turning a faint blush pink.

Demi nodded although she still could not speak, touching the slime gently. As she stroked them as if they were a cat, her breathing slowly calmed and she was able to rub the grittiness of tears out of the corners of her eyes.

She felt small and cold.

Even if this place promised freedom, a horizon of endless possibilities...

She felt afraid to run.

She brushed her fingertips across the slime, the barest whisper of a touch.

“I’m afraid I’ll run out of ground,” she said softly.

She looked up at the stars. During her long consideration of her troubles, nautical twilight had begun to fall. Once astronomical twilight fell it would be challenging to see much of anything. She shivered a little in the deepening darkness and slipped her hand into her pocket.

“Well, at least I have something nice to read,” she said, patting the book. “That’s better than almost anything in the entire world.”

She was sure that she would love it. It was about alchemy after all, and besides that, Hollyhope had liked the series well enough to have several dozen volumes lined up on her bookshelf. If they were so alike, then surely they had similar taste in books. If she couldn’t trust a recommendation from her other self, then what on this green earth could she trust?

Dollop was still at Demi’s side, pleasant and warm and squishy.

“Pii pi pi pii?” the slime squeaked quizzically, but Demi smiled down at them.

“Everything is all right,” she assured, getting to her feet. “Let’s go inside.”

the goddess and the shadowstep alchemist

Demi collected the pine mat she had been sitting on and took it back to her lean-to, with Dollop bouncing along behind her. Glimmer had spent the time preening on his perch, but when she opened the door to the shelter, he fluttered down to observe.

A flip of the switch on the flashlight in the lean-to left them bathed in a homey glow.

Demi got her bedding out of her inventory and it once again came down in one confused tangle. She took the time to separate everything out, putting each individual thing back into her inventory. Only things on the surface of her bed had come along with her, so she didn’t have a mattress to contend with.

After a little fussing, she got the sheets and pillows down on her new bed. Then she carefully slid in Lacey-tan, like she was a sausage going into a bun.

Satisfied, Demi turned to Glimmer and said, “I’m going to put on my pajamas now.”

Glimmer sat watching her expectantly, and then she rolled her eyes and insisted, “Turn around!”

Chicken or not, she had only just met Glimmer. She wasn’t comfortable enough to just start changing clothes in front of him. As if the little slime innately understood her feelings, they began shifting their weight against Glimmer, as if urging him to turn around.

With a melodramatic sigh, Glimmer did turn his back on her, and cutely, Dollop followed suit, although Demi was somewhat less concerned about the slime watching her get changed. She wasn’t even sure where Dollop’s actual eyes were, or if they saw images even remotely similarly to the way terrestrial vertebrates did, but it was a sweet gesture regardless.

With a little wriggling, Demi managed to get into her pajamas. They felt nice and soft and they smelled fresh.

Then something occurred to her.

I had better check for bears. And wolves. And mountain lions, she thought to herself. And I guess whatever the Leggity-Leg is.

Demi had faith in whatever chicken magic that Glimmer had worked for their protection, but it was better to be on the safe side. She used divination to search the vicinity for hostile animals, but there didn’t seem to be any nearby.

That’s a relief, she thought to herself.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she would have done if she had discovered any—not if they were regular old ordinary animal predators. Just because they were around didn’t mean they would choose to attack her, and even if they did, she wasn’t sure how she ought to handle it. She might be a goddess, but she didn’t really know how to use any of her divine powers yet, or even what they really were. Discounting the intervention of Glimmer’s melodious crow, she would have already gotten herself eaten once already. Besides that, she was meant to be a Harvest Goddess, and as such, she didn’t think it would be really in keeping with her alleged divinity to off ordinary animals that were just looking for food and trying to survive. It was one thing to cut a weird monster in half with a stick. She really wanted to avoid having to do the same to a wolf or a bear.

But she really didn’t think she could control her strength with any level of reliability. At the moment, her two options seemed to be a) get eaten and b) cut hapless enemy in two with a stick. She was still going to have to keep option c) run away, in her back pocket until she had a better understanding of things.

She would have to start studying and practicing to develop more reliable alternatives as soon as she created a more stable living situation for herself.

Still, it’s good that Hollyhope didn’t plop her substitute down someplace where she might get eaten by bears, Demi reflected. Even if she did choose a giant colony of poisonous grass. At least the grass won’t come after me while I’m sleeping...I hope.

If another Leggity-Leg appeared in spite of Glimmer’s precautions, then, well, they’d deal with it when it happened, she supposed.

With her safety verified, pajamas on, and farmer girl clothing stowed, Demi crawled into the shelter. Once inside, she attached her flashlight to the center hook and pulled her comforter out on top of her.

There, now she was perfectly cozy. This leaf bed wasn’t as comfortable as her fancy bed at home, but after a day full of activities, she was grateful for it. Once she was settled, Glimmer strutted into the shelter after her, and after turning around in circles half a dozen times, finally managed to bring all of his tail inside the shelter.

Dollop remained just over the threshold of the little shelter, bouncing up and down in place. They were clearly hesitating, unsure if they were allowed to follow inside. It was actually quite sweet to see.

Like a little dog that curls up right outside the door, Demi thought to herself. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the little slime, patting the bedding beside her.

“Come on in, little one,” she invited. After all, she’d already spent considerable time daydreaming about napping with slimes. Of course Dollop was allowed inside.

Even Glimmer harrumphed. “Yes, of course, come along inside so she can shut the door!”

“Pii pi piii!”

Dollop turned pink with happiness and bounced up and down in place, flashing an overjoyed smile, and then very carefully rolled into the lean-to after them.

Content that they were all safely inside their new little home, Demi pulled the woven door closed.

And then she spent the next six hours reading.

The first thing that seized her when she opened the first volume was the name of the author, which had not been printed on the front cover or spine of the book.

But there it was, plain as day.

The author of The Shadowstep Alchemist novel series was Hollyhope Fieldcraft.

Yes. That Hollyhope Fieldcraft.

Demi recalled Hollyhope’s smiling face as she said, “I even wrote some of the books myself!”

Did Hollyhope write all of these novels for herself? Demi wondered, feeling a little astonished.

Then she stopped and considered.

Ah, well, I think, I think I can understand the sentiment, Demi decided. If she couldn’t find the books that she wanted to read, she could imagine writing them herself. Well, at least I don’t have to write them, because Hollyhope already did, she thought, then prayed. Thank you, Hollyhope.

Then she paused again, reflecting on the goddess.

No wonder she looked so proud when I picked the first book up, she thought. She was absolutely waiting for me to open that book up, emote a ton of exclamation marks, and then ask her all about it. I’ll have to do that next time I see her, Demi thought with an inward smile. After all, I don’t know any other goddesses who are also light novel authors. I’ll have to ask her to sign a copy for me when I get one of my own.

Her copy of volume 1 was purloined from Hollyhope’s own bookshelf, after all, which meant that she needed to take extra special care of it. Demi took extra special care of all of her books—because they were books—so in this case, it would have to be extra, extra special care.

After she processed her surprise given the identity of the author, Demi easily got lost in the world of The Shadowstep Alchemist. From the cover illustration to the color inserts just inside, she was captured by everything, as if it had been written just for her. The titular character was Grey Thornwood, a boy who had just passed his tenth birthday. Despite his youth, there was a fierceness in his gaze, a solidity. He felt much older than he looked, and this sense was clear even from the illustrations. He looked like a boy, but in some ways he did not seem at all like a child. His eyes were narrow and his gaze was very sharp and piercing.

And of course, he was outrageously beautiful. He was half elven, with fair, clear skin and hair that was such a brilliant black that it sometimes shone blue-purple in the light. A shock of white-silver hair hung down into his face in the front and his slender ears were pointed and delicate.

A High Wizard in short pants, Demi thought with an inward squeal. That’s so gap moe.

Because it was true. The explanatory blurb under his portrait in the character section indicated that through his total mastery of four rank-three elemental spells, he had already completed the technical requirements to be counted as a High Wizard. All that remained was to present his work before the College of High Wizards for formal recognition.

Perhaps a bit surprisingly, the Shadowstep Alchemist did not seem to be, at least from the outset, an alchemist. But there was plenty of time for that, she supposed.

The story began in medias res, with the young boy in a personal duel with Ansuwald the Great Bear, a giant of a man wielding a greataxe taller than his small opponent.

But then the story flipped back to a more peaceful moment, soon after Grey set out from home on the day after his tenth birthday. With his younger sister Philo at his side, along with the black wolf Midnight, Grey began a quest to understand a mysterious prophecy that had been made at the time of his birth.

That prophecy, along with an ancient story-song about lost lands, was the reason that the ten-year-old boy left to become an adventurer, rather than remaining safely at home with his family.

That’s still really incredible, prophecy or not, Demi couldn’t help but think to herself.

Grey wasn’t simply on an adventure; he was the head of his party and responsible for his younger sister as well. And soon after they began their journey, they encountered the mustachioed cabbagekin swordsman Pumpernickel, who decided it was his duty to look after the children (who were both considerably taller than he was).

Cabbagekin, or more properly Florians, were a subtribe of humans that were between two and three feet tall as adults.

Despite the fact that the diminutive swordsman was a full-fledged adult in his middle years, his short temper and absolute devotion to chivalric ideals meant that Grey was still required to be the grown-up in the party, in addition to being their strategist and magic powerhouse.

Philo was sunny and cheerful, supportive of her older brother but not unwilling to call him out when he was being too grim and serious. She was always singing and dancing her way through their adventures, playing either a recorder or her precious mandolin, Lady Starshine.

Philo’s curiosity and Pumpernickel’s temper were always getting them into trouble, and Grey was of course always required to get them out of it by means of his wits, patience, and level head.

There’s just something about him, Demi thought to herself, even that very first night, that makes him seem much more like a middle-aged man than a ten-year-old boy.

That was perfectly all right with her. She was a great fan of men of middle age or older. They were her preference, actually.

And the mismatch of his looks with his demeanor...

Ahh, gap moe is the best moe, she thought to herself, not for the first time, and then burrowed back into the pages of the book.

Deep in the quiet night, she finally got to a point where she could no longer stay awake, despite her fascination with the tale of the Shadowstep Alchemist and his companions, and flipped off the flashlight, snuggling down into her cozy, homemade bed. She promptly fell asleep, as if she might have been reclining upon a bed in a palace, the book against her chest, her arms around Lacey-tan, Dollop wedged between her and the pillow, and Glimmer became a shimmering ball of feathers asleep on the rise of her hip.

the goddess has a much better morning

As a result of her questionable decision to read into the early hours of the morning, Demeter Serraffield was not up with the dawn. She was not even up before noon.

It was around two p.m. according to the system menu when Demi put all of the bedding back into her inventory and Dollop helped expel Glimmer from the lean-to so she could change.

When she emerged, she actually felt somewhat cleaner than she expected to feel. Just as when she’d put on her pajamas the previous night, when she put her farm girl dress on, it felt clean and soft and freshly laundered.

Well, that’s convenient, she thought to herself.

She would still need to find a water source and bathe to feel perfectly comfortable. She was a young lady from an aristocratic family, after all, even if she did have some experience camping.

Still, on the whole, it was amazing what a difference a good night’s sleep could do for a person. Everything seemed brighter and more wholesome in the warm light of morning (early afternoon). Demi was idly looking around herself while munching on her breakfast of pain au chocolat and admiring the picturesque sylvan landscape, when she froze, the pastry hanging from her mouth.

It wasn’t just that this place seemed nicer now that she’d had some sleep.

Unless there were some alarming problems with her memory, this place looked substantially different.

For one thing, everything seemed much greener and healthier. Although it was still early spring, the day before, many of the trees in the forest had seemed dry and fragile. One of the reasons she had been able to collect so much deadwood was that there had been a lot of dead trees.

But today, the trees around her seemed healthy and full of life. Every tree around her had put out small green leaves and tender shoots.

And there were birds singing.

The day before, Demi hadn’t heard much in the way of wildlife, not even insects or birds in the trees. She had put it down to them being frightened away by her presence, but she had realized over time that it felt unnatural.

But now, there were birds in the trees, not only singing, but they could be seen among the branches when she looked up, flitting around and searching for food, or just going about their own avian business.

And perhaps what was most startling of all was the lean-to itself.

When she had gone to sleep the night before, the lean-to had looked exactly how she had constructed it: an A-frame stick roof over a central crossbeam between one living tree and one post, covered with loam and dead leaves.

But now, the roof was covered in a tangle of green growing clover and grasses, dotted over with small flowers. The tree with the notch in it had not only put out leaves overnight, but also what looked to be apple blossoms. And then there was the Y-shaped post.

Despite Demi being absolutely sure that she had driven a Y-shaped post of deadwood into the ground the previous afternoon, now in that same exact spot...there was a small flowering tree.

There was now a tree growing where she had stuck a very dead stick into the ground.

She took a step back and focused hard on the little shelter, and when she did, she was rewarded with a pop-up of information.

“Harvest Goddess’s Woodland Retreat.”

“Glimmer!” she cried, absolutely confused. “What is going on?”

Glimmer, who had been sitting atop his (considerably more fancy) roost and preening himself, said offhandedly, “It does look better, doesn’t it?” as if what was happening were perfectly ordinary and not worth further comment.

“Yes,” she said patiently, “But why does it look better?”

“Well, how do you expect it to look after a Harvest Goddess has lived for an entire day in the vicinity, and even slept there?” he asked, as if the answer ought to be obvious.

He fluttered down from his flowering perch.

“Now come along,” he said officiously. “Let’s go have a look at things.”

***

The radiant chicken led the way to the edge of the meadow, and somehow, this was even more shocking than the transformation of the woodland.

Because it appeared to be a proper meadow now, full of wildflowers and swaying grasses. And perhaps most incredibly of all, there was no more sadgrass.

“Ahhhh,” called Glimmer, strutting out into the meadow as if he were a peacock. “This is much better. This is how a meadow ought to look.”

“Pii pi pi piii pi!” agreed Dollop, bouncing after him. The slime soon commenced rolling around in the grass, emoting a sublime and content smile.

Demi’s eyes widened as she looked over the beautiful meadow, and then she dropped to sit on her heels to converse with Glimmer more directly.

“Are you telling me that I did all of this?” she asked, astonished. “While I was asleep?”

“Well yes,” Glimmer said with a careless flounce of his feathers. “It’s easiest for regenerative work to happen while you’re sleeping. This place is looking much more suitable now.”

“But how could I have done all of this?” she asked, still confounded. “I’m a level one Harvest Goddess!”

Glimmer gave a very derisive cluck.

“Of course you aren’t,” he said with an imperious toss of his head. “You worked hard all of yesterday, and you even managed to fight that horrid thing off. Even when you stopped to, er, ‘rest,’ all you did was keep reading books about farming,” he pointed out. “I haven’t asked, since I didn’t want to pry, but there’s no way that you’re still at level one. You should check your status screen.”

Demi rapidly opened her menus and navigated to the status screen, and what she found there caused her to fall back onto her bottom.

“Level twenty-seven,” she said aloud, her eyes round. “I’m already a level twenty-seven goddess. How did I get to level twenty-seven in one day? Is it because I beat the Leggity-Leg? That still seems excessive. Did Hollyhope enter in a bunch of cheat codes?”

That kind of level growth seemed extreme, even for a goddess. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d become a level twenty-seven farmer. She had become a level twenty-seven goddess.

To cap it all off, she wasn’t even sure that she had beaten the Leggity-Leg. It had certainly not seemed alive at the end, but then the way it disappeared from view was not really the sort of action one might expect from, say, a dead thing.

And it’s not like I heard any victory fanfare after beating it either, Demi rationalized.

(“Very suspicious,” “Not dead,” “Still Alive!” and “Trickster!” were a small selection from the Council of Demi.)

While she was thinking this over and looking at her status screen, she saw two status effects that were currently active. They were “food made with love” and “food made with hope for the future.” “Food made with love” multiplied her natural stamina regeneration, and “food made with hope for the future” gave her an astonishing EXP growth modifier.

“Of course you’ve leveled up quickly!” huffed Glimmer. “You’ve been eating homemade food prepared by the Goddess of Life for every single meal!”

The revelation was surprisingly moving, and before Demi knew it, she was sniffling, and soon she began to cry in earnest.

“I’m sorry Hollyhope,” she cried, imagining the goddess’s smiling face. “I’m sorry for thinking you were a featherbrain. Thank you for preparing so many delicious things for me.”

Dollop left off rolling around when Demi started to cry and hopped over to rub against her comfortingly.

Glimmer was alarmed by her unexpected display of emotion, and after some moments of flapping his wings and moving around awkwardly, he came to sit on Demi’s shoulder and patted her head with his wing.

“It’s all right,” he comforted her. “I’m sure she understands. And anyway,” he said after a sniff. “She is kind of a featherbrain.”

Demi cried for a while, letting all of her emotions from the events of the previous day come out. In the end, she sniffled, patted her face dry with her apron, and then got back on her feet again.

When she did, she made another startling revelation.

It wasn’t all that loud, but it sounded as if—

“Glimmer,” she said in astonishment. “Is that the sound of running water?!”

He fluffed his breast feathers up and said, “Well, of course it is!”

the goddess makes some friends

A walk through the meadow proved Glimmer right. Although when Demi had searched the area for water sources the day previous she’d gotten only a lake and a river at some considerable distance, now there was a wide stream running through the meadow. It was not quite wide enough to be a river, she thought, but it was certainly larger than a rivulet. Attempting to wade across it would probably put her in water up to her waist.

And it had absolutely not been there the day before.

It was very picturesque, with pretty goldenrod and blue irises growing along the banks, along with cattails and Jack-in-the-pulpit. The water was flowing swiftly in the middle of the stream, but was more idle along the shallow creek banks. There was a turtle sunning itself on a half-submerged log, and frogs were singing.

None of it, not one single bit of it had been there the day before.

She turned to Glimmer and asked the question that needed to be asked.

“Where on earth did this thing come from?”

“Well, it’s yours, of course,” answered Glimmer, who sounded very much as if he thought that this vague explanation was more than adequate for the situation.

Demi let that statement sit for a moment as she watched Dollop bounce over to the shallows to begin happily absorbing water.

“What do you mean it’s mine?” asked Demi in confusion. “Do you mean it belongs to this farm?” she wondered. “It wasn’t here yesterday,” she pointed out.

She felt as if she were cross-examining herself in some kind of comic legal drama.

She paused, brushing her fingertips against her forehead as she did her best to make sense of the nutty situation.

“None of this was here yesterday,” she insisted, then she leaned down to look at the chicken, somewhat concerned. “Is this just a thing that happens here? Do bodies of water just appear spontaneously overnight? With plants and frogs and little fish? It didn’t even rain, so it doesn’t seem possible that this is some kind of seasonal runoff.”

“Of course bodies of water don’t spontaneously appear overnight!” denied Glimmer huffily. But then he paused and seemed to be reconsidering. “Well, they don’t ordinarily. This is a very specific circumstance! Harvest Goddesses are always associated with bodies of water: lakes, rivers, springs, ponds.” He waved his wing vaguely. “You get the idea. This one has to be yours. I’m sure it’s here because you purified this ground and made it your own blessed territory.”

Sure enough, when Demi straightened up and focused on looking at the stream, a little pop-up appeared, designating it “Harvest Goddess’s Brook.”

“Well,” Demi said, slightly confounded. “That’s certainly better than not having a water source.” She gestured vaguely at the sunbathing turtle and said, “And all of this just came along with it as a bonus?”

“It’s water infused with a Harvest Goddess’s holy power!” retorted Glimmer. “Of course it’s teeming with life!” Then he ruffled his feathers back into place. “The blessings ought to be strongest closest to the source. We should follow it to see where it comes from. That’s the place where you should consider building your dwelling, whatever form it takes.”

He seemed to be implying that he thought she might build another lean-to, rather than a proper, permanent dwelling. She hadn’t built a lean-to because she wanted to live in a lean-to permanently. She’d built it because it was the only shelter that she could build at the time.

And now it had become a little flower-covered hideaway, because that was apparently what happened whenever she slept in a place.

Demi decided to let it pass. The Council of Demi was in agreement, largely holding up signs that said “not worth it,” and “just ignore him, we’re right,” although one of them was holding up a picture of the flowering lean-to with a check mark over it. It was the same member who had previously waved the little flag with the pink sheep on it. She was the Demi most emotionally invested in doing things like sleeping in a little flower house and petting pink sheep.

(Although all of them were, to a greater or lesser degree, invested in petting pink sheep and sleeping in little flower houses. This was part of the true nature of Demeter Serraffield.)

As might be expected, it turned out to be unanimous. Investigating the mysterious stream was much more interesting than arguing with Glimmer over why she’d built the lean-to in the first place.

Since she wasn’t quite prepared to go swimming to investigate the possible source of this new waterway, she decided to do as Glimmer suggested and follow the course of the brook upstream from the safety of the bank.

Glimmer continued strutting along behind her like a peacock, apparently enjoying the stroll through the fine meadow as though he had wrought the change himself.

They had only gone a little ways when she encountered something else entirely unexpected.

There was a neat wooden bridge over the mystery stream, gleaming pale golden in the sun and aromatic with the smell of freshly cut timber.

Finding such an unexpected construction over this unexpected stream was quite compelling, so of course she crossed the bridge (while keeping a sharp eye out for both billy goats and trolls). Dollop bounced along ahead of her, bravely leading the way.

Looking back at Glimmer, she nodded her head toward the bridge they had just crossed.

“Any suggestions on where that might have come from?” she asked. “Did it just spawn along with the stream? If so, that’s very convenient.”

“I—” he seemed ready to reply, certain of his answer, but then he paused, thinking. “I’m actually not sure,” he admitted. “It might have come with the stream, part and parcel, but it didn’t necessarily.”

His admission of uncertainty was actually quite refreshing.

She smiled back at him. “Thanks for always being helpful, Glimmer,” she said honestly.

“Piipipi!” added Dollop with a V-shaped smile.

This caused the chicken to fluff up his breast feathers and flip his tail again.

“But of course! I am none other but the holy beast companion of a goddess. It is part of my essential self, my joie de vivre, to provide you with whatever assistance you require,” he announced.

After crossing the bridge and following along the stream on the opposite bank, they eventually came to a very striking sight, although they heard it before they saw it. Before them was a moss-and-lichen-covered cliff with vines and flowers trailing down it, and from the top of it came a swift stream of water plunging over the cliff’s edge and falling freely into a semicircular depression cut into the ground. The stream that they’d been following up until this point flowed from this cut. The force of the cascade left a fine mist in the air, and a hazy rainbow could be seen, ephemeral and dancing.

And that wasn’t the whole of it. On the opposite side of the cliff from where the swift cascade plunged toward the stream, there was a more delicate horsetail waterfall: a series of smaller streams tumbling over the rock face and splitting and rejoining, to finally fall together into a serene pool. The pool fed a small rivulet, a little rill that might be jumped over easily, and this little stream ran off south, presumably to eventually join with the other stream.

There seemed to be a massive thicket of rose bushes at the top of the cliffs, because even now, rose petals were drifting down from above. Some petals were swept away by the energetic water of the brook, and others were landing like snowflakes on the surface of the quiet pool. The musky scent of old roses was carried along by the breeze. It smelled gentle and nostalgic, rather than cloying and overly sweet, and it filled Demi’s heart with both happiness and longing.

The whole scene was beautiful and quite romantic. It was the sort of view that demanded the stirring accompaniment of violins. Her family’s city house had been built around several beautiful artificial waterfalls, but somehow, for all their charm and artistry, they could not compare to these twin waterfalls, with their natural rhythm and melody and their rain of rose petals.

And she was not alone in her admiration. An unusual association of individuals were grouped about, standing before the waterfalls and observing them.

“Ah, you were right, Elder Ashbark! She came just the way you said she would!” came a bright, cheerful voice.

It was a very small person: only two feet five inches, wearing a red tartan pinafore. It took only a moment for Demi to place this small person in her mind, although she had never in her life met such a person (at least not standing upright, wearing clothes, and speaking).

It was a beaver. Her flat broad tail was unmistakable, as were her bright eyes and prominent teeth. She was wearing a little beret pinned at a jaunty tilt over one of her ears.

And she wasn’t simply a girl with a beaver ears and tail, a charming beaver kemonomimi. No, this was unquestionably a beaver, thick waterproof fur and all. Her morphological anatomy did seem slightly different than a standard beaver’s in that she could stand and walk comfortably upright as an obligate biped.

And of course, there was also the fact that she was wearing clothes and chatting.

Fortunately, among the books that Demi had devoured the previous evening was a slim book authored by Hollyhope herself about the different sapient peoples in the area, so Demi was spared the embarrassment of shock at seeing a talking animal wearing clothes. She was one of the critterin, a generalized term that included many different kinds of sapient animal peoples of generally similar morphology.

The little beaver girl was intensely adorable, and this extreme cuteness made Demi want to immediately begin cuddling and petting her. Demi’s interior cute-o-meter, already elevated due to continual exposure to Dollop, increased by five whole points in one go.

The member of the Council of Demi who had been all about the pink sheep had immediately hoisted up a sign that said “Sylv*n**n! Sylv*n**n!!!”

Still, Demi wasn’t so overwhelmed by her desire to cuddle this young lady that she took leave of her senses. It wouldn’t be polite to hug someone without their consent.

But then the beaver girl plowed right into her, her arms wide open, and they both went tumbling to the ground.

(Glimmer made a very ungentlemanly squawk and jumped out of the way, flapping in a less-than-dignified manner.)

When Demi sorted herself out, she found that the little beaver girl was hugging and cuddling her, half covered in her curly hair. Dollop had rolled around to the little girl’s other side, and seemed ready to attempt to pull her off of Demi if that seemed necessary, but upon observing Demi’s reaction, the slime relaxed contentedly, simply bobbing in place.

Then she heard a slap and a stamp.

“Girl! You stop pestering the goddess this instant! If you bother her too much she’s liable to turn you into a hoptoad!” came the angry bark from another beaver that was standing by.

This was an older beaver who had gone silver in the face. He was leaning on a walking stick, and like the beaver girl, was also wearing red tartan.

I guess they’re Scottish beavers, Demi reflected. He’s even got a shillelagh. Or wait no, that’s Irish. A cromach? Is that what it’s called?

If the threat was meant to dissuade the beaver girl, it did not work as intended, because once she heard it, her eyes got very wide and sparkled.

“Would you really? Would you really? I think it would be super interesting to be a toad!” she declared, tugging on Demi’s arm.

Neither of them had been hurt by their tumble, because the grass was thick and plush, and since the beaver girl had instigated the hug, Demi felt fully within her rights to cuddle and pet the little girl.

“I won’t turn you into a toad,” she said with a laugh, petting the girl’s head.

I don’t even have the faintest idea of how to do that, she reflected to herself.

As she was petting the beaver girl, there was another cry.

“No fair! I also want hugs from mama!”

And then Demi was bowled over by a second little girl.

This little girl had very fair skin that seemed to be almost a pale green color in the warm sunlight. Her short rosy-pink hair was tied into two tiny pigtails on either side of her head. There was a cluster of small white flowers in her hair, and two small nubby sticks were just visible poking out of her hair on either side of her head, like horns or antlers. There were even glossy green leaves that seemed to be growing from someplace behind her ears. She was wearing a cheery, layered sundress in red gingham trimmed in flowers. Her skin was even slightly cool to the touch, like touching the velvety underside of a leaf.

She had immediately thrown her arms around Demi and was now cuddling her from the opposite side of the little beaver and Dollop.

As soon as the little girl had broken from the group and set her sights on Demi, another of the young ladies before the falls had chased after her in vain.

“Tina! You can’t just jump on people like that! You need to be respectful of the goddess!” she lectured.

“No!” declared the very small girl rebelliously. “Tina loves mama and mama loves Tina! And mama loves hugs!”

Already dangerously high, with this declaration, Demi’s cute-o-meter went straight through the top of the red zone and just overloaded entirely.

I hope I didn’t also become a parent overnight, Demi thought weakly to herself, basking in the overwhelming cuteness.

Based on her height and way of speaking, Demi guessed that this second little girl was likely around three years old. She couldn’t be certain of the beaver girl, especially due to her much shorter height than a human child of similar age, but Demi’s best guess was ten.

The two little girls seemed to be in a competition over who could cuddle Demi the most.

The young lady who had chased the younger girl bowed in apology. “I’m very sorry, goddess,” she said humbly. “I’ve been remiss in teaching Serotina manners.”

“It’s fine,” Demi said with a weak smile. It was very difficult to be cross when two offensively adorable children were hugging her with all of their might. (Even if that did mean she was being tugged back and forth between them. Fortunately she was not being tugged particularly hard.)

The young lady who had offered apologies was tall and slender, with a cascade of spiky green hair held in in place by a headband. Instead of nubby little horns, this young lady had two dark green tufts in the top of her head, as if she had two bottlebrushes standing up like short rabbit ears. Like the small green girl, she was also wearing a layered dress, and she looked very trim and neat.

It did not require Hollyhope’s guide to the surrounding peoples for Demi to recognize that this young lady was a dryad.

As the young lady dryad apologized, two additional people from the group approached.

One was a gentleman fox in a tailcoat, an individual who, like the beaver girl, was an obligate biped and walked upright very naturally.

The other was certainly another dryad, this one with long, wispy, pale-green hair and a calming demeanor. She had little nubby round horns that gave the appearance of bear ears, but were actually pine cones.

“Now, now, Seri, you don’t have to be so strict,” the dryad said mildly. “No one was hurt. Tina was just excited to welcome our goddess. Isn’t that right, Tina?” she asked, leaning down to look at the little girl.

The calm dryad smelled very pleasantly aromatic. Between the two of them, the standing dryads gave off a very nostalgic scent: Christmas.

Even the little girl in her arms smelled faintly of almonds.

And the little girl was happy to reply.

“Yes! Tina loves mama!”

Demi was about to tentatively ask why the little girl kept calling her “mama,” when the young woman with the pale green hair answered the question for her.

“Ah, Tina, this isn’t Hollyhope-mama,” she said warmly. “She’s mama’s sister, so that makes her our auntie.”

“Not our mama?” asked Tina, her voice trembling.

Oh no, she’s going to cry, Demi realized and began actively rubbing the little girl’s back. Dollop rolled around to the other side of her and began affectionately bumping the little dryad.

Good job! Demi thought, and the slime flashed their V-shaped smile.

“No,” the gentle dryad repeated as she patiently spoke to the little girl. “She’s our auntie.”

The little girl tugged gently on one of Demi’s curls.

“Does auntie love Tina?” she asked hesitantly.

She had huge jade-green eyes nearly swimming with tears.

There was no possible way that any person with even a shred of compassion could have said no to this question.

“Of course I do,” Demi answered warmly, giving the little girl a squeeze. Dollop pushed against her from the other side for good measure.

This drove the tears out of the little dryad’s eyes and she hugged Demi tightly.

“Tina loves auntie!” she declared into Demi’s side. “And auntie loves Tina.”

The little beaver girl was not to be outdone.

“Hey hey hey, you love me too right?” she asked excitedly. “Do you love me enough to turn me into a hoptoad?”

“The goddess loves all of her people,” the gentleman fox pointed out, leaning down to offer Demi his hand.

The dryad with the pale green hair assisted him, and Demi was at last on her feet again, although as soon as they were standing, both little girls took possession of her hands, although the little beaver girl was small enough that she could only just grab on to the tip of one of Demi’s fingers.

The fox gentleman took off his top hat and held it over his heart as he bowed.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Maximillion Fairfox, Grandmeister of Hollyhain Assembly,” he said.

Although Demi’s hands were both occupied, she still dropped a beautiful curtsy.

“Demeter Yavanna Kobayashi Serraffield, heir to the Seat of Serraffield,” she answered automatically. The words had been drilled into her from the time she had first learned to speak. “The pleasure is mine.”

It was only after she had finished her introduction that she realized that the people here would have no idea what being heir to a seat in the Curia of Lords meant, nor would it likely matter much to them.

Fortunately, Glimmer came to the rescue.

“I present to you, the younger of the twin Harvest Goddesses: Demeter!” he announced with a flourish.

Dollop bounced up high beside him and trilled “Piii pi pi piiiii pi piiiiiiii~” as if delivering royal fanfare. Between Glimmer’s sparkling and Dollop’s attempt at trumpeting, it was quite a declaration.

Ara, she thought to herself. So that’s how things are. No wonder the gentle dryad told the little dryad that I’m Hollyhope’s sister. It would be far too much to try and explain that I’m apparently another Hollyhope from a different world. It’s still too much for me, honestly, she was forced to wryly admit to herself.

At his announcement, the little beaver girl began bouncing up and down in place, chanting, “Goddess Demeter! Goddess Demeter!”

It took less than five seconds for the little dryad to join her. Dollop joined in, squeaking, “Piipipi! Piipipi!”

And surprisingly, rather than finding all of this somewhat embarrassing, Demi discovered that her heart was warmed.

It must be because those two little girls are so adorable, she decided to herself.

As might be expected, now that Grandmeister Fairfox had initiated introductions, they continued.

There were three groups represented by the people gathered in front of the waterfall: the dryads, the beavers, and the foxes.

There were five dryads. The two eldest were Seri and Soa, both conifer dryads. Then there was an energetic girl named Vata, and a very quiet girl called Tata, whose hair covered most of her face, apart from one eye. Finally, there was little Tina, the youngest of them all. They were from the eastern woodland, where Demi had passed the night.

In addition to the affectionate beaver girl, there were three other beavers. The one gone silver in the face was Elder Ashbark, the eldest of the group. Then there was Guild Foreman Oakroot and his son Duncan Oakroot. The little girl was Finella Sweetwater. Although the elder and girl were dressed prominently in red tartan, the foreman and his son were in practical and sturdy work clothes. Duncan was even wearing padded leather over his work clothes.

They had all come from the beaver town of Rushford to the west.

The delegation of foxes included Grandmeister Fairfox, the gentleman fox who had helped her to her feet, and a father and daughter: Professor Benedikt Silktail, and the young lady Eleonore Silktail. Rounding out the group was a raccoon, Izar Touchsight. They were all more elaborately dressed than the beavers, although not ostentatiously. The grandmeister, professor, and his daughter all gave the impression of being city folk, whereas the beavers seemed as if they’d be more at home in a village or a frontier town. Izar was more simply dressed than either the grandmeister or the professor, but he was still wearing a beautifully tooled belt with various pockets and pouches hung all around with gleaming silver tools.

The fox delegation hailed from a town to the east, through the woodland of the dryads. This was Hollyhain. Rather than being called towns or villages, fox settlements were called assemblies, since they tended to be assemblages of many different sorts of people: quite cosmopolitan, regardless of their size.

Once Demi had absorbed all of this information, she again dropped a beautiful curtsy. The little beaver girl Finella, having already seen her do this once before, mimicked her, dropping her own curtsy even as she continued holding on to Demi’s finger. Not wanting to be left out, little Tina also gave her own approximation of a curtsy, one that would have absolutely failed to impress an etiquette teacher, but which scored approximately double infinity on the cuteness scale.

Dollop even mimicked the display, squishing themselves down rather flat in a way that ended up looking surprisingly elegant.

With some difficulty, Demi managed to keep from being distracted by this magnificent display of cuteness, and said what she had intended to say after curtsying.

“Thank you all for gathering to welcome me here,” she said with a warm smile, then shook her head. “I have to apologize because I can’t offer much in the way of hospitality. I haven’t had the opportunity to build any permanent structures yet. But please do let me know if there is anything I can do to make your visit more comfortable.”

Demi was not only an aristocrat, but a noble of the wand: a hereditary civil servant and bureaucrat-politician. She had been trained in law, etiquette, diplomacy, and territorial management. Her manners were polished, and her protocol superb, all of it executed naturally due to long hours of study and practice.

It was how she could appear so calm and gracious, despite the uncertainty of her situation. She made it seem as if she was exactly where she ought to be, doing exactly what it was that she was supposed to be doing, all while not really having the first idea of what she was supposed to be doing (or where she was supposed to be doing it) beyond Hollyhope’s very basic direction to “do farming things.”

But moving into the role of hostess anchored her and gave her context. She did not really know how to be a good Harvest Goddess, but she did know how to be a good hostess.

Grandmeister Fairfox bowed slightly, shaking his head. “As I understand it, you’ve only just descended from the divine realms. You have nothing to apologize for.” He paused for a moment, and his tail swished. “In fact, it is probably in the best interests of all involved if we cooperate to remedy this situation before making our own petitions.”

There was a slapping sound, which apparently came from Foreman Oakroot.

“I was thinking that myself,” he said, coming over to where Grandmeister Fairfox stood.

the goddess answers questions

The beaver foreman pulled off his kangol cap briefly as he ducked his head toward Demi. “Goddess, have you decided on a location for your homesite? If not, we can survey and give you the best options.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t quite gotten that far yet,” she admitted with a smile. It would take her some time to amass the building materials for a log cabin, even with the assistance of her fine flint tools, the search function, and the ridiculously powerful inventory system. She had been reluctant to stroll through the meadow when it had been teeming with sadgrass, so she didn’t even know the extent of the property, let alone what build sites might be appropriate.

But then she thought back to what Glimmer had told her about picking a homesite.

That’s the place where you should consider building your dwelling, no matter what form it takes.

She looked at the two beautiful waterfalls cradled in the gently cup-shaped recess in the cliffside before her, at the rose petals drifting along on the breeze.

Being close to waterfalls would be very nostalgic. Starry Falls wasn’t her main residence, not what she thought of as her childhood home. That would always be Forest Home. But it was still a very important place to her, and she had always found the sound of falling water to be soothing.

“Would it be possible to build right here?” she asked, nodding toward the space between the two waterfalls. She didn’t have much experience when it came to architecture and building. She would gladly take advice from anyone qualified to give it.

“An excellent choice, I think,” said Grandmeister Fairfox. “I’m sure it will prove convenient to be so close to your sacred spring, and the views will certainly be beautiful.”

The beaver foreman tapped his tail lightly against the ground briefly, considering the space before the waterfalls.

“The ground will need to be leveled off, and this close to the water, if you want a cellar, it’ll have to be a spring cellar,” he said. “It will be naturally protected from weather on the north side, considering it’ll be backed against the cliff. You’ll get a lot of strong natural light in from a southern exposure, and you’ll be able to easily plant a garden in front.” He tapped his tail again. “It comes down to how much space you need and how big of a lodge you want. I’d say there’s enough space for a large family dwelling here, but definitely not enough for a big manor or estate house. If that’s what you’re looking to build, then it’s best if we look at other sites.”

“!!!” went the Council of Demi.

“Ahh,” she said, gently waving her hands. “I wasn’t thinking about anything that large. After all, it’s just me,” she said with a smile. “I was actually planning on building a log cabin.”

The plans she had for the log cabin indicated that it was essentially a large box with a roof, with a tiny addition built on for a toilet, and another for a small bathtub. It was a one-room house, but it would be much preferable to sleeping in a lean-to, even one covered in flowers. For one thing, she could safely get the bookshelf out of her inventory. (Although, given its size, it would surely take up a full quarter of the space of her new little house.)

Glimmer said I should ask the dryads for wood, she remembered. I’ll do that after I get advice on where to build.

But what Foreman Oakroot said next surprised her.

“Forgive me for asking,” he said, “But are you particularly set on living in a log cabin?”

Well, no, not particularly, she thought to herself. The idea of living in a log cabin is a little romantic, quite pioneering! But I picked it out because it was the simplest structure to build and needed the least complicated resources.

Like her tools, the log cabin needed only sticks and stones, or rather, logs and stones, in this case.

It was probably best to just go ahead and admit this. It was possible that the foreman might have a better suggestion for her first home. Building was his primary occupation.

“Ah, not really,” she admitted. “I’ve never built a house before, so I chose the simplest plans I had. Would you suggest something different?”

He snapped his tail against the ground again, apparently pleased. “That’s sure a relief,” he said. “And yeah, I would. There’s nothing wrong with a log cabin,” he declared with a decisive nod. “They’re sturdy and not very complicated to build, and only require basic tools. But they actually take more wood and resources than a similarly sized farmhouse. Besides that, I think it’s best to go ahead and start by raising the house you plan to have permanently, rather than building something for now and then tearing down to rebuild in the future. Scrap and build can be an efficient way of doing things when you’re establishing a new settlement, but you don’t have to do that here.” He looked over at the fox who stood nearest to them. “Isn’t that right, Grandmeister?”

“Of course,” the fox said, bringing a hand to his chest. “You have the cooperation of Hollyhain Assembly.”

“And of the beavers of Rushford,” the foreman agreed.

The gentle dryad folded her hands over her heart and bowed. “And of course, you have the support of all of us as well.”

The more serious of the two dryads gave a deep, almost mechanical bow. “Of course, we will work tirelessly to support you, goddess.”

From behind her, another dryad leaped into the air, shouting, “Oh yeah, we’re gonna dooooo thiiiiiiiis!”

“Tina will help! Tina will help!” added the littlest dryad, apparently very excited about the prospect.

Even Dollop seemed inspired by the collective enthusiasm and began bouncing up and down in place, turning pink and emoting a very determined smile.

The remaining dryad nodded emphatically, although she didn’t speak.

“Aha ha ha,” Demi laughed slightly awkwardly. “I appreciate the thought.”

I don’t want to put anybody to work tirelessly! This isn’t a black company! Demi thought to herself. And I certainly can’t put children to work, she thought, looking down at the beaming Tina with her angelic smile, and the curious eyes of Finella, who was apparently interested in everything. Besides, dryads working tirelessly at anything just warps my mental picture of dryads.

But what the foreman said did make a great deal of sense. It was less wasteful to build a suitable house at the beginning rather than building and tearing down. She just needed some place to live rather than no place to live, so she had opted for the practicality of a basic home that she was fairly certain she could build with the assistance of the crafting system, based on her experience making tools.

Of course, it was possible that building actual structures did not work according to the same rules that crafting did. She might be able to prepare materials, but the building itself might have to be done in a more ordinary way. In that case, she would certainly not be able to build a house on her own.

Regardless, while a one room log cabin would probably do for now, she had to think about what she would need for her farming journey. She would need space for a proper kitchen at the very least, and probably dedicated areas for more complicated crafting.

And books.

She needed lots of space for books.

She didn’t want to take advantage of the kindness of the people who had come to welcome her, but if she was frank with herself, she had been concerned about housing from the moment Glimmer had revealed that this “farm” had no buildings. She had already been blessed with a water source, but she didn’t think it was likely that she would go to sleep and suddenly discover a brand-new house when she woke up the next day.

“I’m in your debt,” she said, curtsying again. “Please advise me on what I should do next.”

Finella, the small beaver girl, let go of Demi’s hand and spun around in place in excitement, coming to a stop only to look up at Demi with sparkling eyes.

She looks just like she did when she asked me to turn her into a toad, Demi realized with inward amusement.

“Are you going to have a lodge like Elder Ashbark’s?” she asked with great interest. “Will it smell super strange because it’s filled with old roots and mushrooms? Will the hallways be all weird and drippy? He says it’s good for the mushrooms. Are you going to grow mushrooms inside your house too?” Her tail was excitedly tapping against the grass.

“Not immediately,” Demi answered, doing her best to keep a straight face. A sideways glance at the older beaver’s expression more than communicated his feelings on Finella’s colorful description of his assuredly very fine dwelling.

Finella was so focused on digesting Demi’s answer and formulating new questions that she did not notice that Elder Ashbark was prepared to give her a solid whack on her bottom with his cromach, a retaliatory strike brought on by her unbridled cheek. Fortunately for Finella, Duncan Oakroot clearly found her observations concerning the elder’s home to be hilarious, and even as he struggled to maintain his stoic composure, he casually interceded, blocking the whack of the elder’s stick with the butt of his axe.

Finella glanced over her shoulder when she heard the clack of the stick striking the axe and giggled, hopping forward to get a little out of range, but the circumstance was apparently so common, and she was so confident that Duncan would move to protect her, that she made no indication that anything at all out of the ordinary had happened, and continued with her questions.

“Do you plan for your house to have lots of different levels?” she asked, still bright-eyed despite her recent brush with getting whacked. Her tail was rapidly tapping again. “I mean, multiple stories? Houses like that are so interesting! Rushford buildings are mostly multiple stories, and the different rooms fit together like a puzzle. Dwellings are usually higher up,” she said, raising her hand above her head and making out an imaginary mark. “And sometimes there’s a workshop or warehouse on the bottom level”—she made another imaginary mark lower than her waist—“well, the bottom level that’s above the waterline. The bottom bottom layers are used for all sorts of different things if they’re below the waterline, even for things like water control, or storage, or even swimming or soaking pools. Are you planning to have a level totally under the waterline? I bet you could if you wanted with the stream right there, but would having underwater rooms in your house be dangerous for you? Can goddesses drown?”

Foreman Oakroot rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hand at the question, but Demi was so distracted trying to process everything that Finella was saying that she didn’t even notice.

So absorbed was she in trying to catalog the anthropological information that Finella had rattled off like a cheerful machine gun that the question caught her somewhat flat-footed.

“Ahh, I’m not exactly sure,” Demi answered honestly, leaning her cheek against her hand as she gave it some thought. Could she drown? Could she die any other unexpected and accidental deaths? Could she die at all? Glimmer’s concern during and after her altercation with the Leggity-Leg gave her the sense that she wasn’t entirely bulletproof.

She probably ought to ask him some particulars about that once she got the chance. He was her holy beast companion, after all. That seemed like the sort of thing he ought to know.

But Finella was off again on another series of questions. “What sort of house would you like to live in best, Goddess Demeter?” she asked. “There are so many different kinds of houses! I love looking at them, even just as pictures in books: new houses, old houses, houses from a long time ago, and houses that haven’t even been built yet, but are just plans. Someday I’d like to go on an adventure and see all of the different kinds of houses there are in the entire world!” she declared, spreading her arms wide, as if to encompass all of the houses that were, or had been, or might someday be. She leaned forward in interest, her cheeks turning pink with the excitement of possibility. “Since they’re going to build your house completely from scratch anyway, it makes sense to start from the beginning and make it exactly the sort of house you’d like to have. Everyone could work together to build a brand-new house, a house no one has ever seen before! I think that’s the sort of house you ought to have, the one that’s just right for you. That’s what makes ‘your house’ the best house in the world: because it’s yours.”

Finella’s eloquent and heartfelt statement was quite moving to Demi, and as she looked around herself, it became clear to her that she was not the only person moved. In fact, Finella’s declaration seemed to be the moment when the words “the goddess’s house” were transmuted from a vague collection of ideas into a concrete vision. The house became a dream that everyone gathered before the waterfalls wished realized, and Finella’s words set into motion the chain of events that would cause that dream to come to fruition.

Finella was a very small young lady with very big ideas, and an almost uncanny way of conjuring these ideas out of thin air in such a convincing way that other people were moved to take action. This was the first such time Demi witnessed this ability for herself, but it would not be the last.

Another of Finella’s gifts was brought to light almost immediately when Demi came to understand that in the brief time Finella had known the mixed group that had met to welcome Demi, she had already befriended absolutely everyone, and through her curious streams of rapid-fire questions, had learned their quirks, interests, and special talents.

That was why when the task of conceptualizing the house visually was raised, she had an immediate suggestion.

“I bet if you tell Eleonore what you’d like, she’ll be able to draw it, even if she’s never even seen a house like it before,” Finella said confidently. “I was telling her about some of the flowers that grew around my house, and she drew them like nothing! They were perfect! Exactly like I remember. Then I told her about my house, and she drew it too,” Finella finished with a wistful and nostalgic smile. The way she looked over at a leather tube that Duncan wore on his back, likely a map case, made Demi certain that the picture Eleonore had drawn for Finella was safely stowed away there.

The fox maiden seemed slightly embarrassed by this effusive praise, but it turned out that she was quite willing to put her talents to work for the cause.

She settled down with her sketchbook propped upon a small folding easel and a box of pencils open beside her and awaited Demi’s thoughts, her soft, beautiful tail curled around her.

When Demi thought about it, when she truly thought about the house she’d like for herself, she found that she had a sense of what she wanted: a little house in the woodlands, a green gabled farm house that looked as if it truly belonged nestled between the forest and the mountainside.

She described what she had in mind, and Foreman Oakroot and Izar made practical suggestions based on her ideas. Soon enough, there was real progress being made, leading Finella to dance and cheer.

“Goddess Demeter’s house is going to be wonderful!” she whooped as she did a little jig.

Tina, the littlest dryad, also began jumping up and down, inspired by Finella’s enthusiasm.

“Goddess Demeter! Goddess Demeter!” she cheered. “Goddess Demeter’s nice nice house!”

“Pii pi piii! Pii pi piii!” echoed Dollop, who commenced bouncing along with the cheers.

Tina caught hold of Demi’s hand and excitedly tugged on it.

“Make sure there’s a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig space so I can come over to play,” she said.

Demi laughed and said, “All right.” Then she turned back to Eleonore. “We certainly need a big space where she can play,” she declared with a smile.

Eleonore smiled back and nodded quite gravely. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll add that right now.”

“Pii pi pi piii pi!” agreed Dollop.

Finella tugged on Demi’s other hand, not to be outdone. “Oh oh and you absolutely need a guest room so I have a place to sleep when I come visit.” She winked at Tina before throwing her arms open wide. “And a biiiiiiiiiiig flower garden!” she insisted.

This suggestion also delighted Tina, who bounced up and down on her feet, echoing, “A biiiiiiiiiiiig flower garden!” while stretching a small, slender arm over her head, as if to show how large of a garden was required.

“Pii pi piiii!” squeaked Dollop, who then stretched themselves up as tall as they could, in imitation of Tina.

Foreman Oakroot marched over to the bright-eyed beaver girl and delivered a gentle chop to her head.

“Girl, you don’t just invite yourself to other people’s houses!” he complained.

“She doesn’t have to invite me over!” Finella retorted with a cheeky grin, and then darted off, hiding behind Duncan in an attempt to avoid a second chop, “But if she does, then she’ll definitely want a room for me to sleep in, won’t she? That’s not just common sense; it’s also manners!”

Duncan chuckled, glancing down at the girl who was hiding behind him before looking back at his father. “She’s right,” he said with an idle wave. “That’s manners.”

The foreman rolled his eyes and shook a warning finger in the general direction of the both of them, but then turned his attention back to Demi. “That scamp is right in saying that you ought to plan for a couple of guest rooms. If we build with intentions of extra space, then you have it when you need it.”

Glimmer, who had been so far merely observing, careful to keep himself a suitable distance from the very inquisitive Finella and the overly affectionate Tina, took this moment to interject himself into the conversation.

“Indeed, a goddess will inevitably entertain many visitors,” he agreed. “And of course, there must be a room for beautiful me as well. The foreman is right, my little goddess. It is best to plan for the future when building.”

“Pii pi!” added Dollop.

“Then I defer to your judgment,” Demi said with a nod. People living in this world probably had a better idea of how much space would be appropriate for a working farmhouse than she did. She had not yet read or experienced enough to even properly understand the technology level of this place, nor did she really know what was ordinary or extraordinary. This place had alchemy, after all. That reminded her. “Oh, I would like to have space for an alchemist’s atelier,” she said. “If that’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, goddess,” the foreman said, shaking his head. “Good to know ahead of time though. We’ll be sure to reinforce that room.”

“Reinforce it?” Demi asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“Because sometimes the cauldron goes kaaaaaaaBOOOM!” cheered Finella, leaping into the air and throwing her arms wide to demonstrate the potential concussive force of such a happening. “That’s what the books say!”

Finella appeared to be delighted by the prospect of said kabooms, for no other reason, Demi suspected, than that she had not yet had the pleasure of observing such a thing herself.

Ah, alchemy cauldrons, Demi thought blissfully. Truly, one can brew the secrets of the universe in them, and sometimes they celebrate this immense creative power with a spontaneous big bang. Well, eggs and omelets and all of that, Demi reflected philosophically to herself, but then she gave herself a good mental shake and then a determined nod. I’ll have to do my best to minimize the kabooms, she decided. I’d hate to damage the house.

Everyone was already working so hard on it, after all.

And she wasn’t sure that she wanted to discover what people might think about a goddess who blew up her own house with regularity.

We’ll aim for “goddess who blows up her own house only occasionally,” she resolved.

The small group conferred for some time over the prospect of the new house.

Izar Touchsight was apparently an engineer, and once the general premise of the house began to take shape on Eleonore’s drawing paper, he sat down next to her with a T square and a very precise looking mechanical pencil. Grandmeister Fairfox then produced a very clever folding table from a collection of luggage that was standing nearby, and Izar unrolled his own paper and began drawing up architectural plans.

Finella promptly parked herself immediately adjacent to the folding table, and after examining it carefully for several seconds, she then turned her full attention to watching Izar with intense focus, as if she could commit every mark he made to memory.

From this point on, the discussion rapidly became extremely technical, as Izar and the Foreman conferred, Duncan offered his own thoughts, Elder Ashbark was queried over the best means of laying the foundation, and the eldest dryads confirmed the building materials that were available in the immediate vicinity.

Although Demi dutifully listened to everything that was discussed, answering questions when she could, and did her best to absorb the information that was circulating around her, she did not suddenly become a genius architect, ready to plop herself down, dash off a very fine drawing, and then direct the construction of a very fine house.

Despite this, by the end of the conversation, Demi felt that she had a better understanding of at least some aspects of the local culture and economy.

For one thing, she had learned that most dryad forests were actually more like managed forests rather than sacred groves. The dryads managed the trees of their wood themselves, pulling down some trees, planting new ones, thinning dense areas, and generally keeping it in a state of high forest. They traded timber with other settlements for goods and services. This particular group of dryads apparently enjoyed good relations with both the beaver village and the fox settlement.

In the meantime, plans for the house moved from general ideas to concrete plans under the rapidly moving pencils of Eleonore and Izar, as the foreman, the grandmeister, the elder beaver, and the dryads conferred.

This meeting of expert minds took into account the terrain and the unique location, Demi’s needs, her wishes, and they were even very considerate of what amounted to her whimsy. That is, they did their best to adhere to her personal taste and her desire to have a lovely farmhouse that looked as if it belonged in the woodlands.

Once Demi had wished aloud for her farmhouse in the forest, everyone had worked together, and at last, Eleonore came back with a beautiful sketch of a picturesque farmhouse with craftsman windows and a double pitched roof. It even had a porch for sitting and viewing the waterfalls, and Izar had already drawn up the preliminary plans.

Demi had immediately fallen in love with the house.

Ahh, it looks just like a picture postcard of wholesome forest life, she thought to herself. I can’t wait to plant roses and turnips and tomatoes and spend my time looking after fluffy pink sheep.

Finella was also a great fan of it.

“I’m definitely coming over to spend the night as soon as it’s finished!” she declared with certainty.

“I’m coming too!” Tina agreed.

“Pii pi pii!” squeaked Dollop.

“All right,” Demi laughed. “It seems as if I’ve got my first houseguests booked!”

the goddess learns a lesson

With her seal of approval, work on the new house began almost immediately. The foreman gave a short blast on the whistle that hung around his neck, and as if by magic, a work crew of beavers suddenly appeared from the west. They had apparently been sitting at some distance away and enjoying their lunches while waiting for orders.

The foreman got them in order very efficiently, and dispatched half of them, along with Seri and Vata of the dryads, to acquire timber, and the other half to gather stone. Since she had gathered stone previously, and thought her ability to find it with the search function might be of some use, she accompanied the second team, and was escorted by Duncan Oakroot. Dollop followed along behind, but Glimmer elected to stay and “oversee” activities at the build site.

Finella had been hepped up to accompany them, even despite the light knock she got on her butt from Elder Ashbark’s cromach, but she calmed down when Duncan took her aside and knelt to speak with her quietly. Once he had, Finella was all smiles and waves as they departed for the stone outcropping. When Demi glanced over her shoulder as they left, she saw that Finella had parked herself next to Izar again, intent on watching him consider details on the blueprints.

She’s quite a little lady, Demi decided with an inward smile.

Demi studied Duncan as they walked. He kept directly to one side of her, carefully watching the environment. It was at this point that Demi realized that the axe that he was carrying strapped on his back was not one meant for construction or forestry. It was certainly a battle axe.

Leather armor too! she realized.

Duncan struck her as being quite serious and capable, but he also had a generous laugh, and there were times when he gave the impression that he might have been a hot-tempered youth as a younger man. He was easy to like, and very dependable, and quite conscientious of her.

He’s really very handsome, isn’t he? she thought wryly to herself. He wasn’t quite the type that she liked herself—barring the fact that he was a beaver, and she had never seriously considered romancing such a gentleman—but she could still appreciate his appeal. He had sharp eyes and a deliberate, steady look.

He’s also great with Finella, she thought to herself. He’s going to be quite a catch for some young lady, if he hasn’t been caught already.

Duncan was also more than competent, as well as flexible, in his thinking.

Once he realized that she could easily differentiate stones, he collaborated with her to locate the best ones, and the crew worked them into appropriate sizes and shapes. Once they had collected a suitable number, the beavers prepared to haul them back. Realizing that she could also make this much easier, she brightened.

“Hold on!” she said. “I’ll carry things!”

This brought a good-natured guffaw from the work crew and even she was forced to smile, because she was a very small young lady with a delicate build. On her own, she might have carried one stone at best, for a very short distance.

But that was without taking into account her inventory.

And yet, when she moved to load the stones into her inventory, Duncan apparently guessed what she meant to do and touched her arm, briefly shaking his head.

Out loud, he said, “Thank you kindly, young lady, but let these old men get to doing what they do best.”

They laughed good-naturedly among themselves as they loaded up, and Demi thanked them again.

“Pii pi pi pi piiii!” contributed Dollop as the work crew departed, bouncing up and down in farewell.

Once the crew had set off with the first load, Demi was left alone with Dollop and Duncan near the piles of dressed stone. The slime settled comfortably at Demi’s feet as she sat down on one of the blocks of stone.

“Don’t mind my intervention,” Duncan said as he leaned against another block of stone. “But you’re a goddess newly arrived, and there are lots of dangers about. Be careful who you show those abilities to, until you’ve built up the sort of power that you can protect yourself with.”

Demi was startled. She had not considered this at all. Her time in this world had so far felt enough like an Arcadian camping vacation (barring the exception of her encounter with the Leggity-Leg and the unfortunate prevalence of the sadgrass) that she had relaxed her guard. She hadn’t realized that she had done it until he pointed it out, but she had. She was going to have to be more careful. This place had felt familiar, more like home than might be otherwise expected. All of the camping she had done in her life, as a Forest Girl and otherwise, had been on family property, after all.

It was home, and whether or not this was strictly true, Demi generally thought of her home as being safe.

Danger was all around for a young lady in her position, but home, home was safe.

Demi was well aware that the world was full of people who were willing to exploit others for their own benefit. Her own world had certainly been like this, and she imagined that all worlds had this problem, to a greater or lesser degree. It was possible that there were great temporal powers out there who could exercise control over a nascent goddess.

That was the last thing Demi wanted. She had had enough of being controlled and used in her own world. Here, at least, she wanted to make decisions for herself.

“Thank you for the warning,” she said honestly. She studied Dollop where they sat at her feet. Dollop apparently realized she was looking down at them because they flashed a curious face.

“Pii pi pi pii?” Dollop questioned, but Demi shook her head.

She looked back at Duncan Oakroot and spoke again, somewhat uncertain, “I suppose I thought that it was somehow something people knew upon seeing me,” she said. “That I’m a goddess, I mean. Everyone at the waterfalls seemed to know that I was a goddess.”

Of course, Glimmer also announced me, she thought sheepishly. I’m going to have to ask him about all of this once I get back.

Duncan nodded at that. “I can see how you would get that impression. At least for us, I know the elder and Finella received a divine oracle that you would be appearing nearby. The foxes said the same. One of the things that the oracle said is that we ought to protect and support you for the good of this world, so we intend to do that. It was my idea to keep the work crew back, and likely the Grandmeister thought similarly because he only brought three others with him.” He paused. “I’d say that you’ll always be able to depend on the dryads, and unless you deploy some right serious countermeasures, they’re going to know who you are. With them, the best idea is to build up trust and understanding, or at least, that’s my opinion. It’s not like this is a secret that you’re going to be able to keep forever,” he advised. “But for now, only show those abilities to people that you absolutely trust.”

“I appreciate your help,” Demi said with a smile, then she looked down at her feet, kicking one very lightly up and down as she thought about things. “Can no one else use the inventory system?” she asked curiously.

Duncan shook his head.

“No, some can,” he said. “But it’s a rare ability, and has its limits for both size and weight. If you had loaded all of those stones into your inventory and then walked back like it was nothing, then all of those lads would’ve known you’ve got a platinum-level talent, or maybe even orihalcum level.” He shook his head again. “They’re all good lads, but once they’ve got some ale in them, they talk. They all like to tell tall tales when the work is done, just like anybody else. Those kinds of stories circulate, if you get my meaning. Given the state of things now, it wouldn’t take long for nobles and royals to start after you, once they got a whisper of it. It’s the kind of thing that might even start a war.” He tapped his tail against the ground twice. “You’ll be able to get a sight more work done if you don’t have to spend all of your time and energy either dealing with or running away from queens and dukes and margraves and other suchlike,” he said practically.

Demi swallowed. She was going to have to begin studying the geopolitics of this region as soon as she could.

“Pii pi piii pi pii pi,” squeaked Dollop comfortingly, apparently sensing her unease. She smiled affectionately at them and leaned down to give them a pat.

Still, no matter how fraught things are here, there’s no possible way this world is going to be more dangerous than the one I came from, she reflected ruefully.

In that sense at least, she had been born and raised in a briar patch.

“Didn’t mean to alarm you,” Duncan said, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought it was something that you ought to know.”

Demi nodded, looking back at him. “No, you’re right,” she said. “I do need to be more careful, and I absolutely appreciate the warning.” She paused, then tilted her head to the side curiously. “How is it that you knew I was going to use the inventory system?” she asked. “You haven’t seen me do it yet.”

“Ahh,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “That’s because I know someone else who can also use it.”

“Really?” Demi asked with interest.

He looked at her sidelong and then smiled and said, “Finella.”

“How wonderful!” Demi said, clapping her hands.

“Pii pi!” squeaked Dollop, flashing their own impressed face.

Demi was pleased to discover another person with whom she had something in common, especially since she had learned that the talent was rare. And she did genuinely like Finella, although she had only spent a brief time with her.

Dollop did too, apparently.

“I got the sense that that was what you meant to do because she’s always trying to do what she can to help,” Duncan explained. “I’ve had to stop her so many times at this point that I guess I’ve got a kind of intuition about it.” He chuckled ruefully. “It was a real challenge getting her to understand that she needed to be careful about doing things like that, especially in the beginning.”

Demi smiled, because she could feel his concern.

“You care a lot about her,” she said. “I’m sure she appreciates that.”

“She’s our treasure,” Duncan agreed earnestly. They were the sort of words that would have certainly won the heart of many a young lady, had they been the subject of such a declaration. And yet Duncan had no artifice, no coyness nor slyness. His words were simple and honest, and that made them even more potent. “And a treasure needs protecting. Our people know that she’s special, but very few know what it is that she can do. That’s the best way for us to keep her safe and to keep her with us. I appreciate your discretion in this matter too, goddess. Please be patient with her. I know she’s a little spoiled, and she can be a handful, but she’s had a hard time.”

Demi shook her head. She felt that she had already become a member of the “Finella Protection Society” even before Duncan’s revelations.

“Of course,” she said graciously. “And please, just call me ‘Demi.’ I’m not used to being called a goddess in the first place,” she admitted. “And based on your advice, I shouldn’t get used to it, at least for the time being,” she finished with a laugh.

Demi found that it was not particularly embarrassing to be called “goddess,” even when it was not a small, rosy child doing the calling, which she found somewhat surprising. But she still had no real need to be recognized as such either. She was more than content to simply be herself.

After all, Demeter Serraffield is Demeter Serraffield, she decided to herself.

“As you like, ma’am,” Duncan said with a nod.

“Pii piii!” agreed Dollop, flashing their V-shaped smile.

Demi smiled fondly at the both of them.

“I’m still learning about everything,” she confessed. “So please be kind enough to stop me again if I try to do something too out of the ordinary. I’m not sure yet what’s ordinary and what’s not so very.”

Duncan tapped his tail against the ground again and nodded. “I’ll do that, then,” he agreed.

Dollop made a little bouncing motion in place, which seemed to be a nod. Demi leaned down to pat them again.

“And I’ll be depending on you too, of course,” she assured them.

Dollop turned a rosy pink.

“Piii pi pi piii pi pii!” they squeaked in confirmation.

The three of them continued chatting with one another until the crew came back and the rest of the stones were hauled back to the site.

the goddess and her people

Upon Demi’s return to the waterfalls after the stone gathering mission had concluded, Finella, the small beaver girl, and Tina, the smallest dryad, both mobbed her, excited to show off what had been accomplished in her absence.

But as Demi sorted out in her head what she might suggest to occupy the little girls while she had her important conference with Glimmer, Finella’s expression changed for a moment, turning thoughtful, and then she spontaneously challenged Tina to a game of “catch the tail.”

This led to them both dashing off, squealing and laughing.

As they went, Demi could not help but be struck by the idea that Finella had recognized that she had something on her mind, and had acted to redirect Tina’s overflowing giggly energy in a more manageable direction.

Demi couldn’t be absolutely certain that it had been intentional. There was always the possibility that it had been nothing but a coincidence, a happy accident that had led to an outcome that suited them both.

Demi was grateful regardless. The reprieve gave her a few moments to get her thoughts in order and then sequester her chicken for questioning.

Demi made to politely pull Glimmer aside for a private conversation, but it turned out that he was quite occupied. It ended up being somewhat difficult for her to pry him away from his immensely important task of “supervising,” but he at last acquiesced, strutting off after her idly, with all the ease of a gentleman playing croquette on a finely manicured lawn. Dollop hopped and rolled along behind, a little bit after Glimmer, and Demi couldn’t escape the impression that the slime was herding the chicken along, making him strut slightly faster than he might have otherwise.

Good job, Dollop! Demi thought to herself, not for the first time, and she was charmed when Dollop recognized that she was looking at them and flashed a V-shaped smile.

Slimes are the best, she thought to herself happily, touching her cheek in bliss. Still, she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She had something important to discuss with her holy beast companion.

Once they were a suitable distance away, and hopefully out of earshot of all but the immediately involved, Demi shared what Duncan Oakroot had told her.

Her fine, feathered companion seemed absolutely unsurprised.

“Well of course, my little goddess,” he said with a gracious nod of his head. “He is quite correct. We should hide your identity until you’re stronger, and you can make your glorious, grand debut!” he declared, spreading his wings and striking a very dramatic and artistic pose.

“Pii pi pii pi,” Dollop squeaked dubiously. They did not sound particularly impressed. That was understandable, really.

Even Dollop recognizes the problem here, Demi thought tiredly to herself.

She closed her eyes and silently counted to three.

Then she opened them again and smiled.

“If that is the case, then why did you announce me to everyone at the waterfalls?” she asked. “If I was meant to keep my identity secret, don’t you think it would have been wise to share this information with me before I met other people?”

“Oh non non non, my little goddess,” the chicken chided, suddenly moved to speak French as he strutted in a half circle, pacing quite gorgeously. He looked as if he was demonstrating the steps of the tango. “You see, that was a very strategic action by beautiful me! Now you see, you have acquired some useful allies.”

“Pi pii,” Dollop squeaked flatly.

Demi glanced sidelong at Dollop, and she found that the slime had flashed their eyespots in response, returning her sidelong look.

I am not completely convinced that Glimmer made a conscious decision to announce me, she thought to herself.

As if to support this suspicion, the chicken posed beautifully again, rising up and fluffing out his breast feathers.

“And now, I have a gift for you, my little goddess,” he announced, waving a wing. “Something that the goddess Hollyhope wanted you to have.”

Then he turned around in a circle three times, nimbly hopping over the magnificent train of his ribbonlike tail feathers as if he were skipping rope. Once he had finished this fabulous performance he came to an elegant stop, leaning forward in a bow, his wings spread. As he did, there was a little sparkle in the grass in the circle of his tail feathers. Dollop hopped over to look at it curiously, emoting a face with abundant question marks. Demi leaned down and picked the sparkling item up, discovering that it was a beautiful hairpin made in the shape of a rose supported by clover. It looked similar to the one she wore in her own world, but also a little bit different. As she turned it over in her hands, her identification ability registered it as “Perfectly Ordinary Farm Girl’s Hairpin.”

Dollop was emoting a new curious face, but Glimmer looked almost insufferably smug.

Curious herself, Demi tucked the hairpin into her hair, in the spot she normally wore hairpins. Then she felt a little fizzle and pop, very gentle and not at all unpleasant, and she saw some twinkling sparkles, almost as if she had stood up too quickly.

“Aha ha my little goddess, now you should check your status screen!” announced the chicken, striking a very triumphant pose, beak toward the sky.

“Pii pi pi pii pi pi pi?” Dollop squeaked out a question, apparently to Glimmer.

“Just regard her, my friend, regard her!” the chicken answered dramatically, without breaking his pose.

Demi did as Glimmer suggested and checked her status. She was surprised to find that she had already gained an additional three levels since the last time she had checked, even though she had not spent that time doing much other than walking and talking.

I guess if it’s Harvest Goddess related at all, it counts, she thought wryly to herself.

But the thing that she noticed second was that her title was no longer “Harvest Goddess from Another World.” Instead, it was “Perfectly Ordinary Farm Girl.”

She paused. She took a deep breath.

She gently reached to her temple to remove the hairpin.

There was the sparkle, fizzle, and pop, and her status screen again read “Harvest Goddess from Another World.”

She put the hairpin back on.

“Perfectly Ordinary Farm Girl.”

She felt like cradling her head in her hands and wailing.

“Pii pi pi pii pii pii,” squeaked Dollop, sounding very nonplussed.

Hollyhope, that is an incredibly suspicious title! Demi thought with an inward groan.

The Council of Demi were in absolute agreement. “Fishy.” “Suspicious.” “Unbelievable.” Each member had their own sign, and the synonyms piled up uncomfortably, even as the council members exchanged dead-eyed ten-yard stares.

Demi could not help but imagine the goddess’s smiling face. Tee hee hee~, she felt the goddess’s signature laugh spiritually, as if it were rippling through the very fabric of reality. Defeated, Demi sighed.

She could not determine any way to change the title attached to the hairpin into something even marginally less suspicious. The hairpin had been made with skills far in advance of her own. She could do nothing else but accept her new perfectly ordinary title.

“Pii pi piii pi pii pi,” Dollop comforted her, bumping gently against her leg. She drew some solace from the slime’s commiseration.

When she looked into her inventory, she discovered that the titles of her tools had changed from “Harvest Goddess’s” to “Perfectly Ordinary Farm Girl’s.” Later she would discover that the brook had been similarly renamed.

Demi sighed again. She would just have to accept it all. At least it made keeping her secret simpler than it might have been otherwise.

She looked down at Glimmer, putting her hands on her hips.

“Why didn’t you give this to me yesterday?” she asked pointedly.

He spread his wings artistically and bowed deeply and elegantly. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his role as gracious guardian and wise mentor.

“Why, I wanted you to experience a day in the life of a goddess, of course,” he said.

He forgot, Demi decided instantly.

He definitely forgot, the Council of Demi agreed.

“Pii pi pii piii.” Dollop squeaked dryly.

Even Dollop thinks he forgot, Demi thought with detached amusement. She shrugged in surrender.

Glimmer may be a magic holy chicken, but he’s still a chicken, Demi reflected. Maybe Hollyhope ought to have sent me along with a pig or a border collie or something.

Still, although he could be exasperating, she did still appreciate Glimmer.

“Is there anything else that Hollyhope wanted you to give to me?” she asked, mildly concerned.

“Apart from the benefit of my gorgeous genius?” he asked. He seemed to be basking in the aura of his own personal radiance.

“Pii pi pi,” squeaked Dollop, emoting an eye roll.

“Yes,” Demi answered dryly. “Apart from that.”

“Not at this moment,” Glimmer declared, flipping his tail feathers. “But of course, who knows what mysterious mysteries the future holds?”

“All right,” Demi said with a vague wave of her hands. “I’ll look forward to you remembering other things Hollyhope meant for you to tell me in the mysterious future. Come along then. Let’s see if anyone needs our help.”

***

The area before the waterfalls had become quite busy. The foreman was directing his work crews to properly finish and then lay out the materials that they had hauled back. The enthusiastic dryad Vata was putting her energy to good use, dashing around back and forth, fetching and carrying, and afterward helping to cut and finish planks. Sometimes she broke out in spontaneous cheering, or stopped to psych herself up, as if raising her power level was the key to increasing her personal productivity.

Elder Ashbark seemed to be deliberately walking around the proposed build site and prodding it with his cromach while the serious dryad, Seri, followed along behind him, rapidly jotting down notes on a clipboard.

Near the small folding table, Grandmeister Fairfox was having a discussion with Izar as the raccoon engineer made notations on the building plans he had drawn up. Eleonore was still sitting near him, working on another drawing of the house, this time in pastels that were laid out on a neat little tray. Professor Silktail was sitting on a small stool nearby, earnestly recording observations into a neat black notebook, and Duncan was watching everything that happened around the little folding table with interest.

Everyone seemed to be quite engaged with their activities, and the sight warmed her heart in a way that was difficult for her to quantify. All of these people had come together to do her a kindness and that was remarkable. The fact that they had likely all been directed to assist her due to Hollyhope’s divine revelations did not matter in the slightest. They had decided whether or not to answer that call according to their own initiatives, and their interest in and dedication to the project was sincere and touching.

But still, I don’t want any dryads working tirelessly on house building, she thought wryly to herself. The idea is just too peculiar. It’s like an elf becoming a pro wrestler or something.

Then Demi stopped, her brow wrinkling for a moment.

Isn’t there another one? she thought to herself, momentarily perplexed.

She could have sworn that—

It was at that moment that Soa, the eldest of the dryads, found a moment to speak with Demi privately.

Ahh, Demi thought in relief. It’s the miss who was missing.

It was not, but it would be a long time before she realized that.

Demi was standing idly, watching the two little girls playing in the grass, this time joined by Dollop. Soa joined her.

The two little girls were currently gainfully employed wrestling one another on the thick carpet of green grass. At the moment, Finella seemed to be winning, despite her diminutive size, and was using this advantage to tickle Tina until she shrieked. Tina seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. Dollop had taken it upon themselves to topple over whichever girl was on top at any given moment, apparently intent on evening the odds.

Maybe the debut of the first elf pro wrestler is closer than I think, Demi thought with an inward chortle. Well, if they turn out to be even half as small and cute as these girls then I will be a devoted fan, she decided.

After they both watched the little girls play for a moment, Soa bowed her head to Demi, as she had before.

“Thank you for your kindness in indulging Tina,” Soa said with a wistful smile, folding one of her hands over her heart.

Soa gave the impression that she was a mild-tempered onee-san: the sort of older sister type who looks lovely no matter what she wears, serves as both peacemaker and decision-maker, has excellent domestic skills, and a bosom that rivals her heart in size.

Demi shook her head, a brief motion punctuated by a smile. “It’s perfectly all right,” she assured her, then got a bit wistful as she watched Finella and Tina playing. “She really loves Hollyhope, doesn’t she?” she asked, thinking back to her introduction to the little girl.

At that moment, Demi missed her own mother painfully. There was an aching spot inside of her, something that remained hollow even now. She had not really moved on from the loss; it had simply been pushed from her mind by the business of everyday life, which was why it often surfaced unexpectedly, when Demi saw something that reminded her of her mother or thought of something she wanted to share with her, only realizing once she had turned to call for her that no matter how many times she called, that person would never again answer her.

Soa smiled, and it was also a complicated smile.

“She does,” agreed Soa, “Or, I suppose, she loves her idea of who Hollyhope is,” she explained wryly. “Tina hasn’t ever met Hollyhope. She was born after the last time the goddess visited this place. She has always loved hearing stories about Hollyhope. It’s her favorite thing to ask about, and we share our own experiences and stories with her whenever she asks. I think she’s probably heard every story that we have about her hundreds of times at this point, so I’m very grateful for your kindness to her.”

Hiraeth.

So familiar, striking right at the heart of her.

There were times when Demi felt that she was drowning in hiraeth.

She’s missing a mother that she’s never met, Demi realized.

“We explained to her that the goddess arriving today wasn’t our mother Hollyhope, but I think her excitement just overwhelmed her,” Soa admitted. “She’s been looking forward to today for at least two weeks.” Soa laughed. “For the last three days she’s been constantly asking if you were here yet, and when you were going to come. First she’d ask me, and when I told her that we didn’t know exactly, but it would be soon, she would go ask Seri, then Vata, and so on. After she had asked the last person, she would go back to the beginning and ask me again.” Soa’s tone was affectionate, even if there was the faintest touch of exasperation. “The only time she wasn’t asking questions was when she was listening to a story about the goddess.”

I’m sure they had a lot to do to prepare, Demi thought to herself. And I doubt it was easy, especially with all that horrible grass around.

“But even when she is a handful, we love her very much,” Soa said sincerely, bowing her head. “She is Hollyhope’s blessing, and our hope for the future.”

That’s an incredible thing about children, isn’t it? Demi thought abstractly to herself. More than anyone else, they carry hope for the future on their little shoulders.

Demi’s own shoulders were narrow and slight, and as the only surviving child of the Serraffield house, she knew that she carried the hopes of many people on her own shoulders. In that sense, suddenly becoming a new goddess actually felt like a decrease in pressure and expectations, which was honestly bizarre now that she stopped to think about it.

“Tina rarely gets a chance to play with other children since our forest isn’t near any settlements,” Soa continued warmly. “So she’s a little more rambunctious than usual. She and the other little girl had been playing guessing games about when you would arrive most of the morning.” She laughed briefly into her hand. “For some reason, these guessing games seemed to involve a lot of hopping.”

That explains part of why I got such an enthusiastic welcome from them, Demi thought to herself with an inward smile.

Demi knew what it was like to grow up with no regular playmates other than adults. She still could not say that she had ever made a close friend her own age, not for more than an evening, at least. She had been friendly with some girls who had been a handful of years older and with others who had been a few years younger, but only one person had ever been in the Goldilocks zone of bosom friends, and their acquaintance had been brief and heartbreaking. Demi had spent almost her entire life on her family’s country estate, her only interactions with other children the Forest Girls’ troop that her mother had organized.

That too had departed along with her.

Perhaps this unexpected trip to another world was a blessing in more ways than she had considered. She would certainly have time to read (she would allot that time before even considering anything else)—but she could also spend time making friends, enjoying the peaceful slide of easy country days with no sword of Damocles—no squiring—hanging over her head.

Perhaps it was all right to push off the responsibilities of her home and just enjoy herself here. Surely there was time enough to live, to not have all of her time consumed by the worries that awaited her, that were even now biding their time in the City. She couldn’t just completely forget them. She could not allow herself to do that, but maybe, just maybe, it was all right to spend a little of her time thinking of the people here, what they needed, what she could do in this place.

She could spend time playing with Tina, whose heart was perhaps as hungry as Demi’s own, and making friends with the other dryads. She could answer all of Finella’s endless questions (and perhaps, at some point, even figure out how to turn her into a toad—only temporarily of course). When Demi found herself truly stumped by a question, she would simply have to go and read until she came up with her own answer. And she could plant a rainbow of flowers, while Glimmer advised her according to his own aesthetic sense and she blissfully disregarded his suggestions. She could take nice long walks through the woodlands, basking in the sounds and scents of the forest while Dollop hopped along behind her, providing company and moral support.

Demi discovered, while standing there looking over the gathered delegation, that this was something her heart wanted. There were many things to see and feel and do here, and she found that she wanted to see and feel and do all of them, even the ones that were not wholly pleasant.

Even if forging strong bonds with the people here might someday lead to grief when she was inevitably parted from them, she didn’t care. Those scars were a mark of living too, after all.

She would live this life to the fullest, squeeze every ounce of happiness that could be had out of it, and then she would treasure the remains.

She was Demeter Serraffield, this planet’s new Goddess of the Harvest.

“Sometimes hopping is the best way to express your feelings,” she answered truthfully, and then with a smile over her shoulder at Soa, who was now smiling herself, Demi hopped back to where Tina, Dollop, and Finella were playing.

the goddess gives a treat

The construction of the house carried on at a remarkable pace.

As far as Demi understood it, in her world, a modern house usually took several months to build. Even a small cabin of simple construction built with very basic fittings and no modern amenities might take an entire month, and that was without taking into account site preparation.

But the site had apparently been leveled while she had been away with Duncan, choosing and preparing the stones. Finella had had had something to do with it, under Elder Ashbark’s instruction, which was why it had been carried out while the work teams were dispersed.

As Demi carefully studied the two waterfalls, she felt that they, too, along with the mountain stone they flowed over, had also somehow changed when she had not been looking. Of course, it wasn’t as if she had run around with a measuring tape before she had set off on the quarrying expedition, nor had she had time to commit every bit of soil and stone to memory, but as she stood looking at the landscape, tapping her lip thoughtfully with a finger, she felt that something about it had changed.

Well, quite obviously, many things had changed.

The spring cellar had already been dug and the foundation for the house laid, but that wasn’t the whole of it. As Demi studied the site, she realized that the land hadn’t been leveled as much as it had been graded. The ground where the house would sit had been raised around five feet, allowing for a second basement level, half aboveground and half below it.

Doesn’t that usually take heavy equipment? And a surveying team? And an engineer to draw up the plans? Demi wondered to herself. It’s really amazing that all of it happened when I was out helping with the stones. If I ever get the chance to experience something like this again, I definitely want to watch the process.

It was while she was in consideration of the house site that Demi found herself in the presence of yet another new friend.

And this friend, well...

It was a large friend.

There were four very large, even-toed feet and they fell against the ground in a steady drum drum drum drum like the rich reverberation of a timpani. Eleonore Silktail was walking along beside this new friend, one hand against their leg. The sight of the small fox maiden next to them made this friend seem even more huge than they might have otherwise. The animal was four legged, as might have already been surmised, and looking at it Demi felt certain that it was a draught animal, although exactly what type she could not say. It was certainly not a horse or other equine. It looked vaguely cow-shaped, but it also looked somewhat goat-shaped, although it was much bigger than any goat Demi had ever seen, with a big humped back and broad face.

“Good girl, Marla, good girl,” Eleonore was praising the animal as she walked along side her. “You’re being very helpful and we very much appreciate it.”

Marla was in a harness, and she was pulling quite a load of wood behind her, lashed to a somewhat peculiar cart. There was a section with four wheels at the front that looked like a normal cart, but it had an open back. One end of the partially dressed logs were lashed into this part. Then some ways back there was another small cart, this one with two wheels. The other ends of the load were lashed to this cart, leaving the logs otherwise suspended between the two cart halves.

“It’s like a steerable dolly!” Demi realized as she looked at it, and Foreman Oakroot gave her a sturdy pat on the arm.

“That’s a beaver-made timber hauler,” he said proudly. “There’s nothing better when you want to haul logs overland, especially when you need to haul them out of the forest.”

He moved off to oversee the logs being unloaded, and Demi followed along behind him, interested in the animal that was doing the hauling.

Duncan was engaged in helping Eleonore unbuckle Marla’s harness, since her work for the time being was done.

“What a fine and helpful friend!” Demi remarked as she approached, hands folded behind her back.

“Her name is Marla,” Eleonore explained. “We’re good friends,” she said with a smile, giving Marla another fond pat. “Marla carried all of the things we brought with us from Hollyhain Assembly. She’s a very reliable companion!”

“She seems like a wonderful partner,” Demi agreed. “And so handsome! May I pet her?”

As if to answer, Marla lowered her head and pushed it forward, making a deep sound that was somewhere between a “moooooooo” and a “maaaaaaaaaa.”

Demi reached up and patted her broad velvety nose.

“She likes having the spots around her horns scratched,” Eleonore confided. “It must be terrible to get an itch up there and not be able to reach it.”

“Well, that’s what friends are for,” Demi answered, rubbing her nose in a gentle upward stroke until she reached the short hair around her curved horns. When she began to scratch, Marla again made a happy moooooooooaaaaaaaaaa.

As Demi wondered to herself what sort of animal Marla was, information text popped up.

Tak-Tak: a domesticated draught sheep used primarily for hauling heavy freight through challenging terrain.

That’s a sheep?! Demi wondered to herself.

Well, it was a huge sheep then.

The information continued: “Originally domesticated by the Colliehocks clan, popular burden beast among critterin, particularly forest and mountain dwelling populations. Often colloquially called the ‘sheep-ox.’ Also kept as a dairy- and wool-producing animal. Native to the Makwa range of the northern Hopewall mountains.”

As Demi digested this information, a pop-up label appeared over the animal.

Marla

Tak-Tak ♀

Shrine Beast

Eleonore had finished unbuckling the harness from Marla, and Duncan carried it back to the fox delegation’s luggage for her.

“Would you like to give her a treat?” Eleonore asked with a twinkle in her eye.

At the sound of the magic word, Marla made her characteristic moooooooaaaaaaa sound and bumped her face against Eleonore affectionately.

“Of course I would,” Demi agreed with a laugh.

Eleonore reached into her small shoulder bag and pulled some roughly jellybean-sized fruits out. She had to dance away as Marla came snuffling as soon as she pulled them out.

“Marla, behave!” Eleonore chided while giggling. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Lolo on you!”

Marla was still obviously interested in the treats, but after having been chided, she stayed obediently in place, swishing her short tail occasionally.

When Eleonore passed Demi the desired treats, Demi recognized them immediately.

“Rose hips!” she said and Eleonore nodded.

“She likes rose hip preserves even more, but I can’t give her that all too often,” Eleonore confessed with a laugh. “I think her favorite things of all are sweet oakcakes spread with rose hip preserves.”

“How civilized,” Demi declared. “At some point we ought to have a tea party just for Marla, get her a fancy hat and everything.”

“I’m sure she’d love that, as long as you gave her lots of oatcakes,” Eleonore agreed.

Demi offered the rose hips to Marla with her hand held flat, so Marla wouldn’t mistakenly attempt to gobble up one of her fingers. She had lots of experience giving treats to her two horses, and as Marla’s whiskery mouth hovered over her hand, and then her broad tongue gathered the rose hips into her mouth, Demi couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic and wistful.

When I get the chance, I ought to ask Hollyhope if we can summon Druid and Foxy too. I think they’d love it here, provided I could get a stable built, Demi decided. She put it on her mental to-do list of topics she needed to discuss with Hollyhope once the goddess was once again among the wakeful.

Fortunately, her longing for her horses was soon soothed by the arrival of Dollop. They had clearly heard discussion of the word “treat” and wanted to investigate this possibility, along with inspecting Marla. Demi got a few more rose hips and knelt to feed them to the hanadango, and the slime turned pink and flashed a blissfully content emoticon.

The most convenient way to feed a hanadango was to just put the treat on the floor and let them roll or hop over it. Their mouths were actually on the bottom of their bodies, although they did have some ability to take things in through their skin barrier.

Dollop reminds me so much of a vacuum cleaner when they eat, Demi thought to herself with amusement.

the goddess gives a blessing

After the treats, Marla was turned out to graze and Demi and Eleonore went back to look at how the house was progressing, with Dollop following along behind them.

The beavers had already unloaded the wood from the curious cart and were busy processing it into planks and beams.

“They’re working so quickly and still doing such a thorough job!” Demi said, briefly clapping her hands in a show of support. Dollop flashed their own thumbs-up.

“Aha, nobody beats beavers when it comes to efficiency,” Eleonore agreed.

It was probably a good thing that the wood was being finished in such good order because one look at the build site made it clear that they needed the timber.

Based on the way the second basement level was being reinforced, Demi suspected that this was meant to be her atelier.

It looks almost like they’re building a bunker or a bomb shelter, she thought with amusement, then paused. Wait, she thought. That’s a little ominous, isn’t it?

The framing for the ground floor was by now essentially finished, and the beavers were currently laying the stone that would make up the walls.

“Even knowing how incredible beavers are at building, it’s still something to see just how quickly trained crews can get something done,” Eleonore observed.

“And how well,” Demi agreed.

“No sleeping on the job and no half measures,” Duncan declared from behind them, and they both turned around to look at him. “That’s an oak-clad beaver rule. When you work, you work, and when you play, you play.”

“But I think we could do with some more playing,” added Finella, popping out from behind Duncan as if she had been hiding in his shadow. “I think beavers work too much.”

Duncan smiled down at her indulgently. “Some beavers do, no question,” he agreed. “But a lot of good comes out of work too, and for some beavers, working is playing. The studying you do with Elder Ashbark is your work,” he pointed out, “and you really enjoy it, don’t you?”

Finella beamed. “I loooooooove it!” she agreed, throwing her arms wide. “I’d study and read books all day long if you guys would let me.”

Duncan chuckled. “I know,” he said pointedly. “But not everybody likes studying or reading books. Plenty of kids your age would rather do anything else.”

“Who doesn’t like reading books?!” rang out as both Demi and Finella demanded it at exactly the same moment.

Their reaction was comical enough that both Duncan and Eleonore broke out laughing, with Eleonore covering her mouth with her hand.

But both Demi and Finella were indignant.

“People who don’t like reading books just haven’t read enough books yet!” Demi declared stoutly.

Finella nodded emphatically, balling her small hands into fists. “Saying you don’t like reading books is like saying you don’t like eating food,” she insisted. “There are so many different kinds! How do you even know if you like them or not until you try them all out?!”

The Council of Demi was clapping uproariously, and some members were even banging on their table.

Ahh, this girl truly understands me on a molecular level, Demi thought to herself. She looked over her shoulder at the home site, considering. I wonder if I could fit two libraries inside the house?

The house was already looking rather larger than she had initially expected based on Eleonore’s drawing, but that might possibly come down to her simply being off in her estimations. She had never built a house before, but she had been assured by essentially everyone that the beaver work crews were experts at it.

“If there’s enough space in the house, I’ll definitely put in two libraries. And of course I’ll dedicate a section of the atelier to books too,” she decided, and although she meant it only as a mental note, her passions were so strong on the matter that she said it aloud with confidence.

Demi’s perspective on how many books a farmhouse could comfortably accommodate was perhaps a little out of step with reality, but her ambitions were grand indeed.

Finella was immediately a fan, hopping up and down and clapping.

“I think all of the best houses have at least two libraries,” Finella agreed. “Except,” she said leadingly, “except for the ones that have three!”

“My previous house had four libraries!” Demi declared triumphantly, planting her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest in pride. She never bragged about her wealth or status, because such a thing was just so gauche, wasn’t it? But when books were on the table? All bets were off.

Finella’s eyes glistened like dewdrops in the morning sun.

“Green blessings from the Great Goddess Hollyhope!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of herself devoutly. She was absolutely starry-eyed. “Ahhh, I wish I could have seen those libraries,” she said wistfully. “I bet you could have gotten any books you wanted!”

Well, that was definitely true back home, but not because of blessings from a goddess. I was just rich...and...and an aristocrat. And...the sole heir to my family’s wealth and title, she was forced to admit to herself.

Feeling vaguely guilty, Demi knelt to take Finella’s small, velvety hands.

“I promise that you’ll always be welcome to come and read whatever books you like at my house,” Demi promised earnestly. “In fact, in fact, we’ll just make the entire house into a library!”

Finella’s eyes went from glistening like dew to swimming with tears as she held on to Demi’s hands tightly.

“You’re the most amazing person who has ever lived,” Finella declared. “I promise to be your devout disciple for the rest of my life,” she swore.

The promise was so genuine that even Demi felt herself tearing up.

If I were ever to have followers, I couldn’t ask for anything finer than that they all understand exactly how wonderful books are, she resolved, feeling moved.

But then Demi stopped, slightly concerned.

“Aren’t you already Elder Ashbark’s disciple?” she asked, mildly apprehensive.

“That’s a big ol’ nopety nope,” Finella said, giving Demi’s hands an encouraging squeeze. “He’s just teaching me about druid stuff right now. Besides, you’re our goddess.” Finella pointed out this last fact in a whisper-giggle.

The moment the word left her lips, Duncan went, “Unnn!” as if warning an errant puppy, and Finella smiled cheekily and winked, bringing a finger up to her lips to demonstrate her commitment to secrecy.

Ah, right, I suppose I am their goddess, Demi recalled absently.

Demi looked over at Duncan, still concerned.

“Is that all right?” she asked cautiously. “It won’t cause any problems for Finella?”

Duncan snorted into his fist in reaction, then schooled himself. “You’re the one likely to run into problems from Finella, not the other way around,” he said wryly.

Demi laughed, her mind made up.

“All right, then,” she said with a regal nod. “Then I officially accept you as my disciple, Miss Finella Sweetwater.”

Demi meant it only as a sincere gesture between book lovers, but as soon as the words left her mouth, Finella shimmered in golden light and floated up, slightly above the ground. Demi was so surprised by this turn of events that she let go of Finella’s hands and scrambled to her feet. Finella turned in place slowly, her eyes closed, and then the light faded.

When she touched down again, a new designation appeared directly under her name when Demi looked at her.

Saint.

Demi’s eyes widened and she began flapping her arms in a mixture of confusion and admiration (because although Finella had not visibly transformed, what had happened to her had been very magical-girl...-like). When Finella saw Demi flailing her arms, she began hopping up and down, flapping her arms too. Once this happened, Dollop mirrored the beaver girl’s expression perfectly and they also began to bounce around energetically.

o(*≧◃≦)o

“What a wonderful holy ceremony!” Finella called as she hopped up and down, flapping her arms.

“Pii pi pi piii pi!!!” agreed Dollop.

Demi didn’t have the heart to disabuse her of the notion, and did her best to smile (somewhat manically) as she joined in on the hopping.

I have got to ask Glimmer what just happened! she shrieked to herself internally.

Once they had hopped and flapped for a short spell, Demi clapped her hands with an angelic smile and declared the ceremony finished. Finella seemed to be well satisfied by this outcome, most particularly because she had secured the promise of reading a lot of books.

Around the time the “holy ceremony” finished, Tina woke up from a nap and the two little girls began playing chasing games with Dollop, dashing off around the meadows, which gave Demi the space that she needed to try and discern what had happened.

I really hope that I didn’t just set Finella up for a lot of problems in the future, Demi thought with concern.

Based on what Duncan had intimated, she didn’t think Finella needed further difficulties in her life, although he had not really shared any specifics.

Let’s just hope that no one saw any of that, Demi wished fervently.

At first, she did harbor some concern that the audience at large had witnessed the blessing of this new saint, but fortunately, that did not seem to be the case. At the moment Finella had glowed, Duncan had immediately moved to block her from view, and that had apparently worked. It wasn’t as if Finella had glowed like a neon sign. It had been a gentle sparkle, and although she had briefly floated, Finella was so short and small that it was only really noticeable to those in their direct vicinity: that is, Demi, Eleonore, Duncan, and of course, Dollop.

Duncan wasted no time in extracting a vow of silence from Eleonore, who readily agreed, and that made the three of them into a sort of cabal, or well, four if one counted Dollop.

Dollop was busy playing with the little girls, so that left Demi, Duncan, and Eleonore to have a brief but intense conference. Marla was grazing contentedly nearby, so the three of them hunkered down behind her to talk.

“What did I do?” was the first thing that Demi asked in concern, causing Eleonore and Duncan to exchange looks.

“You don’t know?” asked Eleonore hesitantly.

“I was hoping that you’d tell me,” Duncan admitted.

Demi gave herself a mental shake.

Stop panicking, she told herself. You’re just going to worry everyone if you do. All of these people are looking to you for guidance. You don’t have the luxury of acting like a basket case. Own your position and see to your responsibilities.

Recasting the situation in terms that were familiar grounded her and she was able to give a reassuring smile.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she apologized, bowing her head slightly. “What I meant was that I’ve never done that before, so it was surprising.”

That was a vague enough answer that it wasn’t technically a lie, but was still reassuring in tone. Duncan visibly relaxed, and Eleonore let out a breath she had apparently been holding and gave them both a small smile.

“So what did you do?” the fox maiden asked, her tail swishing slightly. She was apparently very interested in the possibilities of the situation.

Best to just out with it, Demi decided.

“Ah, aha ha ha,” Demi laughed weakly, then leaned her cheek against her hand. “I seem to have made her into a saint.”

The silence that reigned after this admission was so great that it might have encompassed an interstellar gulf, but at last Eleonore swished her tail.

“Oh” was what she said, both eyebrows raised.

“Oh” is right, Demi thought to herself.

Duncan’s eyebrows drew together and he seemed to fall into serious thought.

“Thank you for sharing that information, goddess,” he said. “Having some idea of what I’m expected to deal with makes it a lot easier to take action if necessary.” He paused, bringing a hand to his chin. “What effect do you think this could have?”

I have no idea! she screamed internally, but instead she gave another reassuring smile and said, “I think Glimmer might be better at explaining things. Let me just go get him.”

She didn’t wait for any more uncomfortable questions to crop up; she practically leaped to her feet and ran off to find her holy chicken companion. She discovered him perched on the folding table, offering aesthetic advice to Izar as the engineer revised his technical drawings.

With a light “Aha ha, do you have a moment?” Demi seized Glimmer and bodily carried him off. Glimmer gave a startled squawk at being handled in such an unbecoming way, but soon regained his composure. Izar looked noticeably relieved as Demi departed with Glimmer.

“I have a problem,” Demi said quietly, slowing to a much more sedate walk toward where Marla was grazing, so she had time to brief Glimmer on the situation and hopefully determine her next steps based on what he had to say about things.

“Well, tell it to me, my little goddess, for it is my absolute joy to guide you to solutions,” he announced grandly, fluffing out his breast feathers. “What is troubling you?”

Demi sighed, then admitted, “I seem to have made Finella a saint.”

“Splendid!” cried Glimmer with a crackling crow, and Demi hastily covered his beak with her hand.

“Shhhh!” she insisted.

“But, my little goddess, this is truly a cause for celebration!” he said in a more subdued voice, sounding slightly muffled by her hand. “Granting sainthood to a devoted follower is an important milestone in the life of every goddess, and the first one is particularly special. Ahh, you will certainly grow to be a splendid goddess, having gained a saint so soon after descending from the celestial realm. I am such a fine guide and companion to have raised you so well!”

You have only “raised me” for a day and a half! Demi wanted to shout, but that was mostly from nerves. She was legitimately concerned that she had done something to Finella that might cause her distress or hardship.

“What does it mean, to be a saint?” Demi asked anxiously. “What will happen to her?”

“Well,” Glimmer said, shifting slightly in her arms, “it depends on the person, really. Each saint is a little different. They generally gain new powers based on the deity they worship, and influenced by their own natural gifts. Each saint is marvelous and unique, and the greater their devotion to their goddess, the more their powers grow. If she focuses on self-improvement and does great works in your name, she might someday even become a great saint!”

I’m not sure poor Finella needs more rare powers, Demi thought to herself. I’m afraid it might disrupt her life.

“Is there, is there any way to take it back?” Demi asked hesitantly.

Glimmer balked, immediately stiffening for a moment. “Why would you want to do such a thing?” he asked. “Is the little girl that offensive?”

“Oh no, of course not!” she whispered back fiercely. “I’m worried that being a saint might cause problems for her!”

“Hmm,” Glimmer cackled thoughtfully. “The instances of sainthood being revoked are rare, as far as I know. The person has to have done something beyond dreadful. It isn’t a very pleasant process, I imagine. It could cause permanent damage to her.”

“Wonderful,” Demi muttered, drawing a hand to her forehead.

“I still don’t see why you’d want to defrock your very first saint,” Glimmer said, perturbed.

“I want Finella to be able to enjoy being an ordinary girl,” Demi tried to explain, looking over to where Finella and Tina were still chasing each other around and squealing.

Glimmer scoffed audibly. “Trust me, that little girl is anything but ordinary,” he said dryly.

“That’s even more of a reason that I shouldn’t add to her troubles!” Demi insisted. “I didn’t mean to do that to her! We were just playing pretend! She doesn’t need to be saddled with complicated responsibilities because I don’t understand my own powers and made a mistake!” She sighed, shaking her head. “She didn’t ask for any of this. She just wanted to read books.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to make her a saint, even accidentally, unless she was ready and willing to become one,” Glimmer pointed out frankly. “It seems to me that you’re worried about a whole lot of nonsense.”

Demi sighed again. “I hope you’re right,” she said. Well, there was nothing else for it, it seemed. It was already done, and attempting to undo it might cause Finella even more trouble. The best thing she could do was take responsibility for her actions and look after Finella’s interests.

She was now her patron after all.

She said as much to Glimmer and he seemed satisfied.

“Of course,” he said, “And I, Glimmer, your fabulous guide and companion, shall teach you all that you need to know to become a fine goddess and role model.”

That’s so reassuring, Demi thought weakly to herself.

Still, waffling around and thinking negative thoughts wasn’t going to do anything to help anyone, least of all Finella. Part of being in a position of authority was looking after your subordinates, and another part was making sure that you didn’t cause undue worry in the people who depended on you by second-guessing yourself.

I guess I need to work to be more in tune with my inner rooster, she decided.

the goddess builds a house

Upon meeting up with Duncan and Eleonore again, Demi was relieved to find that Glimmer lived up to his position as her assistant. He hopped gracefully to the ground in front of Duncan and Eleonore and immediately began extolling the virtues of sainthood and painting a rosy picture of Finella’s future. Despite his grandiose and flowery language, he actually did deliver a surprising amount of practical information.

After asking some direct questions and receiving answers that he found satisfactory, Duncan departed to have a talk with Finella about her new circumstances. The girl was so open, and motivated by a desire to help others, that it was very possible she might inadvertently reveal sensitive information.

If it wasn’t yet time for Demi to reveal her identity as a goddess, then it certainly wasn’t time for Finella to be revealed as her saint.

After Duncan had gone, Eleonore remained near Marla, asking some insightful questions that Demi was thankful for, because it spared her the embarrassment of asking them herself. She could simply sit nearby, acting wise and serene, as if she was delegating her responsibilities to her subordinate, although in reality, she and the Council of Demi were all furiously taking mental notes.

Eventually, Eleonore was called away, and after a fond “thank-you” pat to Marla for facilitating their secret meeting, Demi followed after her, interested in seeing how things had progressed while she was otherwise occupied.

And progress they had! The beavers were currently split between framing the second floor and finishing the stonework of the ground floor.

Looking at the house, it was even more apparent than before that it seemed to be somewhat bigger than she had anticipated.

Demi had grown up in an estate house, and even the family’s city residence had been grand and sprawling, as befitting her social position. She didn’t have an immense amount of experience with ordinary single family dwellings, but even so...

I can’t imagine the world where this would be classified as a farm cottage, she reflected.

Still, she couldn’t exactly complain about it. That would be like complaining about an extra scoop of ice cream in your sundae.

It was best to let the professionals do their work and sort it all out in the end.

As the construction progressed, Demi moved around from group to group and assisted however she could. One of the things she ended up enjoying doing the most was helping Izar prepare the glass for the windows. The delegation from the fox settlement had brought it with them when they’d come, along with a lot of other finishings. Everything was set aside and packed neatly and efficiently.

I guess they came prepared to help me build a house, Demi thought ruefully to herself. The beavers had even come along with a work crew and all of the tools and equipment they’d need to build. Thanks, Hollyhope, for the divine oracle! Even if you didn’t prepare a farm in advance, at least you sent along people motivated to help make one happen. I’m going to have to give Marla lots of treats to thank her for helping to haul all of that here.

Still, even with all of the manpower and expertise, it was inescapable that the house was taking shape surprisingly quickly.

So quickly, in fact, that Demi had to assume that the crafting system had to be assisting in the construction.

Similar to when Demi had made her first tool, it seemed that a person could prepare more complicated materials or use more elaborate construction methods while following a crafting recipe, and the final product would change to reflect this.

When she brought this up with Izar, he affirmed it.

“A clear vision of your expectations and a solid understanding of materials are really important in complex crafting,” he explained.

But there was a difference in the sort of crafting she was able to do and the sort of crafting everyone else around her was doing.

In her case, she could simply assemble the necessary materials and combine them with a menu command and they’d become the appropriate item. But the people around her—well, they were actually crafting things. The beavers were using traditional hand tools and their own bodies to prepare planks and lay stones. They’d used hammers and picks to break up and work the stone at the quarry site too. Izar had a number of specialized tools that he used to prepare the windows for hanging.

But Demi could leverage the power of system menu crafting, an ability that only divine administrators had access to, at least according to Glimmer.

I guess this is another one of those things I shouldn’t show to other people unless I really trust them, Demi decided as she watched the people around her work.

Since she couldn’t directly display her abilities while the building site was so busy, she spent a reasonable amount of time simply playing with Finella, Tina, and Dollop. This was useful in itself because it kept the two little girls occupied and out of trouble. They ended up splashing around in the quiet pool of water and making crowns of clover flowers for one another. They were all quite bedecked by the end of the day.

I never thought I’d have the chance to see a slime wearing a flower crown, Demi thought contentedly to herself.

Astonishingly, by sunset, the house had been raised.

Perhaps even more astonishing was the fact that the house ended up quite a bit larger than what she had estimated even while watching them build it. She had realized early on that the house seemed larger in scope than Eleonore’s original drawing or even Izar’s first blueprints, but it hadn’t felt right saying anything about it.

After all, everyone there had worked together to build a house for her expecting no payment in return. It would be outrageous, she thought, to begin complaining about the house that they were building.

But now that the place was full and standing and the work crew had stepped back to admire its handiwork, the difference between the initial conception and the finished product was glaring.

The house that they had built was easily twice the size of the original farmhouse that the fox girl had drawn. Despite all of the changes that had been made, the house remained stylistically similar to the original and was quite harmonious in design, the absolute picture of “a farmhouse in the forest.”

Or perhaps, more appropriately, a grand farmhouse in the forest.

The fact that the architects of this endeavor had managed to retain the design sensibilities of the original drawing while expanding it so much was a testament to the skill of the individuals involved.

I ought to give everyone a cake, she decided.

The house was roughly symmetrical, wider than it was deep. The front door opened onto a long hall that connected the two halves of the house. Just around the corner was a broad set of stairs to the second level. Near the kitchen there was another set of stairs up, as well as a narrow set of stairs down to the basement. The central section of the house was topped by a short gabled roof that bisected the longer gabled roof that ran the length of the house. Two dormers peeked through the roof, one on each side of the central gable. It was all neat and clean, nearly symmetrical but not quite—not so much that it felt sterile, and that mild asymmetry made the house that much more charming.

The ground floor had stone walls, warm brown and gray stone quarried from the same outcropping where Demi had knapped her tools, and that alone made her nostalgic about it. (Perhaps it was a little silly to be nostalgic over something that had happened only the day before, but by this point, Demi felt that “yesterday” was such a long time ago that it might as well have been prehistory.)

The floors above the stone were wood framed and covered in pretty scalloped wooden shingles.

—and there was a porch. There was a sizable covered porch in the middle and the platform for it wrapped around the whole of the front of the house, continuing around the sides. On the east side of the house, it continued out over part of the stream, so it was easy to enjoy the view of the waterfall. On the west side it overhung a part of the tranquil pond.

Without even counting the spring cellar, the multiple bathrooms, and ample closets, the house had fifteen rooms.

“There’s only space enough for a large family house,” Demi thought sheepishly to herself, thinking about what the beaver foreman had said earlier in the day. “There’s not enough space for an estate house.” What kind of family does he expect to live here?

Apparently, Foreman Oakroot and Izar had gotten into some sort of competition while building the house, which is what had caused the project to balloon to such fantastic size.

Still, it was a very beautiful house, and the only thing that made it seem silly was the fact that the sole occupants were going to be a girl, a chicken, and a slime. She was grateful for the incredible and magnificent work that everyone had done to bring the house into reality, so she kindly decided not to comment overly much on the grandeur of her new home.

The day previous she had slept in a lean-to. The house was perfect.

The foreman had certainly built it to anticipate future need.

Demi thanked everyone who had worked so hard to build the house, shaking each person’s hands individually. Apart from the little girls, the individuals who seemed to take the most delight in this were the beavers who made up the two work crews. Although many of them gave the impression that they might be gruff, grumpy, or even rowdy, depending on the circumstances, they each received Demi’s attention as if she might be their beloved little girl whom they spoiled rotten. It was powerfully endearing. She was grateful that she had had the opportunity to spend part of the day chatting earnestly with Finella so she could learn all of their names, their general predilections, and of course, what kind of cake they might like.

I’m going to make every single one of them their own cake, she resolved again, First thing, as soon as I get established enough to do such a thing.

Once she had thanked them all personally, the two crews of beavers, pleased at the work they had done and glowing from the praise that they had received, were jolly as they began the trek back home to welcome ale and warm hearths, singing songs of a day’s work well done.

Once they were quite out of sight and earshot, their marching songs having faded into the distance, Foreman Oakroot passed Demi a small hammer and three nails.

“The oracle advised we ought to let you finish it,” he explained, taking her to a spot near the front door. “Just there. Drive in the nails, and that’s the last of it.”

After giving this advice, he retreated to where the others were standing and watched expectantly.

Demi wasn’t sure what this all signified, but she did as she was told, and carefully hammered in the final three nails.

And then something incredible happened.

There were suddenly clouds of cheerful pink smoke and a number of sparkles. Demi heard the sound of hammering and sawing, as she did when she crafted using the system menu, and when the smoke cleared—

The house was truly finished.

It was remarkably finished. Somehow, by driving in the final three nails, the whole aspect of the house changed. The shingles on the outer walls were now a charming emerald green color. The parts of the porch that had been previously uncovered now had a lovely pergola that was somehow already covered with climbing flowers. There was even a porch swing.

Inside, all of the floors had been beautifully finished and waxed, and the whole house was lit in a very welcoming way. There was even decorative stained glass in the front door and sidelights, and corbels and cornices decorating the front of the house.

The front porch light was on, as if asking them all inside.

Everyone was astonished.

But Demi herself was perhaps the most astonished.

A cheer went up behind her, once their initial astonishment passed.

“Piipipipiipipipiipipiiii!” squeaked Dollop in celebration, bouncing up and down.

“Well, I’ll be a wet duck,” laughed Foreman Oakroot. “Even after hearing what that oracle said, seeing it is something else.”

“Absolutely,” agreed the professor, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “What an incredible thing to have had the privilege to witness.”

Bathed in the golden glow of the sunset, with the sound of rushing water, and rose petals raining from somewhere above, the whole scene was breathtaking.

Everyone gathered simply enjoyed the sight, until the last fingers of sunset deepened into dusk, and the foreman guffawed, slapping Izar on the shoulder. “Beaver built, raccoon engineered, and goddess finished. I can swear to you now that there’s no finer house on this earth.”

“I’d say that you’re absolutely right,” agreed Izar.

Now that dusk had fallen, the lovely house glowed like a candle.

Demi turned the knob on the front door and opened it.

“Please be welcome,” she said. “As my very first guests.”

And so the beavers, the foxes, the dryads, Izar, and Glimmer all entered the new house.

Dollop lingered behind, awkwardly hopping around the porch slowly. It was clear to Demi that the slime wasn’t sure that they would be allowed to go into the house now that it was finished, although they seemed to be longing to do just that thing.

Demi smiled down at Dollop, who had shyly averted their eye spot face away.

“Come on in, silly,” she said with warmth. “This is your house too.”

“Pii pi piiii!” Dollop squeaked immediately, turning a rosy shade of pink as they bounced around Demi in celebration, flashing a truly contented open mouth triangle smile.

At last, they happily hopped inside, and Demi followed in behind them.

the goddess has a sandwich

It wasn’t only the exterior and the fittings of the house that had changed once Demi had driven in the final three nails.

For one thing, there was now a kitchen—not just a room that had been designated a kitchen in the plans, but a real, proper kitchen with a stove and oven, cabinets and counters, and a large farmhouse sink with running water. There was even a refrigerator, just like the one in Hollyhope’s vacation cottage.

There was a nice modern powder room on the ground floor as well, with a neat little jade green toilet. It flushed and everything. Demi was not at all sure how it worked, since the beavers had not installed modern indoor plumbing during the course of their construction. There was even a big, beautiful bathtub in an upstairs bathroom. Demi could not wait to indulge in a nice, relaxing bath.

Apart from the kitchen and the bathrooms, there were even some minimal furnishings. There was a table and some chairs, and a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The house also had a lot of beautiful built in woodwork: shelves, cabinets, benches, seating nooks. There were even some pillows for sitting on the floor.

By bringing the table and chairs into the largest of the downstairs rooms, one that had ample built-in seating, and distributing the floor pillows, everyone was afforded a comfortable place to sit.

As might be expected, Finella and Tina ended up sitting next to her, on some pillows on the floor. Dollop cuddled next to them, looking like a pastel throw pillow themselves.

Now is the time I ought to offer everyone food, Demi realized. It’s a shame I can’t offer everyone something I made myself, but I suppose it’s understandable given the circumstances.

She prepared to pull out the chest of emergency supplies, but then Eleonore Silktail surprised her by unpacking an absolutely enormous box that Duncan and Izar had carried into the house for her.

It was absolutely packed to the gills with sandwiches.

She blushed as she said, “If you don’t mind, I prepared these before, and would love to share them with you all.”

Well, now there’s no way we can say no to those sandwiches, Demi decided with certainty.

Foreman Oakroot slapped his tail against the hardwood and laughed. “The legendary Silktail Sandwiches! I’m sure we’d all be happy to feast on food made by the princess of Hollyhain!”

This made Eleonore blush even more and she covered her face with her hands. “Ahh, don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.”

“The princess of Hollyhain?” Demi asked curiously, tilting her head. She didn’t think fox assemblies had princesses, but it was possible that the title was meant colloquially.

Izar grinned and answered Demi’s question, since Eleonore was too embarrassed.

“Eleonore has become the belle of Hollyhain since she moved there from the capital. ‘Princess,’ has become something like her nickname, since she’s so well loved,” he explained, then winked. “But she’s still pretty shy about it.”

“I’m not sure why,” said the professor honestly, as he selected his own sandwich. “She has always been my little princess.”

“Ahhh, papa,” Eleonore complained, lightly swatting at one of his legs. “Not you too.”

I understand, Demi thought with a wry inward smile. Having your father call you a princess when you’re a little girl is different than having a whole town call you a princess when you’re nearly grown.

Demi wasn’t absolutely sure how old Eleonore was, but she had the general impression that they were about the same age.

As she was thinking about it, a little pop-up appeared and confirmed that Eleonore was indeed sixteen.

The foxes also had some very nice tea, so Demi took it along to the kitchen and managed to brew enough for everyone. Conveniently, the cupboards already had cups and mugs, and there was a teakettle and a teapot.

It was a naturally sweet and aromatic fruit tea, so Demi was content to add only a little honey, which the dryads provided. The sandwiches came neatly wrapped in wax paper, but Demi still distributed plates for convenience. It was in doing this that she realized that between the dishes in the large china hutch and stowed away in the kitchen, she had service for at least thirty-six.

A family farmhouse, she thought dryly to herself. Right.

The famous Silktail Sandwiches were deserving of their reputation. Each one was robust, with a filling of thinly sliced ham, tangy cheese, a sunny side up egg with a golden yolk as warm as the summer sun, and slices of caramelized pear. It was dressed with a sweet and spicy apple jam and custard yellow mayonnaise, and all of this was tucked snugly inside thick, pillowy slices of white bread. Then the entire sandwich had been fried and dusted lightly with very fine sugar.

It tasted like heaven, and due to the fact that it was essentially a fried pocket sandwich, it could be eaten with one hand.

It was the first food Demi had eaten in this new world that had not been prepared by a goddess, but once she had bitten into it, she knew that Eleonore Silktail’s sandwiches were absolutely deserving of their praise.

It’s a little like a Monte Cristo, isn’t it? Demi thought to herself. I should get the recipe from her. Perfect for when it’s cold, or when you just need to eat something rich as a treat for a job well done.

While she was thinking about this and looking at the box of sandwiches, some text popped up.

Silktail Monte Cristo - Makes 4 Sandwiches

12 Thick Slices Milk Bread

1/2 lb. Wet Cured City Ham

8 Slices Appenzeller Cheese

6 Eggs

1/4 Cup Milk

1 Anjou Pear

1/4 Cup Spicy Apple Jam

1/4 Cup Homemade Mayonnaise

6 Tbs. Butter

5 Green Cardamon Pods

1/8 Cup Brown Sugar

2 Tbs. Fine Confectioner’s Sugar

1 Tsp. Vanilla Extract

To begin, toast cardamon pods in a dry fry pan over medium heat until aromatic, around 5 minutes. Once cool, peel cardamon and then grind the seeds with a mortar and pestle.

To caramelize pear: slice pear thinly, removing core seeds and stem. In a fry pan, melt 2 tbs. butter and the brown sugar. Add in ground cardamon and cool until the sugar has melted and combined with the butter. Add sliced pears in a thin layer and cook for 2 minutes. Once pears begin to release their juice, increase heat to medium high and cook for an additional 6 minutes. Make sure not to let the pan get hot enough that the sugar begins to scorch and burn. Finally, add vanilla extract and cook for 1 minute. Remove pears from heat and allow to cool.

To prepare sandwiches: Fry 4 sunny side up eggs until yolks are gel set. Then take 2 eggs and whisk them together with the milk.

Assemble sandwiches: 1 Slice Bread. 1 Layer Sliced Ham. 1 Slice Appenzeller cheese. 1 Layer Thin Sliced Caramelized Pear. 1 Slice Bread. Homemade Mayonnaise. 1 Sunny Side Up Egg. 1 Slice Appenzeller Cheese. Spicy Apple Jam. 1 Slice Bread.

Once sandwiches are assembled, melt 4 tbs butter in a fry pan. Dip whole sandwich into the egg and milk mixture and place it into the hot butter in the frying pan. Fry until one side is golden brown and cheese has begun to melt. Flip. Fry until second side is golden brown. Lightly dust with fine confectioner’s sugar. Serve warm or hot.

Can also be made using a pocket sandwich press.

There was a little chiming sound and the words “Recipe added” flashed up briefly.

Fortunately, no one else apart from Demi seemed to hear the chime, as she would have found it quite embarrassing.

I didn’t mean to take the recipe without asking, she thought sheepishly to herself. I’ll ask Eleonore about it regardless. Although I have to admit that it is an incredibly convenient way to learn recipes.

The sandwiches were still warm even after a considerable period of work and travel because they had been carried inside a preservation basket. It was a tool made through alchemy that could help preserve food for use during travel. It wasn’t as ridiculous as her perfect inventory, but it was a very handy tool. And knowing about it meant that Demi could make use of some aspects of her perfect inventory in front of other people, so long as she was thoughtful in how she did it.

The sandwiches were excellent and filling, just the thing after such an exciting day. Demi would learn over time that the Silktail Monte Cristo was not the only Silktail Sandwich. Eleonore was apparently a sandwich devotee, and had a staggering catalog of sandwiches in her repertoire. Why was she so fond of them? They were a convenient food that could be eaten with one hand while reading a book.

Demi could absolutely understand that. She was a fan of sandwiches herself.

After the fine sandwiches, Demi produced a cake from the emergency supply chest. Their dinner had been rich, so Demi chose a light French cheesecake as a dessert which turned out to be an overwhelming success.

Thank you, Hollyhope, Demi said in praise to the sleeping goddess. The best way to make good friends is by feeding them something delicious. No wonder Eleonore is the princess of Hollyhain, if she’s so generous with sandwiches like these, Demi thought with an inner laugh.

The entire group chatted with one another over the events of the day, until first Tina, and then Finella ended up fast asleep. Demi extended the offer to stay the night to her guests, since it seemed clear to her that they still had things they wanted to discuss, and the beaver and fox delegations both accepted. The dryads were essentially her next door neighbors, so they could easily go home for the night.

Although none of the other bedrooms were furnished, neither the foxes nor the beavers were perturbed. They had both brought their own versions of sleeping bags, and bedded down in different rooms downstairs.

After being sure that they were comfortably settled, Demi took a long bath, changed into her pajamas, and then curled up in her new bed, with Lacey-tan and Dollop at her side and Glimmer roosting on the footboard.

She was so exhausted by the many and varied events of the day and filled with such good food that she did not even have the energy to read, and she promptly fell asleep.

the goddess gets some chickens

Demi had gone to bed relatively early the night before, so the next morning she woke up at the very wholesome hour of nine a.m. She found Dollop patiently waiting for her, dozing on the bed, and gave him an affectionate pat. Demi headed off to the bathroom, washed her face, and put on her perfectly ordinary farm girl dress and hairpin. Then she went downstairs to meet her guests again, with Dollop hopping along behind her.

Her guests were all occupied in their own ways. Duncan and Izar were in conversation with Maximillion Fairfox. The professor was reading. Elder Ashbark, Eleonore, and Finella were all outside. Foreman Oakroot was apparently out and about. Glimmer was also outside, sunning himself. Demi ate a jam filled doughnut for breakfast and then went to join the others outside.

She was surprised to discover that Eleonore and Finella were occupied in watching a chicken—or rather, a pair of chickens.

And neither of the chickens was Glimmer.

There were two dark birds hunting around in the grass in front of the farmhouse. They both had reddish-chocolate feathers around their faces and breasts, but most of their bodies was an opaline black that shone green in the light. Based on their feathering, they were both hens.

As she looked at them, a text pop-up identified them as Black Copper Marans.

There was a wooden travel cage nearby lying open, so that was likely the source of these mysterious new chickens. Eleonore was sitting near the cage with a sketchbook open. She was drawing while keeping an eye on the chickens. Finella was crouched in the grass, having flattened herself down to chicken level. She was watching them. Elder Ashbark was sitting on the grass near the pool of water, apparently keeping an eye on Finella.

When Demi approached, Eleonore put down her sketchbook.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let the chickens out to get a little sunshine and exercise,” she said. “Because it was so busy yesterday, I didn’t think it was safe to let them out for very long.”

The wooden travel cage had apparently been stowed among the luggage that Marla had carried through the forest. Eleonore had brought the travel cage inside during the night for the safety and comfort of the hens, but the morning was warm and sunny, so a perfect time for them to enjoy the countryside.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Demi assured her. “They’re beautiful. Are they pet chickens?” she wondered. Dollop was already curiously investigating them, and although one of the two of them puffed up threateningly as they approached for the first time, once she determined that the slime meant no harm, she calmed down and resumed looking for bugs.

Demi was not yet certain of what was usual or unusual in this world, but she felt that if someone had brought chickens along with them on a trip, then they were probably important chickens.

But it wasn’t Eleonore who answered her. It was instead Grandmeister Fairfox, who had come out of the house behind Demi.

“They’re your chickens,” he said courteously, “If you would be so kind as to accept them. They’re a gift from Hollyhain Assembly.”

“It’s true that they say that there’s no better poultry farmer than a fox,” chuckled Elder Ashbark.

Araara, Demi thought to herself. That’s another way the common sense of this world is different than the one I came from. I guess in this world, having a fox guard the henhouse is a positive thing.

It did make sense. All of the sapient peoples of this world practiced farming and ranching, and in that sense, foxes, with such a taste for eggs, made excellent poultry farmers and fanciers.

My first chickens! Demi thought with excitement. Now it really is beginning to feel like a farm.

“Thank you very much!” Demi said happily. “I appreciate your kindness and generosity. I’d love to hear anything you have to tell me about their personalities, and what advice you might give when it comes to keeping them. I suppose I need to plan to build a coop next.”

“I got that handled already, Goddess-missy,” said Foreman Oakroot, coming back from the east. It was at that point that Demi realized that there was now another neat foot bridge crossing the brook, giving easy access to the eastern meadow from the vicinity of the house. When she followed the foreman back across the footbridge, she found that materials had already been laid out for a chicken coop, and the land cleared and leveled for its building.

“I figured you’d want those little peepers close at hand,” the foreman said. “There’s a good location for a barn over that way,” he nodded. “I can bring another crew out next week and we can work on raising one. But a chicken coop the boy and I can do ourselves.”

It was a little funny to hear Duncan being called a boy by his father, since he was unquestionably a grown man, but from the foreman, the word sounded fond rather than condescending.

It makes me a little jealous, Demi thought to herself. I wish I had a good relationship with my father.

She could not remember the last time he had spoken even a dozen words to her. They rarely saw one another, and when they did, he did not concern himself with her.

There was not really much to do about that at this point. There probably wasn’t much use worrying about it. It wasn’t as if she could work at improving her relationship with him from this distant location.

Duncan was summoned to the chicken coop site, and assisted his father in framing and then putting together the chicken coop. It turned out sturdy and well-built, with room for a fine flock.

Demi had seen some photographs and drawings of very picturesque chicken coops in the past, constructed to look like charming little storybook cottages.

At some point, I’ll have to see if I can make something like that myself, she decided. Cuteness, after all, was more important than practically everything else in the world. Still, she was in no position to make demands about the design of this chicken coop. What was most important now was that a coop was built to house her new avian residents. Adorable chicken coop design was merely something to ponder for the future.

The people in the house came out to observe the construction of the coop, and the dryads also arrived from the forest during the process. With Marla contentedly grazing nearby, that was the whole party.

Much as he had the night before, Foreman Oakroot stopped construction at a certain point and then handed a hammer and three nails to Demi.

“Let’s just see what happens,” he suggested.

It was apparently a science experiment.

Demi dutifully took the hammer and finished the chicken coop, and just as before, a cloud of pink smoke hid the little building from view.

I guess I should just get used to this happening, she thought to herself.

When the smoke cleared, there was an adorable green chicken cottage with brown and white trim in the space where the relatively standard chicken coop had previously been standing. It had painted shingles on the exterior walls, shutters decorated with carvings of vines and flowers, and deep flower boxes filled with little sweetheart roses. There was even a little weather vane on the roof, decorated with a fancy looking rooster. There was a run next to it, with a fence built from the same sort of stone that the beavers had used on the ground floor of the house. The fenced area was covered by a beautiful wrought iron fence and roof, which was structured to protect the chickens from predators while also being lovely to look at.

As soon as the smoke cleared, a cheer went up from Finella and the little dryad Tina, who began running around the coop in a circle and whooping, apparently delighted. Dollop promptly began following them after their second circuit, and soon it became impossible to determine who was chasing whom, which was beginning to be a normal phenomenon.

I can understand why they’re so excited about it, Demi thought to herself. It looks just like a little playhouse.

But they were not the only individuals who were so struck. Eleonore’s eyes had gotten very round at the moment the coop had come into view, and now they looked as if fireworks were going off inside of them. Her tail was also wagging wildly.

“Goddess, do you mind if I make drawings and notes about this coop?” she asked, touching Demi’s arm as if this were the most important question she had ever asked in her life.

“Of course, of course,” Demi had assured. “Please make as many notes as you want!”

It wasn’t as if she had really designed the coop, although it did seem to have elements of all the most charming chicken coops she had ever seen in her life, including the coop at her family estate, which had been in a round stone turret that had stood for centuries, and featured a dovecote on the top of it.

And Demi was always anxious to encourage the spread of cuteness in the world. It was possible that this sort of lovely chicken coop might become a trend among the wealthy. If that happened, then there would be many more cute buildings built than there might have been otherwise.

The Grandmeister was also very interested in the coop, and had Izar work with Eleonore to draw up architectural plans. The foxes were mercantile-minded, so it was likely that he thought that the knowledge of how to build such a charming chicken coop might be valuable in some way or another. Of course, foxes simply loved chickens, so perhaps he wanted to have clear plans for this magnificent chicken coop so he could build one of his own.

The two chickens were safely escorted inside the new coop, and bedding and wood shavings were placed, along with food and water. Demi left the little gate to the run open, so the chickens could stay inside or outside, as they preferred. The chickens were apparently named Harriet and Heidi, which Demi found to be both idiosyncratic and charming. It was like having a horse named Jonathan, or a pig named Frederick.

Even Glimmer seemed to be impressed by the fineness of the chicken coop, both the outside and the inside. It was well-appointed, he said.

When Demi teased, wondering if he might want to stay in the coop rather than in the house, he was offended.

“Excuse me,” he said with a sniff. “But I am a civilized chicken. The most appropriate place for me is inside of a house.”

Which was also fine with Demi. He was her holy beast companion after all.

It was good that those so intimately involved in raising poultry had approved of the functionality of the coop, in addition to the appeal of it. If it would have made the chickens inside unhappy, or uncomfortable, or sick, then it wouldn’t have been a good coop no matter how cute it was. But it had nice nest boxes, good roosting spaces, was spacious and airy and dry, with good ventilation and good heat retention. The Grandmeister had even indicated that he believed it would be easy to clean.

The farm even had its very first produce. Harriet had laid an egg that morning. It was a beautiful dark brown color, almost as if it were made of chocolate. Demi happily took the egg from Eleonore, and carried it very carefully into the house, where she put it in the refrigerator.

When she put the egg away, she made an astonishing discovery.

The refrigerator already had food in it, as if it had appeared in this state. Milk, cream, eggs, cheese, lettuce, cabbage, some small tomatoes, peppers, alchemic meat—there were also some apples and blueberries.

I could actually, I could actually prepare a lunch from this, Demi realized in amazement.

She hadn’t realized that the house already had food in it because she had been so tired the evening before that she’d gone right to bed. She’d also been stuffed full of Silktail Sandwiches and cheesecake, and so therefore not wildly curious about food. Besides that, it simply hadn’t occurred to her that this might be a possibility. It wasn’t really a logic that made sense to her, although she supposed a stocked refrigerator appearing out of nowhere wasn’t actually any more unbelievable than an empty refrigerator appearing out of nowhere.

It ended up being a very convenient time for her to make this discovery because the rest of her guests had relocated to the house again, and everyone was ready for lunch.

Demi was still marveling over the food in the refrigerator when Duncan Oakroot came into the kitchen carrying a sizable wooden crate. When Dollop saw that he meant to set it down in the kitchen, the little slime rushed over to take possession of one corner, and together, the beaver and the slime let the crate settle lightly down on the ground.

Dollop is so adorable whenever they’re helpful, Demi thought, leaning her cheek against her hand. It makes me want to squeal!

“Thank ye,” Duncan offered to the slime.

“Piipi!” Dollop answered with a thumbs-up emote.

Eleonore patted the crate, her tail swishing happily.

“When people heard that we were traveling to help build a new farm, everyone in Hollyhain got together and gave their favorite things for this box,” she explained. “It’s our way of welcoming you here, in hopes that we can be good neighbors and good partners.”

“Rushford also prepared some seeds for you,” Duncan said. “And we’ve got some root vegetables for you too.”

Demi was so moved by this revelation: the stocked refrigerator, the crate of pantry staples, and the promise of seeds and root vegetables, that she took both of their hands, her eyes swimming with unspent tears. “Thank you,” she said emphatically. “Now I’m not quite so worried about the future of this farm. I will remember your generosity always.”

At the moment she adopted this weepy pose, Dollop hastened to her side and squished themselves down, their own slime approximation of a bow.

Duncan was apparently embarrassed by this heartfelt thank-you, because he blushed and looked away. Eleonore also blushed bashfully.

“Of course,” she said, her cheeks pink. “We’re happy that of all the places you could have come, you decided to come here. We want you to be welcome. You have the power to influence the world, so if we can help you grow that power, even a little bit, then that’s good for everyone.” She paused, apparently unsure whether to continue. She blushed more deeply and looked at the ground, and her tail swished lightly through the air. “Besides that, you seem like a very kind person. I’m happy to help you because you’re nice. I think we all need to do what we can to care for one another. There are lots of challenges in life.”

Demi squeezed their hands again tightly. “Thank you again,” she said, then took a deep breath before she smiled with all of the happiness that she felt. “Now let’s see about making some lunch.”

the goddess gets cooking

Duncan and Demi unpacked the crate, while Eleonore explained what the different things were. Once they began with the unpacking, it became immediately clear that Dollop also wanted to be helpful, so Demi regularly gave them small things to carry and marveled each time they took them to the correct location and put them carefully away.

The kitchen had a robust pantry space, a whole little room to itself, so it was easy to put all of the items away neatly. The foxes had sent along many wonderful gifts, including tea leaves and coffee beans, and an abundance of different spices. Duncan had whistled as he unpacked the more precious things.

“That’s the power of fox trade routes,” he said. “I’ve never had the pleasure of eating most of these things.”

“Well then, let’s try to make something wholesome and delicious today!” Demi said decisively.

Once the crate from the foxes and the root vegetables were unpacked, Demi decided on what to prepare for lunch. Since there were some fine potatoes from the beavers, she decided to make a creamy potato soup.

Even though it’s a simple meal and easy to prepare, a cream soup with potatoes is filling and feels luxurious, especially if you add a little bit of garnish on each bowl, Demi thought to herself. Just like magic, you can make even a tiny bit of meat feel like a feast!

Potato soup was one of her favorite dishes to have when it was just slightly chilly out. It wasn’t cold outdoors right now, not during the day at least, but it wasn’t warm either. It was still only the third day of spring, after all.

Ver, she reminded herself.

As to why a young lady aristocrat was reasonably experienced at cooking, that was a question whose answer had multiple parts.

First and foremost, her mother had been quite progressive in her thinking. She had been a commoner who married into the aristocracy. Therefore she had encouraged Demi to explore many different skills and hobbies, and cooking was a very practical one. Demi devoured any book she got her hands on, and this naturally included cookbooks. But even novels and storybooks often had scenes with great feasts, charming picnics, or festive dinners.

One can only read about delicious food so often before desiring to make that food oneself.

Additionally, Demi had a desperate love of sweets, and a great interest in them: not only the eating, but also the making. Sweets were like dreams and romances come to life, fancy and whimsy made real, so of course Demi adored them.

She had at first begun by learning how to make cookies as a very small girl in the great estate’s kitchen, with the cook as her instructor. When her mother realized how diligently she applied herself in making those first cookies, she had struck a bargain with her. She could have time during her studies to learn to make sweets from a professional patissier so long as she also dedicated time to learning how to make good, ordinary savory foods.

Something that remains true with regard to aristocrats of all stripes, in all circumstances, is that they are expected to have eccentric hobbies. Of course, they are also expected to have ordinary aristocratic hobbies: training hopelessly expensive racehorses, overseeing ridiculously expansive gardens, gambling extravagant sums of money as if they were nothing—but a true mark of the bluest blood is eccentricity.

Demi’s love of the wilderness and her keen interest in cooking were two of her most presentable eccentricities, but they were far from the only entries in her catalog. In this way, she was truly an aristocrat’s aristocrat: the crown princess of unusual.

So she had studied pastry-making and sauce-making along with elocution, law, history, and mathematics.

Demi would never be a professional chef nor a patissier herself, but fortunately, those had never been among her aims. She simply enjoyed making food for the people she cared about (and this of course also included herself).

And so, this young lady was perhaps better prepared to cook for others than might be otherwise expected.

And she wanted to cook for her visitors. She was grateful for all of the help and support they’d given her so far and she wanted to thank them with something she made with her own hands.

She therefore decided that she was going to make a cream soup with potatoes.

When Eleonore asked if she might make use of the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches, Demi was more than happy to let her.

That meant Demi could focus on preparing the soup.

Around the time they were just getting started, Finella and Tina arrived in the kitchen to help. Finella revealed impressive skill when it came to peeling potatoes, but Tina required a little assistance before her contributions were strictly useful.

Finella and Duncan set to peeling potatoes, meanwhile, Demi brought a chair over for Tina to stand on so that she could watch as things were added to the pot and also add things herself under Demi’s watchful eye.

Dollop hopped and rolled around the kitchen floor between them, consuming potato peels, tidying up any accidental spills, and rolling over to steady Tina’s chair whenever the little girl became a little too enthusiastic.

Demi had some experience minding small girls, because there had been a few Buttercups in her Forest Girls troop by the time she had made Senior Ranger. It was the duty of Senior Rangers to help and look after the younger Forest Girls.

Sometimes it took a little extra time to accommodate an inquisitive little girl, but it was nearly always worth it, when the situation allowed it at all. Demi could not help but see a little of her own self in Tina, looking back at the floury little girl who had worked her hardest to make some simple cookies.

“What do we do first?” Tina asked, leaning against the nearby counter.

“First we make a roux,” Demi answered with a giggle. “And the first step of that is to crisp some bacon and render the fat. We cook the bacon until it gets crispy, and the extra fat melts to become liquid we use for the cooking!” she explained.

Tina nodded earnestly, her eyes wide. She was as rapt as if Demi were sharing the secrets of eternal happiness.

(And inasmuch as creature comforts begat happiness, she was.)

Tina watched with interest as Demi put a small amount of coarsely chopped alchemic bacon in the bottom of the pot and let it fry, the bacon popping and sizzling as it cooked. When it was crisp and the kitchen was just about to begin getting smoky, Demi fished it out with a slotted spoon and sat it aside.

“Add a little butter,” Demi coaxed and Tina gently pushed the two pats of butter out of the ramekin and into the pot, where they immediately sizzled and she jumped in surprise.

“Now it’s time for the onions!” Demi declared, and she brought over a bowl of onions cut into shoestrings that her sous chefs Duncan and Finella had already prepared. Tina excitedly helped her tip the bowl of onions into the pot and giggled as a little cloud of steam puffed up as the onions met the hot fat in the pot.

“Now we let them cook until they get brown and soft,” she explained. “They’ll caramelize.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Tina, tilting her head to the side and putting one hand on her hip.

“It means they’ll become sweet and brown and buttery, like caramel candy,” Demi explained. “The heat makes the water in the onions evaporate and the sugars and carbohydrates change and form new bonds.”

“Ohhhh,” Tina said, one finger slightly inside her still open mouth. Then she brightened. “I like caramel apples,” she said. “And candy.”

“I do too,” Demi agreed resolutely, “After all,” she said as she struck an inspiring pose, her ladle pointed at the sky, (or at the very least, the embossed copper tin ceiling of the kitchen), “Sugar is good for the brain!”

Behind her, to the sound of royal fanfare and the ceremonial boom of cannons, the members of the Council of Demi clambered up on their table to frame her in a majestic collage, each of them brandishing their own signs that reiterated this very important point.

Tina was very inspired and began clapping immediately.

Finella was also in agreement, and cheered along with her, helpfully adding, “That sounds like an excuse to eat cake all of the time! You really are the best goddess!”

Duncan rolled his eyes and gave her a gentle chop on the head.

“You can’t eat cake all of the time,” he lectured dryly.

“I dunno, it might be a holy commandment from the goddess!” Finella suggested pertly.

Duncan leaned his cheek against his fist and gave Demi a fierce side-eye that silently communicated the idea “the goddess is a bad influence.”

“We can’t eat cake all of the time,” Eleonore said mildly, taking a moment out of her sandwich crafting to be the serene and sensible voice of reason.

Duncan nodded, feeling vindicated, when Eleonore giggled once her back was turned again and added, “But we should eat cake at least some of the time!”

“Truly, the princess of Hollyhain!” Demi praised and both of the younger girls cheered, which caused even the tips of Eleonore’s ears to go pink.

At that moment there was a little chiming sound and Demi got a pop-up that the onions had properly caramelized.

Well, that’s convenient, she thought.

When she sniffed the air it certainly smelled as if they had been caramelized. The whole kitchen had begun to smell delicious and buttery.

But it didn’t seem to her that enough time had passed for the onions to completely caramelize. Usually it took between thirty and forty minutes, and they certainly hadn’t been talking about cake and teasing Eleonore for that long.

But when Demi looked, the onions were a perfect golden brown color, and there was wonderful oniony liquid rendered into the pot. I’m not going to complain about that, she decided.

In went some minced garlic, making the kitchen smell even more golden.

“Now we’re ready to make the roux,” Demi explained to Tina.

Demi put the correct amount of flour in a convenient copper shaker she found in the pantry and then let Tina sprinkle the flour over the onions, shaking it to her heart’s content while Demi stirred the onions around so they would be coated evenly.

Demi and Tina watched the flour and onion mixture brown a little more, and when Demi smelled the telltale butterscotch aroma that meant the roux was just right, she gave the signal to Tina to tip forward the water pitcher that Demi was holding for her.

Tina was excited to see the water turn from clear to a milky color on contact with the floured onions, just as if it were magic. Once all of the water had been added, it just took a little stirring for the soup base to become a creamy gravy, even though they hadn’t yet added any milk or cream at all.

“It smells good!” Tina said approvingly and Demi agreed.

“It does smell good!” she said with a nod.

Demi had previously discovered some small frozen pucks of what seemed to be broth in the freezer, and when she examined them, they turned out to be alchemic chicken broth. They were a beautiful amber color when held up to the light.

Thank you, magic refrigerator, Demi praised as she added several of them to the creamy mixture in the pot. Thank you, Hollyhope!

Finding the frozen chicken broth had shaved several steps off the soup-making process.

She and Tina stirred the pot until the stock pucks melted, and the soup looked more like soup and less like gravy. Demi also let Tina throw in a cube of alchemic bouillon like it was a good luck charm, and they both watched it dissolve, swirling it around with the ladle.

Demi had been delighted when Eleonore had identified it from the crate of supplies. Sometimes a bouillon cube was exactly what you needed to make something just right.

With the bouillon dissolved it was finally time for the soup to become potato soup.

With the help of the strong arm of Duncan, in went all of the peeled and sliced potatoes.

While they waited for the potatoes to soften, Demi worked with the others to prepare the toppings: shredding cheese, measuring out sour cream, slicing chives and green onions, and even making some homemade hand whisked mayonnaise, an exercise that left them all in awe of Eleonore, who turned out a beautiful eggy yellow mayonnaise as if it were nothing, enough for a bushel basket of sandwiches and for the liberal garnishing of bowls of soup.

Once the toppings were all finished, they helped Eleonore plate the sandwiches prettily in preparation for lunch, and by that point, it was time to finish the soup.

The milk, sour cream, cheese, and a smidgeon of cornstarch was added to the pot, and Duncan was tasked with stirring it as it thickened, although they all took turns scooting a masher around in the pot and mashing the potatoes until the soup became very thick and smooth.

From that point on, it was simply seasoning and watching to make sure the pot neither boiled over nor began to scorch on the bottom. This was one of the best times of all, because seasoning something properly meant tasting it quite a lot and adding dibs and dabs until it turned out perfect.

Demi seasoned the soup with cayenne and black pepper, paprika, white pepper, garlic powder, and a good dusting of salt. She wholeheartedly believed that pepper was one of the best accompaniments to any sort of potato.

Finally, each bowl of soup was garnished with a little bit of the cooked bacon, a sprinkle of shredded cheese, some fine slivers of green onion and chives and a single little dot of golden mayonnaise next to a spoon of reserved sour cream.

They were perfect. They looked perfect. They smelled perfect, in the way that only potatoes can smell, that irresistible allure that captures hearts and stomachs alike.

I know that they’ll taste perfect, Demi thought as her stomach rumbled. She was absolutely ready to have some soup.

She felt triumphant bringing the bowls of soup to the farmhouse table—or rather, bringing the spoons to the table as she followed Duncan Oakroot, who actually carried the tray, which was quite heavy.

The first meal I ever cooked in another world, she thought to herself.

Soon enough, everyone was enjoying the hearty potato soup and the mild and delicious egg and cheese sandwiches that Eleonore had made. They were a wonderful combination.

Ahhh, it’s like a hug in a bowl, Demi thought with elation as she savored the taste. Potato soup is magical.

Even Dollop was enjoying a bowl of soup, or in their case, a shallow pan of soup, because this was much easier for the slime to consume. They turned a rosy pink while eating, settled on the ground near Demi’s feet.

When Demi had first dished the soup up into bowls, she had realized that it had a status effect: “Food Made with Gratitude.”

This status effect apparently increased vitality.

I’m going to have to experiment to find out exactly how those effects work, Demi decided to herself. What they all are, when they’re added, and how long they last.

It seemed like a sensible proposition.

Although honestly, there ought to be a buff that’s just “Food Made with Potatoes.” It would be super strong. Potatoes are so powerful, she thought to herself.

The other thing Demi had discovered upon completion of the soup was that she made more food than she expected. It wasn’t that she’d made a mistake in the measurements. Somehow, even with the same ingredients, she had made twice as much soup as she had intended.

That’s definitely some kind of goddess effect, she thought. It’s the same as when I cut the grasses and ended up with more than I’d actually cut. Well, that’s handy for feeding big parties, and now we’ll definitely have enough for seconds. It’s a good thing that pot was positively enormous.

She’d have to keep that in mind too, or it might spell disaster when the food she made multiplied out of control and flooded out of whatever pot or pan she used.

The food was gobbled up, and then seconds were called for. It seemed as if her gathered constituents were also fans of potatoes.

the goddess wheels and deals

Once everyone had eaten lunch, the relevant parties all seemed ready to have a discussion. The bowls and plates were cleared away from the table and it now became a site for negotiations.

Both the foxes and the beavers had come to negotiate for water rights.

Foreman Oakroot unrolled a detailed map of the area on the farmhouse table.

The brook that had been born from Demi’s sacred Harvest Goddess spring had lengthened overnight. While Demi had been sleeping, the brook had pushed on, beginning to flow through the dryad forest. As a result, the trees that had already been revitalized by the banishment of the sadgrass were even more robust and healthier than before. The small animals had also begun to recover.

At the moment, Demi’s brook was flowing south from the waterfalls, before it took a turn to the east to flow through the southern part of the dryad forest. This was how the stream would continue to flow if it just naturally followed its course.

But the beavers had another proposition.

“We want you to let us direct the brook to the south instead,” Foreman Oakroot explained. “There’s a blightwood to the south, and it’s one of the most dangerous places in the territory.”

“Blightwood” was what they called a large colony of invasive plants and animals. The sadgrass that had infested Demi’s farm had come from the blightwood to the south. It also seemed to be the source of a lot of dangerous illnesses and parasites for both plants and animals.

The beavers suggested that if her sacred brook was directed to flow south through the blightwood, then that place might be cleansed over time, benefitting everyone in the area.

When Demi asked if she could simply purify it herself by sleeping nearby, the elder beaver shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “It’d be too dangerous to try. And if it were that easy, then the goddess would have already done it, I’m sure. Sending the water through is the safest bet.”

By “goddess,” he certainly meant Hollyhope, who was much more powerful and experienced than she was.

“There’s another reason for wanting to send it south,” Duncan explained. “There’s an old holy spring dedicated to Goddess Hollyhope to the south, near the town of Cradle. It feeds a lake, and that lake also used to flow west into the River Rush just south of the town. Unfortunately, for the last seventy years, it’s been shrinking, little by little. If something isn’t done about it soon, it will dry up. The water there is also blessed, just like the water from your holy spring, and the folks in Cradle depend on it for their crops. It’s the biggest settlement in the territory, so that’s a pretty big problem.”

“We hope that by sending your holy brook south, that if it meets the waters of the Hollylake, it might wake them up, so to speak. Give the spring there a little encouragement to flow,” finished Elder Ashbark, tapping his walking stick against the ground for emphasis.

It sounded to Demi as if the venerable beaver wanted to march down to the sleeping spring and wake it up himself with his stick.

“If we dig a cut and set up a levee, we’ll be able to direct the water south pretty easily,” said the Foreman. “And once it’s flowing south, it’ll naturally carry itself into the Hollylake.”

The foxes had a different desire. They wanted the brook to continue its natural course through the dryad forest, where it would eventually run near Hollyhain Assembly. They had come to ask for rights to trade along the brook, and to move cargo up and down it. It would be easier and safer to go by the brook than by road. They had come this time along a path in the dryad forest, rather than along the road to the south. The road south of the farm ran along the north edge of the blightwood, which made that road very dangerous.

Less cargo could be carried through the forest than by the main road, and special draught animals like Marla had to be used to carry freight along the forest paths, but it was still better than attempting the passage by road, or at least, that was what the foxes declared.

They had also come to negotiate with the dryads about founding a small village in the dryad forest, along the brook.

If the brook was allowed to flow as it would, they would have a much easier time trading with the western dryads and the beavers of Rushford, as well as with Demi and the human town of Cradle.

The dryads themselves seemed willing to accept whatever choice Demi decided on, although it was impossible not to recognize that it would be of greater short term benefit to them to have a blessed stream following through their forest.

They both make really good cases, Demi thought to herself, studying the map. The threat of the sadgrass and other invasive species was real, and Demi had seen the direct consequences of them herself. Surely the blightwood was much worse than the desiccated meadow had been, especially since it was also a hotbed of disease and parasites.

And positive economic development in the area around her was certainly beneficial. The beavers would also benefit by trading directly with the foxes. They could trade for different foods and spices by offering solid beaver-made products, which were apparently always in demand. Beavers could also use the brook’s easterly route to travel to Hollyhain themselves.

It’s a shame that this is an either-or scenario, Demi thought to herself. It would be best if we could somehow make the water run both ways, but if we tried to do that, I have a feeling that there wouldn’t be enough water to navigate going east, or enough to properly purify things going south.

Then she stopped, and thought about it again.

If we just want a navigable channel for trade, then—

“Why don’t we dig a canal,” Demi asked, leaning over the map and tapping on the dryad forest. “I know it would be an undertaking, but if we could dig a canal running east to west, then with locks and weirs for water control we should be able to keep it navigable while directing most of the water south. And a canal is calm and without a strong current, so with an animal to tow a boat, you can easily move a load no matter whether you’re going upstream or downstream.”

The foreman suddenly snapped his tail down three times in a row, which startled Demi.

Oh no, did I make him angry? Demi wondered. I did just ask him to commit to a major civil works project with another community.

Instead, the beaver foreman had begun to examine the map intensely.

“It’s over thirty miles to Hollyhain, isn’t it?” he asked, still leaning over the map.

“As the crow flies,” agreed Izar.

“That would be the longest cut any of my people have ever dug,” he said, scratching at one of his ears absently. “And we’d have to be careful on how we constructed the water control apparatus, otherwise it could end up too dry, or flood areas we don’t want flooded.”

“Well,” Demi said thoughtfully. “It’s already flowing east, right? Why don’t we let it flow east until it reaches Hollyhain. It seems to be making its own channel as it grows,” she said with a vague shrug, an honest indication of how much she understood about the mechanics of the sacred spring. “We can build a control lock here,” she said, tapping the map at the proposed junction. “Meanwhile, your people could be working on digging the cut south. Once the stream has reached Hollyhain, we can start redirecting the main flow south. If we limit the water that flows to the east with the control lock, it should be easier to widen and standardize the eastern flow into a canal.”

At that, Foreman Oakroot sat back and laughed. “Turn me on my tail and knock me over backward!” he exclaimed, then sat forward tapping at the map. “Every day your spring flows, that brook builds up, getting bigger and bigger, with more water flow and power. We intended to direct it south soon, because it’s hard to fight a river when it already knows where it wants to go,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’re telling me that you want to let it go on its course for more than thirty miles, all the way to Hollyhain, and then just turn it on a dime and direct almost all of it south? It en’t like it’s a garden spigot, goddess-missy. That seems like the kind of an idea a goddess would come up with,” he guffawed. “Just let the water cut wherever it wants and then redirect a river once it’s already settled.”

He didn’t seem angry, more astonished than anything.

I guess that does sound pretty ridiculous, when you put it that way, Demi thought with an inward sigh. But I really do want it both ways. Fortune favors the greedy.

“Oh,” Demi said hesitantly. “Will it not work?” she asked.

The Shadowstep Alchemist apparently raised a sunken kingdom, Demi thought, slipping her hand into her pocket to touch the book she still carried for comfort. Shouldn’t a goddess be able to at least redirect a river?

But then Finella hopped up from where she had been sitting on a pillow on the floor and clambered up into a chair so she could see the map spread on the table. She leaned forward, studying it thoughtfully, then turned to Duncan.

“You’ve got a topographic and a geologic, right? I mean from before when the brook started flowing,” she asked.

He grunted and nodded and rolled out two additional maps next to the physical map that was currently on the table. She studied them both carefully, then pointed out a particular spot.

“Elder Ashbark, look here,” she said, pointing. “What about here?”

The older beaver made a low grumbling sound as he leaned forward in his chair, pulling out a pair of spectacles to study the maps where she had indicated.

“Hmmmm,” he murmured noncommittally.

“What if we go fwish swish fwooooosh pika pika pika BOOOM?!” she asked with bright eyes and accompanying hand motions.

Although Demi found this suggestion inscrutable, Elder Ashbark could apparently decode what Finella meant. He brandished a warning finger at her, and if she hadn’t been across the table from him Demi suspected that he might have tried whacking her with his stick. Still, she had given him food for thought. He nodded as he studied the maps, then looked back up at her.

“Do you think that’s possible?” he asked gravely, and Demi felt she could hear what he was actually asking: “Are you sure you can manage something like that?”

But Finella was confident.

“Absolutely! Easy-peasy-springtime-breezy!” she declared, and her positive proclamation seemed to have an invigorating effect on the people crowded around the table.

Look at my little saint go! Demi thought affectionately.

Izar had been studying all three of the maps, and he looked up at Demi, his fingers rattling against the table with nervous energy.

“I think what you’re proposing might actually be possible,” he said. “Especially with your cooperation. No matter how big it gets, It’s still your sacred spring, after all. If anybody can turn it, then you can.”

Demi let out a sigh of relief, drawing her hand out of her pocket.

“Then although it’s a little bit of a gamble, it’s a gamble that I think we can make good on,” she assured. “And I think it’s worth it to take that chance, since it gives us the opportunity to get all of what we want, instead of just one half or the other. I’ll do whatever I can to help, both as a farm girl, and as a Harvest Goddess.”

She turned to the dryads. “The big question is whether you’re willing to let a canal run through the forest. We can do our best to make sure that the plants and animals won’t be disturbed, but a canal will definitely mean more traffic, especially since there will also need to be a towpath for the burden beasts.”

It was Eleonore who spoke up. “If we make a rule that says only mountain and forest draught animals like Tak-Taks are allowed to tow loads on the canal, we can make the towpath very similar to the path that already runs through the wood,” she said. “That should cut down on the disturbance to the forest.”

“And direct access to the waters of the sacred spring will also lead to health and growth in the forest,” pointed out Soa, the gentle conifer dryad. “While at the same time sending water south to purify the blightwood and reinvigorate the Hollylake. I think if we work together with the people of Rushford and Hollyhain, we should be able to create a canal that won’t harm the forest.”

“I ought to have made sure of this before,” Demi said, moving to look at the maps where the prospective junction was. “But do we have the right to develop this area? Do we need to seek permission from anyone, or buy out any land?”

Her question led to a ripple of quiet laughs and chuckles. It was Duncan who kindly pointed out the source of their amusement.

“Ma’am, you’re a goddess. This whole world belongs to you if you say so,” he pointed out.

“Well, I’m not going to claim eminent domain on the entire planet!” Demi insisted.

“Not yet, anyway!” Finella chimed in cheekily. “That’s for later!”

My saint apparently has big plans for the future, Demi thought weakly. There seems to be no question that she’s going to become a great saint, and probably sooner rather than later.

“In a more practical sense, I believe that all of the rights-holders are here in this room,” said Professor Silktail, adjusting his glasses.

Demi let out a breath, feeling relieved.

“In that case, I think we ought to form an organization around the canal project,” she said. “This is a large endeavor, but if we start with clear plans and organization from the beginning, then things should run more smoothly than if we just try figuring everything out as we go along.” She paused, then honestly added, “Although I’m sure there will still be a lot of that anyway.”

“That is wise,” said the Grandmeister, touching his chin. “Even once the canal is finished it will need to have a governing authority.”

Demi nodded. “Someone to determine the rules of use, like which draught animals can be used to tow freight,” Demi nodded toward Eleonore, “Or what kinds of goods can be taken up and down the canal. Even things like tolls for operating costs.” She raised a finger to tap against her lower lip. “Although right now, our main focus should be on determining what needs to be done for the project to go forward. We’ll need accurate information about the flow of the brook as it continues eastward, as well as close monitoring of the conditions at the site of the control lock. I think it makes the most sense for the dryads to be in charge of keeping track of the brook as it runs through their forest,” Demi said. “Of course, please also let me know if I can do anything to help you.”

Soa nodded back at her. “Please allow us to monitor the brook as it flows eastward,” she said, turning to the beaver foreman. “Just tell us the type of information you need and how often it should be updated and we will see that it’s done.”

“I’ll inform the settlers from Hollyhain that the petition to found Hollystep Assembly has been approved,” the grandmeister said, bringing his hands together. “Once the brook reaches Hollyhain, they ought to be able to bring accurate information about its course as they travel along it westward to found the settlement.”

“And meet the dryads in the middle,” Demi said with a nod. She looked to the beaver foreman next. “I think it makes the most sense to put you in charge of preparing the site of the weir and canal lock,” she said. “Everyone tells me that beavers know the most about waterworks, after all,” she finished with a wink.

Her wink might not have been quite as powerful as Hollyhope’s but it did have immediate effects. The beaver foreman’s cheeks got rosy and he looked away briefly, stopping only to slap Duncan hard on the back, with enough force that his son had to stagger forward half a step. This made Finella giggle impudently, but she quickly slipped out of her chair and ducked under the table to be safe from any resulting whacking.

“If ye put it that way, then there’s no way that we can think of letting ye down, can we goddess-missy?” the foreman asked, rubbing at his cheek with his fist. “That’s the pride of the beavers of Rushford on that.”

“I’m glad,” Demi said honestly, then turned her attention to Izar.

“I have to confess that I only know the basics of setting up a canal lock and weir system myself, but I will do my best to make sure that you have the most complete and up to date information about it,” she said. “I think an experienced engineer should be in charge of planning and designing the systems of the lock, although I’m sure the beavers of Rushford will be ready to assist with their wide experience when it comes to building waterworks.”

Izar bashfully scratched his head. “It’s a great honor ma’am. I’d say that I’ve never had the privilege of working on a project with a goddess before, but it turns out, I’m actually pretty experienced at that,” he said with a grin.

Demi nodded, and then her eyes fell on Finella, who had popped back out from under the table once the threat of whacking had passed. Before Demi could even open her mouth, Finella threw up her arms.

“Don’t worry, goddess!” she cheered. “I’ll definitely do all of the fwish swish fwooooosh!” she assured.

“Don’t forget the pika pika pika BOOM!” Demi laughed.

Finella saluted. “Never ever!” she promised.

“If this thing is going to get done, then it’s going to take all of us working together,” said Foreman Oakroot. “But now that I’m thinking about it,” he said, tapping his tail against the floor, “I’m getting excited! I can’t say there isn’t something powerfully attractive about building something that no beaver has built before.”

Izar nodded. “I’m getting that tingling feeling myself,” he admitted.

Grandmeister Fairfox looked down at the map that Foreman Oakroot was studying and gave a short laugh.

“I came prepared for a hard negotiation, but somehow it seems to have turned out that Hollyhain will get the full benefit of the sacred brook, and then will gain access to a developed waterway,” he said, offering his hands up helplessly. “Which is a better outcome than we could have possibly imagined.”

“The beavers of Rushford will also get a new trade route,” pointed out Duncan, “And the ability to direct the main flow of the water south, as we originally wanted. Plus, we’ll gain experience helping to build and manage a new kind of waterworks.”

“The forest will also benefit from the water from the sacred spring, and if the villagers from the new fox settlement agree to learn to practice forest keeping, then we’ll also benefit from more labor for keeping the forest healthy and safe,” said Soa, local area spokesdryad.

“And of course I’ll also benefit,” Demi pointed out with a warm smile. “The land will be able to get stronger and healthier, and increased trade will improve conditions in the whole area. Safe trade routes increase food security and lower the price of goods in general.”

Foreman Oakroot lightly tapped the map again, pointing at the line of blue that represented the brook.

“Have you thought about what to call this stream?” he asked, looking up at Demi.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “Am I the one who’s supposed to name it?” she asked.

“Well, it does come from your sacred spring,” pointed out Duncan wryly. “It makes sense for you to name it.”

“It might be a good time to name your farm as well,” agreed Grandmeister Fairfox.

Demi though about it briefly, but then she knew the answer. It was relatively obvious, once she thought of it.

“This place,” she said, “This place with the waterfalls is Roserain Falls. And the stream is the Rosebrook. As for the farm itself, I think I’ll call it Rosewood, because it’s meant to be a garden in the forest.”

“Then I propose that the name of our new organization be ‘The Rosebrook Canal Authority,’” said Grandmeister Fairfox, who had much experience in both business and government.

“I think that sounds splendid,” Demi agreed.

“And as our first motion, I propose that the Authority’s first president be the young lady farmer, Demeter Serraffield,” the grandmeister proclaimed officiously.

Glimmer, who had remained generally uninterested during the negotiations snapped awake and became animated at the moment accolades were bestowed upon Demi, declaring that of course, there could be no president other than her.

Demi was surprised when she probably ought not to have been and everyone applauded, so she had no choice but to accept the position.

Civil engineering is definitely a Harvest Goddess-like activity, isn’t it? she wondered to herself with the swirling eyes of unexpected consequence.

The system menu apparently thought so, because it awarded her with a lot of experience points.

the goddess, chickens, and a very fine cauldron

After they had reached an agreement, Foreman Oakroot, Izar, the Grandmeister, Elder Ashbark, and Finella all left to go consider the land around the area of the prospective lock. They had been energized by the idea, they said, but privately Demi also wondered if they might have been energized by the soup as well.

Even Eleonore and her father were invigorated, because they set off at once to collect plant specimens in the nearby wood. Professor Silktail was apparently a botanist. Duncan went with them as he was more familiar with the area.

The dryads also divided into two groups: the two elder conifer dryads went south with the surveying party, and the other two returned to the forest. Tina was apparently in great need of a nap.

Before they all left to go in different directions, the founding members of the Rosebrook Canal Authority assured Demi that they would come to her if they needed her assistance concerning canal matters. In the meantime, she ought to get herself comfortably situated on her farm and enjoy herself “doing farming things.”

(This absolutely conjured the goddess’s smiling face in Demi’s mind.)

If she needed anything, if she let them know, they would get it for her.

Hollyhope definitely wants to make sure I stay on task, Demi had thought with amusement. Too bad her tasks are super vague.

Well, that was all right. She had time, after all.

And she decided to use that time to discover her new farm. Dollop remained her constant companion as she explored.

(Glimmer remained roosting on the porch, sunning himself. He would later claim to have been meditating, but Demi was certain that he had been sleeping.)

She first went to check on the chickens Heidi and Harriet. Apart from Dollop, who felt more like a pet, the two chickens were her first farm animals, so she resolved to take extra care as she learned how to handle them. She decided to move books on poultry-keeping to the top of her reading list.

In this world, all domesticated animals were considered shrine beasts. They were respected, revered, and protected as creatures beloved by the Goddess of Life, Hollyhope. In fact, when Demi looked at the chickens, much as with Marla, the identification “shrine beast” was displayed right underneath their names, along with a symbol indicating biological sex, and in smaller letters, “Black Copper Maran” which was the sort of chicken they were.

I wonder about that, Demi thought as she sat with Dollop in the outdoor chicken run, observing the two hens. Her own world also had Maran chickens, just as it had Onagadori. The vegetables, fruits, and flowers that she had so far seen had also been the same. Of course there were differences: this world had talking beaver and fox people, dryads, and of course, slimes, but it still seemed to have a great deal in common with the world she had come from, more than she might have expected, at least.

Apples were still apples. Tulips were still tulips. There was Appenzeller cheese and there were Black Copper Maran chickens. The beavers were even wearing tartan. It wasn’t a plaid-adjacent weaving pattern. It was very obviously tartan.

I suppose that makes sense, she thought. Hollyhope did say that this was “another earth.” Maybe she meant it more literally than I first thought.

Demi spent some time with the two chickens, just getting them used to being around her. Heidi was more curious and friendly while Harriet was a bit bossy. She was more standoffish at first, but once she decided to inspect Demi up close, she did so on her own terms.

What a brassy lady, Demi thought affectionately.

Neither of the chickens seemed to care particularly much about Dollop. They certainly didn’t see them as a predator, and were content to stretch their legs and pick around the grass for snacks, quite ignoring the little slime. That was a relief for Demi, who wasn’t very keen on having to break up a slime vs. chicken battle.

Since the coop had only been built that morning, there wasn’t much in the way of chicken-related chores to be done, so Demi made sure they had ample water and gave them some food, then secured the door and gate to the coop.

After time with the chickens, Demi returned to the house to look it over more carefully. For all intents and purposes, it functioned like a modern house.

As to how it functioned, she was not sure. It didn’t have sewage or water hookups, and it certainly wasn’t being supplied with electricity from an exterior source.

And yet there were light switches and electrical outlets. There was even central heating and air conditioning with thermostats to precisely control the temperature of individual rooms even though many of these rooms also had very aesthetically pleasing fireplaces. She had already discovered that the kitchen worked just as a modern kitchen would, with a gas stove that lit automatically, a hood with a fan to vent smoke and smells, and of course, the charming refrigerator with its rounded, retro lines. The major appliances in the kitchen all appeared to be enameled steel, and they were all the same milky jade color that was so reminiscent of Hollyhope’s hair.

This world is a really cute place, isn’t it? Demi thought to herself. Everything is just so wholesome and cozy.

There was a reason she had thought “Sylv*n**n” when she had first seen the beavers and foxes. They looked like characters from a children’s picture book, whimsical animals wearing clothes. Even Duncan, who looked somewhat intense, looked cute and intense. Elder Ashbark who was grumpy, was cute and grumpy. And of course, that meant Finella and Eleonore, who would have been cute young ladies regardless, were exponentially cuter. Even the chickens that Demi had been so recently spending time with were somehow cuter than ordinary chickens. It was difficult for her to put her finger on it, since they did still look like ordinary chickens, but they were somehow, just a little bit—

They were cuter.

And of course, there was Glimmer. He was certainly gorgeous. Gorgeousness wasn’t quite as powerful as cuteness, but it was still lovely.

This is a good world, Demi thought. A good world, filled with cute things.

Such a world surely deserved her divine protection, no matter what shape that protection turned out to be.

In fact, Demi made another surprising discovery when she was inspecting one of the bathrooms.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was forced to pause.

Am I, she thought, cupping her face with her hands, Am I... Am I cuter than I was before?!!!

That was a very difficult question. Certainly she had been very cute previously, she could say that unequivocally. She had been blessed with outstanding cute genetics, and a great deal of time, effort, and expense had gone into perfecting her cuteness. She took good care of herself and had the benefit of being an aristocrat, which meant she had an essentially limitless budget for cosmetics, skincare, and clothing.

Besides that, she loved cute things, so she spent an immense amount of time image training by thinking cute thoughts.

And yet somehow—

Somehow—

She was cuter. Like with the chickens, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she was somehow cuter. It was as if the small parts of her were a little bit smaller and more delicate, the soft parts of her more squishy and rounded, and everything, everything just a little bit cuter. Her hair seemed to be a richer color, her eyes brighter and more vibrant.

Is this because I became a goddess?!!! she wondered to herself, then ended up cupping her face with her hands again as she rode a cloud of delight into the rainbow tinged skies of elation. Ahh, being cute truly is the most powerful.

Somewhat reluctantly, Demi did leave the bathroom. She couldn’t just stand around contemplating the mysteries of her own cuteness all day long.

(Even though she was sorely tempted to do just that. Demi was, after all, very in touch with her inner rooster.)

But there was another place she absolutely wanted to investigate, and that was her atelier.

Alchemy, she thought to herself as she trotted down the stairs near the kitchen. Alchemy alchemy alchemy~

And when she entered the workshop, she was not disappointed.

Like the rest of the house, the room was filled with warm, beautiful woodwork. There were thick wooden beams across the ceiling, and wainscoting on the walls that was taller than she was. The room was also framed with thick exposed wooden columns. Dollop immediately bounced off to investigate the corners of the room as she stepped forward, admiring the wood and stonework.

I suppose this is what he meant when the foreman said that he’d make the workshop extra sturdy, Demi reflected with a wry inward laugh. Let’s hope I won’t make too many kabooms.

The floor of the workshop was stone, and brick was laid into it in a pattern of concentric circles.

In the center of these circles, as the focal point of the workshop, there was a cauldron.

Ahhhh, when it comes to alchemy, there just has to be a cauldron, right? Demi thought blissfully to herself. If this place hadn’t come with a cauldron, I would have done whatever was necessary to acquire one.

The cauldron was massive. It was more than large enough for her to crawl inside it and hide completely. It was also beautifully decorated with the shapes of leaves and acorns engraved into the metal in bas-relief. Since she had certainly not seen any of the beavers wrestling such a massive thing into the house while building it, she could only surmise that it had arrived with the rest of the furnishings, when she had tapped in the final nail.

Thank you for your blessings, system I do not fully understand, Demi prayed fervently.

It was honestly questionable whether or not the massive cauldron would even fit through the double doors leading back into the rest of the house.

It was a good thing that she had no real reason to want to move it.

Although I suppose I could just put it into my inventory to move it, she realized. That’s convenient. I wonder how big of an object I can actually put in there?

Still. Al~che~my~!

Demi laid her cheek affectionately against the side of the cauldron.

Don’t worry alchemy, she assured. I will come for you, and soon, she promised herself.

Getting to her feet again, Demi was struck by the window before her, standing on the other side of the alchemy cauldron. It was only Demi’s overwhelming preoccupation with the cauldron which could account for her not making a beeline to it immediately, since it was a major focal point of the room.

The workshop was half underground, which meant that any window had to either be quite high, or instead offer the charming vista of a lot of dirt, but this window was full-length, the kind that might have been observed on a greenhouse. In structure it was almost like a reverse bay window, three large panels arranged in a concave U shape.

And in the space provided by that U shape, there was a cascade of clear water rushing by before it gurgled away under the stone floor, bound for the spring cellar.

What a water feature, Demi thought dazedly.

The sound of the rushing water was soothing, and there was even a hand crank on one of the windows which allowed a pane to open, so fresh water could be drawn from the torrent.

Even the basement has a waterfall, Demi thought with warmth, letting her fingertips rest against the glass as she watched the water rush by. This really is the best house.

But as dazzling as the workshop was, there were more things to see, and one thing in particular that preoccupied her the moment she let herself think about it: books, shelves, a library.

The workshop was actually large enough that Demi considered placing the goddess’s lending library down right then and there, but then she stopped thoughtfully.

This was her house. There were more than a dozen rooms.

That meant that there was only one place in the house where those shelves so laden with books truly belonged.

I have to decide which room that I want to make into the library, she thought to herself.

“Come on, Dollop!” she called after the little slime. “It’s time to give this house a heart!”

the goddess and her library

Generally speaking, when considering the purposes of rooms in larger houses, it was best to keep the rooms meant to be enjoyed by both residents and visitors on the ground floor, while leaving more private rooms for the floors above.

When everyone had been working together to decide what the house needed most, Demi hadn’t asked for a purpose-built library room. She might have pretended that this was because even she realized that most ordinary farmhouses lacked dedicated libraries, and therefore to demand that one be installed would perhaps be a little ostentatious but—

The truth was that she had actually begun from the presupposition that the whole house would be her library regardless, as she had later confirmed to Finella immediately before turning her fellow bookworm into a saint. If books overflowed from their cases in each and every room, rising into precarious towers on tables, stacked into corners as if they were load-bearing columns, and piled high enough to become their own bookends, then surely, it would be finer even than a house that boasted five libraries.

Such was Demi’s burning desire and her aim as she wandered through the house, taking stock of different rooms.

Still, even if all of the house was to be her library, that had to start somewhere, a room that was set aside for books and only books: the heart of the house, position zero, the library.

Demi was a great hoarder of books, and felt mildly dragonish about them. It wasn’t that she was unwilling for other people to read the books that were in her collection, she just wanted to protect them. On top of that, for her, reading was a very private activity.

(It wasn’t as if she was fundamentally opposed reading in the company of other people, but experience had taught her to hide for her own peace of mind. When she was discovered reading, she was used to being reprimanded and punished.)

In spite of all of this, Demi remained generous with her riches, and nearly always willing to share what she had with anyone else who loved books in the way that she did.

It comes down to the difference between a library and a private study, she realized. Well, eventually I’m sure I’ll have enough books to fill up a library and a private study, but for now, let’s just move ahead with a library.

There was one room on the ground floor that called out to her, located in the center of the house, almost directly before the front door. It truly was the heart of the house.

“Well, there’s nothing more inviting than a lot of books!” Demi said decisively to Dollop.

“Pii pi pi piii pi!!!” Dollop agreed with a sunny smile.

Having made her decision, Demi paced the room out briefly and then moved to pull the Goddess’s Lending Library out of her inventory. With a little wiggling, she got it oriented correctly and then plopped it down in the corner.

It landed with a satisfying whump, and as it did, something startling happened.

It seemed to grow, shifting slightly to fit the contours of the room, taking into account the high ceiling, and, just, generally expanding in a way that certainly defied the laws of physics.

Demi was so startled by this development that she yelped and jumped, landing directly on her backside. The low angle made the bookshelves look even more impressive.

As she looked up at them, there was no question.

There were more books than there had been before. There were more shelves than there had been before.

This needed an explanation.

She was not upset by the idea that there were now more books in her house. Quite the contrary. She was absolutely over the moon, but she had no earthly idea why there were more books now, and that was something she really, really wanted to know.

If she figured out why the lending library had grown, then surely she could cause it to grow again, and that would mean even more books.

With this thought in her heart, she thundered through the house on her small bare feet and out onto the porch where she startled the meditating (napping) Glimmer who squawked in alarm.

“I need your help!” she declared, then dragged him back to the library without waiting for a response.

Back in the library, he strutted around for a bit, making a show of considering things, then yawned.

“I’m sure that you gained access to more books because you’ve leveled up,” he pointed out practically.

Demi’s eyes shimmered and she looked truly angelic.

“Do you mean to tell me that if I do a good job as a goddess and level up regularly, that I’ll get more books to read?” she demanded of the small, ornamental chicken.

“I suppose,” Glimmer said ambivalently. “I mean, I can’t be certain of it. That’s just my best guess at the moment.”

But Demi had commenced ignoring him the moment he gave her even a vague confirmation, and now her mind was doing cartwheels around the promise of getting more books.

“I’m going to be the best goddess of all!” Demi declared with burning passion.

(Waves crashed against the rocks majestically behind her as the members of the Council of Demi hoisted their flags in triumph, including the one with the pink sheep on it.)

“Pii pi piiiiiiiii!” Dollop echoed, mimicking Demi’s expression and pose.

“All right,” Glimmer said with a chicken-y shrug. “Please do that. I need more beauty sleep.” As he left, he was heard to mutter, “They’re both book-crazed.”

After he departed, Demi turned to look at her library again.

It was immensely satisfying to see it, full to bursting with knowledge, mystery, and insight.

It made her heart flutter just looking at it.

But then she remembered that there was quite a lot she needed to read up on, especially if her aim was to be the greatest goddess of all time.

Right right, she reminded herself. Books about chickens, and books about alchemy. Oh, oh, and books about the geography, history, and politics of this place. It’s not safe to put off learning about that.

In the end, Demi ended up with quite a stack of books, and retired to a convenient built-in reading nook.

the goddess and a lot of research

Demi dutifully spent the evening poring over books. She did her first long spate of reading in the cozy nook, but after a while she moved to the secretary desk that remained a part of her miraculous expanding library. It was much easier to lay the books out side by side for reference on the desk.

(Although nothing topped the floor when there were a lot of references to consider at once, no matter what the shrillest of her tutors had to say about it.)

Demi sat at the desk, her small feet tucked into rungs of the desk chair, and made notes for herself in a notebook that Seri, the dryad with the clipboard, had given her at the close of the canal planning meeting. With a collection of colored ink pens gifted by Eleonore, Demi was able to create pages and pages of color-coded notes.

The notes were admittedly somewhat inscrutable. Demi had fine penmanship and had been taught a number of ornate and calligraphic styles for the purpose of drawing up official documents. The Serraffields were Nobles of the Wand, scholar-bureaucrats who were expert scribes, so she could write quite beautifully.

But when she was producing notes for herself, Demi’s handwriting was much more wild and fluid. She formed the same letters in multiple ways, and while the words themselves were legible to her at a glance, they were not so easily deciphered by others. She wrote at the speed of her thoughts, the letters careening across the page in brilliant ink, as if they were racing. She did pay some attention to the lines ruled across the page, but was equally as likely to ignore them if they did not suit her purposes at any given time.

This meant that the notes she produced were a kind of organized chaos, something she found useful, but which would have probably looked like upside down gibberish to anyone else. But she didn’t really write notes so she could study them in the future. The act of writing the notes helped her to connect and solidify ideas in her mind, so she could come to a better understanding of whatever it was she was trying to understand. When she needed a reminder or refresher, all she had to do was leaf through the relevant pages of her notebook. Just seeing the notes scattered across each page was enough to put her back in the right frame of mind.

(And this uncommon way of taking notes also afforded her with plenty of blank spaces to include charming scribble drawings, some of which were—at least tangentially—related to the notes in their vicinity, but many of which existed purely for the pleasure of their existence: flowers, cute animals, and dresses always being in abundance.)

After quite a lot of reading and checking (and rechecking), Demi had amassed a few dozen pages of illustrated notes and her ideas about several particulars had solidified.

Most importantly, she felt more confident in her ability to properly care for Heidi and Harriet. She learned quite a lot of useful information for a young lady who was ultimately brand-new to sole proprietorship of a henhouse. She already knew that the hens would lay unfertilized eggs even without the presence of a rooster (Glimmer was not interested, thankyouverymuch), but she learned that laying hens could become broody regardless, even with no rooster around. A broody hen wanted to hatch a clutch of the eggs she had laid, which without a rooster would always be unfertilized, and therefore unable to hatch.

I know that would make me wildly frustrated, Demi sympathized.

Heidi and Harriet’s breed of chicken, the Black Copper Maran, were wonderful egg layers but known to become broody every so often. If a broody hen could not hatch a nest of little peeping chicks, she was likely to become depressed or even frustrated and aggressive. Her body would stop allowing her to lay eggs until she could raise some chicks of her own. A chicken-keeper could then introduce a rooster to encourage her to lay some eggs she could hatch or give her fertilized eggs from another hen that she could brood over and hatch herself.

I’ll need to keep a watch on that, Demi decided. And probably look into getting the ladies their own gentleman eventually. You can’t blame them for wanting to raise chicks. After all, we bred them specifically to lay lots and lots of eggs! It’s natural for them to want for at least some of those eggs to hatch into fluffy little chicks.

Maran chickens laid beautiful dark chocolatey brown eggs like the one Demi had put into the refrigerator earlier that day. The eggshells were a deep brown on the outside, but chalk white on the inside, and the shells themselves were sturdier than the average chicken eggshell. Each lady would lay three to four eggs a week if Demi was lucky and she cared for them well, and the color and taste of the yolk of each of those wonderful chocolate eggs would be dependent on the season and the bounty of food that they had access to.

A box without hinges, key, or a lid, yet deep inside, golden treasure is hid, Demi trilled to herself happily. As remarkable as it would be to have a chicken that laid actual solid-chocolate eggs, I can’t wait to enjoy the chocolate eggs my hens will lay. Just looking like eggs made of chocolate will definitely improve their taste psychologically. I need to take very good care of these wonderful birds.

Like any sensible person, Demi was quite ready for chocolate to be a foundational element of her diet, along with carbohydrates and protein.

After studying what was essential for a healthy chicken’s diet, Demi resolved to let the two chickens out to free range around the farm as often as was sensible. There would always be a trade-off between their safety and happiness when it came to the question of letting them range or keeping them penned. The chickens would always be safest in the lovely coop and protected chicken run, but they wouldn’t have as much space to run around and do chicken-y things in there, even though it was a very nice run and their coop was a splendid coop. Letting the hens free range would mean they would be able to find more varied things to forage: different bugs to eat and plants to nibble, and more things to do, so they were less likely to become bored or fussy with one another. But being free-range would expose them to predators: foxes (the ordinary quadrupedal variety) and hawks, and many others besides. Demi decided it was best for them to stay inside the run whenever she couldn’t be with them to watch over them, and to let them out to range whenever she was there and could keep an eye on them (or when there was someone else available to chicken-sit).

She also learned how often she ought to clean out the litter in the coop based on the scheme of composting she was using, the sort of bedding she should put down in their nest boxes to make it comfortable for them to lay, and the purpose of nest box curtains.

(Besides looking cute, nest box curtains gave a hen who was laying eggs in a nest box or brooding over her chicks a little more privacy, and sometimes prevented hens from having a territorial fuss over a box. They also kept cold drafts off laying hens and baby chicks. Stylish and functional!)

Having become more knowledgeable about chicken husbandry, Demi felt she could carry on with her studies. She needed to learn more about the world around her. Fortunately, there were plenty of books on history and culture, so many that it was honestly overwhelming, so she decided to focus on the regions around Rosewood Farm.

Her farm was in the country of Prystir, in the unorganized western territories to be precise. Prystir was a relatively young nation, and if the histories (and light novels) she had read were to be believed, a substantial amount of the land had once been underwater, giving the place the flavor of a legendary lost kingdom, like Atlantis or Beleriand.

Due to the actions of the Hero-King Conri, the Unicorn Queen, and Demi’s own Shadowstep Alchemist, this submerged land had been recovered, the divided lands unified, and the nation of Prystir founded.

Yes, that Shadowstep Alchemist, her Shadowstep Alchemist, the protagonist of the light novel that she was still carrying around in the pocket of her dress, the series that currently occupied much of her leisure time and a great deal of real estate in her brain. According to the histories, the Shadowstep Alchemist had been one of the most influential figures in Prystir around the time of its founding. It wasn’t enough that he was the father of a groundbreaking new style of alchemy; he was also engaged in legendary deeds and nation building.

And he had introduced dozens of social and technological innovations which had helped to propel Prystir to prosperity and to advance society more generally.

“Like the printing press!” Demi had declared out loud, sitting bolt upright when she had read over this detail. She immediately clasped her hands in front of herself, putting the book face down in her lap. “Thank you, Shadowstep Alchemist, for inventing the printing press. I’m sure I have you to thank for facilitating an avalanche of books that I would never have had the pleasure of reading otherwise.”

Glimmer, who had been napping close by, was startled by her unexpected display of piety, and then mildly affronted by it when he determined the recipient.

“Why are you praying to the alchemist?” he demanded. “He’s not a deity. He can’t answer your prayers.”

“It’s just good manners to thank the people that you’re grateful to!” she pointed out. “And I’m very grateful to him for not only inventing the printing press, but also being a driving force behind the establishment of free compulsory education here, and the commensurate rise in literacy that inevitably followed. He doesn’t have to answer any of my prayers. He already did!”

“Well, if you’re happy, then I suppose I’m happy,” Glimmer harrumphed. It was not entirely clear whether he was out of sorts because of her unorthodox prayer or because he had been woken up from napping. Based on the fact that he escorted himself out of the library, she suspected the latter.

That was all right. There were plenty of fine places in the house for a chicken to nap, after all. She was in the midst of important research!

Demi dug up all she could on the Shadowstep Alchemist, attempting to follow his thread through time and history.

But despite her detective work, he remained elusive. None of the history books recorded a name for him, calling him always by his epithet, and he was known for wearing an off-putting mask that concealed the whole of his face. Some of the books even speculated that he was not any single person, but that his work had been carried out by a secret society, which was why he was always masked, so no one could determine who was appearing at any given time.

And admittedly, the sheer number of things the Shadowstep Alchemist was purported to have accomplished was honestly astonishing. If he had accomplished even half of the things he was credited with, then he was deserving of bushel baskets of accolades, at least in her opinion. It was probably unsurprising that some people speculated that it was all too much for any one person to do even in a dozen lifetimes.

But Demi wanted to believe. She was already his fan after all.

And despite the vagueness of the histories, Demi already had a name for her Shadowstep Alchemist: Grey Thornwood.

It was the name that Hollyhope had given to him, and it had already become familiar to Demi, even though it didn’t quite fit perfectly, not in her mind, at least.

It was a nice name. She liked it! But somehow...

I just don’t think he’s a “Grey,” she ruminated pensively, then paused, struck by a sudden thought. But I suppose he would be a “gray” by this point, even if he is a half elf! He’d be over 350 years old! And honestly, “Grey Thornwood” is a very enticing name. Even if it doesn’t feel quite right for him, it’s definitely a name fit for a handsome old man.

Maybe she was just thinking too hard about it. Hollyhope had named him after all.

She would be the one who would know, wouldn’t she? Demi considered. Of course, there’s always artistic license, and the “This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental” get-out-of-jail-free card. I wonder if goddesses have to worry about things like that?

Demi leaned back in her chair and it let out an ancient creak as she rubbed at her eyes. She had been working for a long time.

“I think I’m probably finished for the night,” she observed to no one but herself, since Dollop was already asleep on a pillow on the floor and Glimmer had departed some time ago for the footboard of her bed so he could roost in peace.

She gently woke Dollop up and they both climbed the stairs together to her new bedroom. She read in bed until she could no longer stay awake, and then drifted to sleep in much the same way that she had inside her quaint lean-to.

the goddess and a surfeit of skills

In the time that had elapsed since her very first morning, when she had crafted her flint tools, Demi had unlocked a massive number of crafting recipes. Her level had also grown substantially, and she had even advanced her carpentry skill multiple times, apparently due to the fact that she had “built” her farmhouse and the chicken coop. Although she had only tapped a few nails in each time, she seemed to have still received one hundred percent of the experience for building the buildings.

I guess that kind of math makes sense to a goddess, she reflected with amusement.

This world seemed to be primarily skills-based, or so Demi had concluded based on one singular fact.

She already had fifteen pages worth of skills.

Fifteen pages.

And Hollyhope had said she’d be starting out slowly so she could learn to use her abilities without feeling overwhelmed.

I’m not sure about that one, unless we have very different definitions of that word, she thought to herself.

When Demi had first begun paging through her skills, she’d been excited. She was an avid video game player after all, and loved investigating game systems to develop her own unique play-style. But page after page had left her feeling more and more incredulous, until she had finally just closed the window.

I’ll deal with this later, she decided, feeling exhausted.

Some standouts had been Negotiation, which was already at level 7, Persuasion at 8, and Charm, which was at a whopping 9.

Well, that’s certainly flattering, she decided. Since she hadn’t had any way to examine something as esoteric as a status screen in her original world, she had no way of knowing if her remarkable charm belonged to her personally or was simply a product of becoming a goddess.

Still, a ridiculous amount of charm was a very valuable asset, even if it might also be potentially dangerous.

I hope this level of charm doesn’t make some king appear and demand for me to become his concubine, she laughed to herself.

But she was really only half joking. She didn’t want to be hauled off to a harem, and astronomical charm had the potential to trigger such a flag.

That would be super inconvenient, she resolved to herself.

It would also be a little too much like what she had been facing back home.

Still, the high social skills made sense to her. A great deal of time and money had gone into her education. She had been trained in negotiation and diplomacy, and she had easily had as many lessons in being charming as any professional model or idol. She had learned how to dance, how to be graceful, how to hold herself well, and how to walk in a lovely way. She always knew how to put herself at advantage, and it had been drilled into her so often that she now did it unconsciously, without thinking.

As for persuasion, well, she had been practicing it herself from the time she had first started to toddle around and began getting herself into trouble. It was very useful for a girl with a mild penchant for naughtiness, particularly one who enjoyed the company of those with a stricter nature.

Even the music and performance skills made sense. She could play the piano and the violin, after all, and she enjoyed singing.

But when it came to the combat skills, she was simply confused. She had very high skills in ordinary archery, arcane archery, and marksmanship. She had similarly high skill in maces and staves. She had no idea where that had come from. She’d never had any formal weapon training in her life. She also had a solid unarmed hand-to-hand combat skill, which was equally perplexing. She had practiced tai chi as a form of fitness, but it didn’t seem possible that this experience had somehow translated into a 4 in martial arts. Based on what she understood from the tutorials and additional reading, 4 was a high enough skill to become a teacher.

I guess that skill might be the reason I was able to pull off those crazy kung fu moves in the fight with the Leggity-Leg, she pondered. Still, that doesn’t explain where it came from. Was I a kung fu master in a previous life?

But it wasn’t really that surprising that she was already 10 with book weapons.

Demi had never used a book as a weapon, and the thought appalled her because of the damage it might cause to the book, but she had spent so much of her life with a book in her hands that she was more than willing to believe that this experience might somehow translate into weapon mastery.

And she had certainly handled books in the past that were heavy enough to serve as weapons.

But the rest of it—Demi had no idea. Possibly it had just come along with being a goddess.

I guess it’ll be useful if I ever find myself in trouble again, she decided thoughtfully. Although I hope that most of the battling I’ll be doing is with weeds in the garden.

She had no desire for a rematch with anything even remotely resembling the Leggity-Leg.

Wait, she thought, pausing for a moment to stare incredulously. How on earth do I have a 10 in medical? That can’t be from learning first aid and having CPR training.

Like the magic and combat skills, she suspected that it had come along with being a goddess. Hollyhope was the Goddess of Life along with being the Harvest Goddess, and even if Demi had not yet qualified for this title in the estimation of the world system, if they were doubles of one another, then that might go quite a way toward explaining the ludicrous number and level of her skills.

Still, even if she hadn’t the first idea where her medical skill had come from, she did appreciate it. There were an untold number of circumstances where medical knowledge might make the difference between a tragedy and a happy ending.

But most of it, the combat and magic skills in particular, Demi wasn’t ready to deal with. She had been very excited about the opportunity to use magic (because honestly, who wouldn’t be excited about that opportunity? Nobody, agreed the Council of Demi, although one dissenting individual held up a sign that said, “Liars.”)

But nowhere in the mountains of books Hollyhope had left with her was there any reference material even beginning to explain what the large majority of her magic skills did, and how she might begin to use them. She had tried many different approaches, primarily informed by books and anime, but had so far not succeeded.

(Well, she had succeeded in causing Glimmer to laugh. He hadn’t been able to provide her with any more effective solutions, however.)

Not even Elder Ashbark had been much help when she had shared her problem, despite being the most wizardly person she had thus far met.

“That’s beyond me, young lady,” he had confessed.

The critterin apparently had different ways of handling and thinking about magic than humans and elves. They even differed greatly from one another: A fox critterin that could use magic generally did so in a different way than a beaver did. Based on what she had read and on speaking with Elder Ashbark, Demi had come to understand that the magic that the animal peoples used was primarily what they called “knack”-based magic. Certain individuals were born with certain special abilities, and these abilities were called “knacks.” You couldn’t learn a knack if you didn’t have the potential for it to begin with, but you could practice and study the knack to get more proficient at using it. This was the kind of magic Elder Ashbark used himself. In beaver reckoning, he had the knacks for Eabar, Uisge, and Fiodh rune magic, in other words, mud, water, and trees.

Occasionally there would be rare talents among different critterin populations who were what they called “doubly blessed” who could use knack-based magic along with the Ars Magna, the schools of magic that humans had originated. Finella was one such person, in addition to her other talents.

But alas, Finella could not offer Demi much advice about her specific skills, since they were quite a bit different than the beaver girl’s. Finella had not yet studied the Ars Magna under a tutor, so what she understood herself was limited and largely based on feeling her way through it.

“So, you go ‘nyooooym’ to gather the power into yourself, and then you say the words, but you have to understand what they mean. Then you push it out like ‘fsssssssh’ and that’s how magic happens,” she had explained.

Although it had not been useful in furthering her understanding of magic, Demi still felt blessed to have had an adorable beaver girl attempt to teach her how magic worked through onomatopoeia.

Demi decided to push the larger conundrum of magic to the side for the moment, and focus on planting and caring for a garden.

It was hard to escape the common-sense logic that growing crops was surely Harvest Goddess related, and therefore a suitable thing for a Harvest Goddess to try her hand at.

So she had flagged the skills that she generally understood, and guessed would be most likely to be of use to a Harvest Goddess, and sorted everything based on this criteria, so the farming-related ones appeared on the first two pages.

Although I guess by Hollyhope’s logic everything can be Harvest Goddess related so long as I believe it is, Demi thought wryly.

the goddess and her garden

True to her list of priorities, one of the first things that Demi did on her path to becoming the greatest goddess of all time was work to discover how she could change her clothes in the way that Hollyhope had, with all of the flourish and convenient style of a magical girl. She still only had two sets of clothing to alternate between: her pajamas and her charming alpine dress, but she was bound to get more in the future, she reasoned. Besides, two outfits were enough outfits to change between. She might as well enjoy the changing.

Although she had not yet advanced far enough to produce her own lovely clothes, her investigation of the system menus attached to her status screen revealed a configurable list of outfits. Once she set her daily dress as one listing, and her pajamas as another, she was able to trigger a very satisfying changing sequence, complete with sparkles, twinkles, chimes, and flower petals.

Demi never got tired of experiencing it, and when she was on her own sometimes delighted in switching back and forth just for the thrill of doing it.

More responsibly, one of the second things that Demi did was plant a garden.

As Foreman Oakroot had said, the front of the house got excellent light exposure, so it was a good place to begin her cultivation, especially as she was learning.

And Dollop was more than willing to help her, although Glimmer, being ornamental, generally assisted by...being ornamental and observing their progress from a comfortable perch on the porch, shielded by the canopy of honeysuckle and wisteria that was already quite gloriously arrayed atop the pergola.

“We don’t need a big expanse of finely manicured lawn,” Demi declared to Dollop as she looked over the prospect from the front of the house. “I’d rather have a garden filled with color and interest and lots of tasty things to eat!”

“Pii pi pi!” agreed Dollop, bouncing up and down.

At first, Demi considered dividing her gardening space into three general sections: an herb garden, which contained both cooking and medicinal herbs; a vegetable garden; and a flower garden. That was how most of the gardens had been managed at the great estate house Forest Home: dozens of walled gardens—the practical, like kitchen gardens, herb gardens, fruit orchards, formal hedge mazes, rose gardens, water gardens, and walking gardens, and even the private, the little spills of color right outside of sitting rooms or secreted away at the end of snaking stone paths.

Demi loved green growing things and had always taken special delight in the secret gardens of her youth, the ones that seemed especially hidden away and private. Being in such a place was both calming and thrilling at once, peaceful and invigorating. As a girl, she had always played pretend that those gardens were hers especially.

Of course, being the sole surviving heir to her family’s seat and fortune meant that all of the gardens were technically hers, or at least, that they would be hers someday, but as a girl she had had little say in what was done with any of them. The most influence she had had was to ask very nicely if something that she liked could be planted or to beg for her own little corner, a bit of earth of her own to poke about in.

So as silly as it might have otherwise seemed, Demi was very excited at the prospect of growing whatever she wanted in just the way that she wanted. This was a freedom she had never really enjoyed, not to this extent.

Although she had wheedled her way into possession of a few corners at the estate, almost all of the gardening, even of those little corners, had been managed by the very competent professional gardening staff. Particularly as time went on, she had had so much work and so many lessons that she had never really had time to properly consider even those little corners her own, although she had always gotten a great deal of pleasure and happiness from visiting them, regardless.

So much had happened so quickly that Demi still felt her head reeling from it, honestly. She had landed on her bottom in a field of noxious grass, and had thrown herself wholeheartedly into survival, putting together a camp to keep her safe at night. Then she had turned around to find herself the sole mistress of a huge home in the midst of sunny, flower-filled meadows, and the president of an organization that was committed to completing and then managing a major public works project that was soon to be underway nearby.

Now that she was no longer sleeping in a house of sticks and fretting over whether she would be able to find water, she had time to reflect on her situation.

She could do what she wanted.

Of course, she still had responsibilities, and she had already committed to helping with the canal and the weirs and water locks, but this was really more freedom than she had ever had in her life.

Even deciding what flowers to plant in her garden, that felt like an incredible treasure, something that ought never to be taken for granted. There was no one watching her, no one to correct her, or forbid her, or rein her in.

She could do what she wanted.

And she would.

She would do exactly what she wanted.

Beyond the practicality of growing food, beyond the sensibility of doing “Harvest-Goddess-related things” because she was a Harvest Goddess, Demi wanted to plant a garden. She wanted to see what she could grow.

And of course, it did not escape her that by growing her own vegetables and fruits she would have more exciting ingredients to cook with. It would be fun to experiment to see how her new powers affected the food that she grew. If she grew the ingredients herself and then used them in recipes, would the result become more potent? It was an interesting question. It was possible that she might be able to make the most powerful potato soup that the world had ever seen. That was fun to think about purely from an intellectual perspective, but additionally, such a powerful soup would surely also be powerfully delicious. Demi wasn’t a glutton, but she was a sensualist and she loved food. She wanted the chance to share such a delicious treat with her friends (as well as herself).

She had a lot of possibilities to choose from when deciding what to plant.

The beavers had brought plenty of root seeds, seed potatoes, onion seedlings, and even some sweet potato slips. Beavers were apparently great fans of root vegetables, which formed the bedrock of beaver agriculture and cuisine. The foxes had supplemented with some additional spring vegetable seeds, so she had a good selection when it came to vegetables to start—much more generous than a single bag of turnip or parsnip seeds.

She decided to begin by planting short rows of each of her chosen root plants. She thought it would be more interesting and instructive to plant a small number of many different kinds of plants rather than a large crop of a single type. This was a home garden after all. It wasn’t as if her farm was a business. She didn’t need to really consider what was the best decision from a financial perspective. She didn’t have any bills for upkeep, no taxes to pay (that she knew of at least), and no current need for any substantial amount of funds, since they hadn’t actually needed to purchase any land for the canal project. The beavers and foxes had worked together to build her an absurdly huge farmhouse. They had built a chicken coop for her, brought her chickens, stocked her house with provisions and seeds, and were planning to build a barn for her. They had even offered to run her errands for her and get her anything she required that she did not already have. Demi had absolutely no complaints as far as any of that went.

It was too much, really.

I need to think about what I can do to help them, she resolved.

Still, it had been an enormous amount of help.

I guess being a goddess really is like playing on easy mode, Demi reflected. I mean, it makes sense that it would be. There’s a reason that those modes are called “god mode.” I guess I just didn’t expect that I’d have such a generous start. I’m really grateful to everyone who has helped me since I got here. I want to make sure that I help them as much as I can to repay their kindness.

She wanted to give more than she got. She needed to.

In terms of her nonexistent bankbook, at some point, she probably would have to start considering her expenses and work to develop a few streams of income, but at the moment, it wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Right now, what was most important was learning about the logic of the world, learning about her powers, and learning exactly what “being a goddess” really entailed.

She also wanted to do her part in the development of the canal and the water lock, and to help the new fox settlement, Hollystep. Those were her projects too, after all, and she needed to be free to help when her help was required.

In her considered opinion, it was a perfectly rational decision not to plant an immense number of vegetables, even though she had the space and resources to do so. She didn’t want to feel chained to the garden, doing nothing but caring for dozens and dozens of parsnips all day long.

She also didn’t want to end up stuck eating nothing but parsnips for a month.

(Of course, she did have plenty of other food in the house at this point, but Demi knew that she would feel guilty not making use of the first crops she’d grown in this fantasy world.)

It was when she was practically laying out the space for the gardens that she found herself pondering something. She had planned to lay out an ordered garden, one like the ones she knew from home, with clean, measured rows of vegetables, like with like, in different boxes and beds.

But was that really the way she had to do things? Was it even the best way to do things?

Perhaps it was at Forest Home, where the great gardens produced the fresh produce for the estate house: the herbs, cut flowers, apples for cider, nuts for roasting, and many other things besides. There was an impressive team of gardeners there outfitted with every imaginable modern convenience. The gardens were ordered according to tradition, and that worked at Forest Home.

But there was no reason that she had to do things in the same way, not here.

Of course, she had no intention of throwing down seeds willy-nilly. She was all for experimentation, but experimentation could come after she had gained some practical experience. Still, there was something she wanted to try: companion planting.

Companion planting was a traditional form of gardening that matched different plants together so they could help one another. She had learned about the three sisters as a little girl: maize, squash, and beans, and several of her new farming books had suggested additional combinations. Planting garlic among the root vegetables helped ward away flies and beetles. Sage around the carrots would keep away carrot flies, and one book had nothing but glowing praise for nasturtium. Tansy and dill would help attract beneficial insects, and borage and parsley would bring bees and other pollinators.

She could still have areas with lots of herbs, and others with flowers, and with vegetables; it just wasn’t as cut-and-dried. There would be a little bit of everything everywhere, so things could be where they needed to be to flourish.

I’ll plant the things that make me happy, she decided.

But it was probably wise not to get too carried away. She was generally planning on around five mature plants per row for the larger vegetables, and then a small plot for radishes and carrots, where they could be pulled easily either when they were young or when they were fully ripe.

One of her farming guidebooks had taught her that radishes would be the quickest to mature, and she already knew that it was best to plant a lot of carrots and then thin them as they grew, enjoying the baby carrots as they were thinned.

Anything too small and thin to eat could be gifted to the forest animals, who seemed to be recovering well due to the influence of the blessed spring. Demi had already seen bunnies multiple times, along with mice, squirrels, and many different kinds of birds.

They were as welcome on her farm as any of her other new friends, and she was happy to see them doing well.

the goddess’s moment in the sun

Before she could really get to planting, Demi needed to make the other flint farming tools she had passed over in the beginning. She couldn’t break up the soil and aerate it without the proper tools.

It seemed that the tools that she made herself, even those made of flint and deadwood, were blessed tools, and much more powerful than even those that might be had from a master blacksmith. They would continue to grow along with Demi, becoming more powerful the more that she used them.

In fact, the hammer, axe, knife, and shovel had already begun to become subtly cuter. The colors of the tools were changing gradually, and in several places there seemed to be wooden flower buds.

It’ll be something when wooden flowers bloom, Demi thought wryly to herself. But I expect that is absolutely what’s going to happen eventually.

So she went to the flint outcropping and made the rest of her basic tools, apart from the watering can.

That, the dryads brought themselves and offered as a housewarming gift.

It was beautiful and gave the impression that it had been made from living leaves, but once handled, it felt like metal, perhaps copper gone a beautiful viridian from age and weather. It, like so many of the other tools she had used, seemed to have its own secrets. It could apparently hold much more water than it first appeared to hold, while at the same time being lightweight and easy to carry.

—which Demi was absolutely grateful for. She had helped with the gardening enough to know exactly how heavy a three-gallon watering can was when it was filled with water, especially for a young lady whose activities generally included reading and reading.

***

After patiently checking through the huge number of crafting recipes that had been unlocked by her current crafting skill level, Demi found a recipe for raised beds.

So she obtained some dry wood from the dryads, and along with the already fertile earth near the blessed spring and some mulch she created from the rich loam in the forest, she constructed a raised bed for her onions and another where she planted the carrots and radishes.

But just when she was about to begin farming in earnest, she looked up at the sun, shielding her eyes with her hand. It was a bright, clear day, and the sunlight was warm on her exposed skin.

And that made her stop and think about something she had not yet considered.

Glimmer was contentedly sunning himself on the porch, so he was conveniently available for interrogation.

“Glimmer, who should I ask to get some sunblock?” she wondered, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully. “I thought maybe from the foxes, since they’re traders and have a lot of different goods, but since they’re all furry, maybe the sunblock they have wouldn’t be suited for me.”

Glimmer blinked at her sleepily. “What on earth are you talking about?” he asked. “Why would you want to block out the sun? That sounds absolutely nefarious.”

Demi rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to block out the sun, or I suppose I do, but not in the way you’re implying. I’m asking where I should get sunscreen.”

“You mean like a parasol?” he asked, titling his head to the side. “I suppose they can be charming accessories. That young fox lady, Eleonore, she has one, I believe. I’ve seen her strolling about with it when she goes off drawing plants in the woodlands. The foxes probably are the right choice.”

“Ah, no,” Demi said, shaking her head, her hands fluttering in the signal for “you’re out.” “Not like a parasol or even like a big hat, although those are very useful ways to protect yourself from the sun. What I’m talking about is a kind of lotion that you rub on your skin that protects it from the sun, from sunburns and skin cancer.”

At home, Demi never went out of doors without sunscreen on. It was just good sense, and one of the most important things a person could do to keep themselves healthy and looking their best. No matter what expensive creams and elixirs a person put on their face to keep their skin clean, clear, and soft, all of that was immediately undone if they didn’t also put on sunscreen.

That was a true fact of life that Demi was more than ready to hang her hat on.

It was possible that this world didn’t have sunscreen, at least not in a form she was accustomed to. It was a relatively modern invention, after all. Still, it didn’t hurt to check. She felt a little guilty for neglecting to consider that she needed sunscreen, even when she had been running around building the lean-to, crafting tools, or helping with the construction of the house: all activities that would have benefitted from sun protection. She didn’t even have a sun hat. As charming as her triangle katyusha was, it wasn’t doing anything about the UVA and UVB rays that were currently raining down on her.

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, Demi comforted herself. At least I remembered it this time.

But Glimmer remained somewhat incredulous.

“You don’t need some kind of lotion to protect you from the sun. You’re a Harvest Goddess. You won’t get a sunburn no matter how long you stand out in the sun,” he pointed out, as if this information ought to be obvious.

Oh, well, that’s reassuring, Demi thought. And convenient. I’m glad to know that I’m not going to develop any surprise dark spots or sunburns. Still—

“How do ordinary, non-goddess people prevent sunburns and sun damage?” she asked curiously.

This was a farming world. Everyone was always outside doing gardening and farming work. The answer might be as simple as “cover up,” but in case it wasn’t, Demi wanted to know to satisfy her own curiosity.

“They ask for a blessing from the goddess Hollyhope,” Glimmer said frankly. “It’s something everyone does if they expect to be doing labor outside. It’s a novice level prayer so anyone can do it.”

“Oh,” Demi said, blinking, having received an answer she was not expecting.

That’s such a fantasy-world answer, she thought with amusement.

But then she stopped.

“Isn’t Hollyhope resting right now?” she asked. “Can she grant blessings and answer prayers even while she’s asleep?”

The chicken nodded.

“Any prayers that have been already registered into the system and given approval are answered automatically,” he explained. “If she had to answer all of those prayers and blessings individually, then I’m certain she wouldn’t have time to do anything else. So routine prayers and blessings are granted automatically. It’s only unique and nonstandard blessings that the goddess has to answer actively.”

“I see,” Demi said thoughtfully. Then she thought about things a little more.

“Hollyhope is exhausted right now, isn’t she?” she asked, leaning her cheek against her hand. “That’s why I was summoned. That’s why she’s sleeping, right?”

“Correct,” answered Glimmer, seeming uncertain of where her questions were heading.

“Well, even if a sun protection blessing doesn’t take much energy, if everyone is making them almost every day, that must add up,” she pointed out.

“Ahhh,” he said with a wise nod. “Yes. I’m sure that common blessings like this do constitute some burden on her. It’s not really an issue under normal circumstances. What would you suggest? That people stop asking for sun protection and simply deal with the consequences themselves?”

She waved him off.

“No, no,” she said, but then reconsidered. “Well, something like that. If people used a safe, mineral-based sunscreen instead of asking for a blessing, then it could take some strain off of Hollyhope and allow her to rest more easily,” she pointed out. “It’s about redistributing the cost of the blessings, not doing away with the protection.”

“Well, I can’t say that that’s a bad idea,” Glimmer said, considering things himself. “Still, I’ve never heard of this ‘sunscreen’ lotion you keep talking about.”

“It’s possible that it doesn’t exist in this world yet,” Demi agreed. “Since people can gain protection from sunburns and weathering with a simple blessing, I’m sure that no one’s spent the time to research it, or if they have discovered it accidentally, it’s been deemed to be pointless. I’m going to do some research and talk to other people about this. If this might be able to help Hollyhope, then I’d like to try.”

“Ahh, such a good girl,” Glimmer cackled, sincerely moved as he took a dramatic pose. “Surely, I have raised you very well.”

“Thank you for all of your incredible guidance,” Demi answered with a giggle.

Then, assured of her sun protection and with a new puzzle to ponder, Demi set to gardening.

the goddess’s garden grows

Demi took her time with planting, laying everything out carefully, pairing up the plants who were most likely to end up good friends and beneficial to one another.

Dollop hopped along beside her, helping her move things, clearing the ground for tilling, and fertilizing the soil. They could even water the ground if they first took in some additional water.

“You really are a farmer’s best friend!” Demi praised, and Dollop turned rosy as a result, offering a happy triangle smile.

There was a lot to learn, and there were many things that she was doing for the very first time, so she appreciated the company.

It wasn’t quite as simple as clearing the ground of grass, throwing down some seeds, and making sure they were watered. The potatoes, for instance, required special handling.

She took the time to properly plant them, checking in her books several times to be sure of how it was done.

It would be so embarrassing to be known as a Harvest Goddess who can’t plant potatoes properly, she thought to herself.

After all, potatoes were something like a miracle crop, serving as a staple food for many cultures.

She was a great fan of potatoes herself.

“They’re so powerful,” she happily repeated to Dollop as they worked.

Of course Dollop agreed with her.

So she carefully cut the seed potatoes and prepared them for sowing, letting them cure for a couple of days in a warm spot in the sun.

Then she planted them. They would need to be hilled once they sprouted, and she made careful note of that. She had never grown potatoes entirely on her own before.

After planting most of her vegetables, she moved on to her herb garden. There were many herbs that she was immediately familiar with from her own world, but then there were also herbs that seemed to be entirely unique to this place.

She was not familiar with the Arcane Pea, for example, but there it was in her guidebook, looking like a vibrantly colored sweet pea plant. There was also Witch’s Catmint, Serene Vervain, Mystic Vervain, Midnight Primrose, Salamander Turmeric, and Moonrise Lavender, among others.

In fact, there were so many flowering herbs that she sometimes had to make a critical decision about whether to put them in the flower garden or the herb garden. In the end, she decided that if she planned to use them primarily for cooking or medicine, she would plant them in the herb garden, and if she meant them for looking at or making flower crafts, then they belonged in the flower garden.

Among her skills of dubious provenance was pharmacology at level 5. Although she did not yet have any skill with alchemy, she hoped that her mysterious levels in pharmacology might be of some assistance as she tried to learn.

Maybe that might help with making sunscreen too, she hoped.

She was absolutely committed to learning both kinds of alchemy, and fortunately, there were now quite a lot of useful books on the subject in the goddess’s lending library.

But before she could begin in earnest to study alchemy, she needed to at least get her garden planted.

As she planted, she discovered that some of the plants of this world had growing conditions or planting windows that were different from the ones of her own world, even if the plant itself seemed essentially identical. She always took the time to consult her books before she planted anything.

But by the end of the first week, her little garden was planted and growing well.

Of the skills that Demi had short-listed, there was one magical-sounding skill that seemed most applicable to her current activities, and it was one that Elder Ashbark and Finella could help her with, because beavers practiced their own form of it, as did almost all of the sapient peoples of this world.

It was called Earth Blessing.

At first Demi had been reluctant to use it, worried about the additional strain it might put on Hollyhope, but Glimmer had assured her that it was paramount that she gain experience as a Harvest Goddess as quickly as she could, that by doing this she was helping Hollyhope rather than hindering her. Besides, the chicken had noted somewhat vaguely, use of this blessing was unlikely to affect Hollyhope’s reserves at all.

That was enough for Demi. She did really want to use magic after all.

And it ended up being...well...magical.

The first time she had stood among the plants in her garden and spoken the words, “Oh great mother, we thank you for this blessing,” she had gotten tingly all over and shivered. The plants in the garden had shimmered in an encouraging way, sparkling green and gold, and then they had grown substantially bigger.

It was as if she’d suddenly fast-forwarded through two weeks of growing time on a time-lapse camera.

It was so surprising and exciting that it made her do a dance of glee in her bare feet, jigging about the garden, turning and laughing with Finella as they celebrated her success, with Dollop bouncing around them.

Having done it once, she of course immediately did it again. And again. And again. And again.

She could apparently do it essentially limitlessly. It did not appear to be draining her energy reserves at all. In fact, she seemed to be actively gaining a lot of experience each time she did it.

I mean, this the most harvest-goddess-like activity that I can imagine, Demi had decided almost immediately.

The first time through, Demi only remembered to hill the potatoes one additional time, but on subsequent turns, she took the time to hill the potatoes, to thin the carrots, to weed the garden, and do all of the other things a responsible gardener did, even as she gardened on fast-forward.

Despite her missteps, her first harvest was quite substantial, and even the parsnips were grown and ready to be pulled by the tenth day after her arrival.

As she admired the bevy of her fruitful harvest, Glimmer had sashayed up and made this suggestion.

“Everything you don’t plan to use immediately or give to friends, you should throw into the pool,” he said, as if this were a very obvious and sensible pronouncement.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Demi had asked, putting her hands on her hips, mildly affronted. “That’s littering, not to mention a waste of food!”

Glimmer clicked his tongue (an amazing feat for any chicken) and shook his head. “Oh, my little goddess, you misunderstand. Of course you shouldn’t throw things into random streams, but this is your holy spring! Anything you throw into that pool immediately gets converted into magical power and experience for you.”

That had stopped Demi cold, and her eyes had widened.

“That sounds dangerous! I’ve been letting Tina and Finella play by the water! What if they had been accidentally turned into experience?” she demanded, ready to shake Glimmer for withholding this vital information.

“Ahhh, don’t worry, my little goddess,” he assured her, fluttering his long eyelashes. “Of course it doesn’t convert people or animals. But it will convert many other things, most especially the produce from your farm and the forage from the surrounding areas.”

Demi let out a great sigh of relief, visibly slumping. The idea that either Tina or Finella might have been accidentally gobbled up by her spring was honestly terrifying, and seemed to better fit the MO of a horror world, rather than a whimsical farming world.

But Glimmer’s advice turned out to be sound. The first time she threw a parsnip into the pool, she had been a little skeptical, but then it had shimmered for a moment before completely disappearing, and she felt a small tingle again. When she looked, her magic-related stats had indeed gone up.

From then on it was something of a positive feedback loop. She grew things in her garden with the use of the blessing spell, which increased her levels, then put most of her harvest into the spring to raise her magic power and experience.

She carried on this way for eight days straight, and only then did she decide that the time had come to investigate her other skills a little.

She had already harvested a good quantity of medicinal herbs and alchemic ingredients from her garden, but there were others that were only found in the wild.

The Rosebrook had already made its way deep into the surrounding forest, so the dryads told Demi that the forest had recovered enough for sustainable harvesting. Finella and Tina both volunteered themselves to be her guides in the woodland.

At first Demi had found the offer charming, but not necessarily efficient, but then it turned out that Tina was an excellent guide, despite being so young, because she was a dryad. And although she had not been born locally, Finella also had already learned a great deal about the useful plant life in the area. Much of what was used for human medicine and alchemy was also used in beaver medicine and ritual magic.

And so the five of them spent several days gathering in the adjacent woodlands: Demi, Finella, Tina, Dollop, and Glimmer. At first, Demi had been somewhat surprised by the fact that Glimmer wanted to tour the forest with them (from a perch on her shoulder, naturally), but he had simply announced again that it was his duty, his joie de vivre, to act as her holy beast advisor and companion.

(It also turned out that he enjoyed many kinds of forest berries, especially when they were freshly picked.)

the goddess thinks too much

It had been a long day. It had been a long several days, really. Growing things in the garden was exciting and interesting, and there was no question that Demi currently enjoyed more freedom than she had ever had before in her life.

She loved spending time with Dollop as she went about her day. She loved Glimmer’s often questionable advice and how much of the day he spent either preening or “meditating.”

She enjoyed looking after Heidi and Harriet. Both of the chickens had their own endearing personalities. Heidi was sweet and a little goofy. More than once she had made her way up onto the porch swing and laid an egg on one of the cushions there. Fortunately the eggs had all been found before they had been sat upon, and now Demi had an alert set to tell her whenever a fresh egg was laid and where she might find it. As far as Demi could tell, it wasn’t that she disliked her new home in the coop or the nesting boxes there; she just liked being sociable (and it was possible she had a crush on Glimmer, who often “meditated” on the porch).

Harriet, on the other hand, was always watching Demi’s every move whenever she was in the garden. Harriet had made many surprised clucks the first time Demi had performed the Earth Blessing prayer, but the hen had by now gotten used to it and invited herself in to enjoy small sprouted vegetables and weeds whenever Demi was in a lull, doing things like hilling the potatoes or thinning the carrots. They had an understanding: “You can eat these so long as you don’t eat those.” It was an arrangement that worked better than might have otherwise been expected.

And the canal project was progressing apace. Every day different people involved with the project stopped by to give her updates, or to ask questions, or get approval on decisions as they moved ahead with monitoring the brook and preparing the sites for the fox settlement and the water lock. Being the president of the Rosebrook Canal Authority was more than a ceremonial position, and Demi found herself drawing up paperwork, organizing records, and even creating summaries so the different groups involved could all stay up-to-date with what everyone else was doing.

In particular, research in the Goddess’s Lending Library occupied a significant amount of her time and mental energy. She had promised to get Izar the most complete and up-to-date information about the mechanical and engineering aspects of the canal project, and she did her best to make good on that, taking detailed notes, summarizing key points, and even producing her own pen-and-ink drawings when that was necessary. This all fell in line with her education as a Noble of the Wand, and she enjoyed it, but sincerely enjoying complicated work does not make that work any less complicated or time-consuming.

Demi loved her new life and all of the wholesome experiences it offered, but sometimes late at night she still felt tired. Sometimes she still felt anxious. Sometimes she still dwelt on the complications of her life as it had been and sometimes she felt overwhelmed by both the possibilities and the possible troubles that awaited her here in this place.

There were times at the end of a long day when she felt completely exhausted, and at such times she almost always found her way to the library, where she currently stood.

Books had a way of easing her troubles simply by existing, and she found the library to be a very calming place.

She put her hand on the book in her pocket, the good-luck charm she was still carrying, then walked over to the section of the bookcases where the rest of The Shadowstep Alchemist series would normally be shelved if they were not currently in her inventory. There were only two volumes currently on the shelf: the copy of volume 1 that was from the lending library and a new volume which had suddenly appeared on the shelves when they had unexpectedly expanded.

“Only up to volume 9,” she observed quietly, tapping at the spine of that volume with a fingertip. She had seen more on the shelves in Hollyhope’s vacation cottage, so she knew that more existed. She hadn’t yet caught up to volume 9, but just knowing that other volumes existed and weren’t yet in her possession made her antsy. “I have to keep working hard,” she decided, then called up her inventory to retrieve volume 5. That was where she was currently. She had decided to leave volume 9 on the shelf until she was ready to read it in hopes that it might entice further volumes to join it.

She took her book and went to go sit on the broad window seat.

On the other side of the glass, she could hear the comforting sound of the water rushing over the rocks. She looked down at the cover illustration. The Shadowstep Alchemist was still little more than a boy. In the story he was close to his twelfth birthday, but although his face was still doll-like and beautiful, his eyes were the same.

He looked much older than twelve.

“You take too much onto yourself,” she said to the boy in the illustration. “You can’t be responsible for absolutely everything in the entire world. You need to leave yourself space to breathe.”

She made a quiet, mirthless laugh as she leaned against the shelf at her back.

“But it’s never that simple, is it?” she asked. “You have responsibilities that you’re born into, and then others that you take on yourself because they need to get done, and if you don’t do them, then who will?”

She was still for a moment, but then let the softest whisper of a word escape her.

“But.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But it’s exhausting,” she admitted to the quiet night. “Even if it’s something that you really want to do, it’s exhausting. You can’t pretend away the tiredness.”

She looked down at her small feet and wriggled her toes inside her socks.

Maybe she had been working for too long. She was tired.

“But at least the ones you take on yourself, you feel as if you can manage them somehow.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s the ones that you didn’t choose which are always the hardest.”

As a young lady of the aristocracy, Demi had lived her life according to strict expectations.

She had to be perfect, but there was no single answer to what “being perfect” meant. The perfect girl for one situation was not the perfect girl for another, so she had to think on her feet always, ever ready to elegantly transition from one self to another, an exhibition of everyday magic.

The result was that she had not been able to fully relax around others, not even around the few people that she had trusted implicitly. The reason for this was simple: She was responsible for those people, the people that she trusted. She had authority over them. If anyone with more power than she had had ever caught her with even a whisker out of line, then the people that she trusted and cared about could be punished in her place.

What if, what if, what if...and then it would be all your fault.

That the what-ifs remained relatively shapeless did not make them any less upsetting.

But this place had been wonderful, fantastical, almost dreamlike in its coziness.

And so she had relaxed her guard. She had been herself without much concern for how she ought to be, and it had been wonderful.

She had met a lot of people who all seemed willing to become her friends if she just asked, if she just made the effort. She wouldn’t have to be alone here.

But somehow, before meeting anyone on this planet, she had become a goddess.

That made her responsible for them.

It made her responsible for all of them: for Duncan, for Seri, for Eleonore, for Tina, for Dollop and Finella—especially for Finella. As Hollyhope had generously shared, Demi was now responsible for everyone and everything, from the smallest of the archaebiota to the greatest of the “ferene” trees (she still didn’t know what they were).

She benefitted from incredible privileges in the world she had come from, and she was painfully aware of what those privileges cost. Of course she was expected to pay the world back for what had been given to her. She owed it. She owed the whole of her self, everything she was or could be.

And here she was a goddess. Surely she owed even more here than she had at home.

But it wasn’t only that she felt guilty because she was preoccupied by the worry that she never did enough.

It was also because she could not remain effortlessly cheerful about it.

She did not have the mental discipline to force cheerfulness on herself when she did not feel it, and she was long past feeling authentically cheerful about the weight of her responsibilities.

And yet she still felt guilty about not forcing those smiles, as if they were just as essential as her actual responsibilities, maybe even more important.

Which was ridiculous. She knew it was ridiculous, but it still felt—

She pushed the thought away.

Her responsibilities were her responsibilities, and she had to carry them.

Because if she didn’t do it, who would? If she didn’t do what was needed, who would?

And people needed a lot of everything.

Hollyhope had needed so much that she had summoned Demi up from an entirely different world.

That was honestly very convenient.

Focusing her efforts on helping others was one way of assuaging the guilt that was always pressing down on her. Because she was guilty, or rather, she felt guilt. Often for no other reason than the simple fact that she existed.

I have to do my best, she told herself. Everyone is counting on me. A leader can’t show their fears or tiredness to anyone. I need to be the goddess that everyone needs me to be.

She folded the volume of The Shadowstep Alchemist against her chest, and after calling for Dollop, she went upstairs to read in bed, to chase away her worries by falling into the world of her favorite alchemist.

the goddess lets the flower house

It wasn’t only that she went to sleep tired.

There were days when Demi was tired even when she woke up. That had been true in the world she had come from, so perhaps it was not surprising that it remained true in this place.

Still, the day was warm and sunny, and the forest was calling.

Demi set out with her usual party: Glimmer, Dollop, Finella, and little Tina.

The forest was lovely. Being out and under the trees always made her feel alive, and it did much to reenergize her. It did Demi’s heart a world of good to see the forest healthy and thriving. She was very partial to forests and felt she had a special connection to them. Back in her own world, she had often engaged in forest bathing: the act of going into a forest simply to absorb the ambience. She always felt both relaxed and energized after spending time in a forest.

The younger girls were also enjoying themselves. They seemed absolutely at home in the woodland.

On this particular day, Demi decided that it was probably best to check up on the lean-to, so they made it their first stop. It was close by, since it was only a short distance into the wood.

Demi hadn’t visited the lean-to since she had vacated it on her second day, since the house had been completed that evening. She had built it as sturdily as she could, but it was still a temporary structure. It hadn’t been all that long since she’d built it, but she felt it was still worth checking to make sure it was all right.

When they came upon it, Demi was again taken by how cute it had become, all bedecked in growing flowers. The dead stick that had become a little tree was all leafy and in full flower now.

What even is “being a Harvest Goddess”? Demi wondered vaguely to herself. If I stuck a piece of lamppost into the ground, would it grow into a lamppost tree?

She didn’t even really have to think on it for very long before she came to a conclusion.

Probably.

She went over to gently touch the previously dead stick and again verified that it was absolutely a living tree, with a root system and everything. She could feel the green wood under her hands when she touched it.

I’d honestly love to see a time lapse video of that transformation, Demi reflected. I guess I can add ‘raising the dead’ to the list of “Harvest-Goddess-related activities.”

Since the lean-to looked intact from the outside, Demi decided to check the inside. The little girls were also excited to see inside the little flower house.

But when she moved aside the woven mat that served as the door, she was surprised to find that the little house was occupied.

There was a person cuddled up under a green blanket, with only one of their eyes visible.

Demi and this unknown person were both so surprised by one another’s presence that they both yipped and jumped, and the noise and unexpected movement caused Glimmer to be thrown from his perch on Demi’s shoulder with an indignant cackle.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I hadn’t realized that anyone was using it. Please pardon me.” Demi began her rapid apologies even as she scooted backward on her feet so she could let the door fall closed again. Behind her, Glimmer scrambled to get out of the way.

“Tata onee-chan loves the little house!” Tina explained, throwing her hands into the air.

Oh! Demi thought all at once. It’s Tata! That’s Tata! It’s the missing dryad!

Well, that was the solution to a mystery she hadn’t even realized existed. The fifth dryad was Tata, and here she was. She’d just been napping.

After a moment, Tata hastily appeared from behind the mat doorway.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was using it without asking,” she apologized, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Demi fluttered her hands. “It’s absolutely fine,” she insisted. “Please use it as much as you want.”

“Someone ought to use it,” Glimmer announced haughtily, still flustered from his tumble. “It’s not as if we’re going to sleep in it any longer.”

This brought a rosy blush to Tata’s face.

“Really?” she asked tentatively.

“Well, there’s no use in it sitting empty, is there?” Glimmer stated with an aristocratic sniff. “Besides, it is the duty of the goddess to care for her beloved children.”

It’s still hard for me to think of them as my children, Demi thought wryly to herself. Especially when we seem to be about the same age.

“Of course you can use it,” insisted Demi. “Please enjoy it. I think it will make the lean-to happy to be of use to someone.”

Tata was apparently so touched by Demi’s offer that she flushed happily and nodded vigorously, although she didn’t speak.

Recalling that Tata was shy, Demi smiled at her then collected the little girls.

“We’ll be going now, so please continue resting!” she said, leaning down to scoop up Glimmer and deposit him on her shoulder.

The quiet dryad nodded again, and as they turned away, she shuffled back into the little flower house again.

the goddess enjoys a forest jaunt

Tina was cheerful as they continued on through the forest, pointing out useful plants, her favorite flowers, and insects that she thought were either pretty or scary. (She was not a fan of either ants or wasps, but she liked honeybees and butterflies.)

“I’m glad Tata onee-chan gets to rest in the little flower house all she wants,” Tina shared as they moved along, filling their baskets with treats and treasures. “She’s tired a lot because she’s sick.”

Tina said it offhandedly, as if she thought it was common knowledge, but it was news to Demi. She had assumed that the reason Tata didn’t speak much and rarely kept eye contact was because she was painfully shy, but if she was also ill, then she surely found even being around other people exhausting.

“I didn’t know that Tata was sick,” Demi said honestly. “I hope she gets well soon.”

“She’s been sick for a looooooong time,” Tina explained, throwing her arms wide. “Since even before I was born. There’s something wrong with her trees, and that makes her sick.” Tina shook her head. “She can’t make us sick, but I still think it must hurt and make her tired. She sleeps a lot. She used to read to me and play with me more, but now she sleeps most of the time.”

This answer made Demi unconsciously tense.

She isn’t shy, she’s sick, and I forgot all about her, Demi thought, balling a small hand into a fist. I can’t believe that I forgot all about her! She was definitely there at the beginning to welcome me here, but she must have slipped away at some point. I can’t remember ever seeing her again after that until now. It’s because she’s sick. She’s been lying alone and sick while I organized the whole forest to run around and build some canal.

Demi could not escape the suffocating weight of the guilt that came from this realization.

I have got to find out more about this, she told herself. Tata hasn’t asked for my help, but the dryads are supposed to be the goddess’s children. There has to be something I can do. I hate to think of her lying there, sick and all alone. If there’s something I can do to help, then I need to do it.

“Do you know anything about it, Glimmer?” Demi asked, trying to organize her thoughts and put away her distress so she wouldn’t worry the children.

“Not really,” he confessed with a feathered shrug. “If I had to guess, it’s something to do with the blightwood to the south. The place is filled with all kinds of horrid things, including parasites and diseases.”

“Oh, then maybe if the Rosebrook can purify the forest to the south, Tata might get better,” Demi said hopefully.

Demi felt Glimmer’s grip on her shoulder tighten for a moment, but then he made a very noncommittal sound.

That doesn’t sound like a very positive prognosis, Demi thought in concern. I need to do some research about this as soon as I get back. Based on what Tina said, it sounds like Tata is getting worse.

But then Finella had found a small colony of Whispering Boletes, and this, along with a nearby patch of forest strawberries, occupied them for some time.

Demi didn’t let her concerns about Tata leave her mind, but she did her best to enjoy her time in the forest while she could. And learning about and collecting ingredients was also an important part of her work as a farm girl and a Harvest Goddess.

Given her surprising skill in pharmacology, she might even be able to make medicine with what she found here. She would have to study that possibility.

Demi added it to her endless mental list of things to do and books to read.

It was fascinating being out in this beautiful forest. It was like the woodlands of her home, and yet it was also different. It had the feeling of being an enchanted fairy forest, which she supposed made sense, since it was a forest tended by dryads. The trees were all beautiful and quite varied, diverse not only in size, age, and type, but also in color.

Of course, there were many green trees of varying hues, from deep blue greens to sprightly yellow greens, as one might expect to find in a forest. But there were also trees with pale blue foliage, pale pink, rosy pink, pale violet, white, rosy peach—and these were not trees merely bedecked in blooming flowers. It was indeed spring, and they were treated to the sight of many beautiful flowering trees, but these trees...

Some of these trees simply had pale blue leaves or pale pink ones. Or lavender, mint, peach, aquamarine. It felt whimsical and somehow absolutely natural at the same time. Whenever Demi saw a tree with powder blue leaves in the woodland, her first thought was not “how unusual!” but rather “how perfect.”

The trees were as they were, exactly how they ought to be.

And everything else was in line with the trees. There were bushes and shrubs of many healing, harmonious shades, and wildflowers and lush ground plants everywhere. More than once they found themselves on moss so wonderfully thick and plush that it felt like a carpet or a cushion, and Demi took off her shoes and danced around in it, with Dollop accompanying her. This was much to the delight of Finella (who immediately took off her own shoes) and Tina (who had not been wearing shoes in the first place). Glimmer refrained from dancing and simply sat on a nearby rock and consumed strawberries as he watched them cavort.

They made many charming discoveries during their woodland adventure and gathered many fine ingredients for cooking, for medicine making, and for alchemy. They only took what they needed, and Demi was very careful in the way she harvested everything. Much as before, she always ended up with more than she had actually taken.

They enjoyed lunch next to a massive maple tree, eating sandwiches and potato salad, and enjoying the blossoms of the nearby redbud and dogwood trees.

After lunch they climbed up some large, moss-covered boulders to get some lichen and discovered a patch of shadow violets. Finella showed Demi how to properly dig roots and tubers out of the ground without harming the plant, and Tina managed to get several downy feathers from some of the forest’s resident songbirds simply by asking them for them.

Dollop led her to a number of fine finds themselves, which made perfect sense as they had been a resident of this forest until they had become a shrine beast again.

Demi collected soil and loam and different small stones from many places in the forest, along with different dried leaves, grasses, and seedpods left over from the previous autumn. These were all valuable components for alchemy.

Every time she found a little pupa or cocoon among the leaves or in the dirt, she was careful not to disturb it, or if she had inadvertently disturbed it, she carefully settled it back where it belonged.

Even if insects were not always convenient, they were foundational species for any food web. Butterflies might be beautiful and honeybees wholesome, but all of the insects of the forest were required, even the ones that bit and stung, or chewed holes in the leaves of garden plants.

By late afternoon, they were all quite tired out. They had walked a good long way, seen many things, and collected many useful ingredients. Finella’s stamina was remarkable, because she was still going strong even after a day of hiking and gathering. Tina, however, had become quite sleepy, and when they sat down for a rest on the hike back to the farmhouse, she fell asleep in Demi’s lap.

She was quite adorable when she slept, but now they faced a problem. Tina was sleeping, and likely to be very cranky if woken up (quite understandable, Demi decided). The best thing to do was to carry her back home while she peacefully rested. The only problem was that even after days of manual labor, farming, Demi’s strength and stamina were still quite pathetic.

She could pick Tina up and carry her for a brief while, but there was no way Demi was going to be able to carry the little girl all the way back to the farmhouse on her own. And she couldn’t ask Finella to carry Tina. Finella was shorter than Tina.

Maybe I should send Glimmer for one of the older dryads, Demi thought to herself.

But then Glimmer, apparently understanding her predicament, made a very surprising suggestion.

“Just put her in your inventory until we get home,” he said idly. “She’ll be fine.”

This incredible statement made Demi’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I, I can do that?” she asked in astonishment. “I can just put an entire person into my inventory?”

“Well, I sincerely hope you aren’t considering putting a partial person in there,” Glimmer said with a dismissive wave of his wings. “But of course you can. You’re a goddess with a perfect inventory. You can put anything in there.”

“But, I mean, a living person,” Demi insisted, gesturing to the sleeping Tina. “I wouldn’t want to hurt her. How does that even work?”

“The same way it works with everything else,” Glimmer said with exasperation, as if the answer ought to be obvious. “A person put into your inventory goes into stasis until you pull them out. It feels like taking a nap or dozing off,” he explained.

She blinked again. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she said.

“Well, yes,” he agreed, and took an elegant pose. “I have often been in the inventory of the sublime Great Goddess Hollyhope,” he explained. “It is a very convenient way to travel.”

“I don’t know,” Demi said hesitantly, looking down at the sleeping dryad. “I don’t want to just experiment on her. That seems incredibly irresponsible.”

Meanwhile, the Council of Demi were in agreement. “Don’t experiment on children!” said one sign with a very clear and direct stance.

But Glimmer simply scoffed.

“Very well, then, put me into your inventory first,” he said with a theatrical yawn. “I’m getting sleepy myself. I wouldn’t mind napping my way back to the farm.”

“Are you sure?” Demi asked, still a little uncertain.

At least one member of the Council of Demi had a new position: “Experiment on the Chicken.”

“Absolutely, my little goddess,” Glimmer assured her. “Have more faith in yourself. You can do absolutely anything so long as you have beautiful me here to assist and advise you. You needn’t worry. I’ve done this very many times during my duties as a holy beast. It’s actually quite comfort—”

Glimmer was still waxing poetic when Demi selected to put him into her inventory.

She checked his description, and it indicated that he was perfectly fine. After about thirty seconds, she pulled him back out again.

“—table. Of course, it would be, being an attribute of a supreme holy goddess. So don’t fear what will happen. It will truly be fine. You can take my word for it, my little goddess. Please place beautiful me into your inventory.”

“I, ah, I already did,” Demi admitted with a contrite smile.

Although initially surprised, Glimmer recovered immediately.

“There, now you see it’s perfectly safe,” he insisted, then turned his head and held his beak in the air. “I’m not a cad. Of course I would never suggest you do anything that might harm a child.”

“It should be safe,” Finella said, having listened to the whole exchange, and watched Glimmer pop into the inventory and back out again. “Mine isn’t as big as yours is, but I can still put animals inside and they’re not hurt. Sometimes I put fish in it, and they’re always fine when I take them out.” Then she waved her hands mildly. “I haven’t tried to keep anything in there for weeks and weeks though. I don’t know what might happen then.”

If even fish are all right, Demi thought to herself.

But Finella’s interest had now been piqued.

“Will you put me in your inventory first?” she asked, her eyes shining. “As a test? I promise to be a perfect test subject! I’ve put a lot of things into my inventory, but I’ve always wondered what it was like to be on the inside.” She leaned forward with intense interest. “Pleeeeeeease?”

A member of the Council of Demi was now holding up a sign that said, “The child is begging to be experimented upon.”

Well, I’m going to have to test this eventually anyway, she thought to herself. Glimmer was fine. I’m sure Finella will be fine too.

She felt vaguely guilty, but at last she nodded.

“All right. I’ll try,” she agreed.

Finella dutifully came over and stood before Demi.

“All right,” Demi said. “Here you go!”

And Finella winked out of reality, just like that.

And there she was, right inside Demi’s inventory. Her status was perfectly fine.

Demi pulled her out again.

“Ah you did it already, right?” Finella asked.

“You could tell?” Demi wondered. “Did it feel like anything?”

Finella shook her head. “No, I didn’t feel anything. I just figured that you had because you stopped looking so anxious.”

Demi smiled at Finella and reached out to pat her head.

“Thank you for trusting me, Goddess Demeter,” Finella said with a bright smile.

The beaver girl took her hand and tugged on it lightly. Demi leaned down as she was bidden and she was rewarded with a delicate, whiskery kiss on her cheek.

And the moment that it happened, there was a flash of golden light and a melodic ripple, like music played on a harp and celeste, and Demi and Finella were left blinking.

“What just happened?!” Demi demanded of Glimmer in a whisper-shout, so as not to wake the sleeping Tina. “Did I just do something else weird to Finella?”

“Of course not,” Glimmer scoffed. “She just completed her vow as your saint. Oaths like that are always sealed with a kiss.”

“Hooray!” Finella cheered quietly, doing a little dance of glee. “Now I’m a real saint!”

Dollop hopped around her in excitement, a rosy pink at her success.

Well, I’m glad she’s happy about it, Demi decided. Still, she turned to look skeptically at Glimmer.

“Why didn’t you tell us that she needed to kiss me before the oath was complete?” Demi asked Glimmer, crossing her arms.

“Didn’t I?” the chicken asked vaguely, turning away to admire some nearby flowers. “I’m sure that I did.”

“You didn’t,” Demi said frankly.

“You sure didn’t!” Finella agreed cheerfully.

He forgot again, Demi resolved to herself.

Glancing down at Dollop, Demi could see that the slime had turned a very very pale green and was showing a face that very clearly communicated their feelings:

He definitely forgot.

Glimmer seemed more than ready for the topic to be over and done with, and so made an extravagant pose with his wings.

“In any case, all’s well that ends well! I believe it’s time to get that little drowsing nymph home, don’t you think?” he asked.

Demi shrugged fluidly. He was right. Everything had turned out fine. There was no point making a fuss over it now. Still, it was probably best to keep in mind that it was possible that Glimmer might simply forget to share other important details—now, and in the future.

Splendid, she thought to herself.

Still, worrying about it too much was unlikely to do anything apart from give her (further) anxiety, so she shoved her concerns out the door with her shoulder, and then locked it behind them.

The little dryad was still blissfully asleep, despite the unexpected sainting that had taken place in the local environs.

Since the experiment with her inventory had been an unqualified success, Demi looked down at the sleeping Tina and gently put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Into the inventory she went, and Demi got to her feet.

She kept a little window open in the corner of her periphery, so she could constantly be sure of Tina’s condition.

It’s a little like a baby monitor, I suppose, Demi reflected.

They managed to get back to the farmhouse without incident, where Demi handed off the sleeping Tina to Soa, and the tired but exhilarated Finella off to Elder Ashbark.

Demi herself was more than ready to have a long soak in the bathtub while she pondered what she could do to help Tata.

the goddess learns about alchemy

Over the next several days, Demi applied herself to the joint problems of investigating Tata’s ailment and taking her first real steps into the world of alchemy.

For the former, there was scant information in the library that seemed directly relevant to the dryad’s condition, although she learned many interesting things over the course of investigating. In the end, she was probably going to have to discover what was wrong and devise a course of treatment on her own.

And there was some urgency behind her search. Once they were alone, Glimmer had said what he had not said when the two little girls were in earshot. Tata would not necessarily survive to see the southern blightwood cleared, and even if she did, there was no guarantee that her condition would improve.

That was a heavy concern.

Surely there’s something I can do, Demi thought to herself, In this world of alchemy and magic. Surely there’s something that a goddess can do against such a thing.

So she focused herself on the latter task—learning the basics of alchemy—in the hopes that she might make progress toward her goal of helping Tata to survive.

Among the many different styles and schools of alchemy in this world, there were two broad divisions: Stable Alchemy and Fluid Alchemy.

All of the different types of alchemy could be classified as either one or the other: Fluid or Stable.

As she had already discovered, the most common type of alchemy in practice was Stable Alchemy. Stable Alchemy used specific, set ingredients to create compounds and reagents, which could then be used to create more complex synthesis. It was similar to the crafting that Demi had done so far. So long as a person knew a recipe, had the correct ingredients, and had sufficient mana capacity to accomplish the synthesis, it would succeed, and the maker would end up with the item that they were trying to make.

Stable Alchemy had been practiced in this world for hundreds and hundreds of years. It was one of the bedrocks of civil society, after all. Alchemic meat was produced by means of Stable Alchemy, as were most common medicines, potions, and many objects used in the course of everyday life. Practitioners of Stable Alchemy were called “alchemists,” as might be expected. Any reasonably sized settlement was sure to have at least one alchemist.

The other kind of alchemy was Fluid Alchemy.

People who practiced Fluid Alchemy were known as high alchemists, and there were rarely more than five in an entire country.

One of the reasons there were so few practitioners of Fluid Alchemy was that it was a comparatively recent invention, the product of a revolution in alchemical thinking that had happened around 350 years previous. The figure at the center of that change was the mysterious genius, her very own Shadowstep Alchemist. All authorities recognized him as the father of Fluid Alchemy and all of Fluid Alchemy was ultimately traceable back to him as the original source. Naturally, his writings were sought after by all of those prospective students attempting the difficult path toward being a high alchemist.

Luckily, the Goddess’s Lending Library now contained many books penned by the Shadowstep Alchemist himself.

I wonder if Hollyhope used them for research when she was writing her light novels? Demi mused idly. She is definitely a fan of the Shadowstep Alchemist.

While Stable Alchemy was taught at academies or learned through an established journeyman-apprenticeship system, Fluid Alchemy was only passed on through direct apprenticeship.

Because there were so few high alchemists, the different lineages of Fluid Alchemy were just that, actual lineages, practices passed down directly from teacher to student, as opposed to the more robustly documented styles of Stable Alchemy. Each lineage had its own interesting quirks and proclivities. When one read about them generally, one could almost catch a glimpse of the personalities of the individual alchemists who had passed down their techniques, generation to generation.

It was difficult to study Fluid Alchemy because it was difficult to find a high alchemist to study under at all. And finding a master was only the first step. As difficult as finding a master might be, it was easy in comparison to the second step: convincing that master to take you on as an apprentice.

High alchemists almost never took on more than one apprentice at a time. This made the alchemy masters very choosy. Fluid Alchemy required a very precise confluence of skills and natural gifts, along with much dedicated study. Students had to have the right talents and the right temperament or they would not be able to progress in their studies.

With Stable Alchemy, if a student failed an entrance exam at an alchemy school, they could always study harder and attempt it again, or apply to another alchemy academy or apprenticeship program. If a student of Fluid Alchemy failed to impress their prospective master, it could easily be the end of the road for them, purely because there were so few high alchemists.

And even among those with the right set of resiliencies, there was still a very high washout rate for high alchemists. Although almost all of them completed some amount of training, very few ever advanced to the point where they were able to call themselves masters and take on apprentices.

Becoming a regular alchemist was by no means easy, and also required a great deal of study and hard work, but the demands of Fluid Alchemy were something else altogether. Formal training for stable alchemists rarely lasted for more than four years, unless the student started when they were very young. Meanwhile, no proper Fluid Alchemy apprenticeship lasted less than six years, and they could last much longer, depending on the high alchemist master.

And skills and knowledge were not transferable between the two disciplines because the systems were so different. Being proficient in Stable Alchemy was not useful with regard to Fluid Alchemy, and vice versa. In a hard-coded technical sense, the two fields were entirely walled off from one another by the world system.

Fluid Alchemy functioned according to its own specific rules, with its own internal logic. It was essentially a system inside a system. Because of this “system with a system” status, Fluid Alchemy had its own skills, titles, and bonuses. And all of these elements were all bound up in an essential tool.

Unlike any other skill or discipline that Demi had experienced in this world, Fluid Alchemy could not be monitored or managed through the world system. Instead, everything was routed through a special book: the cyprianus.

A person could not even gain experience or progress in levels without a cyprianus, regardless of how hard they studied or worked. That was a very high opportunity cost, on top of everything else.

It seems so difficult to even begin, Demi reflected thoughtfully. I wonder if it’s like this because of constraints imposed by the world system. It’s almost as if Fluid Alchemy is its own little program running inside the operating system of the world, and yet completely separate from it.

To make matters more complicated, a cyprianus could only be produced through synthesis using the techniques of Fluid Alchemy. That made it something of a chicken-and-egg problem for Demi. She did not have a high alchemist as a master who could make a cyprianus for her, and she could not become proficient enough at Fluid Alchemy to make her own because she could not gain any levels—because she did not yet have her own cyprianus.

Fortunately, there were some useful books in the library even for a self-study student. She could still learn about Fluid Alchemy even if she could not gain experience in the systematic sense.

Fluid Alchemy was predicated on a complicated way of classifying and understanding the material world. It was focused on a deep understanding of synthesis ingredients through the use of several analytical tools, the most common of which was the ability to conceptually break each ingredient down into symbolic units.

Fluid Alchemy proposed that each thing that existed was made up of a unique mosaic of these symbolic units. With a keen understanding of symbolic units, they could be manipulated, and this manipulation became the backbone of transmutation.

Certain ingredients were more readily broken down into easier-to-understand symbolic units, units that were compatible with many different arrangements. This was one of the things that made a particular ingredient well suited as a component for Fluid Alchemy synthesis.

For instance, one of the most basic ingredients used in Fluid Alchemy was Mystic Vervain. This was a relatively common woodland plant that had a number of useful symbolic units in its mosaic, for instance, “forest,” “plant,” “herb,” “flower,” and “leaf” which might be expected of many plants, but also “iron,” “healing,” “blood,” “dreams,” “guard,” “ward,” “aroma,” “canine,” “moon,” and “magic,” among others. Entirely on its own it could cause the trait “healing dew” to appear on potions and medicines, which made them more effective. Of course, this trait could also be influenced and modified by other items used in the synthesis.

While Fluid Alchemy used recipes just like Stable Alchemy, the recipes in Fluid Alchemy were generally open to interpretation. They did sometimes call for specific ingredients, but most often they simply called for an item with a particular symbolic unit in its mosaic. With enough dedicated study (or wild abandon), any item could be used as an ingredient in just about any synthesis.

(Although unsurprisingly, this was correlated with a much higher incidence of kabooms.)

Because of this mutability, many different substitutions were possible with even the simplest recipe, and every change had the potential to produce different effects which might then lead to the manifestation of new traits. With care and precision, it was also possible to isolate and transfer traits from one item to another, even down a long chain of transmutation, and through several different syntheses. Traits could also be refined, becoming more potent, or modified, and there was also the possibility that unusual combinations of traits might trigger interactions that were not unlike those of the symbolic units, producing wholly unique outcomes.

And unlike Stable Alchemy, which generally only involved transmutation in the final step, Fluid Alchemy involved active transmutation throughout the synthesis process. Ingredients were either partially or wholly transmuted into different things, altering their innate nature and symbolic units multiple times in a single synthesis. Each ingredient moved through many transitory states before finally being locked down into the desired outcome.

But in a strictly practical sense, Fluid Alchemy had so many moving parts that there were significant opportunities for failure. Still, even when taking into account all of the challenges it presented, Demi found Fluid Alchemy fascinating.

If a student dedicated themselves to understanding how its rules worked, then the possibilities for what could be synthesized were essentially limitless.

It gave her a tingling feeling just thinking about it.

But she did realize that infinite possibilities were not necessarily practical, at least not in every circumstance. For most people, in the predictable experience of everyday life, the solutions of Stable Alchemy would certainly suffice.

After all, a significant portion of the food supply was processed by means of alchemy, to say nothing of all of the other common medicines and ordinary tools that were required in quantity each and every day.

It would be a problem if alchemy ateliers across the globe were constantly exploding, or if the production of everyday items required so much skill that the supply could not keep up with the demand.

“But that just means you have to use the right tool for the right job!” Demi said aloud with a decisive nod.

Of course, the Council of Demi agreed with her.

For this reason, and others besides, high alchemists were considered somewhat peculiar by the world at large. They weren’t disliked, but the consensus was that they were bound to act and think in eccentric ways. The general public had no idea how Fluid Alchemy worked. For them, it truly was like magic.

Only not really, because magic seemed to be a thing that most people more readily understood.

It was all a little strange for Demi, but perhaps that was to be expected, since she had fifteen pages of skills that she did not yet understand.

Because both types of alchemy required so much time and study, people generally devoted themselves to one or the other, lest they fail to learn anything of substance from either. There was no rule that a person couldn’t learn both; it was just ridiculously difficult.

(Which just made Demi even more determined.)

And of course, despite all of the potential difficulties, the sort of alchemy that Demi set her heart upon mastering first was Fluid Alchemy.

(If she was going to carry on living in a magical world, then she felt obligated to pursue the best of what was on offer, regardless of how difficult it might be. Besides, it was alchemy. Of course she was going to study the most interesting kind of alchemy first. And, she rationalized, Stable Alchemy had been practiced for ages. Tata had been sick since before Tina was born. If there was a solution to be found in Stable Alchemy, then surely the dryads would have found it already.)

And so, she happily buried herself in piles of books about Fluid Alchemy.

Besides the more ordinary Fluid Alchemy theory and beginner recipe books that Demi had expected to find in the lending library, there were also many journals and treatises purportedly written by the Shadowstep Alchemist himself.

—And once Demi began reading them, they did have a very particular style.

These were definitely all written by the same person, Demi decided almost immediately. That was a good enough sign to her that they were authentic.

Besides, why would a goddess, and one that was clearly a fan of the man in question at that, deign to have pseudepigrapha or even forgeries in her collection?

The Shadowstep Alchemist’s journals, letters, and personal notes soon rocketed up Demi’s leisure reading list, coming second only to the light novels about him, and sometimes vying even with them. The one thing that kept the light novels consistently at the top of the list was that often the most interesting bits of the Shadowstep Alchemist’s journals and letters were censored. Well, they were personal documents after all. It was reasonable that they had been censored for privacy reasons.

And The Shadowstep Alchemist light novel series was always there when Demi needed it. The volumes in the library now counted all the way up to fifteen, although Demi still coveted the ones she did not yet have.

It was more encouragement to work harder.

Demi appreciated their style, aesthetic, and substance.

There was a moment in the first volume, when, following the prophecy that had been given at his birth, the protagonist Grey Thornwood (who was still a ten-year-old boy) glimpsed a vision of an older version of himself: a middle-aged man with dark hair streaked with white, handsome due to his half-elven heritage, but with a face marred by pain and loss. It had made her heart skip then, and it still made her heart skip now when she thought about it (and was probably a large part of why she was still carrying volume 1 around with her in her pocket, along with that napkin she had accidentally stolen from Hollyhope’s table).

This glimpse of the man that the boy would become was also one reason that Demi was so focused on getting her hands on later volumes of the series!

(She was hopelessly consistent in her taste and entirely unapologetic with regard to it.)

After all, even though the novel series followed the Shadowstep Alchemist from his early youth, even as a child he gave the general impression that he was an old man. He was serious, reticent, diligent, and wary of others. Although he was slow to open up to other people, once he had, he was thoughtful and sensitive. He felt his responsibilities keenly, and did not break his word once it had been given. Although he appeared cold, he had a passionate heart, and he loved books, poetry, and the natural beauty of the out-of-doors. He was unimpeachably loyal, intelligent, pragmatic, and even as a boy, incredibly well-read.

He was also competent, and more than capable of disposing of his enemies.

Or to put it more succinctly: He was her type.

Most particularly when considering the glimpse of his future self: He was her type.

She was incredibly weak versus handsome old men, especially those with difficult pasts and wounded hearts.

It was entirely because of her experience with the novels that Demi came to think of the Shadowstep Alchemist as “the handsome old man” in her own mind. It even bled over into her historical research, her readings on local politics, and of course, into her reading of the journals and notes of the man himself.

She just couldn’t help herself. He didn’t really seem like a “Grey Thornwood” after all, no matter how nice a name that was. He was instead “the handsome old man.”

No matter how much difficulty Demi was having with a recipe or new technique, with research, with her duties as the president of the Rosebrook Canal Authority, or even her farmwork, if she just took a break and immersed herself in the dramatic world of The Shadowstep Alchemist, she could energize herself, and then approach the challenges of her life with new eyes.

Hollyhope was right, Demi thought, gently touching the book in her pocket. You really have been here the whole time, whenever I needed someone to lean on.

the goddess wishes

And so her days continued, one after another after another.

After one such day—a long day of work and an even longer evening of particularly frustrating studying—Demi decided that she really needed to get some fresh air.

It was dire indeed when the library could not soothe all of Demi’s troubles, but the time comes for every booklover when they have stared at words on pages for so long that their eyes have become crossed and they cannot concentrate on anything. If she hadn’t been a goddess, then she would surely by this point have worked herself into a fever.

Such a thing definitely called for fresh air. That was wisdom from her mother, who had been as likely to game or to read herself into oblivion as Demi was.

And whenever a person really needed a sense of scale and a glimpse of the infinite to reorient themselves, then looking at the night sky was just the ticket.

Demi had often gone with her mother onto the roof of Forest Home to watch the stars. The panorama of uncountable brilliant stars over the nighted depths of the Deep Wood was an image that had been seared into Demi’s very essence.

This place surely had its own splendors to share.

So out she went with Dollop to look at the night sky, crawling out a dormer window on the third floor and situating herself comfortably on the roof of the farmhouse.

The night was deep, and the stars were beautiful.

Demi’s mother had been right, as she almost always was. The night sky was what Demi had needed to see.

She leaned back against the carved shingles of the roof and looked at the dark sky overhead. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. There were stars she could definitely pick out, even whole constellations that she recognized, but some things were a little different.

(And some things were very different.)

She held up her hands, using her fingers to make a pale, slender frame around what seemed to be a familiar constellation.

“The Pleiades,” she murmured quietly.

But they were backward. The arrangement of the stars was mirrored.

“That feels so strange,” she said, laying her head back against the roof behind her.

The stars were where they ought to be in relation to one another, as least so far as she knew them, but it was as if the entire association had been flipped as a single unit. What made it feel even more surreal was that when she looked for them, the Hyades appeared as they ought to have. The Golden Gate of the Ecliptic was open; it was just that one of the posts was backward.

Demi looked over at Dollop and said, “This is your sky, so of course it looks normal to you, but when I look up at this sky, it’s a little bit topsy-turvy. But only a little bit!” she hastened to emphasize. “It’s the familiarity that’s most peculiar, honestly. The stars we identify in the sky as constellations or asterisms aren’t usually close together at all. Sometimes they are! The Pleiades are actually an open star cluster. It’s a stellar nursery where blue baby stars are born, shining cool and brilliant. They burn hot and bright, and they’re comparatively close by, which is why they’re so easy to spot and why there are so many different names for them. But most constellations”—she raised her hands again to frame a different arrangement of stars this time—“like Draco, are made up of stars that aren’t physically near to one another at all. We just associate them together because they look like they might be neighbors because of our line of sight from the ground. In fact, if we looked at Draco with a telescope, we would be able to spot objects much, much farther away, that still look like they’re inside of Draco.” She shrugged bonelessly, letting her arms fall to her sides again and folding her hands over her chest. “That’s why it feels so unusual to see some stars that I recognize in patterns that I recognize. The only way to see Draco is from Earth, or you know, the relative vicinity of Earth.”

She drew a heart in the air with her index finger, tracing the line between distant stars, many of which could not even be seen, and yet they still existed in the vastness of space and time.

“This isn’t Earth, but it’s Earth,” she said, letting her fingers flash up briefly in the universal sign for “Who even knows what’s happening? But I suppose all fictional worlds are like that,” she said philosophically. “Even in a very realistic procedural crime novel, even in well-researched historical fiction, the world we read about is not our world. I wonder what the stars look like from those Earths.”

“Pi pii pipi pii pi,” Dollop squeaked, and Demi smiled at them affectionately, giving them a pat.

“It’s complicated, right?” she wondered. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out The Shadowstep Alchemist Volume 1. “I wonder what stars you see, when you look up at the sky.”

She brought the book to her chest as she let her eyes wander across the night sky.

As she looked into the darkness, she saw a brilliant ribbon of light cut across it, and then another and another.

“Shooting stars!” she trilled with the wonder of a small child. “It’s, it’s—I think it would be—” She counted on her fingers. “It’s still Gwlanog, isn’t it? That would be, that would be March, the end of March. Is it April already? Would it be April by my calendar? Ceirios?”

A pop-up in the corner of her vision confirmed that it was still Gwlanog. The moon was half in shadow, allowing the brilliant lights of the meteorites to paint themselves across the sky.

“It’s March though. What meteorites are those?” she wondered. “It’s too early for the Lyrids, isn’t it?”

Her informational pop-up offered a different name.

“The Poet’s Tears,” she murmured. “That does sound very nostalgic, doesn’t it? It feels like ‘hiareth,’ the deep longing for something lost, something that you may not even have ever experienced,” she said softly. “And yet you know that it’s missing. You know that it’s lost.”

Demi often felt deep parts of herself tugged at by that almost nameless emotion, that longing for the thing that was missing, that yearning for something that she had never experienced herself.

Partner.

“It’s a powerful word, isn’t it?” Demi wondered to Dollop.

“Pi pii pipi pii,” squeaked Dollop quizzically.

“Oh, of course you wouldn’t know what I meant. I didn’t say it after all,” Demi realized with a wry laugh. It almost felt too uncomfortable to voice it, as if saying it might cause it to be misunderstood. Her yearning for it came from the quietest depths of herself, in the fathoms far below.

At last she let the word out as little more than a whisper.

“Partner.”

Once she said it, the word felt trivial and hollow, pale and thin and foolish. It left her feeling embarrassed, even though there was no one here to judge her but Dollop (and her own self, of course). To want such a thing felt weak and frivolous.

It might have been weak, but it was not frivolous.

(It was not either, but she was in no position to recognize this about herself at that moment.)

She wasn’t looking for a romantic fantasy, some prince to sweep in and solve all of her problems in one go—although if there was someone like that, who could solve all of her insurmountable problems immediately, then she would take it. She needed all the help she could get, she felt.

But really, she was looking for something else.

What she wanted most was to be seen.

To be heard.

To be understood.

To be accepted.

To be trusted.

To be cared for.

She wanted someone that she could show her fears and doubt to, someone she did not have to be responsible for, someone she could be responsible to.

She wanted someone to care for as she wanted to be cared for, someone she could walk in step with. They did not need to be any sort of superlative, not a genius, not a hero. They did not need to be the lead from a romantic novel—not even her handsome old man, the Shadowstep Alchemist. They did not need to be gorgeous or handsome and they did not need an uncountable inventory of spotless virtues. She did not require perfection.

She wanted honesty, mistakes, awkward kindness, unexpected generosity—their uncertainty, their frailty, their faults, the scars that they were afraid to show to others.

She wanted someone to talk to, someone who would laugh at her jokes even when they were terrible, and then tell her frankly that they were terrible. She wanted someone who would see her, not as they wished her to be, not as she presented herself, but as she actually was: hopelessly imperfect and yet trying her best.

She would value every last drop of what made that person who they were as if it were a treasure without price, because it would be. It would be the greatest treasure that she would ever be given the keeping of. She would keep them and carry them safe from harm, giving what she could of herself. She would protect them the way she wanted to be protected.

Someone to lean on.

Someone who would trust her enough to lean on her.

Demi had almost no experience having anything approaching an ordinary friend, not one that she saw regularly face-to-face. The single person who had blossomed as her bosom friend had died soon after their first adventure together. Demi had kept writing letters to her even after her death.

Tear had been the closest that Demi had ever come to that word.

Partner.

If she were wishing on stars tonight, then that would be what she wished for.

“Pi pii pi pi pii pi pi pii,” Dollop pointed out, pulling her away from her shooting-star gazing.

She laughed weakly at that, reaching over to gently pat the dango.

“And I appreciate it. Very much,” she consoled him. “You’re a wonderful friend to me.”

But you’re like my baby, she finished to herself.

After patting Dollop for a while, Demi lifted the book on her chest to consider it against the backdrop of the stars. She was much further along in the story now, which gave her more room to speculate.

“I wonder who you’ll end up with,” she asked the serious half-elf boy on the cover. “It can’t be Wendy. History says she becomes the Unicorn Queen and marries Conri. And it can’t be Conri for similar reasons. It’s not like I wouldn’t be willing to read a matching of Conri x Grey x Wendy, but I feel like at least one of the more speculative history books would have mentioned it already.” She shook her head. “And while your chemistry with Philo is always great, I don’t think it’s that kind of story—not that I would judge!”

Demi was very magnanimous on that count. If two people loved each other, then that was probably fine, no matter what anyone else might have to say about it.

She was liberal in her opinions on the subject, but then that was perhaps to be expected given that she had the potential to be a Harvest Goddess and the Goddess of Life besides.

Life, ah, finds a way, after all, she trilled to herself.

She continued humming to herself as she thought things over. It was much easier to speculate about the possibilities of fictional pairings than it was to dwell on the realities of her own woefully pathetic romantic prospects.

It was hard enough imagining meeting someone I myself might actually be interested in when I was the heir to the Seat of Serraffield, she bemoaned silently. Who in their right mind is going to have the ego necessary to actually consider having any kind of romantic fandango with a goddess?

She deflated mentally, becoming something like a jiggly invertebrate jellyfish version of herself. At least I still have plenty of Shadowstep Alchemist books left to read, she consoled herself.

Back in reality, Demi wiggled the book against its starry backdrop.

“At one point I thought you were possibly going to end up with Mimiria, but I don’t think so anymore.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Honestly I’m glad that it’s not going to work out because I don’t think I could have handled that pairing for the rest of the series.”

“Pi pii pipi pii pi.”

She looked over at Dollop and smiled, giving them a pat.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I don’t have any idea either. Let’s go back inside. It’s getting chilly.”

She tucked her precious book back into her pocket, and she and her dango companion went back into the house.

the goddess goes gathering

In an admittedly unorthodox fashion, Demi learned the basics of Fluid Alchemy and managed to produce a number of potions and medicines of various effects. She worked earnestly at it even though she was not earning any experience toward Fluid Alchemy levels and thus remained at level one.

Demi was anxious to be of some help to Tata, so she focused her studies on making potions and medicines as opposed to, say, bombs. Both Stable and Fluid Alchemy had quite a lot to say on the subject of bombs.

Alchemists just love things that explode, don’t they? Demi mused. Even things that probably shouldn’t explode. Alchemists seem to want to try and make them explode just to see if they can.

Demi primarily focused her attentions on making things that did not explode. The last thing she wanted to do was to make some kind of bandage that blew up in Tata’s face.

Just a little more, Demi thought to herself as she looked at the medicines and potions lined up on her shelf.

After several days of hard work, she felt that she had quite a lot to be proud of.

There were medicinal herbs drying on a rack, and rolls of medicated bandages nearby, along with antiseptic, ointment for sore muscles, bug spray, and coagulant. She also had simple herbal medicines for nausea, fever, headache, and cough. These were the results of her dedicated study.

Each one had been a little better than the last, as she learned what she was doing, but she still thought she could do better. For one thing, even though the potions showed positive effects when she examined them, they all smelled so terrible when she opened their bottles that she had not yet chanced to drink one herself.

(She reasoned to herself that it was because she wasn’t hurt or sick, but the real reason was that they smelled so bad she was sure they would taste like liquid death.)

So she would keep practicing.

Demi couldn’t stand the idea of going to see Tata, getting her hopes up, and then not being able to even ease her distress or quiet her symptoms.

So Demi put on the little hood and shawl she had begun to wear whenever she went gathering in the forest and set out to acquire some more ingredients, singing to herself all the while.

“Magical goddess, magical goddess, akazukin Demi. ~”

***

By this point, Demi was familiar enough with the surrounding woodlands that she felt comfortable gathering on her own. They were quite safe.

Almost immediately after the house had been raised, the dryads had suggested that Demi put up a protective barrier around the farm: a veil of protection. The beaver work crew knew where the farmhouse was, after all, and while no one suspected any of them of anything nefarious, tall tales about a beautiful house in the forest had the potential of drawing unexpected (and potentially dangerous) visitors.

She had no desire for another Leggity-Leg to come visiting, after all.

Of course, Demi had no idea how to raise such a barrier on her own, but it was the sort of warding fairy magic that dryads were good at, so they walked her through the process, going along with her as she paced out the perimeter of the barrier.

When Demi had strayed too near the southern boundary of her domain, the dryads had been quick to turn her back.

“You don’t want to go down there!” Vata had insisted. “It’s super gross and smelly.”

“Ah yes, it would be better if you didn’t get too close to the road,” Soa had gently agreed.

“If you put the boundary too close to the road then it has the possibility of interfering with transit,” Seri had explained, pushing her nonexistent glasses up her nose.

“It’s nicest to stay in the middle of the woods!” Tina had cheered.

So Demi had taken their advice about where to set the southern border of the barrier. She had enough to occupy her on the farm and in the woodlands anyway, especially with all of the documents she had to organize for the Rosebrook canal project.

By walking it all out, Demi got a good idea of the lands surrounding her farmhouse. Ultimately, she and the dryads decided to include a substantial part of the dryad forest that was in easy hiking distance of the farm inside of the farm’s barrier.

The dryads actually had their own barrier up around the rest of the forest, but it functioned a little differently and was not quite so restrictive. The barrier that they had helped Demi raise used confusion, misdirection, and even some minor teleportation to keep interlopers from realizing that the farm even existed. Even someone with a knowledge of the farm’s existence would keep going around in circles, always ending up directed away from it. On the off chance that someone did manage to penetrate the lost woods aspect of the woodland surrounding the farm, there was also a reasonably substantial physical barrier that would keep out all but those Demi allowed inside. She had already set permissions for all of the people she knew and trusted, so they could come and go without any inconvenience. The wildlife she had allowed could come and go as they pleased. They had been there before her, after all, and they seemed to be great fans of the farm.

Demi regularly saw bunnies and deer, squirrels, chipmunks, and had even begun making friends with a couple of very chatty foxes.

She did recognize that allowing domesticated animals in freely might create a loophole allowing their masters in as a matter of course, and so she had decided to set their permissions on a case-by-case basis, much as she had with the people.

The worksite where the beavers were engaged in surveying and preparing the land for the canal lock and the place that had been designated for the new fox settlement were both outside of the veil of protection, but close enough that her friends could visit when it suited them or when they had business with her.

Because of all of these precautions, Demi was unlikely to encounter anyone or anything she did not already know on one of her little rambles.

It did feel a little strange to be without either Glimmer or Dollop, but Glimmer was not always disposed to go cavorting about the woodlands, and she had sent Dollop along with Finella to the worksite because she knew that Tina was due to be there that day, and both girls loved playing games with the slime.

Demi wanted to do what she could to encourage their healthy emotional development. She still felt vaguely guilty about employing child laborers in her civic projects, even if the children were both enthusiastic and magical.

She at least wanted to make sure they had a good time and played as much as possible. It was good for Dollop too. The little slime always seemed to be trying their best to help out in any way they could, but fun and relaxation were also important responsibilities! Demi wanted them to grow up healthy and happy too.

And she was trying to follow her own best practices. A walk in the forest was relaxing, but also exciting and interesting at the same time. It was a perfect leisure activity for her, and even she was self-aware enough to know that she probably needed to take more rests than she did.

Demi enjoyed her walk as she always did, gathering mosses and mushrooms, admiring wildflowers, smelling the scent of the trees, stopping to watch birds or squirrels as they moved about on their business.

One of the best things about being a Harvest Goddess was that animals treated her as if she belonged among them. Sometimes they followed her with interest, and other times they simply went about their activities without concern for her presence. It felt very much like being a fairy-tale princess of the woodlands, and she loved every moment of it.

And like a proper fairy-tale princess, sometimes she sang as she walked. The wildlife didn’t mind this either, and she appreciated their understanding.

Sometimes she sang about how the hills themselves rang with music, and sometimes she sang about the wild mountain thyme, or what might be found on the other side of a rainbow.

But today she sang about country roads, and where she hoped they would lead her.

Demi enjoyed singing, and she was good at it. She had taken extensive lessons from early childhood, because as a young lady of the aristocracy, it was expected that she be both accomplished and diverting. Since she had been in the habit of singing to herself as she wandered the grounds of the estate as a child, it just felt natural to do it. She was more used to singing a cappella than she was to any sort of accompaniment (other than karaoke, since she had often enjoyed belting out anisongs with her mother).

Since Demi did not have to actually carry a gathering basket on her walks, nor any supplies—not even snacks—her forays really were leisurely strolls through the woods, which meant there was plenty of time for singing, for watching birds, for looking at interesting beetles, and simply soaking up the woodlands.

More perks of being a goddess, she thought to herself.

She was just standing up from having collected some bark when she heard an unfamiliar sound.

It sounded—strange. Like the popping of a balloon combined with a rapid clicking or ticking, and then a heavy sound, as if something had fallen to the ground.

The air felt tense, perhaps a little electric, and she caught the faint whiff of an uncomfortable smell.

The sound had come from somewhere close by.

After a moment of hesitancy, Demi decided to investigate. She was just at the base of a small rise, so if she climbed to the summit, she would have a better view of what might have caused the noise and the smell.

And as Demi came up over the little rise, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

There was something on the ground only a few paces away that she didn’t recognize. She still wasn’t familiar with absolutely everything that lived and grew in the forest, but she still instinctively understood that this was a thing that did not belong.

It was a dark, misshapen lump, and at first, Demi thought it might be some sort of strange animal that she was unfamiliar with, an interloper from outside the forest. Then she thought it might be a pile of fabric or rags. There was that strange smell in the air, wet and musty, almost metallic. It was not a pleasant odor, and there was the faint whiff of decay, something her mind immediately categorized as rot, disease, death.

And it was only at this point that Demi realized that she was looking at a body.

The realization pushed her into action without thought. She didn’t consider whether or not the body lying unguarded there might have been left as a trap, or that the thing that had caused this situation might still be nearby and capable of doing something similar to her.

Whoever that was, they obviously needed her help. They probably needed a lot more than her help, but she would do the best she could.

It was all she could do.

She immediately rushed down the slope, skidding in the soft loamy dirt, and dropped to her hands and knees. The shape twitched feebly. This person was still alive. The dark encompassing shape turned out to be a cloak, and once Demi pushed it back she finally caught sight of what she was dealing with.

It was a man.

It was a man with thick, matted, tarry black hair. A shock of ivory silver hung down into his face, plastered to his skin by clammy sweat. He was bleeding heavily, and the ground under him was almost a mud from it. It was remarkable that this man was even still alive. Even with her limited medical knowledge, she got the sense of that immediately on looking at him.

He had several visible open wounds, shallow slash marks and deeper gashes, and this despite the fact that clothing covered most of his body. His color was not good, his breathing rapid and shallow. When she touched him, he felt cool, and his exposed skin had a strange, mottled color to it.

I think he’s in hemorrhagic shock, Demi thought to herself, her own heartbeat having kicked into tachycardia as she felt a surge of adrenaline. If something isn’t done right now, this man is going to die.

Demi had merit badges in first aid and a CPR certification, but despite what her rank in the medical skill might indicate, she did not have any formal training as either a medic or a first responder. She was legitimately surprised that she was somehow managing to remain calm and that she hadn’t thrown up everywhere already. She didn’t have a weak stomach, really, but neither was she accustomed to looking at the gory details of a person who seemed to have been mauled mostly to death.

His condition was horrific, and the scene was essentially in her lap, wet and visceral and slick with misery.

I need to think, her mind hammered in desperation. And I need to get him someplace safe. Who knows what happened, who or what did this to him, but he shouldn’t stay here. There’s a limited amount I can do here anyway.

The man was tall, and while not heavily built, was certainly much, much too heavy for her to attempt to move on her own. She was unwilling to leave him to try and find help. She didn’t think he would last that long.

She took a deep breath and made a decision.

It’s a good thing that I already know that this works, she thought to herself as she gently put her hands on him.

And she loaded him directly into her inventory.

Once he was in there and she had checked the information summary to be certain that he was still alive, she realized that there was something else on the ground. It was a bag, and she could only assume that it belonged to him. She grabbed it and put it into her inventory alongside him, then she got to her feet and began moving back toward home with determination.

I hope that I have the right potions to treat him, she thought to herself as she walked as quickly as she could.

He was being held in stasis currently, so he wouldn’t worsen, so far as she knew, but she didn’t want to keep him in her inventory longer than was necessary. She still didn’t fully understand it, and was concerned it might have negative effects, particularly on a person so physically weakened and near death.

Still, it would do no good if she was too hasty making her way through the woodland and slipped and hurt herself on the way home. This was a lesson that had been drilled into her again and again, day after day, year after year. In a crisis, keep your head. Keep calm. Focus yourself. Think only of what you need to do next.

So that’s what she did. She remained alert and cautious as she made her way back through the forest to the farmhouse, only relaxing slightly once she got to familiar territory.

Once she was back on the farm, she began making a list in her head of what she would need from the various rooms. She had the potions she had made, and the medicines she had compounded. She would need some clean water, scissors, disinfectant, bandages—

The only bed she had was the one in her room, so that was where she was going to have to put him, unless she wanted to drop him on the farmhouse table—but he was so tall that she wasn’t sure the table would accommodate him properly.

It didn’t make sense to put him on the table anyway. It wasn’t as if she could operate on him.

The bed would be better.

When she came charging into the farmhouse with a grim look on her face, Glimmer had squawked and gotten out of her way. She had made her way into the workshop and put absolutely everything that she thought might be even the slightest bit useful into her inventory.

Then she went up the stairs to her bedroom and dragged the blankets and Lacey-tan from the bed, leaving only the bottom sheet and the ordinary pillows.

Glimmer was quite shocked by this behavior.

“What has gotten into you?” he asked, alarmed.

“I found a man when I was out gathering herbs. He’s been very badly hurt. I’m afraid he’s dying,” she explained as she pulled over the small bedside table and cleared it of everything.

“Oh, how horrid!” Glimmer squawked.

It certainly is horrid, Demi agreed silently.

“Should we send someone to get him?” Glimmer asked, highly agitated, turning short circles as if he was trying to wind himself up in his own tail.

“No, I’ve already got him,” Demi answered as she began to stack the potions and medicines she had on the floor beside the bed. “What I need you to do is go to the worksite and see if anyone there can help. I’m going to—” She took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. “I’m going to do what I can now.”

Glimmer moved close to her and gently laid his wing against her foot.

“I know you’re afraid and unsure,” he said. “But if anyone can help this person, then it’s you. Just do what you can.”

This advice was so surprising and genuine that it almost caused Demi to break down into tears, but she managed to catch herself, to keep it all in. She didn’t have time to cry right now. There would be time enough for crying later.

“Thank you, Glimmer,” she said honestly. “Please go and see if you can find help. I’ll do what I can.”

Glimmer nodded, and after looking back at her preparing the room, he left.

Once he had gone, Demi took one last look at what she had arranged, then held her breath and pulled the injured man from her inventory and put him on her bed.

He was still alive. She let out her breath and finally began to breathe normally again.

I wish I knew where the closest doctor was, she thought desperately to herself as she prepared to treat him. I could have sent Glimmer in that direction.

Even as she thought it to herself, a little notification from the search function popped up. It was indicating the man in front of her, laid up and close to death.

Oh wonderful, Demi thought with manic desperation. “Perfect. This man is the closest doctor.”

But that wasn’t information it was particularly useful to dwell on. It wasn’t as if he could assist in his own treatment, and there hadn’t been any other doctors who had been identified within twenty miles.

It was up to her, then.

It would be a lot easier if I could just give him medication through an IV, she reflected to herself. Although the potions she had were liquid, they were meant to be drunk. She wasn’t sure he was in any condition to drink anything, and an IV delivery for the medication would have the most immediate effect.

Still, there was no use crying over what she didn’t have. It wasn’t as if she had time to research and develop IV delivery in time for it to be of use in this situation.

Let’s hope I can get him to drink something, she thought. I wish—I wish I understood my magic skills better. I might be able to do something if I had any idea what it is that I can do.

She profoundly regretted not trying more urgently to make sense of the fifteen pages of skills.

The man on her bed stirred feebly, and his eyes opened a sliver. They were very dark.

“You should,” he began, his voice a raspy whisper. “You should have left me there.”

For some reason, these words, which he struggled even to say, made her angry.

She slapped the floor where she was sitting with an open palm.

“I should not!” she answered immediately. “If you have the strength to say something like that, then you ought to have the strength to drink something.”

She took the strongest potion that she had made, the one with the most-promising bonuses and effects, and she pulled out the stopper.

“I’m really sorry if this tastes terrible or if it doesn’t help enough, but I’ve got to do something,” she said, tilting the bottle to his lips.

I’ve got to get something in him to stabilize him before I try anything else, she thought. He looked so fragile. It was a miracle he was still alive.

She had been worried he might try and refuse the potion, based on what he’d said to her, but she was relieved to see that he attempted to drink it. He took it stoically, without comment, although the smell alone was enough to indicate to Demi that it did in fact taste terrible.

Within seconds of him tasting the first drops, the pain lines on his face relaxed a little, and his color improved.

I’m glad it’s doing something, she thought. Now I’ve got to figure out what’s wrong with him if I want to save him.

She disinfected the scissors and then used them to carefully cut away his clothing. Remarkably, he seemed somewhat less bloody and grimy than he had been when she had found him in the forest.

Did my inventory clean his clothing while he was still wearing it? she wondered in a mixture of confusion and amazement.

His long hair had been matted with blood and filth and black sludge, but now it was clean and dark and silky, tied back with a faded red ribbon.

Whatever had happened, she was grateful for anything that made getting him out of his clothes easier, and she was certain that having clean hair had to be much more comfortable than having filthy hair.

She didn’t have to cut all of his clothing to get it off of him. Some of it she managed to remove intact.

But once she could actually see most of his body...

It became a little clearer what had happened to him.

He had been attacked by some sort of animal.

Some sort of huge and terrible creature.

He had gore marks and slashes that looked as if they’d come from enormous claws. His chest was covered by a massive discoloration, as if he had been thrown with violence into something.

But the worst was—the worst was—

One of his feet was just gone. His left calf was hideously mangled and terminated in a bloody stump. His right hand was almost as bad: He was missing three of his fingers, and the ones that remained were twisted into unnatural angles.

And then there was a strange, black oily growth on his side, about the size of one of her new chickens. It smelled unwholesome and peculiar. It was somehow even worse to look at than his mangled leg and hand. It gave her a shiver just looking at it.

And as she looked at it, the reason it made her feel sick became clear.

Atragith Holoparasite Parasitoid

Invader

ENEMY OF THIS PLANET

Demi’s eyes widened, and as they did, more information began populating her view, giving her a complicated summary of the man’s condition. In addition to his missing foot and fingers, four of his ribs were broken and an additional three were bruised. His left clavicle was broken. He had multiple cuts and lacerations.

And the gruesome parasite was attempting to pierce his intestines.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

What can I do? What can I do? She panicked. What is that thing?!!! What am I supposed to do in this situation? She was practically keening in her panic. But then it was if she somehow caught hold of her own shoulders and gave herself a hard shake. No no no. Stop stop stop. There isn’t anyone else other than you to do this. If you lose your head, this man will be dead in minutes.

She closed her eyes hard and gritted her teeth.

Aren’t you a goddess?!!!

When she opened her eyes, she let go of all her extraneous thoughts and focused on the information that the system was feeding her.

As she did, something strange happened. Her vision grew vague and out of focus, but even as it did, something new came into focus: shining lines of green, in tangles and knots, threads bound up together to make a rope or a tree, all gently undulating.

There were dozens of threads loose and in a mess, as if they’d been shed or shredded, like a swill of liquid floating around the main tree.

This is that man, she understood instantly.

And then there was a weird gelatinous mass of dark strings that was in the process of burrowing into his larger mass of shining green threads.

As strange as it all was, it was somehow not unsettling. It made sense to her. Demi found that she was calm and determined. She didn’t know how her fifteen pages of skills worked, but she knew what to do at this exact moment.

First things first, I’ve got to get rid of that gross black thing, she resolved.

It felt a little like untangling a knot. She simply moved her hands through the threads, pulling the black mass out of the main rope strand by strand, until at last, it came free.

It did not like that and began wriggling and flailing ominously.

“I’ve had enough of you,” she said crossly, and then she just pulled it apart.

It was simple, nothing really. She just undid the threads and it was gone.

But the rest—

The rest of it—

“There’s not enough,” she murmured to herself.

She understood it intrinsically, looking at the thread tree before her. So much had been lost or destroyed. She couldn’t put it all back. There just wasn’t enough.

“Well, if there isn’t enough here, then I’ll just have to get it from someplace else,” she said aloud, as if wishing herself luck and giving herself permission all at once.

So she concentrated and she felt around herself, and after a few moments, she found what she needed.

And she took it. She took it because she could. It was hers to take and make of it what she would. She felt that deep in the darkest parts of herself, the most elder corners of her mind.

She took it.

And she made him whole.

Weaving, tying, knotting, knitting, threading, stitching, weaving, weaving.

She made him whole.

And when she was done, she sat back, panting and finally let her eyes focus again.

And what she saw made her fall backward onto her behind.

The horrifying parasite was gone as if it had never existed, but she didn’t find that surprising. She had unmade it, after all.

But the man in front of her—he no longer had a bloody stump at the end of his left leg. He had an ordinary looking calf and foot in a raggedy, bloodstained trouser leg.

And there were now five fingers on his right hand, and they were all positioned like normal fingers.

He still looked exhausted: tired and beaten bloody and raw, but he looked whole. He was breathing normally, and his color was no longer strange and mottled. He no longer felt slick and clammy to the touch, and he no longer had any broken bones.

She felt like laughing and crying at the same time, weak and triumphant in her flood of relief.

Now I think I understand what I should do, she thought to herself.

He was now in a condition that a young lady with a first aid merit badge might be able to treat.

So first she carefully washed his body. Such an idea might have driven her into conniptions if she had thought about it in an ordinary context. She was not accustomed to touching men other than her family’s butler and some of the research scientists at her mother’s lab, and certainly not accustomed to touching their bare skin.

She did, however, have a very active imagination, and she was very good at imagining naughty thoughts, whether she wanted to or not. She seemed predisposed to it to such a degree that she worried it might be viewed as concerning if other people realized it about her.

But fortunately, she seemed to somehow have control over her runaway thoughts in this situation, even when she moved his underwear to check if there were any wounds or hurt places hidden out of sight.

Oh, she reflected as she did. I suppose that’s the first one of those I’ve ever seen in person. Well, at least he isn’t hurt.

She imagined that she was able to keep her overactive imagination in check because he had been so hurt, and she was currently focused on making sure that he was all right.

(But it was quite indicative of her personality that she thought to check in the first place.)

Deep breath. She would have plenty of time to let her imagination run away with her at some less fraught time.

(And it would.)

Once he was fully washed on one side, she began methodically cleaning and bandaging his wounds, disinfecting them, rubbing ointment, putting poultices on the places where his skin had been rubbed raw or burned, and carefully dressing each injury.

While she was in the process of doing this, he opened his eyes again a sliver and silently watched her.

She saw that he was watching her, so she finished what she was doing and unstoppered another bottle.

“Drink this one too,” she ordered, holding it to his lips. “I’m sure it also tastes awful.”

He drank it without complaint. Encouraged, she gave him another that would help with blood production, and then some anti-inflammatory pills.

“How are you feeling now?” she asked in concern after he had finally finished taking the medicine.

He was silent for a moment, apparently thinking things over.

At last, he said only, “Not dead.”

And that pulled a weak and exasperated laugh out of her.

“Do you mind rolling on your side so I can clean and bandage your back?” she asked, rising to her feet. “I can help you if you’re not sure you can.”

He shook his head and then said, “I can do it.” Short, clipped, to the point.

He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, so she was not able to see his expression, or even if he remained awake. His breathing gave her the impression that he was still awake, but she couldn’t be sure.

After she had finished, she patted his shoulder and he rolled onto his back again.

“Please try and get some rest,” she suggested, pulling her comforter from the floor where she had thrown it previously. She carefully covered him with it. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch over you.”

“That thing will come for me,” he warned, his voice very low and gravelly.

That was enough to make her squirm a bit all by itself, but not because she was frightened.

“I’d like to see it try!” she shot back, planting her hands on her hips. She had no idea what he was talking about, no idea what he might be trying to warn her about, but she did feel very passionately that she could defend him from anything at that exact moment.

And this brought the faint whisper of a smile to his face before the effects of the potions and his own exhaustion overwhelmed him and he fell asleep.

the goddess is very surprised

Demi left only briefly to go to the bathroom to wash her hands and face. Then she returned to her bedside.

At this point, her bed was a little worse for wear. It had received a trauma victim without complaint, but the sheet that remained on the bed through everything was now rumpled and discolored, and this was obvious even with the comforter that was now over her peacefully slumbering patient.

He was clean now. She had seen to that herself, and the comforter she had spread over him was also perfectly serviceable, even if it had spent a little time piled in the corner.

It was the sheet underneath him that was really in the worst condition.

As she looked at it, she wondered about something.

Curious, she flipped back a corner of the comforter and laid her hand lightly on the sheet.

And then she quickly dropped it into her inventory, and then immediately put it back where it had been.

(The sheet conveniently snapped to the mattress whenever she indicated that she wanted to drop it onto the bed.)

And miraculously, the sheet came out beautiful and clean, fresh smelling, soft, and yet also crisp.

And she had managed to do this without disturbing her sleeping patient. She felt as if she had just successfully yanked a tablecloth out from under a stack of champagne glasses without bringing the tableau crashing down upon her in a sea of embarrassment and shattered glass.

Well, hopefully he’ll be a little more comfortable now, she decided.

Demi gathered Lacey-tan into her arms and moved to the opposite side of the room to lean against the bare wall. Then, she simply watched the man sleeping in her bed.

Now that his face was relaxed and he wasn’t so agonizingly near death, she could see that he was an older man, perhaps in his very late thirties or early forties. He had sharp features, pronounced cheekbones, and a strong nose. He was, quite unequivocally, handsome, and objectively so.

And even beyond his physical appearance, there was something about his presence, even while sleeping, that made him seem much older than he looked. Somehow, Demi understood that even if the man in front of her had looked to be no older than his teens, she would have still understood the secret. She would have still recognized that he had the presence of an older man.

A handsome old man, she thought to herself. He absolutely had the presence of a handsome old man. From that moment onward, the label “handsome old man” would be forever attached to him in her own mind.

(For this reason, and another, which would soon become abundantly clear.)

Quite embarrassingly, the label “handsome old man” shortly began appearing as the man’s abbreviated descriptive tag when she looked at him, rather than a personal name.

Even after she discovered his personal name and more information about him, the designation stuck. It was as if the system simply refused to update the tag.

Perhaps the label was understandable, even if it was a little embarrassing. In terms of her own personal taste, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. Maybe due to the nature of their initial meeting, or because of their recent harrowing experience, Demi found that she wasn’t shy or embarrassed to realize that this was true.

His soot dark hair had an opaline sheen to it, like oil across water, or the hazy glimmer of a raven’s wing. A lock of silvery white hair fell into his face.

And it was at this point, in contemplation of his hair and his face, that she at last realized that he had pointed ears. He had beautiful pointed ears, just as if he were a character from The Story of The Ring.

He’s an elf! she realized belatedly, then the realization itself gave her pause. How did I not notice that he was an elf until now? she wondered in confusion. Those ears are really hard to miss. I guess—I guess I just couldn’t process it until now. There was just too much going on.

She had been much more focused on attempting to save his life than she had been on musing about the wonders of his physiology.

Still.

Somehow, the sight of his long, slender ears was one of the most inescapable indications that she was undeniably in a fantasy world.

She had met talking fox and beaver people, made friends with dryads, regularly gotten advice from a magic chicken and material assistance from a candy-colored slime, spent days brewing potions in a cauldron, cut a weird monster in two with a stick, and had completely transformed more than one building with only a handful of nails.

She’d even used some kind of magic to unmake a strange parasitic monster.

But still, the exhausted, sleeping elf topped her list of fantasy elements by a substantial margin.

As she thought about it, a correction in information popped up in her view.

Half elf. He was half elven.

That didn’t really matter. Any percentage elven was a huge check mark for fantasy world in her book.

Ah, I should check his status screen to make sure there isn’t anything else wrong with him, she thought. I think he’s okay now, and I can’t see anything, but he did have that horrible black thing on him.

It certainly wasn’t an excuse to take a peek at the status screen of a very handsome elf who was currently lying asleep in her bed.

The Council of Demi was in agreement. This was a hundred percent absolutely normal and appropriate thing to do to confirm someone’s health and well-being.

Being a goddess and system administrator meant that she had privileges to look at anyone’s status at any time through direct use of the system. She just generally didn’t look at other people’s status without their consent because she understood it to be rude. Although it was a relatively rare skill to be able to appraise another person, the skill did exist outside of the direct system access that she employed. And of course, there were ways that people could reveal their status screens to one another. Still, asking for such a thing, except in very particular circumstances, was considered domineering and rude. And it could be dangerous to reveal your status screen to another person, particularly if you had unique skills or titles, as Duncan Oakroot had taught her.

It was one of the reasons she was thankful for the Very Ordinary Farm Girl’s Hairpin, despite its ridiculous name.

Well, it wasn’t rude to peek at his status screen in this case. She was just being sensible!

Probably.

When she did call up the menu and began to read it, she would have fallen back on her behind a second time if she hadn’t already been leaning against the wall.

Name: Aelfric Pwyll Farrant

Assumed Names: Alt Irondale, Salem Dusk, Fiach Hengist, Dougal Cheirnu, Dunstan Vasco

Titles: The Shadowstep Alchemist, The Shadow Councillor, The Shadow of Prystir, The Grandmaster of Fluid Alchemy

Age: 362

Aggregate Level: 97

Tagged as: Critically Important Person

Don’t Reveal His True Identity

Beloved of the God of Death

Beloved of the God of Night

Beloved of the Goddess of Time

Blessed by the Goddess of Magic

Archmage

Great Sage

Hero

Handsome Old Man

The Shadowstep Alchemist.

The Shadowstep Alchemist!

The man she had rescued was the Shadowstep Alchemist, the legendary alchemist, nation builder, light novel protagonist, and handsome old man that she had been daydreaming about from the moment she had picked up that first novel in Hollyhope’s cottage.

The greatest alchemist in the world was asleep in her bed.

He’s even more handsome than I imagined, she thought to herself, feeling dazed. She absently put her hand in the pocket of her skirt and laid it flat against the book.

She felt lightheaded from the revelation.

And what was with that arresting list of tags on his status screen?!

Demi wasn’t sure exactly what being the beloved of three gods actually meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that these were not romantic associations, but some kind of boon even greater than being blessed.

Then there was the pairing of Archmage and Great Sage. Those were both tier-five classes, weren’t they? Had he mastered both of them?

Demi had been prepared for him to have some sort of magical aptitude by the light novels, at least to some degree. In the novels, Grey had already attained a level of proficiency to qualify as a High Wizard at ten years old, but at least some of that was historical fiction, right? Right?!

Was the actual Shadowstep Alchemist even more incredible than the history books and even the light novels imagined?!

“Apparently so,” Demi commented to herself, her eyes still round.

(Around their table, the Council of Demi held up their own signs, as if they were judges at an international sporting event: 10.0, 10.0, 10.0, 10.0, 10.0, 362. This last number had been held up by the Demi who still had the flag with the little pink sheep on it. Once the other Demis saw her astonishing number, they immediately conferred and corrected all of the signs to produce a sweep of perfect 362s.)

“After all, he’s also a Great Sage. Archmage and Great Sage dual class, aggregate level ninety-seven,” she murmured quietly.

Just how long has this guy been grinding experience? she wondered.

But the Council of Demi had an answer for that: 362.

Demi had played more than enough RPGs in her life to realize what an insanely powerful combination Archmage and Great Sage were together. It was as if this man somehow had two different ultimate classes at the same time, the kind of classes that it took a whole game’s worth of experience to unlock, all of the way at the terminal end of a complicated class trees.

Here, Archmage and Great Sage were both fifth classes, the pinnacle of what mere mortals could attain. So rare was it for any individual to advance to these classes that they had a near-legendary status. Any person who made it to this level was a living national treasure, respected, honored, unequaled by any but their rare peers. They inevitably made their mark on the history of this world and were all so famous that they were sure to have their own epithets and a wild catalog of myths and stories about them.

Like “the Shadowstep Alchemist,” Demi reflected.

But still, that’s so crazy. People who make fourth class are already so extraordinary that even kings and queens know them by name and treat them with respect, she thought, studying the man who was now sleeping in her bed. Even those guys are super famous and get catchy nicknames and make the history books. There are never more than a handful anywhere: celebrated generals, imperial sorcerers, genius strategists, people like that.

But the fact that the Shadowstep Alchemist had not only one but two fifth classes had not been in any history book she had read, not even the most speculative.

Even if he’s a half-elf, even if he’s 362 years old, even then, having two fifth classes is insane. That’s like, the stuff of a demigod, she thought, her eyes swirling like her cauldron when she got a little too enthusiastic during synthesis.

But then she got a little shock as she thought about it.

Plus this man is “the Grandmaster of Fluid Alchemy,” but he doesn’t even have any kind of “alchemist” actually listed among his tags! Demi fumed. What is with that? Is he so ridiculously good at everything that alchemy doesn’t even make the short list? And he’s got so many aliases that he’s either a secret agent or a wanted fugitive!

It’s all absolutely ridiculous, she decided, quite forgetting that she herself was a goddess and therefore also an absurd violation of the rules of both game balance and ordinary reality.

But in the end, even considering everything else, it was the penultimate tag that was the real knock out.

(She was just going to politely ignore the final tag. It certainly had nothing to do with her and she most definitely had not caused it to appear herself.)

Hero.

Here was an honest-to-goodness isekai fantasy-world Hero, right in front of her.

That’s, you know, that’s really an EX-CALIBUR!!! level wise up, isn’t it? she thought, leaning her cheek against her hand. This is the guy who saves the world from ultimate peril, even if he has to fly to the moon, or travel through time, or go to a parallel world, or become a robot. The Hero. A real singularity.

And he was. Although he was called “the Hero-King,” Conri had not been a hero, or at least, not the Hero. That tag had a very specific meaning.

Although admittedly, the man asleep in her bed was somewhat different from what she imagined when she imagined a standard fantasy-world Hero. For one thing, he was too old. The Heroes in the games she had played and the books that she had read were generally teenagers, around sixteen, usually with earnest, guileless, fiery personalities and spiky hair, the sort of young men who would have done well as the protagonist of a shonen manga. They were almost all swordsmen with bright, cheerful smiles. It was also unusual for them to be any percentage elven.

Even when middle-aged salarymen were transported to fantasy worlds to become Heroes, they almost always became bright-eyed young men (although occasionally they did become very pretty girls). That was just the way things usually worked.

Even if one totally ignored this gentleman’s “aura of being an old man,” and focused only on his timeless elven features, he was still older than the standard fantasy-world protagonist.

Not only was he older than the standard Hero, but his temperament was also different. Demi had already gotten the sense that he had a taciturn and guarded personality, even from their brief interactions. In addition to that, his sharp eyes and features made him look closer to a handsome antagonist than a Hero.

Not that she was complaining. Heroes were not usually her type in games. She generally naturally drifted toward assassins, mages, necromancers, and of course alchemists, none of whom were ordinarily cast in the role of Hero, even in stories and games that centered around them specifically.

Notwithstanding her previous feelings, Demi had instantly become much more interested in Heroes than she had been before. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, after all.

And he had secrets to keep, apparently.

“Don’t reveal his true identity!”

Thanks for the tag, Hollyhope, Demi prayed.

If the warning not to reveal his identity hadn’t been there, Demi would have likely told the next person she saw for no other reason than the fact that it was so astonishing. She was already such a fan of the Shadowstep Alchemist that she desperately wanted to tell someone all about it. But she was sure that there had to be a reason behind that tag. She would respect it.

“Aelfric,” Demi said very quietly. “Aelfric Pwyll Farrant.”

It fit. It felt much better than “Grey Thornwood.” It felt more real.

While Demi was contemplating the revelations concerning the man laid up in her bed, Glimmer arrived back at the house with Elder Ashbark, Duncan, and Finella. Demi went downstairs to meet them and explain the situation and was surprised to find that Dollop had come back with them.

“Pii pi pi pii?!!!” the slime squeaked in a combination of relief and alarm as they collided with her legs as she came down the stairs.

“Sorry goddess,” Finella apologized, kneeling to pet Dollop comfortingly. “I think they just got really afraid when they overheard what we were talking about. We had to bring them back with us.”

Dollop’s trembling, Demi realized, empathizing with her little friend. I think Dollop might have thought that I was the one who was hurt and needed help. She knelt to reassure the slime herself. They were still white, but seemed to be gradually calming down to a green color now that she and Finella were both patting them.

But Dollop’s fearful reaction pushed another idea to the forefront of her mind.

She turned to Duncan.

“Can you organize a sweep of the nearby area?” she asked. “The man I found was hurt very badly. I don’t think—” She paused. “It doesn’t feel as if the barrier has come down, but for everyone’s safety, I think it’s best to make sure that whatever did this to him isn’t lurking around somewhere close by.”

She described the general location where she had first come upon Aelfric, and Duncan nodded, a grim and determined look on his face. He departed once he secured a promise from Finella that she would stay inside the house with Demi and Elder Ashbark until he returned.

Elder Ashbark was relieved that the man she had rescued was now stable.

“Best let Finella look to be sure,” he suggested.

Demi blanched.

“Oh, oh, I don’t think it’s something that a little girl should have to see,” Demi worried, clasping her hands in front of herself. She appreciated any help and reassurance, but she didn’t want to force Finella to look at something so distressing.

Aelfric was in much better condition now than he had been when he had arrived, but his clothes were still ragged, and in places entirely cut away. She had bandaged all of the deep wounds, but he was still covered with shallow abrasions and marks.

But Elder Ashbark shook his head.

“You are kind,” he said gently, “but Finella has seen many things already, and will likely see many more. Let her help you.”

Demi bit her lip, but the normally energetic girl simply nodded and took her hand.

“It’s all right, goddess,” she gently encouraged her. “Let’s go check on him.”

Demi squeezed her hand and nodded.

“All right,” she said. “If you’re sure.”

She was sure.

Dollop went with them, still unwilling to leave Demi’s side, hugging close to her leg whenever she was stationary for more than a moment.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Finella let go of Demi’s hand and drew some runes in the air to cast a spell. In the end, she turned back to Demi and nodded.

“I’m not exactly sure what you did,” she admitted. “But I think it worked. He’s safe for now. He just needs to be cared for until he recovers, I think. You did a good job.”

Demi let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Thank you,” she said to Finella sincerely, then knelt to hug the little girl.

Finella patted Demi on the back and they both went down to relay the information to Elder Ashbark.

Duncan reported on his findings the next day, having conducted a thorough sweep of the area surrounding the farmhouse, both inside and outside of the barrier. He had located the spot where Demi had recovered Aelfric, but nothing had seemed amiss there.

According to him, there was no sign of anything that might have been able to maul Aelfric in the way that he had been mauled.

(Which was a great relief, honestly.)

Exactly what had put Aelfric in such a harrowing condition was destined to remain a mystery, at least for the time being.

the goddess’s new houseguest

Demi spent the next several days caring for Aelfric. The worst danger had passed, but she was careful and circumspect, and kept making him drink potions and take medicines. She also cooked several meals for him: rice porridge, alchemic chicken noodle soup, egg on rice, plain toast, oatmeal—

These foods all ended up with a bonus effect called “Food Made with Hope for a Speedy Recovery,” which increased the body’s natural ability to heal in some way or another.

After the first four days, he was well enough to move around the house on his own, although she still insisted that he rest and recover. He had also tried to give up her bed early on and make do with a cot or a pallet on the floor, but she had categorically refused.

The very first night they had had something of a standoff regarding her bed.

When Aelfric had first woken up after having slept for a few hours, he had immediately sussed out that he was in her bed and had tried to give it up. When she told him it was the only bed in the house, he only became more adamant.

She didn’t have enough materials on hand to try crafting another bed, or even a cot, and she did not want to go on a gathering adventure, at least not so late into the evening after such a harrowing day. She was tired. Even after his sleep, he was still tired, and confined to bed on her orders. No one else was on hand apart from Glimmer and Dollop, and there was no way an ornamental chicken could gather materials for and then construct a bed, and neither could a small slime, no matter how determined to help they were.

Beyond that, she was tired. She didn’t want to bother with something as complicated as building a bed. She just wanted to go to sleep.

But everything was all right. She didn’t need to stumble around trying to craft a bed. The bed that had come along with the house was massive, and Demi was a very small person. Even with Aelfric, Lacey-tan, Dollop, and Demi, the bed had plenty of space to sleep comfortably.

(And of course, Glimmer continued to roost on the footboard, where he could “keep an eye on things.” He was surprisingly careful when it came to dealing with Aelfric. He refrained from speaking in front of him because Demi had not yet decided how much she wanted to reveal to him.)

Aelfric had apparently not expected that she simply intended to sleep on one side of the bed while he slept on the other, and had blushed and silently looked away.

That’s surprisingly adorable, Demi thought to herself.

Realizing that he was also shy and embarrassed gave her more courage.

“This way I can be close in case you need me for something during the night,” she said practically.

He continued to be pink. Even the tips of his ears had turned rosy. He made a nonverbal sound which was apparently an agreement.

Or at least Demi decided to take it as one.

So she put Lacey-tan in the bed between them, like the sword that divided Tristan and Isolde, and settled down to sleep. After reading for a while, she did miraculously fall asleep, despite the unfamiliarity of the situation.

It had ended up feeling so ordinary that Demi put off constructing an additional bed the following day. There were plenty of other things to do, after all, and she would rather read books, collect herbs, work in her garden, read books, practice alchemy, spend time with her chickens, or read books.

And there was a lot of work to do in the garden.

She had killed everything she had planted, after all.

When Demi had reached out for the missing green she had needed to make Aelfric whole, she had found what she needed in her little garden, and had pulled the green out of every plant, every insect, every fungus, arachnid, and even some small mice and lizards and other little crawling things.

She had not done it because she misapprehended the value of those small lives. They were also precious. But she had been desperate and so had made a value judgment. That was the sort of thing that such a responsibility demanded: to look squarely at a difficult choice and make a deliberate decision oneself. If she was willing to take the green from those things for her own purposes, then she needed to take responsibility for her own actions.

So she carefully cleared out the dead things and put them to compost. Although they were no longer alive, they were still filled with valuable minerals and nutrients, and something on her farm or in the forest would make use of them in the future.

Once Aelfric was well enough, he came out to watch her wherever she chose to work, sitting on the veranda when she was working in her garden, or nearby the run or chicken coop when she was inside of it and engaged in chicken husbandry. He also sat in the workshop when she was practicing alchemy, or in the kitchen when she was cooking.

He didn’t say much at all, but simply watched her, apparently deep in thought.

I don’t think he’s lovestruck, Demi thought to herself wryly. Although truly who wouldn’t be struck by a girl as adorable and charming as I am?

Demi was nothing if not good at admiring herself, and she had the Council of Demi to reinforce these already strong opinions.

But Aelfric’s mind seemed to be occupied by other thoughts. He paid close attention to everything she did, watching how she did things, and why. At first the scrutiny had been a little nerve-racking, but once she had become accustomed to it, and determined that he had no interest in criticizing the way she did things, Demi learned to let it drift into the background, still somewhere in her conscious awareness but not preoccupied by it.

She did try to engage him in conversation repeatedly, but he rarely spoke. So Demi learned to carry on one-sided conversations with him. She was a very chatty girl and talked to excess by most people’s metrics. She liked grumpy and taciturn people, so she was accustomed to having these sorts of one-sided conversations.

And she discovered that the more she talked to him, the more he slowly began to open up, answering her more regularly when she asked him questions or speculated on his opinions.

After a week and a half, they were having what Demi classified as ordinary conversations. He sometimes even spoke to her first.

She had been somewhat conflicted over what to call him at first, whether to use his true name or his assumed name, whether or not she ought to call him by his last name as a way of being respectful, whether or not she ought to call him sensei because he was both an Archmage and a Great Sage...

And a doctor?

She couldn’t just call him “handsome old man.”

(Even if her brain supplied the phrase readily.)

But then the name “Aelfric” just slipped out of her on the second day. Fortunately, no one besides the two of them (and Glimmer and Dollop) had been at the farm that day. Everyone was busy with their work: preparing the trees and plants at the location of the new fox settlement, surveying and marking out the ground around the proposed water lock, keeping track of the progress of the Rosebrook, making sure the whole area was safe from disturbances...

Demi and Aelfric spent most of their time alone and in one another’s company as he convalesced.

(With the exception of Glimmer, who was of course, always on hand to “keep an eye on things,” and Dollop, who seemed likewise occupied.)

The first time Demi called Aelfric by his true name, he had looked over at her sharply, with narrowed eyes and an intense gaze. Although he was still confined to bed, the force of his stare was enough to make her feel as if he had pushed her against a wall and was menacing her.

“How do you know that name?” he demanded, his voice low and dark.

“Ahhh,” she panicked, fluttering her hands. “You mentioned it in your sleep,” she fibbed. It was not a very good lie, but Demi was not very good at lying to people she genuinely liked.

She did not like to do it even when she felt that it was necessary. Lying to Aelfric made her feel uncomfortable, so she avoided thinking about it, which made her lies that much worse.

Demi was not yet certain that she ought to reveal her identity as a goddess to him, despite the fact that he was tagged as the Hero. Duncan Oakroot had warned her to be careful, and she didn’t know much about the Shadowstep Alchemist, the real Shadowstep Alchemist. Most of what she did know came from what she had read about him in books, and not all of that had been favorable.

Not everyone liked the Shadowstep Alchemist. He had done a lot of good, but there were other things that people called him.

Warmonger

Doombringer

Death’s Horseman

Poisoncrow

Dirgefisher

Stormshrike

Poisoner, profiteer, kinslayer, kingslayer.

(Although, like Hollyhope, Demi remained his devoted fan. She wanted to believe in him.)

Fortunately, he had accepted her questionable lie, or at least she assumed so.

“Don’t mention that name to anyone,” he warned with narrowed eyes. Then as if recognizing how intense he was being, he relaxed slightly and said, “That’s not my name. Call me Alt.”

“All right,” she said shyly, ducking her head slightly. “Alt.”

He seemed satisfied by this, and let the issue pass.

The biggest reason that Demi was reluctant to reveal her identity as a goddess to Aelfric was his association with the royal family of Prystir. The official annals of the nation recorded the Shadowstep Alchemist as one of the founders of the kingdom, along with the first king, the Hero-King Conri, and the Unicorn Queen. Even after the death of the first king, when the Shadowstep Alchemist had gradually faded into legend, rumors persisted of a mysterious advisor to the royal family, a vague and ageless person who never showed themselves in public, but who was rumored to have the ear of the current ruler of Prystir, the young Princess-King.

The Shadow Councillor. The Shadow of Prystir.

If Aelfric reported her identity to the crown, then Demi knew she would immediately be thrust into the world of politics and intrigue. That was not a place that she wanted to be. She had had enough experience with that as the heir to the Seat of Serraffield.

She just wanted to enjoy her idyllic farm life: reading books, caring for chickens, walking in the forest, reading books, growing flowers, cooking delicious food, practicing alchemy, petting pink sheep, and reading books.

If the royal family caught wind of her, she knew she’d have no peace at all.

Even if Aelfric did not wish to betray her trust, he likely already had obligations to the crown that he felt called to uphold. That was one way the fictionalized Grey Thornwood and the flesh-and-blood Aelfric Pwyll Farrant were the same. They both took their responsibilities very seriously.

And so, Demi waited cautiously, thinking carefully about what she ought to do, and doing her best to appear to be nothing more than a very ordinary farm girl.

the goddess’s new teacher

As the days continued, Demi desperately fought the urge to ask Aelfric to give her lessons in Fluid Alchemy. He was still convalescing, and it wasn’t as if he’d come to her farm of his own free will. He’d been carried there unconscious and bleeding out. He likely had no interest in teaching her alchemy.

She was an absolute novice and he was the Grandmaster.

And if he did want to teach her, surely he would just speak up when she was practicing in the workshop or studying from one of her books. He watched her particularly closely whenever she was doing synthesis, so it wasn’t as if the opportunity simply escaped him.

And then, one day after watching her bottle another noxious-smelling potion, he had grunted and shaken his head.

“You need to be using transmuted compound ingredients for this synthesis,” he had said, coming to sit on a stool nearby the cauldron. “And you need to change the order that you add the ingredients.” He paused. “You also need to make better use of your tools,” he said, silently eying the various pieces of equipment that lined the shelves. They had all arrived along with the workshop, when she had driven in the final nails. That had certainly been convenient, but the fallout was that she didn’t yet know what all the tools even were, let alone how they worked. But Aelfric continued. “First of all, you should measure your ingredients by weight, rather than volume,” he said, nodding toward a set of silver scales.

That’s just like baking, she thought to herself.

At the very least, she did understand how a scale worked.

She hadn’t thought of using it before because she had already gotten into the habit of thinking of Fluid Alchemy more like savory cooking than baking. Although some techniques in cooking were very precise, in the end, much of it was more free-form. With a suitable amount of skill, you could alter recipes in the midst of cooking and still come out with something marvelous.

But baking was different. Baking was chemistry. Every alteration to a recipe had a very tangible effect on the shape, feel, and consistency of the bread or cake produced. If a person fooled around too much with the recipe, or tried to substitute in different ingredients without careful consideration, it was very easy to produce a spectacular failure.

“I didn’t realize that precision was so important in Fluid Alchemy,” she ventured. “I thought developing intuitions about ingredient ratios was more important.”

He shook his head.

“You aren’t wrong,” he agreed. “You will need to develop a deep understanding of the nature of your ingredients, and this includes how they interact with other ingredients. This will inform your understanding of ingredient ratios. But for the time being, it’s more important for you to understand the logic behind standard recipes. Once you have fully grasped the reasons why a recipe is the way that it is, you will be ready to experiment with ratios and substitutions.”

Demi nodded, because that made perfect sense to her. Aelfric had explained it clearly and succinctly.

He’s a good teacher, she thought to herself.

She got the scale and moved it over to her worktable and began carefully measuring her ingredients.

As she did, he remarked, “You need a good filter to remove some of the impurities in the potion. That will also help to reduce the offensive taste and smell. The best way to get an effective filter at your level of skill is to synthesize paper. You can use either Stable Alchemy or Fluid Alchemy to do this, although Fluid Alchemy has the potential to produce an item with more relevant traits.”

He slowly talked her through the process of making paper through alchemy. There were fibers she had to pulp with the mortar and pestle, a liquid that had to be heated to the right temperature, and salamander crystal shards delicately filed into the mix. She had previously been using water for the liquid, but Aelfric suggested cutting the water with birch sap instead, so that was what she used.

In the end, after a failed attempt, she managed to make some suitable sheets of paper.

“Before you use it all in the course of your potion-making, you should duplicate it into your cyprianus,” Aelfric pointed out.

A cyprianus also acted as the high alchemist’s record of the items they had created: the ingredients, steps, and the range of traits produced, all recorded quite precisely. With a high quality cyprianus, it was possible to record information about synthesized items made by the owner simply by bringing them close to the book.

Less sophisticated books required more traditional methods of entry, namely pen and ink.

A cyprianus was really the alchemist’s version of a grimoire, and each one was unique and bound to an individual alchemist.

A rare and magical book about alchemy.

Of course Demi wanted one of her own.

But a high alchemist’s cyprianus was generally gifted to them by their alchemy master once they finished a probationary apprenticeship period.

Demi did not have an alchemy master, and she had no way to make a cyprianus of her own, regardless of her studies. If she had been in a large city and also blessed with outrageous disposable income, she might have found a high alchemist willing to make one for her.

But she was on a farm in the hinterlands of the frontier and she had been learning alchemy for less than a month.

So her answer really oughtn’t have been that surprising.

“I don’t have a cyprianus,” she said honestly.

This caused his eyebrows to draw together in a frown.

“You don’t have one?” he asked incredulously. “Not even a basic one?”

She gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh, sounding sheepish.

“Ah, no. Sorry, I don’t.”

She couldn’t have explained why she felt it was necessary to apologize to him for her lack of a cyprianus. Perhaps it was because he was the father of Fluid Alchemy.

He made a low rumbling sound in the back of his throat.

“What was your master thinking?” he said lowly, half to himself. “You can’t advance as a high alchemist without one.”

Even Demi understood that much. The cyprianus collected the knowledge and understanding of the high alchemist as they worked, and converted this into experience that translated directly into skill levels in Fluid Alchemy. Although Demi could practice Fluid Alchemy all she wanted, and improve her understanding and technique, she would never advance her level in Fluid Alchemy without a cyprianus.

None of the experience she had so far gained during the course of her alchemy practice had counted for anything. Her skill level with Fluid Alchemy had not advanced at all.

But it wasn’t as if she liked the fact that her hard-earned alchemy experience was going essentially nowhere. That was simply the circumstance that she found herself in. Demi had been interested in Fluid Alchemy from the outset, and then Tata’s illness had given her a strong incentive to practice, even now, when this practice did nothing to advance her alchemy levels. Realizing how important a cyprianus was to her continued studies, she had already inquired with Grandmeister Fairfox about getting one, and he was even now attempting to source it, but he had been frank about the fact that it would probably take a long time to acquire, given the state of things.

So she again thought it was best to be honest.

“I don’t have an alchemy master,” she admitted.

And this was apparently so surprising to Aelfric that he turned and looked at her hard.

“Explain yourself,” he directed immediately, as if he were the headmaster at a school and she was his most unruly student.

Despite the fact that they were currently standing in her atelier, in her house, on her farm, she still felt obliged to do exactly as she was told. He had that kind of effect on her.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I uh,” she mildly panicked, looking and sounding guilty. “I’ve just been studying on my own, from books.”

“For how long?” he asked, his brows still drawn together. She was not entirely sure that he believed her.

“About three weeks?” she ventured with a contrite smile. Even as she said it she got the sense that it was not an answer that he would like.

“Three weeks?!” he thundered, his volume rising inadvertently with his shock. When he saw her wince, he raised a hand in apology and got control of himself, briefly covering his face with one of his long-fingered hands. “I’m sorry,” he said shortly. “I did not mean to raise my voice. I was merely surprised.”

He lapsed into silence for several seconds, apparently thinking. In the end, he sat down at one of her worktables and made use of a nearby pen and one of the failed pieces of almost-paper.

“Here,” he said, passing the completed list to Demi. “Get me these ingredients.”

Demi tilted her head to the side slightly. “Do you need something?” she asked in concern. “I’ll try to get it for you if you do.”

His brows drew together sharply again and he said, “You are the one that needs something. You can’t be without a cyprianus. Get me the ingredients and I’ll make one for you.”

And somehow, even after all they had been through thus far: her tending his wounds, washing his battered body, their peaceful cohabitation—

They were still sleeping in the same bed. (Out of convenience.)

—Somehow, somehow, in spite of all of this, it was these simple, direct words that made her blush rosily and cover her cheeks with her hands.

After she had fully emoted her feelings on the subject, she took the list and drew both of her hands to her chest.

“Ah, yes, I’ll go get what you need,” she said, her words stumbling over one another in her shyness.

And she hastily exited the workshop, her cheeks still rosy.

the goddess’s new book

Demi rushed outside and made it all the way to the chicken coop before she calmed down enough to actually read the list.

Panting, she leaned against the far outside wall of the coop, as if hiding from someone. But reading the list gave her something to do besides think about how he had looked when he gave her the list: thin lipped, a faint frown, intense.

If she thought about that much more she was going to have a fit of the vapors.

So she focused on the list.

She was relieved to see that he hadn’t asked for anything truly outlandish. She hadn’t even glanced at it before swearing to get what was on it, and there had been a very real chance that it contained one or more items that were simply not to be had at this locale. She did not really know what went into making a cyprianus. It was a rare and valuable tool, so it well might have called for many rare and elusive ingredients.

Fortunately, the list he had given her generally contained ordinary things that might be found either on a farm or in the forest. The few things she was not sure she could get locally were either already in the house or things she could get from either trading with Grandmeister Fairfox or with Duncan Oakroot.

The search function made gathering the items simple. She just had to be willing to walk to get them. Walking through the meadows and the woodland to gather different roots, leaves, berries, small stones, tree bark, and sticks was very relaxing, and Demi managed to gain back some of her composure as she went about collecting.

From Duncan Oakroot she got some specific types of wood pulp, jellies that dropped from slime-like creatures primarily found in dungeons, along with some small, glittering crystals. From the foxes she got some fine thread, several different kinds of animal hair, some fluffy cotton, and a stag’s antler. Finally, her list nearly complete, she went home, where she collected some charcoal, oil, and wax.

She dutifully brought all of the items back to the atelier, making sure to take time to actually load them into a basket out of sight of Aelfric, rather than simply plopping them down directly from her inventory.

He was still in the workshop, although he had not stayed idle. There were a few ingredients she did not immediately recognize laid out on the table, along with several pieces of equipment that had come from the workshop itself.

He checked over what she had brought, then nodded.

“Good,” he said simply, and this one word of praise left her feeling elated. Then he stepped away from the table.

“Please tell me what your soul animal is,” he said. “It’s not absolutely necessary, but if I have the information, it will make the fit much better.”

One strange quirk of this world’s main magic system, the Ars Magna, was that when humans or elves used magic, they gained traits from a specific animal while they were casting or otherwise handling magic. Namely: they got ears and tails just like proper kemonomimi.

When Demi had first read over this fact in a book, she had immediately thought, It’s just like that show with the witches and airplanes. Ahh, this is such a cute world. I love this place.

Unfortunately, she was forced to admit something slightly embarrassing.

“I don’t actually know,” she said shyly.

She hadn’t figured out how to properly use any spells in this world apart from Earth Blessing and she hadn’t manifested anything when she’d used it. At the time she had been mildly disappointed because who didn’t want cute magical ears and a tail?

Neither Elder Ashbark nor Finella had been able to tell her if this lack of manifestation was normal or not, since they practiced a slightly different ritual version. Critterin didn’t gain additional ears and tails whenever they used their own knack-based magic, and the doubly blessed didn’t either, even when using the Ars Magna.

That would look pretty silly, she had thought at the time.

Finella had suggested that her lack of manifestation might have to do with her being a goddess and using magic that she governed, but neither could say with certainty. And although she had asked Glimmer for his insight, he had not given the most useful answer.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he had said. “Although I do understand why you’d be disappointed that you didn’t gain a tail.” He had taken a dramatic pose, his tail streaming artistically behind him. “Just imagine how you might feel with a tail even a fraction as magnificent as this!”

Demi had thanked him for his input and gone about her business.

The only other time she’d used magic had been when she’d saved Aelfric’s life, but due to the unique circumstances she had been extremely distracted. She hadn’t had the time to run off and check if she’d sprouted ears and a tail while so engaged.

She didn’t have any idea what her soul animal might be. It was possible that, due to coming from another world, she didn’t even have one, although that would be grossly disappointing.

She wanted to be a charming kemonomimi like everyone else!

But the moment Demi confirmed that she did not know her soul animal, Aelfric’s eyebrows had drawn together.

He closed his eyes briefly and then sighed.

“I might have expected as much,” he said, then looked at her pointedly. “I would be very curious to know about your upbringing,” he said flatly. “You clearly seem to have been raised as a noble by your mannerisms and general way of speaking. You’re very well educated generally, but then there are deficiencies in your knowledge wide enough to drive a train through.”

“Ahh, ehee hee~” She desperately tried featherbrained girlish laughter as a way to get herself out of an uncomfortable explanation.

Fortunately, he sighed again, his brows still drawn together.

“It’s not important,” he said shortly. “Come here,” he said, extending both of his hands. “I’ll help you discover your soul animal.”

Oh, oh right! Demi realized all at once. He’s not just the Grandmaster of Fluid Alchemy; he’s also an Archmage and a Great Sage. I got so hung up on the “alchemist” part of being the Shadowstep Alchemist that I forgot all about that.

It was a big thing to forget, but there were much more important things on her mind.

Wait, wait, does that mean we’re going to hold hands? Demi blushed rosily again.

But he was waiting for her, and she didn’t want to test his patience. Beyond that, he was going well out of his way for her, and helping her despite the fact that he was still recovering from his injuries. The least she could do was be polite and respectful and not keep him waiting.

She was also anxious that he not find her childish. If she got obviously flustered from the experience of holding his hands during a magic ritual, then she was certain that he would view her as an inexperienced little girl.

So she approached him as she was told, and delicately placed her hands directly above his, close enough to feel his body heat, but not actually touching.

It was Aelfric who completed the connection, folding her hands into his, so that his thumbs rested lightly on the backs of her hands.

“I’m going to help you circulate your mana,” he said. “Once you can feel it moving through your body, your soul animal should manifest naturally.”

Demi didn’t have time to hyper focus on the feeling of his hands because she began to feel a delicate touch on her skin. It felt a little like being in water and having something move by, stirring the current slightly, or like the soft touch of a feather moving the air around her, but not quite touching her skin. It was maddening and marvelous all at once.

It felt wonderful. Somehow, she felt a little more like herself than she had before. It was difficult to verbalize.

She had closed her eyes instinctively as it had begun happening, to shut out extraneous distractions and focus only on the feeling. As she felt the little currents moving through her and around her, she heard Aelfric speak.

“Mm. As I expected,” he said.

Demi was so surprised by hearing spoken words that she opened her eyes and found herself staring at him.

There were two dark ears standing up on the top of his head, and when she looked down she could see a luxuriant tail behind him.

She did not have to think to know what he was, even though it was a little bit surprising (while also not being surprising at all).

A wolf.

A black wolf.

Aelfric’s soul animal was a black wolf.

(And not a silver fox, as it was in the light novels.)

Then she heard him say, “Reflection,” and she was surprised to find that a mirrorlike surface had appeared to one side of them. When Demi turned to look, she saw her soul animal for the first time.

She had brown ears that were gently rounded, but pointed at the top, where the color became a sooty black. She also had a short tail, rather like a rabbit’s, brown on top but a snowy white underneath.

Just as she had understood Aelfric simply by looking at him, she understood herself.

“A doe,” confirmed Aelfric. “A white-tailed doe, I believe.”

He released her hands and she was surprised to see that her ears and tail remained. She was circulating her own mana to sustain them.

Ahhh, she thought, looking at herself in the reflection spell. I somehow got even cuter than before.

Of course, she immediately raised both her hands to the top of her head to touch her ears. They felt warm and alive, not like a pair of costume ears. They were soft and very slightly cooler than the rest of her body. She could move them around just by thinking about it, and sometimes they moved around entirely on their own, apparently subconsciously.

Then she felt around to her bottom to catch hold of the little tail. It was also soft and alive. She could move it from side to side, even wag it, but by far the most impressive thing she could do was raise it like a little flag, so the snowy white underside was on display.

That’s what they do to communicate danger, she thought to herself. But it makes it extremely cute. Like a bunny tail!

Aelfric cleared his throat as a way of drawing her attention away from admiring herself. She saw that he had disappointingly already dropped his ears and tail.

She had wanted very much to touch them.

Probably that was a very rude thing to think.

But.

But but but but but.

She just couldn’t help it. They looked eminently touchable.

I wonder if they would squeak if I squeezed them gently? she mused, thinking back to a certain manga about a dog demon.

Unfortunately that mystery would have to be resolved another day.

“Imagine exhaling slowly,” he said. “Let all your breath out.”

She did, closing her eyes again and slowly breathing out.

When she opened them again, her ears and tail were gone.

“Well done,” he said simply, then moved back to the worktable.

Demi followed him, full of questions.

“How does that work?” she wanted to know. As an Archmage, she felt that he ought to have special insights.

And in a way, he did.

“It happens according to the logic of this world,” he said, glancing up as he measured out ingredients.

“The logic of this world?” she asked curiously.

“Mm,” he answered nonverbally, as he often did, then added, “It’s simply how things function.” Seeing that she apparently wanted further information, he continued. “The phenomenon cannot be isolated from the use of magic. It is intrinsic.”

“Ah, I suppose I understand,” she said thoughtfully.

It must be an element of the system. Maybe that’s what he means when he says “according to the logic of this world.” It really means “this is how the system was defined, and how it functions,” she thought to herself.

“Ara,” she said at once, finally realizing something. “When you had wolf ears, your elf ears disappeared!” she said in surprise. She moved her hands up to the spot where her deer ears had been, then down to gently cup her own ears. “It didn’t feel as if my ears changed,” she said. “I was still hearing normally, but now that I think about it, I couldn’t see my ears either. I mean, my ordinary ears. Does our anatomy change when we use magic?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He glanced up and she caught the faint move of his mouth. She thought he had smiled briefly.

“No,” he answered shortly. “It’s merely cosmetic, to eliminate the visual confusion and dysphoria we would experience at seeing ourselves having two different sets of ears. Your actual ears still function. They’re simply invisible. You can still touch them, and they work as they ordinarily work.”

Demi went to sit on a stool near the worktable.

“What did you mean when you said ‘as I expected’?” she asked curiously, watching him work.

He didn’t look up this time, but answered as he continued to prepare ingredients.

“There are times when you meet someone and get a sense of what they might be,” he said. “Particularly once you have been using magic for a long time. You gave me the sense of being a doe the first time I saw you.”

“Oh, when you told me I ought to have left you there in the woods,” she recalled.

“Mn.” He made an ambiguous sound and continued working.

Synthesizing the cyprianus was a multistep process, and he involved her in it as much as he could. She was grateful for his time and attention, and she learned a great deal simply by watching how he did things.

They made extremely fine paper, ink with a number of complicated properties, and composite boards. Each of these items had involved multiple steps and ingredients. This was how the simple items from the forest could be transmuted into such a complex tool.

It was a marvel to watch Aelfric work and to work alongside him. He worked swiftly but carefully, always checking the state of his ingredients. He had incredible attention to detail, and a precision that was breathtaking. He could tell how a synthesis was going simply by looking into the cauldron, and could accurately determine the temperature of things by moving his hand over them briefly.

Every time he did something new, or made a deliberate choice on how to proceed, he explained what he was doing and how he was doing it. She was an apt pupil and soaked up every word.

Finally, all of the constituent ingredients were prepared, apart from one.

He picked up a sharp blade from the worktable.

“I need a lock of your hair,” he explained. “I’m sorry to spoil your curls, but it should grow back in time. About four inches in length should suffice.” He paused, eyeing her hair. “Fortunately, you do seem to have an abundance of it.”

Demi’s hands moved up to her hair and she gently patted it.

“Ah, yes, I suppose it is my one vanity,” she admitted with a smile.

(It was far from her only vanity, but it was perhaps the greatest of them. She took great pride in her curtain of curls, and went to great lengths to care for and protect it.)

But Aelfric allowed that polite fiction to pass without comment.

He moved around behind her and then knelt, but after a moment, he got to his feet again.

“It’s too awkward to cut it at that height and angle,” he explained. “I am afraid I will cut more than necessary.”

He laid the blade aside and cleared a space on the worktable.

“Please excuse me,” he said, and then without further comment he picked her up and put her on the table.

She was so surprised that she didn’t even react, just sat there, flushed and amazed.

He selected one of her tresses and tied a thread around it, then holding it very carefully between his fingers, he cut the appropriate length.

She simply sat there, completely astonished, as he continued his work.

After a while, she did recover to the point she could function normally again, but by this point he had finished his preparations and was ready for the final synthesis.

He came back to the worktable and excused himself again, then lightly put her back on the ground.

She somehow managed to keep her head this time, although as before, it was arresting.

Fortunately, the prospect of the final synthesis was suitably distracting, and she found she could focus on that.

She went to watch him make the cyprianus.

He was very particular about the order he added the ingredients and where he placed them in the cauldron and at what times.

One of the unique things about Demi’s cauldron was the height. Although it was a large cauldron, big enough for her to hide herself in, after all, it was not particularly tall, but was instead at a height that suited her perfectly. But Aelfric was a tall man, easily over six feet. This meant he sometimes had to brace himself against the rim of the cauldron as he leaned forward to add ingredients.

He used his own staff to stir the cauldron, as Demi’s was certainly too short for his frame.

Near the end of the synthesis, he nodded to her.

“Now add the lock of hair,” he said. “Right in the center of the cauldron.”

She nodded, and with a determined expression, she carefully leaned forward and placed the curl of hair in the center of the cauldron, atop the thick foam.

Aelfric shifted his stance and began to stir the cauldron counterclockwise. The lock of hair slipped into the foam and disappeared into the cauldron.

All at once, the liquid in the cauldron seemed to change state into colorful gas, which dissipated rapidly.

And there, in the bottom of the cauldron, lay her book.

It was perfect.

It was surely the finest book she had ever laid eyes on.

Aelfric leaned forward and pulled the book from the cauldron. It was perfectly dry, and yet somehow still glistening with the sheen of a recently completed synthesis. Such was the nature of Fluid Alchemy and the transmutation of matter.

He handed the book to her.

“Congratulations,” he said simply. “You are now a High Alchemist.”

As Demi took the book from him, she felt a little jolt run through her body at the moment her fingertips first brushed against the cover.

She opened it almost as if she were in a trance, her heart swelling with emotion.

And then she said its name.

“Evergreen Memory,” she murmured softly. “Even after the last star falls, I will always remember you.”

Aelfric also jerked back slightly when she said the words, as if they had connected through the jump of a static shock. His expression was confused, alarmed, and perhaps a bit— Was he blushing? Well, it clearly wasn’t from happiness or interest. He looked extremely agitated.

“Explain,” he said fiercely, bringing the toe of his shoe down to accentuate the point.

“Ahh,” she made a strange little laugh, animated by the unspent energy that was spinning inside her heart. She felt inspired to dance. That’s how the book made her feel. “That’s its name,” she explained. “Evergreen Memory.” It felt good to say it, to call out the name of the book, like being tickled by a thousand tiny bubbles. It felt good to share the name with him, as if she were sharing a secret part of herself. It was honestly intoxicating. She felt giggly. “And the second part, that’s what it means,” she confessed. “Not just the name. I mean the whole book! The whole me! That’s what it means.”

She had taken a step closer to him because that was what it felt natural to do, but he immediately raised a hand in front of himself, falling half a step back.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” he said sharply, his cheeks faintly flushed and the tips of his ears pink. “I have no idea what you just did, but you definitely should not have told me that.”

“I think it’s fine,” she assured cheerily, taking another step closer. “And if I think it’s fine, then it’s probably fine.”

He swore under his breath and took another half step backward, bumping into the worktable behind him. The unexpected collision was startling in his already-alarmed state. He put his hand on the table behind him in an attempt to steady himself, and his flat palm came in contact with the cover of his own cyprianus.

“Black Spiral,” he said quietly, the words bitten off, escaping despite his best efforts. “On a thorny road, circling, I search.”

After he said the words, he was left panting. He swore again quietly, then muttered, “Logic. New logic.”

He turned away from her, covering his face with one of his hands.

At the moment Demi had heard him speak the name of his book she had been shaken out of her simple elation. The emotions she felt now were complicated. He was clearly embarrassed and distressed, the tips of his ears almost poppy red with his shame and discomfort.

“What happened?” Demi asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” he answered shortly, without turning to look at her. His hand was still over his face and he dug his fingers against his scalp in frustration. “I have no idea.”

“But that wasn’t normal?” she ventured hesitantly. She was worried she had done something wrong, that she’d done something terrible to him when he had gone out of his way to help her. It hadn’t felt wrong to take the book. It had felt perfect. It was her book, hers alone. It hadn’t felt wrong to name the book. It had felt absolutely right. It had felt right to say that name, to explain it to herself and to him.

But something about that, something about what had happened had made him distressed.

He was doing everything he could to cover that distress, to banish it, as if he was absolutely unwilling to let it be seen.

He had ceased breathing hard, but he seemed to be sharply forcing himself back in control rather than letting his embarrassment subside naturally. When he drew his hand away from his face at last, he looked mostly even, almost expressionless, although there was still the faint whisper of color in his cheeks.

“It was not normal,” he answered coolly.

Demi bit her lip. “I’m sorry—” she began, but he held up his hand to stop her again, palm flat.

“You haven’t done anything,” he said with force, and when she jumped a little at his tone, his expression softened for a moment, a complicated look flickering across his face. “You haven’t done anything,” he repeated more quietly. “You’ve done nothing to me. You have nothing to apologize for.” Then he stopped, as if uncertain he should continue. “You’ve done nothing to me,” he repeated. “And I do not fully understand what just happened, but—” he closed his eyes briefly and carefully regulated his breathing. “Guard the name of that book, guard the meaning of it. That is not knowledge to be shared lightly,” he finished, his eyes flicking open to meet hers.

His look was powerful, hard-edged and almost painful. He immediately looked away again. Another several seconds passed by in silence as they both stood there, he staring at the ground, she looking at him, at his bony, long-fingered hands that still looked so battered even after the miracle she had wrought to restore them, at his narrowed eyes and the dark circles under them. No matter how much she made him rest, he still never looked fully rested, not really.

Her eyes softened.

Something gave him a hard shock and yet he’s still worried about me before himself, she thought.

“Thank you, Alt,” she said very gently. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m grateful for your help and your advice.” She took a deep breath. “And, and if you tell me to forget the name of that book, then I will.”

She did not really want that. Hearing the name of his book had somehow felt like hearing a thousand words all at once, but it had not filled her with confusion and distress. It had felt warm, warm and fond, like the memory of a golden afternoon from days long since passed, but it wasn’t even really nostalgia for something lost and gone away. It might have been as simple as a single word. Hope: the possibility of a future as yet undreamed of.

In the same way her heart had swelled inside her when she had said the name of her book, calling out, “Here I am!” when she had heard the name of his book, she had thought, “Oh, there you are. Of course. There you are.”

She felt as if she had finally seen him for the first time, not “the Shadowstep Alchemist,” but Aelfric Pwyll Farrant, the man.

She did not want to give all of that up, those treasures without price, but she would. He had not meant for her to hear the name of his book. Even if she had been willing to let him hear the name of hers, it did not follow that he owed her his, quid pro quo. It seemed as if they both had a similar understanding of the experience—and by that, it ought to be understood that they were both equally unsure of what had happened, but each had gotten the sense that the name of their cyprianus was a secret thing that said much about them, something that ought not to be shared unless there was great trust involved.

She would not force that trust.

But then he looked at her very quietly for a long, slow moment, a moment counted out in heartbeats, and then he shook his head.

“Remain as you are,” he said lowly. “You don’t have to, you don’t have to forget anything. Just please.” He abruptly turned away. “Do not share that name with anyone. Do not share what has happened here with anyone, at least not until I have some idea about what is going on. I say that for your safety as much as my own.”

“Yes,” Demi answered with a fond smile. “I know you do.”

the goddess’s prescription

After the awkwardness of the cyprianus-naming incident subsided, the two of them fell back into a comfortable pattern relatively quickly. To Demi’s great relief, the incident did not become “the thing we must never speak of.” Aelfric seemed to be committed to determining what had actually happened and was actively investigating the case. To that point, he had politely requested permission to handle and examine her cyprianus, Evergreen Memory, whenever she wasn’t using it.

A peculiar thing about a cyprianus was that after they were paired with someone, they became unintelligible to other people. They could be read and used only by the person they were meant for, up until that person’s death. Then they could be read again, but even then, the information in them was not often organized in an easily comprehensible fashion. Even learning from the cyprianus of your own deceased mentor was often a challenge, even if they otherwise produced fine teaching materials in their other writings.

To allow someone else to handle and examine your cyprianus was a little like letting them see your status screen. It was something that required trust, and so Aelfric had asked before presuming he would be allowed to touch it, even though he was the person who had made it. Of course she let him. She also wanted to know what had happened, and his investigation of the incident meant he spent a lot of time with her in the atelier and she got the chance to watch him as he worked.

That was easily as instructive as all of the books she had thus far read on the subject of Fluid Alchemy.

And she learned a great deal.

Having her own cyprianus was like having shackles she hadn’t even realized she was wearing shattered. Before Aelfric’s arrival, Demi had already exhausted every single recipe that she had even a chance of successfully completing at level one, practicing them multiple times until she had felt confident with them.

That included the syntheses that had an extremely high chance of failure when being attempted by a novice at level one. Because of this delicate and yet intense practice, Demi was ready to challenge recipes that were far above her level as she advanced. She had already learned a lot about what could go wrong and what was likely to go wrong, and the idiosyncrasies of different materials, their traits, and their symbolic units.

Evergreen Memory allowed her to translate all of that experience into Fluid Alchemy levels, and as a result, she practically flew along.

Demi had an essentially limitless supply of mana because she was a goddess, and she had increased both the flow and control of that mana multiple times through the use of her Earth Blessings on the garden and all of the resulting produce she had subsequently thrown into her sacred spring.

In fact, for a while it seemed as if the only thing that put a limit on her progress as a high alchemist was her obligations to do things other than alchemy, like care for her chickens and tend said garden.

But of course, even though she was animated by a passion for the subject and had gobs and gobs of mana, even a goddess needed to rest sometimes, especially considering that she still had a lot of work to do as president of the Rosebrook Canal Authority. She not only had to organize paperwork, but she had to create it herself, to write some reports and to summarize others, and to meet regularly with the respective section heads: Soa, Grandmeister Fairfox, Izar Touchsight, and Foreman Oakroot.

And she really really really wanted to progress in Fluid Alchemy as quickly as she could, so she devoted almost all of her “leisure time” to it. She found it fascinating and exciting, but beyond that, Tata was very sick. She was lying in a little bed in a lean-to all alone, ill and exhausted.

Demi visited her as often as she could just to quietly check on her, doing her best not to disturb the sleeping dryad whenever she did.

But ultimately, all of the work caught up to Demi, and it did so more often than she wanted to admit, even to herself. People needed her help, after all. Many people were depending on her. She had to do her best not to disappoint them.

One afternoon she was sitting at a worktable and considering an array of ingredients laid out in front of her. She was trying to improve the potion she was making beyond what she had managed so far and debating which combination of ingredients she ought to try.

It was a difficult problem because she wanted to keep the overall quality of the potion as high as possible, because that would not only make it more effective, but it would also make it less horrible to consume, a significant issue if the intended recipient was expected to have to imbibe a lot of them.

Her dilemma came from the fact that not every ingredient was of a similar quality. Some ingredients had some very attractive symbolic units, which might cause important traits to appear, but they were of a lower quality. Other ingredients were of a higher quality, but had less effective symbolic units.

The challenge was deciding on which ingredients to use and in what quantities, to balance out the overall quality versus the desired traits.

It was complicated and difficult.

Demi was feeling cross and uncomfortable as she stared at the ingredients in front of her. Her head felt hot and her eyes were dry as she dug her fingers against her scalp in frustration.

Of course it isn’t easy or simple, she tried to rationalize. If it was, then they would have cured Tata by now! But still, still, I have to keep trying.

She was still staring hard at the ingredients as if willing them to somehow arrange themselves when there was a light footstep behind her. She looked up to see that Aelfric had placed a glass on the worktable next to her.

The fluid in the glass was transparent, a clear golden color, and she could see tiny bubbles clustered along the bottom of the glass, some escaping with a soft fizzing sound.

The scent of the drink was immediately familiar, and Demi’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“That’s—” she began.

“An Apple Spritzer,” he said evenly. “You need to take a break.” He placed something else flat on the table next to the pleasantly fizzing drink, but Demi was still wholly occupied by the appearance of the Apple Spritzer.

“How did you know to make that?” she asked, confused. Apple Spritzers were her drink of choice when the choice allowed, but she hadn’t had one since her arrival, nor had she mentioned them to anyone. And there was another reason she was surprised and confused by the mere existence of the drink.

She moved to take the drink, but just before she did, he glanced sidelong at her and then dropped two sugar cubes into the already sweet drink.

“Your predilection for consuming massive amounts of sugar has not escaped me,” he said. “Just try it. I think it will suit you.”

Demi complied with no further prompting. She had to see for herself whether or not this was what she thought it was.

She took a sip through the charmingly loopy straw and she had her answer, and it was an answer that triggered a long string of ararara.

“How did you know how to make this?” she asked again. “Have I been talking in my sleep?”

“No?” Aelfric answered incredulously, his brows drawing together. “Of course I know how to make it. I invented it.”

“No,” Demi insisted. “I invented it!”

And she had, when she’d been eight years old. It had been her favorite drink ever since.

And she had to admit, the one that Aelfric had made for her was the best one she had ever tasted. She was already feeling less exhausted and dry.

Aelfric made a quiet huffing sound. “Then the rational explanation is that we both invented it independently,” he pointed out. “It has only a few ingredients. Surely many people have invented it besides ourselves.”

“I, I suppose you’re right,” Demi said hesitantly as she sipped at her drink. But still, to have the same name, she thought. That felt very strange.

But the drink was very refreshing, and as Aelfric had promised, it did suit her.

I’m going to have to start adding extra sugar cubes to mine! she resolved, because she was a person who defied limitations. (Most especially limitations on the amount of sugar she ought to consume.)

He tapped the small flat item that he had laid on the table next to the glass. Now that she looked at it she could see that it was rectangular. It looked something like a bandage about the length of her hand and the width of three of her fingers.

“Put that on your forehead and finish your drink,” he ordered. “Then go lie down. You need to rest for a while.”

When Demi curiously pulled the wrapper away from the bandage, she recognized what it was. It wasn’t a precise replica, not in the way the Apple Spritzer was, but she could still tell what it was. It was a cooling strip to help with fevers or headaches. The lab had bought them by the trainload.

What an incredibly powerful item, Demi thought in awe. Surely worth its weight in gold for headaches that come from reading and game binges!

Aelfric truly was a Great Sage to offer such a thing to her.

When she put it on her forehead she felt cooled and refreshed, much the same as when she had taken her first taste of the Apple Spritzer. It was as if they were melting her fatigue away. She felt reenergized and motivated.

“Ah, I feel so much better,” she said. “I feel like I can work for a few more hours now!”

But this optimistic statement caused Aelfric to bring one of his hands down on the table in a very impressive “don!” sound. He leaned in over her and gave her an intense, menacing look.

“Go. Lie. Down. And. Rest,” he said, his voice low and rumbly.

“But—” she protested.

He leaned down further, causing the worktable to creak ominously in protest.

“Go. Lie. Down. And. Rest,” he repeated even more forcefully.

Demi shrank down a little and acquiesced. “All right, all right,” she relented. “I’ll go lie down.”

Aelfric leaned back, apparently at least somewhat satisfied. But then he further clarified his words.

“No reading,” he ordered flatly.

“No reading?!!!” Demi yelped. “You can’t be serious! What is more restful than reading? Nothing, that’s what! My whole essence will be healed by reading!”

“You are exhausted, and you need to rest quietly in the dark with your eyes closed,” he explained matter-of-factly. But then his aura became very intense again. “No. Reading.”

“No reading,” she agreed, raising her hands in surrender.

While you’re looking! she completed in her mind. I’ll just wait until you’ve gone.

“Good,” he said, standing back up straight. Even the worktable seemed to visibly relax after he stopped being so menacing. But his next words chilled her to the bone and cut off all hope. “I intend to keep an eye on you from the other side of the bed, so unless you want your books confiscated, you should do as you’ve agreed and rest.”

Oh no! No reading for real! She felt certain that he would make good on his threats. That was the kind of person the Shadowstep Alchemist was. Only the absolutely foolish or the absolutely deranged would want him as an enemy.

“Ah, but don’t you have work you’d like to continue?” Demi began half-heartedly, knowing what his answer was sure to be.

“No,” he said flatly, then crossed his arms as he looked at her very shrewdly. “After all, I’m still recovering. I also need my rest.” He paused weightily and the very silence exuded pressure. “Don’t I?”

All at once Demi sincerely regretted all of the times she had bullied Aelfric to rest.

But then she didn’t, because it was clear that he had needed all of that rest. He needed rest now. That was obvious to her.

And her need of rest was probably obvious to him.

I guess he is a doctor, after all. If he says I need to rest, then I probably should rest, she decided.

But books—

She could read some books after she rested.

I probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy what I’m reading right now anyway, she realized.

So they both went to rest.

the goddess and the potion

After she had a good rest, Demi did read some books.

And then she got right back to her ordinary work.

When Aelfric wasn’t working himself, he spent most of his time silently observing her, regardless of what she was up to. She had become accustomed to it quickly.

Sometimes he did force her to take breaks, and he brought her more than one Apple Spritzer and more than one cooling strip. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, even though she was often as cranky as a toddler when she was told that she needed to go take a nap. Eating or drinking something sweet usually immediately improved her mood, and so he habitually brought her a peace offering whenever he made her go to bed.

He also had produced a massive jar of alchemic candy that was now sitting in the center of the largest worktable in the atelier. Whenever she was fatigued, he gave her a piece of candy and she felt moderately better. She had immediately put some into her pockets for emergencies, and when she realized how much they helped her, she began giving them to him whenever his brows drew together or he looked especially strained, tired, incredulous, or cross.

Demi was immediately predisposed to anyone who gave her sweets.

When she had thought this to herself, she had realized that it was probably also an embarrassing thing to admit.

That makes it sound like I’ll just follow any random stranger who gives me candy, she lamented. I’m not that naive! I’m not!

***

They had been working together in the atelier a little over two weeks when Demi felt that she had finally made a substantial breakthrough.

After many iterations and a lot of challenging work, she had at last succeeded at completing an advanced healing potion that had a high-quality rating and also significant effects and traits. Even the symbolic units that made up the final product were aligned with the effects and the traits.

Demi had done her best to transfer the most powerful effects she could to the potion, down a long string of transmutations. There were effects in the current potion that she had never been able to transfer down correctly, and other effects that were unique, at least in her experience. It was certainly the highest-quality healing potion that she had ever made, and even Aelfric had quietly proclaimed it a success after silently studying it for several minutes.

Demi dutifully recorded the potion in Evergreen Memory and they both went to see Tata.

The quiet dryad was again resting in the lean-to, as Demi expected her to be. Demi softly tapped at the mat covering the entrance so as not to startle her.

After a moment, the slightly disheveled dryad appeared.

Her dress had enormously long sleeves that fell all the way to her knees, making her look even more small and thin than she might have otherwise. It was layered in many different types of fabrics and trims and so long that it barely escaped dragging the ground, being only a quarter of an inch clear.

Well, at least she’s probably not cold wearing all of that, Demi had reflected the second time she had seen Tata. All of the dryads were mori girls in some way or another, with their layered forest clothing, but Tata was truly the most mori of the mori girls. She was a mori superlative.

Truly mori-nificent.

And I have to admire that conviction and dedication, Demi thought as she looked at her again. And her strong sense of personal style.

Tata had eyed Aelfric slightly warily when she emerged from the lean-to and was careful not to call Demi “goddess” in his hearing, as the dryads generally did. She did relax slightly when Demi introduced him.

“This is Alt,” she explained. “He’s a doctor.”

This made Aelfric look over at her sharply, his brows drawn, but he said nothing.

Demi did not notice this at all, as she was preoccupied with her own thoughts.

She gave Tata a tight smile, slightly unsure of how to begin. Tata had not come to her for help. She had not even told Demi that she had an illness. This information had come directly from Tina.

Well, there was really no use hesitating about it. If she could help, even a little, then she ought to try.

“Tina told me that you were sick,” Demi explained.

Tata looked down at the ground when her illness was mentioned.

She must be uncomfortable, realized Demi. But still, I have to at least offer.

Reaffirmed, Demi continued. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to help,” she admitted. “But I want to try.”

Tata silently thought about it for a moment, her eyes on the ground. Finally, she nodded.

Aelfric had been watching Tata closely, his eyes slightly narrowed.

When she consented to treatment, he said, “Would you mind showing me your arms and legs?”

She shrank back slightly, and at first Demi thought it was from shyness, but when Tata slowly nodded, she discovered that it was for a different reason entirely.

She slowly lifted the hem of her long skirt and exposed her legs below the knee.

They were covered by strange yellowish growths, each the size of the head of a pin. Her legs were marked and discolored, the skin uneven and cracked in places. It looked painful.

Aelfric silently dropped to his knees to study the growths.

After a moment, he looked up and said, “It’s a pathogenic fungus.” He paused, then quietly added, “It’s necrotrophic.”

“Meaning?” Demi asked hesitantly, biting her lip. She felt that she already knew what it meant. She simply didn’t want to believe it.

“It will kill her,” he answered quietly.

Tata covered her face with her overly long sleeves and quivered.

“Alt—” Demi began, unsure of what to say.

“She already knows,” he said flatly, rising to his feet. “That’s right, isn’t it?” he asked the dryad.

She nodded without uncovering her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she said quietly, her voice shaking. “But I know. I can’t get better. We don’t have any way to fix it. I’m sorry I’m so disgusting. I cover it up so people won’t have to see it.”

“Oh, Tata,” Demi said, moving to wrap her arms around the other girl. She seemed wispy, almost insubstantial, as if she were made of nothing but air and bones. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

She erases herself so people won’t worry about her, so people won’t have to remember that she’s dying, Demi thought as her heart ached. It’s not just that she’s been exhausted and in pain. She’s been hiding herself on purpose so as not to inconvenience anyone.

Tata quivered in her arms, shivering, but at last she was still.

As Demi held her, getting gently prickled by her spiny hair, things rapidly fell in place in her mind, and she experienced an epiphany.

Tina had said that the reason Tata was sick was that her trees were sick, and Demi had seen the yellow pustules all over her legs. All of that and the spiny hair.

“Tata,” she asked suddenly, “are you a chestnut tree?”

In her arms, Tata quietly nodded.

“Chestnut blight!” Demi said immediately. “Your trees are infected with chestnut blight!”

Aelfric’s eyes narrowed and he looked at her seriously.

“Do you know about this disease?” he asked.

Demi just managed to avoid blurting out, “Of course, because it also exists in my world!” but only narrowly.

Instead, she said, “I read about it in a book,” which wasn’t even a lie. She had originally read about chestnut blight in a book. It was incredibly virulent and fatal, and had ended up killing the majority of the chestnut trees in her world.

It was not a positive prognosis, but knowing what it was made it feel possible to combat.

After all, in her own world they had eventually developed some countermeasures to protect the remaining chestnut populations.

Still, it was probably best to try what she had already prepared first before attempting something new.

She took the potion from her shoulder bag.

“This is what I have to try,” she explained. “Thanks to Alt’s help it doesn’t taste nearly as bad as the early ones I made.”

Tata extended her sleeves and took possession of the bottle. Briefly, Demi wondered if she would be able to unstopper the bottle without rolling up her enormous sleeves, but somehow, she remained quite dexterous.

Tata took a deep breath, and then turned the bottle up and drank the entire thing in one go.

They all waited expectantly, hopeful for some change.

After about thirty seconds, Tata’s eyelids fluttered slightly, and she swayed on her feet. Aelfric moved immediately to catch her shoulder, and she leaned on his hand gratefully.

For a long, terrifying moment, Demi worried that she had somehow made Tata’s illness worse.

But then the dryad gave a very small smile.

“I feel a little better,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt as much, and my mind feels clearer.”

Aelfric looked her over carefully and then nodded.

“The potion seems to have worked to mitigate some of her symptoms,” he said.

“I’m glad,” Demi said in relief, but then she felt conflicted. “We haven’t cured the underlying problem, have we?”

“No,” Aelfric agreed without turning to look at her. “This illness is caused by her trees being diseased. Even if we could completely eradicate her symptoms, after a short while, she would relapse and they would reoccur. This will remain the case so long as her trees are diseased.”

It was a complicated problem. Even if they could heal Tata, unless they could also eradicate the chestnut blight, she would simply get sick again. Later, Aelfric would confirm that if they simply tried to purge and fell the infected trees, she would just grow weaker and weaker. A dryad’s life force came directly from the number and health of their own specific trees.

If only I could use my magic the way I did when I saved Aelfric, Demi thought to herself as he carefully checked Tata over.

She had been able to remove a horrible parasite from Aelfric by using that mysterious magic involving the green threads. Perhaps she could heal Tata in the same way. But she did not know how to use this magic of her own free will. She did not even really understand how she had used it in the first place or what she had done with it.

Even if she could use it on command, she suspected that completely removing the parasite from Tata would not be enough. The dryad would simply get sick again unless Demi also removed the blight from every single one of Tata’s trees, which were spread across the entire continent.

This was a large-scale problem. And that was probably the reason that Hollyhope had not already attempted to resolve the situation herself. The dryads were her favored children, after all.

Looking closely at Tata as Aelfric concluded his examination, Demi saw the words that she had already come to dread.

Cryphonectria Parasitica Aeruginosa

Necrotrophic Symbiotic Sac Fungi with Bacteria

ENEMY OF THIS PLANET

It’s an invasive species, Demi thought to herself, feeling exhausted just thinking about it. Because of course it is. She closed her eyes as she thought about it. I sincerely hope that the plan to redirect the Rosebrook south through the blightwood can actually purify that place. It’s causing so many problems.

The whole situation was troubling.

“We ought to be able to ease the pain of the lesions if we bind them in soil compresses,” Aelfric said, looking up at Demi from where he knelt. “I can teach you how to make them.”

Demi nodded.

After Aelfric confirmed Tata’s condition, they let her return to the lean-to to sleep. It would take a little time to prepare the soil compresses.

As they walked back to the farm house together, Aelfric offered his own thoughts.

“She can be stabilized and her life prolonged if you’re willing to supply her with potions of that grade regularly,” he said.

That thought uplifted Demi and without even thinking about it, she took hold of his arm, hanging on it like a little girl.

“Really?” she asked hopefully, her eyes sparkling. “Really really and truly?”

He was apparently startled by her sudden close contact, but managed to keep from showing it (overly much).

“Really and truly,” he answered seriously, then glanced down at her. “You ought to consider carefully whether or not you are willing to do this. You will have to invest a great deal of time and a not inconsiderable amount of funds. It will be an ongoing drain on your time, energy, supplies, and material resources. Her pain and distress are constant. She will need to be perpetually medicated for this to have any substantive effect on her quality of life. The wealthiest dryad in the world would not be able to pay for such a treatment.”

“Well, of course I’m going to do it!” Demi answered indignantly, tugging on his arm and puffing out her cheeks. “She needs my help.”

And this caused Aelfric to stop short. She almost tumbled forward because of the sudden stop, but managed to keep her feet because she was still hanging on his arm.

He considered her very heavily.

“You cannot save everyone,” he said flatly.

His words did not feel callous. They felt weighed down by grief and suffering. He was clearly speaking from experience.

He’s really been through something terrible, hasn’t he? she thought wistfully to herself.

She smiled weakly.

“I know I can’t,” she admitted. Her own lived experience had already taught her that she could not, before she had even come to this place. She had not been able to save her mother, after all.

But then she squeezed his arm tightly, drawing it to her chest, hugging it. Somehow doing that gave her courage.

“I know I can’t save everyone,” she repeated. “But I won’t know whether or not I can do something unless I try. I want to try,” she said. “I want to try and try and keep trying.” She took a deep breath and then said, “There has to be a path forward, if only we keep looking for it.”

He looked away, into the woodland.

“What happens when the path ahead turns out to be even worse than the path behind?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

She squeezed his arm again gently.

“Then I’ll just have to keep moving forward,” she said, smiling gently. “And make things better as I go, a little at a time.”

He had nothing to say to that.

They were silent again as they walked.

At last, he spoke up again.

“I meant it when I said that this will be a drain on your time and your energy. Even putting the question of funds aside, you do not have an infinite supply of either, regardless of whether you behave as if you do,” he said evenly. “Based on my observations, you already have many responsibilities, and I doubt that you plan to give one of them up to make room for this one. You just plan to add it in on top of everything else and carry on as you have been doing.”

“I know,” she admitted, looking down at the ground. “I know that I have a lot to do, and that people are depending on me. Tata is also depending on me,” she insisted. “If I don’t help her, then who will?”

“No one,” he answered flatly, his voice very quiet.

“Then she’ll die!” Demi pointed out, distressed.

“And sometimes that happens,” Aelfric said, then pressed his lips together thinly. “If you take on too much, you are likely to fail at everything, fail everyone, and you will hurt yourself badly in the process.”

“But I want to do what I can—” Demi said, trembling as she held on desperately to his arm.

“You cannot keep others warm by setting yourself on fire,” he said sharply. “You should not.”

Demi winced, ducking down against his arm.

They both stood very still. She was still trembling.

Previously, this would have certainly triggered an asthma attack.

Finally, she heard a soft sigh and then she felt something gentle against the crown of her head.

She looked up, her face flushed and tears standing in the corners of her eyes.

Aelfric was gently stroking the top of her head, as if she were a small kitten.

“I understand that you want to help her,” he said quietly. “I will do what I can to support you in your efforts.”

Demi sniffled, and then nodded slowly. He kept stroking her head and she leaned against him. They stood that way quietly for a long time.

At last, Demi’s breathing slowed and she felt as if she could face the world again. She rubbed the dampness from the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Now,” she said, showing him her smile. “Let’s go back and you can teach me all about making soil compresses.”

“Mm,” he replied, and they walked on.

the goddess and vermiculture

Demi had resolved to do her best to help Tata, and Aelfric had resolved to support her.

With an understanding that it was wisest for her to get out ahead of her work, Demi immediately set aside time to make a supply of the advanced healing potions that had helped to suppress Tata’s symptoms, along with the soil compresses that Aelfric had suggested would have some efficacy. She took a week’s worth of doses to Tata along with the compresses. Aelfric instructed them both how to apply them properly, and the second time she brought compresses, Soa and Seri had also been there to learn how to apply them.

Aelfric had been right. The advanced healing potion that Demi had made worked to mitigate Tata’s symptoms from between four to six hours. She needed them whether she was asleep or awake. That meant that one day’s worth of relief was four to six of the advanced healing potions, the ones that Demi had worked her hardest to make. One week’s supply was forty-two potions if one erred on the side of caution, and Demi did.

She made a lot of potions.

But making all of those advanced potions did have the net bonus of causing her levels in Fluid Alchemy to skyrocket. She also became focused on improving the efficiency of time and materials for each synthesis. She was relentlessly searching for ways to make the synthesis less costly, to simplify it as much as she could without losing any of the efficacy. The better she got at making the potions, the easier it became. Each potion that she made a little bit faster or a little bit more cheaply was one more potion to ease Tata’s pain, and those potions themselves were the doses that would hopefully extend her life.

In this way, Demi got better at chained transmutations rapidly, because she felt she had no other choice. She also became accustomed to synthesizing items in bulk.

And after level twenty-five, something alarming happened.

She had been working to complete a batch that ought to have produced four potions, but once she was finished, she had eight bottles.

This was such a drastic difference that it was impossible for her not to immediately notice, just as when she had looked at the foundations of the farmhouse and had known instantly that there was no way it was going to be an ordinary farmhouse.

Sometimes if she was very careful with the synthesis she could squeeze out an extra one if she was making multiple to begin with, but double the amount?

“Allllllllt!” she had called out, backing away from her cauldron. “What did I do?” she asked in alarm.

Getting this many potions was obviously positive, not negative, but she could not shake the idea that she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d used up twice as many ingredients? Or four times! This could not be normal.

He came over calmly to where she was doing an inspired little dance of dread and looked into the cauldron.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, after finding nothing particularly amiss.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to make eight at once,” she said, throwing her hands up. That was still somewhat beyond her.

“Oh,” he said after a moment, then considered her. He put his hand on a table behind him and his fingertips rattled out a rhythm as he thought things over. Then he looked over at her all at once, his eyes narrowing. “Check your cyprianus. Look in the first few pages. There ought to be a summary of your personal information, like a status screen. Check among your skills for one called ‘Doubler.’”

Demi quickly did as he said, opening up Evergreen Memory to check the skills listed there, which all had to do with Fluid Alchemy. She was surprised to see that the information there was not identical to the information on her status page as accessed through the system menu. The basics were the same, that much was true, and of course her level in Fluid Alchemy was recorded only in her cyprianus and not reflected in the menu, but she hadn’t realized that there were also skills in her cyprianus, skills that were not among the fifteen pages (and counting) of skills in the system menu.

When she checked, she found the skill that Aelfric had told her to look for. There it was: Doubler.

Doubler: Doubles the amount of items produced by a synthesis.

Well, that’s straightforward, I guess, Demi reflected upon reading it.

But then the full import hit her.

“Doubles?!” she exclaimed aloud. “It just doubles whatever I make? Aren’t there any stipulations? Like ‘can’t duplicate any fancy, super rare items’ or ‘only works on consumables under level ten,’ heck, even ‘only works under a waning crescent moon.’”

“I see that you do indeed have it,” Aelfric remarked dryly. “Congratulations. It is a rare and desirable skill. It doesn’t have any of the limitations you’ve indicated. It will always double output unless your synthesis fails entirely.”

“Isn’t that,” Demi began. “Isn’t that like, outrageously powerful?” she demanded. “And where does all of the extra stuff come from? It seems like it just appeared out of thin air!”

She had already experienced the strangeness of gathering more than she expected, and cooking more than she expected, but somehow, seeing double the amount of a potion that had been such a challenge to make the first time (the week previous) was so astonishing that she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“It seems to be a specific interaction between your personal mana and the ingredients during the final sequence of transmutation,” Aelfric explained, crossing his arms in front of himself. “And yes, it is quite powerful. That’s why it’s desirable.”

“But where did that skill even come from?” she wondered. “I didn’t even know that I had it, and since it never activated before, I must have gotten it only recently.”

Passive skills are so absurdly strong, she thought to herself.

“High Alchemists gain a new skill at level five, level ten, level fifteen, level twenty-five, and level fifty,” he said. “Given the recipes you are currently handling and the techniques you’re exhibiting, I assume you recently achieved level twenty-five.”

Demi looked and confirmed, nodding. “Yes, I’m already level twenty-nine in Fluid Alchemy, it seems.”

He had coughed but then shook his head.

“Then you passed it without realizing it, which sometimes happens with people who study, gather, and analyze more often than performing synthesis,” he explained. “And you have done a great deal of research recently in attempting to make that potion more cost-effective.”

She nodded, then cocked her head. “The way you’re talking about it,” she began, slightly unsure of herself, “It sounds as if—”

“You are correct,” he answered, polite but clipped. “‘Doubler’ is not among my skills. Skill acquisition and inheritance among High Alchemists is not yet well understood.”

“Oh,” Demi said, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m not bothered by it. Different alchemists have different skills. The same is true for people in general. I am not embarrassed by my abilities.”

I mean, you shouldn’t be, she thought weakly. Mr. Grandmaster of Fluid Alchemy Archmage Great Sage Handsome Old Man.

Fortunately, the miraculous bounty of Doubler meant that it would be easier to produce the potions Tata required, and that was a resounding win in her book.

(Quite literally.)

Thank you, mysterious system I do not fully understand, Demi thought at Evergreen Memory, pressing her forehead to the cover.

She wanted her book to know that she was grateful for all of the support.

***

In the garden, Demi’s plants were doing well. She hadn’t had the opportunity to use Earth Blessing on them since Aelfric’s arrival, but they still seemed to be growing faster than normal. She supposed that wasn’t entirely surprising, considering they were watered from a goddess’s holy spring and growing right next to where a goddess regularly slept.

If Aelfric thought anything about the unusual quality and vivacity of her plants, he did not comment on it. He just watched her closely, the way he always did.

By the third week after his arrival, he was essentially healed, but he made no move to be on his way. It seemed almost as if he was waiting for something, tense, and on guard. He did seem to be going about his days in a relatively normal fashion, but she couldn’t help but feel he was always on edge, as if waiting for the sky to fall down upon them. Demi didn’t mind the fact that he seemed reluctant to leave. She liked having him around. He was good company and had already taught her many things. She liked him.

(And he was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life. It was difficult to pass on that.)

It was a warm day with a light breeze when Demi set about building a worm house.

She had already built a compost box on the same day she had planted her first seeds, and there were surely already happy worms and other small creatures living in that box. But she knew how beneficial vermiculture could be to a garden. At her family’s estate, there had been multiple tiered worm boxes to help process the waste that the house produced into valuable fertilizer.

Now that her life had settled into something like a regular rhythm, she felt that she had time to add some wriggly little worm friends to her farm.

Surprisingly, there wasn’t specifically a worm house among any of the blueprints she had for crafting. There were several different kinds of composting boxes, but none that looked like the worm houses she was accustomed to.

That was all right, she thought. She had already learned that she could construct just about anything so long as she could visualize it—and considering that Aelfric was with her most of the time, it wasn’t as if she could gleefully deploy the power of system menu crafting without a lot of uncomfortable explanations.

So she decided to approach Aelfric with her plans for the worm house, to see if it could be completed through the use of Fluid Alchemy.

Once she had explained how it worked, and described the materials and dimensions, he had thought about it, then nodded.

“At scale, that design might be useful for handling waste in municipalities,” he had said.

Demi had laughed. “I don’t know,” she had said. “Worms can’t eat all the different waste we produce, only some of it. Besides, that would take an awful lot of worms.”

“A large-scale device wouldn’t use worms,” he had corrected, looking up from where he was making notes, then nodding in the direction of Dollop, who was idling nearby, waiting for an opportunity to be helpful. “Mild-tempered domesticated slimes would probably be the most effective consumers for a town.”

“Pii pi pi!” Dollop agreed.

Aelfric tapped the table where he was working.

“I’m sure beavers could design a mechanical system that would be functional, so it could be used even without a town mage,” he said. “The capital city of Prystir already keeps a specific type of waste-eating slime in the underground sewage system, but they’re essentially wild and roam freely without any oversight or direction. Not all towns have underground sewage either. It depends on the size of the settlement and relative population density.”

Oh right, Demi thought to herself. This world does have all kinds of creatures I’m not familiar with. It’s easy to forget that, even with Dollop around to remind me. It would be interesting to design a public works project that involved slimes.

“In that case, it might even be possible to create a proper sewage treatment facility,” she said thoughtfully. “In addition to a normal organic garbage processing plant.”

Dollop always works so hard to be helpful, she thought to herself. I’m sure there are other slimes who would be willing to work with people, especially if they’re treated well. I’ll have to talk to Foreman Oakroot and Grandmeister Fairfox about it.

Before the day was out, she and Aelfric had drafted a design for a four-tier worm house, with a reservoir at the bottom that had a spigot to drain out the nutrient-rich “worm tea” that the worms would produce in the course of breaking down the waste put into the box.

The other layers of the box all had holes in the bottom of them to allow drainage and ventilation. The layer directly above the fluid reservoir also had a fine mesh screen to catch any worm friends that might tumble through from a higher layer. This layer was meant to catch the “worm castings,” the digested worm poop that made excellent fertilizer, and was the final product of the vermiculture process.

The top three layers of the box were where the actual worms went about their worm lives and did their worm work. Demi collected a good mix of dried leaves, powdery weathered wood chips, and even some of the slightly failed paper from her earlier synthesis attempts. Mixed with a little good soil, it was perfect bedding for her new friends.

She had already set aside the scraps that she planned to feed them to start off, so now it was just a matter of collecting some worms.

She needed composting worms rather than simple earthworms. Both were extremely important for the health of the garden, but they had different characteristics. The composting worms she was looking for were actually a specific type of earthworm. They lived in the top layers of soil and reproduced quickly, making them very helpful for disposing of waste. Back in her own world, they were popular to use as fish bait.

Demi consulted with Soa on suitable locations where her chosen worms might be found. Then it was simply waiting for a day with rain.

It was spring, so a convenient rainstorm came before the week was finished. The evening after the rain cleared, Demi prepared her tools for worm hunting.

As might be expected, Aelfric followed her like he was her shadow.

(And Dollop followed the both of them. Glimmer, as might be expected, was not particularly interested in the prospect of worm gathering.)

Once night fell, Demi went out with an alchemic lantern and a wooden pail filled with dirt and leaves, where she would place her new farm residents until they could be transported to their worm mansion.

She found a good spot at the edge of the woodland, where the ground was moist from the weather and the nearby passage of the Rosebrook. The search function was invaluable here, as it was in most situations. Demi actually got detailed statistics about the worm populations in each area when she engaged it, so she had a good idea of where to go and how many worms it was reasonable to take from each location.

She got down on her knees on the soft earth, with her little spade in hand and called out, “Here little wormies! ~ Here little wormies wormies wormies! ~ Come out my little wormies wormies wormies! ~”

Aelfric, standing to the side and holding the lantern, made no comment.

It wasn’t that Demi actually thought that worms would come if she called for them, but she had been in the habit of doing so from the time she was a small girl and had first started paying close attention to the denizens of the garden.

She knew that even in a favorable place, right after a rainstorm, she would likely have to dig for worms. That was why she had brought her spade.

But astonishingly, almost as soon as she had called for them, several small red worms popped out from under the loamy earth.

And they patiently waited for her to collect them.

“Ara?” Demi said, tilting her head to the side as more red worms came wriggling out of the earth, waiting for her to collect them.

She didn’t know what else to say to such a response, so she said it a few more times, as she kept collecting worms.

Standing and holding the lantern, Aelfric continued to say nothing, inscrutable as always.

Dollop, who was watching Aelfric closely, flashed up a knowing face.

—( ￣〜￣ ;)E

He grunted in response.

“Pii pi pi pii pi pi pii pi,” the slime noted philosophically.

In the end, from that one spot along the creek bank, Demi managed to get enough worms to start off her vermiculture box. She had even had to leave some worms behind and move a little distance up the stream because she was worried that she would take too many from one spot and disrupt the ecosystem.

The worms that she left behind lingered briefly, but once she departed, they wriggled off again into the soil.

The whole experience had been a bit surreal and certainly inexplicable. She had expected her worm hunt to take a few hours, but instead she had finished it almost immediately.

She took her worms to their new opulent abode, the worm house tower, and settled them in. She had already added some scraps for them to eat, which were by now partially broken down by microorganisms.

The worms were very cute, so Demi couldn’t help singing to them again.

“Wormies, wormies, happy, happy wormies. ~ Wormies, wormies, have a good night. ~” She sang as she put them into the box.

In the pail and in the worm mansion, the worms wriggled to the song, as if they might be trained, performing worms.

Demi had no idea how to react to that, so she just kept singing to them, because it apparently made them happy, even though by this point, she was feeling mildly embarrassed by everything that had happened. Still, she had required the worms to relocate without really asking their permission, although she supposed they had come when she had asked, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as all that. But really, the least she could do was sing them a song if that’s what they wanted.

Standing to one side, Aelfric still said nothing.

Demi made sure the wriggly worms were happy and comfortable, then closed up the box so that flies would not harass them.

The worms did indeed seem to be happy, so that was probably good enough, she thought.

Still feeling a little baffled, she put away her tools and then went with Aelfric into the house.

Once they were inside, he finally spoke.

“So,” he said, and the word was so heavy it was almost painful. “Is that normal for you?”

“Of course it isn’t!” Demi answered immediately, throwing up her arms. “Or, well—”

Maybe it’s because I’m a goddess? she wondered. Hollyhope said that she was also the goddess of bacteria. Maybe I’m the goddess of earthworms?

“I don’t know!” she admitted, throwing her arms up again. “I don’t know if that’s normal or not!”

And that was true about a lot of things.

the goddess and the open door

The day after the mass worm-charming event, Demi returned to the daily rhythm of her life. She worked in her garden. She cared for her chickens. She went on a short walk through the woodlands near the farmhouse. She worked on refining her synthesis techniques in her atelier. She did paperwork and she met with Izar, who brought her a series of schematics to look at, and with Seri, who came with information about the water volume that was passing through the extreme east end of the course the Rosebrook took as it continued on its way.

It was late evening by the time she finished most of what she considered to be her daily work, and she was looking forward to some well-earned reading for pleasure. She was at a very exciting part of the story in The Shadowstep Alchemist. He was in the midst of a daring plan to spirit away the kitsune princess Yuki-hime and her retainers to liberate her from the machinations of her uncle, Noboru the Snake Eater.

She was so focused on thinking about what was likely to happen in the story that she didn’t notice immediately that Aelfric had quietly moved around in front of her as they crossed the wooden bridge over the Rosebrook. He had stopped at the other side of it and turned around so that he was facing her.

They had been walking back from the chicken coop together as Demi mused over the possible plot developments in the book. At first she had felt a little strange, continuing to read a light novel series at least ostensibly about a person she was sleeping in the same bed with, but ultimately, she had decided not to worry about it. He didn’t seem overly perturbed by it, and she was very involved in the story now! She couldn’t help but feel thrilled by the exciting happenings, and she was absolutely invested in all of the characters (especially her favorite alchemist).

Her last chore of the day had been making sure that Heidi and Harriet were safely inside of their chicken coop for the night: that it was warm and tidy, that they had plenty of food and water, and that they were comfortably settled in.

Demi was so engrossed in thinking about the light novels that she did not immediately realize that Aelfric had stopped and was seemingly waiting to speak to her. Fortunately, she looked up in time to keep from walking straight into him.

It made a striking picture.

The sky behind him was golden orange as he stood silently looking at her.

She had stopped just on the lip of the quaint wooden bridge. Rose petals were raining down on both of them, carried by the whispering breeze, and the plunging waterfall was so close at hand that it caused a fine mist in the air that was refreshing, but also made it feel slightly chillier than it might have otherwise.

Demi cocked her head to the side curiously, and the light breeze caused the hair around her face to dance.

“What is it?” she asked, because he obviously had something to say.

“Does the world outside of this place exist?” he asked her flatly.

Because the sun was setting behind him, he was rimmed in golden light, but that meant that by contrast, he was almost entirely in shadow, making it very difficult to read his expression. He seemed hazy, almost like a phantasm.

“What do you mean?” Demi asked playfully, her voice colored by a giggle that rapidly trailed off as she realized that he was not teasing her.

Even if she could not read his expression well, his body language felt grim. He was serious.

“What I said. Does the world outside of this place exist?” he repeated, unblinking. His words felt ancient, ominous, as if he were revealing some great and terrible secret of the cosmos. He was staring at her hard.

“This place?” she asked with a nervous laugh, opening her arms to indicate the world around her, almost as if she intended to give it a hug. “That’s a pretty esoteric question. Do you mean this world? I mean, I suppose so. It appears to be the case based on my investigations, so I assume so,” she said with a shrug. And it was true. As strange as this world felt at times, it did seem to materially exist, and that material existence seemed to connect to other material existences, even if some of them still felt very strange to her, like Hollyhope’s “divine realm.”

I guess he’s figured me out then, to ask a question like that, Demi thought to herself sheepishly. Unless this is a bait to get me to admit something. But even if it is, then that means he already suspects, which is the same thing in the end.

But his next words gave her such a shocking chill that it felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over her in midwinter. Somehow it was a question that seemed to threaten her very survival, and because it had been such an unexpected blow, it was that much more shattering. She was filled with deep existential dread.

“No,” he denied, a short, sharp word. He was so still that it almost felt unnatural. “I mean this farm. Does anything exist outside of this farm?”

At that moment, it was as if the entire world suddenly fell absolutely silent. Demi could no longer hear the sounds of the birds in the trees or the evening insects. She knew that the waterfall still had to be falling, that the brook under the bridge still had to be rushing by, but she could hear none of it. All she could hear was the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears.

She tried to laugh, because she had to do something, but it came out quivering and strange. An uncomfortable shiver had crept its way up the length of her spine, causing her to tremble slightly, squirming. She did her best to force her body to obey, to be still. Everything was fine. His question had simply been unnerving because it was so ridiculous. Of course the world outside of Rosewood Farm existed.

And she said so, plainly, as if saying it aloud would make it even more true.

“People come and go from the farm every day,” she pointed out. “Animals come and go. If there isn’t any place apart from this farm, then where do they come from and where do they go?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

“If there are other places, then why have you never left this farm?” he shot back with terrible accuracy.

Demi shivered again, suddenly wrapping her arms around herself. “I—” she began, uncertain. “I— Surely, I’ve—”

“People come here every day and they do talk about other places. You spend a not inconsiderable part of your time creating and filing paperwork about these other places,” he said quietly. “And yet, I have never seen you leave this farm.”

“I’ve, I’ve been busy,” she began, trembling. “I’ve had a lot to do. I do intend to—”

But she trailed off, because she knew he was right.

I haven’t, Demi thought, panicking inside herself. He’s right! Why have I never left the farm? Does any place other than this actually exist? I don’t know! What if it doesn’t? What if this place is the only place that exists...

She had entered into full paranoid panic mode inside of herself. She was so lost, struggling to make sense of her decisions, of her actions, of her experiences, that she didn’t realize that he had come upon her until he put both of his hands firmly on her shoulders and gave her a sharp shake.

“Demeter,” he said, his voice low and direct. “Calm down. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

She looked up, her face flushed, tears at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t know what to do or what to think.

He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head once. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t imagine my words would have such an effect on you. I’m not doubting the reality of this place or the people who come here. I am sure that the site where they’re preparing to build the canal lock, and that other place in the forest with the settlement, I am certain that they both exist.”

“But—” she began, but he gave her a look and she fell silent again.

“I didn’t ask that question to terrify you, although I did mean to give you a shock.” He looked away, flushing faintly. “It seems I gave you a much greater one than I intended.” He was silent for a moment and then cleared his throat, turning his head so they made eye contact again. He drew in his breath. “The real question I should have asked is ‘why do you behave as if you’re in a cage?’” he asked at last, his brows drawn together. He had set his mouth to a thin line again. His eyes were heavy, but they weren’t angry. If anything, he looked a little—sad?

It was difficult to know.

She sniffled a little and he let go of one of her shoulders to pull a handkerchief from an interior pocket. He pushed it into her hands and she took it in weak relief, unfolding it to rub at her nose and dab at her eyes.

It had a little black wolf embroidered onto it, along with a pattern of very small white flowers. That made her smile.

Once she had cleaned her face, she folded the handkerchief delicately and held on to it tightly.

Then she took a deep breath and asked honestly, “What do you mean I behave as if I’m in a cage?” She still didn’t fully understand his question. She went wherever she wanted. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted to do it. The happiness of doing things like that, of acting freely according to her own whims, it was a happiness that she felt she’d almost forgotten.

He looked at her levelly, and they both stared one another down.

“I have never even seen you attempt to leave this farm,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “No, I go into the forest all of the time,” she protested. “I go gathering. You’ve been with me!” she pointed out. “That’s where I found you.”

He made an ambiguous nonverbal sound that might have been an agreement, but might have not. “You do go into the forest, but never very far, and always in the same general areas,” he said. “You seem to me like an animal that’s in an enclosure. You know that there are walls to keep you in, so you don’t push against them.”

She thought about it and was forced to nod. She looked away briefly, her cheeks flushing faintly from shame.

“I suppose, I suppose I’m acting out of habit,” she said quietly. “Out of instinct. Before—” She paused, uncertain of how exactly to explain herself, but then elected to avoid the complications entirely. “Before I was here, I was at another place, another great house in the forest, only there, there I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate, not without guards, not alone, and never at my own choosing, never because I simply wanted to. I had a lot of responsibilities, a lot of things I needed to do each day. I guess I, even though I know that I can leave this place when I want, it’s simply never occurred to me to try.”

“When an animal has been caged for a long time, it often behaves as if it’s still in a cage even after it’s been released,” he said gently, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

They walk in circles. They pace. They stick close to where they were first released, Demi thought to herself, tensing. She had read about the phenomenon before, and now that she thought about everything, it seemed obvious, and that made her feel deeply uncomfortable and ashamed of herself, as if she were somehow at fault for being the way she was.

Aelfric seemed to sense that she was working herself back up again so he gripped both of her shoulders tightly for a second time, although this time he did not shake her.

“Speak to me,” he said. “I cannot know what you’re thinking unless you say it.”

She hiccuped, drawing in her breath, and then nodded silently. After a moment of gathering herself, she spoke.

“I’m just so ashamed of myself,” she said, shaking her head. “How weak and stupid am I, to keep doing the same things over and over again. I don’t think I would have even noticed, if you hadn’t pointed it out, even though it’s so obvious.” She laughed weakly but it was not a happy sound.

He made another nonverbal sound and gripped her shoulders tightly.

“No,” he said with some authority, drawing her out of her circling distress. “Of course you couldn’t see it. I’m sure you learned to push it out of your mind as a way of surviving. Over time, you conditioned yourself not to push on things that were likely to lead to you being hurt. None of that is your fault and it does not mean that you are weak and it does not mean that you are stupid.” He sighed, then said, “If every door you ever try to open is locked, you will eventually stop trying to open them. Over time, you will stop recognizing that they are doors at all.”

Demi looked down at the ground, still feeling ashamed of herself.

“But I should have kept trying, I—”

He let go of her shoulder to bring his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so that she could not avert her eyes.

“I think you have,” he said with quiet conviction. “I think you have been doing that in your own way.” His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away. “I apologize,” he said haltingly. “I seemed to have made some assumptions about you that are unfounded.”

He was earnest, but also awkward, as if unsure what he ought to say or do in this situation, and that touched her, driving away some of her shame and filling that space with empathy instead.

“You’re a good man,” Demi said honestly, because that was unquestionably true to her in that moment, and more than that, it was what she wanted to say. He had taken her aside to confront her on this because he was earnestly concerned for her well-being. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Through the hand he still had on her shoulder she felt him stiffen for a moment, freezing as if his personal time had stopped. Then he looked away sharply, the faint flush still visible in his cheeks as he did.

He seemed unsure what to say or do in response to her statement, so she smiled tiredly at him.

“I can’t help but be a little regretful,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I feel like I’ve already wasted some precious time by being afraid to leave this place. I know that time can never be gotten back once it’s gone.”

“No,” he agreed, turning back to look at her again because the subject seemed comparatively safe. “Time that has passed never comes again, but I don’t believe that you have wasted any of your time. Besides that,” he said, clearing his throat so that his voice dropped lower, “it does not matter what things were like in the past. Today is today. Now is now. You’re not in a cage any longer. You can be as you wish to be. You can do what you want to do and go where you want to go. The door is open, Demeter.”

She smiled at him then, genuine and soft in the falling twilight, her eyes gentle and her heart filled with all of her cares for this place, for this moment.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “The door is open.”

the goddess and a departure

After their arresting confrontation on the bridge, their conversation for the rest of the evening generally concerned where Demi might go the next day, to test out the freedoms of the open door. It was fine to start small, Aelfric assured her. She did have a very nice house, after all, and quite a lot of responsibilities. Someplace close by was probably best for her maiden expedition.

The site of the canal lock was probably the best in terms of location, relevance, and travel time. Even Dollop had gone back and forth to the worksite several times already. It felt a little strange when Demi realized this, but then it didn’t, because she recalled that this had also been a perfectly ordinary element of her life at Forest Home. It wasn’t as if everyone was confined to the estate. People went back and forth to the local village or even farther afield every day. She was the only one who was practically confined to the premises.

But before she could go off on her jaunt, she needed to take care of her daily responsibilities. That day, she was due to have a meeting with Foreman Oakroot about how the site preparation was progressing. The beavers had apparently already started moving earth to lay the foundation for the lock keeper’s house which would stand adjacent to the lock itself. Demi had decided that after their meeting, once she had finished the day’s paperwork, she and Aelfric would go with Foreman Oakroot to the worksite so she could see it for herself.

After Foreman Oakroot had given his report, Demi felt that it was an opportune time to bring up the idea of building a large-scale waste treatment facility using the model of vermiculture and employing slimes.

Demi wanted to raise the idea with him before it was pushed out of her mind by everything else she had to think about. It was important to get an idea early on just how feasible it might be and at what scale it might work. Proper waste disposal and water treatment were two important elements of urban planning.

With the new fox settlement being planned and built, it was probably a good time to talk about other infrastructure even if they did not plan to immediately leap into yet another project.

Foreman Oakroot listened thoughtfully as Demi described how the worm house worked, and at the end he nodded.

“I’m sure we could come up with something, especially after we’ve finished the weir and lock. I’ll ask Izar’s opinion,” Foreman Oakroot said. “The man’s right.” He nodded toward Aelfric. “This kind of thing could be right useful, particularly in a place like Cradle. I mentioned it before, but their harvests have been in a strong decline for years now. They’re one crop failure away from a lot of people dying of starvation. If they could turn their waste into fertile soil, I’m sure that would help them quite a bit.”

“One public works project at a time, right?” Demi asked wryly and the beaver foreman guffawed in response.

But Aelfric, who had been listening to their conversation without comment, as he usually did, suddenly approached the farmhouse table where they were sitting and leaned over it, bracing himself against it.

“Excuse me,” he said, sounding tense. “Did you just mention the town of Cradle?” he asked.

“Um,” Demi answered hesitantly. “Yes?”

She wasn’t sure of the reason, but she got the feeling that this was not an answer that he would find pleasing.

“Your discussion leads me to believe that we are relatively close to Cradle. Have I understood this correctly?” he asked, his brows drawn together.

Demi nodded.

“I haven’t been there yet myself, but it’s the closest human town,” she said, then looked over at Foreman Oakroot for confirmation.

“It’s about fifteen miles away as the crow flies, but around twenty if you take the road,” he agreed.

Aelfric closed his eyes and it was not difficult to tell that he was angry. Demi could not say why he was angry, but it was clear that he was. His hands were trembling slightly against the table. He took a deep breath and reined his emotions in, and when he looked back at her, he had mastered his feelings and was calm—or at least, he gave the impression that he was calm.

“Where are we, exactly?” he asked, sounding exhausted.

Oh! Demi realized suddenly. Aelfric hasn’t been anywhere but the farm and the dryad’s forest since I found him. I haven’t gone anywhere, so he hasn’t gone anywhere either. He hasn’t gone outside of the veil of protection at all. I just assumed he was staying because he wanted to stay, but maybe, maybe he just had no idea where he was. He was mostly dead when I found him, and I brought him here inside my inventory.

Demi began to feel slightly guilty and uncomfortable.

He had never asked where they were, so Demi had just taken for granted that he knew.

“We’re at Rosewood Farm,” Demi explained, and that much he surely knew. Duncan Oakroot had built a very pretty little sign that Eleonore Silktail had painted with the name of the farm and some very lovely roses. “We’re on the north road,” she continued. “The high road, between Rushford and Hollyhain Assembly.”

As she thought it over, she realized that just by happenstance, she didn’t think Aelfric had ever been party to any discussions that mentioned the three towns. He had heard them talk about the Rosebrook, which was an entirely new river system, and Hollystep, which was the new settlement, and the lock site, but he had never heard any other actual geographic markers for where they might be relative to anything else.

Maybe his question about whether anything even existed outside of this farm wasn’t purely metaphorical, she worried.

Upon hearing her answer, Aelfric briefly looked as if he was going to have some kind of fit. He brought his hand to his face and covered his eyes for several seconds, then again got control of himself.

“This place,” he began slowly. “This place,” he repeated emphatically, gesturing vaguely, apparently to the entire picturesque tableau of the farmland that surrounded them. “Is just north of the blightwood?”

He sounded nakedly incredulous.

I can’t really blame him, Demi thought sympathetically. I guess as the days passed, I just got accustomed to this place. But honestly, there’s this huge, lovely house, and outside are two incredibly beautiful waterfalls, and rose petals are just constantly raining down, and then there’s the cutest chicken coop in the world. Everything is pretty enough to have come from a storybook and whimsical enough to have come from a fairy tale. I don’t really know what the rest of the world is like, since I haven’t been anywhere but this farm, but even if this world is absolutely filled with charming, adorable places, this place has still got to be in the top five.

“As far as I understand, yes,” Demi agreed apologetically.

Foreman Oakroot grunted in agreement.

Aelfric covered his face with his hand again and made a quiet nonverbal noise.

“All right,” he said at last, turning back to Demi. “Will you tell me how to get to the road?” he asked. “I have to get back. I’ve been away for too long already.”

Demi was surprised and alarmed by this sudden announcement.

She had known logically that Aelfric would go on his way eventually. Surely he had other places to be. He was the Shadowstep Alchemist after all! But as he had lingered on, day after day, even after he had recovered, she had become accustomed to him. She honestly wanted him to stay. But then, perhaps he hadn’t been staying because he wanted to. Perhaps he had stayed because he felt he had no other choice.

Perhaps she had inadvertently been holding him prisoner.

That idea made her feel awful, especially in the context of the previous day’s conversation, so she pushed down all of her feelings, all of her reluctance.

All of her disappointment.

(They had been going to visit the lock site today: her very first trip away from the farm. Now she would have to go by herself, and that made her feel lonely. But then the loneliness made her feel both sheepish and selfish. Surely she could go to a nearby place all on her own, a place that was filled with people who knew her and liked her. She wasn’t a tiny child. She could do it on her own. But she would miss him not being there.)

She pushed all of that down, and smiled at him.

She hoped that he would be willing to visit her again, someday, sometime.

But she could not escape the guilt that she was somehow responsible for whatever it was that was testing Aelfric’s patience so severely.

“Of course,” Demi said. “I’ll show you to the edge of the forest. You can see the high road from there.”

the goddess and the invader

Aelfric seemed reluctant to speak as they walked along the path that led through the forest south of the farm, which was a little disappointing, since he was going away.

Demi did her best to keep up a cheerful stream of chatter as they walked. Her feelings were complicated. She was sad he was going away. She wanted him to stay, but understood that he had other obligations. She would miss him. He had quickly become a stable constant in her new life, a roommate and regular bedmate.

(Just thinking those words still made her want to giggle and squeal and roll around on the ground in a pile of pillows, but due to years of lessons, she masterfully kept control of herself.)

(Probably.)

She hoped he would come visit her again.

Aelfric wasn’t friendly, not really, but he was kind. He was generous, honest, and reserved. Demi felt that she had begun to understand him based on their time together, at least a little bit. He suited her. He was quiet, sometimes sardonic, often acerbic, but he was also conscientious, thoughtful, dependable, and above all, he was competent. But he was not flawless, not hard like stone, not unapproachable. He had a wonderful sense of humor when she teased it out of him, and he obviously had fantastic taste in books.

She enjoyed being with him. They had lively conversations, and he was a very good teacher.

He was not Grey Thornwood, not the thrilling and dark poetic hero of her new favorite light novel series, the young man who had set out to carve his name into legend.

But that was all right.

He was less than that, and he was more. He was himself, and she liked him better for it. He felt whole and real.

There could be no replacing him, honestly.

But Demi felt that it wasn’t right to see him on his way with a sad face. He had done so much for her already. She wanted him to see her smiling as she waved goodbye. She hoped very much that he would come again, and until then, she wanted his memory of her to be of her standing at the road, just as a small hidden path turned into the woods, smiling and waving, her skirt and apron blowing in the breeze.

That would be a picture, and maybe someday, at some time, that picture in his mind might bring him back down the same road again.

(If it didn’t, then she could always chase him down. She was a girl who was willing to do that.)

These were the thoughts that preoccupied Demi as they walked through the woods together, side by side.

Aelfric was also preoccupied, but presumably for entirely different reasons.

As the woods began to thin and the high road was just glimpsed through the trees, he threw his arm out, barring her way.

“This is far enough,” he said shortly. “Go back to the farm. I can find my way from here.”

This was it. This was the farthest south that she had ever come. They were just inside the veil of protection.

Demi shook her head.

“The least I can do is see you to the road,” she protested. The truth was, she would be happy even with just a few more minutes of his company. She wanted to stand in the thin woodland and watch his back grow smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from view.

And she wanted to be a part of that picture, the picture that he would see if he looked back over his shoulder as he walked away.

He might not look back.

He might not.

But he might.

He might, and if he did, she wanted to be there, a part of that moment.

Just doing that, being there, it felt like making a promise.

She had resolved to take new steps today, hadn’t she? The situation had changed, and she wasn’t where she had expected to be, but doing things this way was all right too, wasn’t it?

She was curious about things. She had never actually seen the high road, but she wanted to.

That road made the dryads uneasy. They had turned her back before she had even really caught sight of it. She could understand that. The blightwood was on the other side of that road: the blightwood that was likely involved in Tata’s prolonged illness, the blightwood that had sown sadgrass all over the meadow and had done its best to poison the trees and to choke out all of the local wildlife.

Demi had yet to even see the blightwood, although she had heard much about it in the time since her arrival. It always seemed to be lurking along the hazy edges of discussions, just out of range of polite conversation, but an inescapable presence nonetheless. There was a part of her that said “you won’t really understand that place until you see it,” no matter how much she was being gently dissuaded from such a course of action.

But Aelfric was adamant.

“I don’t need you to walk me to the road,” he said definitively, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, I’m going to go regardless,” Demi answered cheerfully.

Aelfric made a low sound in the back of his throat. He was obviously unhappy.

“You shouldn’t” was what he said in reply.

“And yet I’m going to,” she responded with a smile. “After all, the door to the cage is open.”

His hand tightened on the strap of his bag.

“There is more than one kind of cage,” he said almost under his breath, as if the words were forced out of him.

She tilted her head curiously, but he shook it off, turning away.

“You’re going to follow me no matter what I say, aren’t you?” he asked flatly, sounding very tired.

“I sure am!” Demi agreed with a playful “Ehee hee~”

He made another nonverbal noise and looked off through the woodlands.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” he said quietly. “Hopefully I’m just being paranoid,” he murmured, apparently to himself. Then he turned back and brandished a warning finger at her.

“All right,” he said. “But stay behind me, and if I tell you to run, then you run,” he ordered, and those words were so heavy it felt as if he were pushing her against a wall.

“Ahhh okay, okay I’ll definitely do as you say,” Demi hastily agreed, drawing her hands up in front of herself in surrender. He felt as if he was more than she could take when he got like that.

“Very well,” Aelfric said very softly, his eyes flicking back to the high road that was just visible through the trees ahead. “Then let’s go.”

***

He took the lead, cautiously advancing, and Demi followed along behind him. He was tense, on high alert, and inevitably this feeling spilled out onto Demi, making her feel shy and nervous. She was almost tiptoeing as she followed closely behind him, watching his every physical cue as if waiting for a signal.

But the walk through the last of the thinning trees to the high road turned out to be surprisingly calm and quiet. It felt almost anticlimactic.

There were bramble and wild berry bushes among the thinning trees. Dewberries she thought. Some looked ripe enough to pick.

I ought to bring Glimmer down here at some point, but I can always pick a few and take them back to him, she decided.

The idea presented itself as a very wholesome activity that was bound to take her mind off the sting of Aelfric’s departure, at least a little bit. After she had waved and waved until he was no longer in sight, and then waited a few more minutes just for good measure, she could make her way back and pick some berries for her fine chicken companion, carrying them home in her apron.

(Of course, she could just put them in her inventory, but carrying them back in her apron seemed to be a wonderfully harvest-goddess-like thing to do, so she resolved to do it.)

And so at last they came out of the thinning woodland, and Aelfric took his first steps onto the smooth, hard stone of the high road.

A few steps behind him, Demi focused on her feet as she made her way through the bramble, lifting her skirts slightly to get clear. When she looked up, Aelfric had already stepped out onto the road, and her view of what lay before her was totally unobstructed.

At the moment Demi saw what lay across that road, she stopped, absolutely transfixed.

Directly across the road was another forest.

That it was a different biome than the dryad’s forest was immediately apparent. Demi had already learned that this world was divided into large field areas, and that each field had its own properties. Plants and creatures that were native to a particular field generally stayed inside that field, including the monsters that did not live in dungeons.

But this was not the real reason the forest on one side of the high road could be immediately visually differentiated from the forest on the other side of the road.

The forest on the other side of the road looked sick. It looked beyond sick. It looked twisted and diseased. It looked wrong. The bark of the trees that remained was black and ashy, as if they had stood through a horrifying forest fire and even now lingered only as standing corpses. They did retain some foliage, but it was also ashy, pale gray and papery. It looked as if it would dissolve into nothingness on first touch.

Otherwise, the forest was dominated by massive ferns covered in dangerous looking spines, thick vines that seemed to be strangling the plants that they were growing on, and giant, gruesome looking flowers in unnatural colors.

That was one of the most peculiar things about the forest: the colors. Much of it was gray and black, unsaturated and ashy. Then there were some grotesque and violently colored flowers and leaves that felt as if they would induce a headache if one stared at them for too long. But it was the other colors of that place which were most confusing and off-putting. Demi wasn’t sure she could even identify those colors. It seemed to be impossible to call them by name. They were pale, powdery and shimmering, as if the surfaces were moving, crawling back and forth, or swaying across the solid objects bathed in their color. She did not have the words for them. They were uncanny, and made her feel vaguely nauseous even looking at them, in a way that was wholly different from the eye-searing combinations of the grotesque flowers.

This is not a color story of this world, her instincts told her. This is something from far away, from the outside of the outside.

There was something else about that forest. It seemed to be perpetually cloaked in a foul-smelling fog that limited her ability to see more than a few feet into the trees.

And the plants themselves appeared to be moving.

There was a faint, whispering, crackling sound, the sort of thing that might have been produced by a stiff breeze, but the air was calm. The trees were moving on their own, faintly, their thin twigs undulating and straining outward.

It was all horrible, and she did not like it at all.

Demi had grown up at the eaves of an eldritch forest that sheltered giants and other unseen horrors, a place that terrified others, for good reason. She loved the Deep Wood. It felt like her own secret, special place.

But this was something else, something that she could not love.

This was the blightwood, and as she stared into it, dozens of red system messages appeared in her field of view.

Enemy of this Planet

And then the forest in front of her seemed to shiver, the whole thing undulating like a bowl of gelatin.

Aelfric immediately sidestepped directly in front of her. His bag was entirely gone and there was a glaive in his hand that had appeared out of the ether.

“Get back,” he said sharply. “Get back into the woods, back to your farm. GO NOW.”

There was a titanic sound, something like the slow, cavernous noise of an avalanche approaching from afar.

Aelfric was rapidly throwing back potions and swallowing pills. As he did, Demi watched the status effects pile up on him.

Mitigate Knockback

Reduce Pain by 50%

Immunity to Stun

Resist Poison

Resist Acid

Freewalker

Last Chance

Resist Instant Death

Speed Boost x 6

Dexterity Boost x 6

Strength Boost x 6

Constitution Boost x 6

Magic Damage Boost x 6

Magic Soak Boost x 6

Casting Speed Boost x 3

Harp Strings

Invert HP and MP

Multiply Critical Damage x 3

The list went on and on, scrolling past faster than she could read them.

But she did manage to read two of the final effects as he engaged his own skills.

Airstep

Shadowstep

And suddenly there were four long guns beside him, as if he had somehow shaken them from his cloak. They hung in the air near him, their barrels just above the ground, held in place by magic.

He drove the butt of his glaive into the ground and then pulled what Demi first assumed was a decorative hand guard. A part of the shaft of the glaive opened and Demi was startled to see Aelfric slotting small, jewel-tipped metal cylinders into the body of the glaive.

Is he loading that glaive with bullets? she wondered, dazed.

Once he had loaded half a dozen shells into the barrel of the glaive, he flipped the hand guard closed and twisted the shaft just under the blade of the glaive, causing it to make a ratcheting, metallic sound internally.

He chambered a round, Demi realized. How does that thing even shoot? It doesn’t have an open barrel.

It appeared that she would have the opportunity to learn the answer to that question firsthand.

The blightwood seemed to roll and undulate as the sound increased.

And then, at the edge of the wood, right across the high road, something emerged from the mist. It was huge, easily twenty feet tall, and broad and deep and heavy. At first she got the sense that it might be a titanic bear based on the way it moved. But then she made out the shape of a massive set of antlers.

Is it a deer? she wondered, confused. If it was, then it was vastly larger than any deer she had ever seen outside of the Deep Wood, including moose.

But then it lurched forward again and she could clearly make out the shape of it.

Except that she couldn’t.

She could not fully understand what it was because what she saw did not make sense.

It was a bear. It was something like a massive, shaggy bear standing solid on four huge paws that terminated in sharp, curved claws. Its fur was mottled and matted, with an unwholesome green cast to it. It looked as if powdery mold was growing all over it.

But where the bear’s head would have been there was instead a thick furry shaft as broad as a tree trunk. She didn’t want to call it a neck, not even to herself. It did not make sense as a neck because it appeared to be another fully formed body.

Like some kind of failed experiment to stitch two different animals together, or an absolutely horrifying centaur, where the bear’s head ought to have been there was a huge bull elk, fully formed, with legs, a head, and a massive set of antlers. The elk legs hung in front of it, folded at unnatural angles, as if they had joints where they should not have had joints. Every once in a while, one of the legs twitched as if it was having a seizure, in a strange, jerky movement that almost looked as if frames had been dropped from its animation. As she looked at it, Demi suddenly realized that the elk body had three pairs of legs. There was a third set directly underneath what would have been an ordinary elk’s hind limbs. They seemed to move even more strangely than the other limbs, curious and almost noodly, as if they had no bones at all, but instead were tubes filled with gelatinous fluid.

Due to the way the spine of the elk was connected to the spine of the bear, the head of the elk was pointed up at the sky, its antlers strange and malformed, looking almost as if they were melting. The eyes of the deer were rheumy and sightless, and its tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth, coated with a strange, thick foam.

And then the monstrous thing reared up on the hind limbs of its bear half, rising even farther into the air, and this movement somehow felt as if it had not only given the awful creature height, but had also inexplicably shrunk them. There were almost a dozen black, pulsating nodules on the belly of the bear, some small, but some nearly as large as a basketball. Demi realized what they were even without consciously thinking about it.

They were parasitoids in their late larval stage, nearly ready to detach and burrow into the skin of another large animal. They were like the thing that she had pulled off of Aelfric.

Then there was an absolutely sickening sound, a wet, meaty sound of flesh being ripped apart, and the belly of the elk split down the middle. The whole elk split apart as if butterflied, and it opened.

Inside the horrible new orifice were dozens and dozens of misshapen, needlelike teeth.

This was the thing’s mouth.

It screamed, and the sound came out like a hiss that could shatter glass.

As if it were not yet clear enough, huge red words appeared in her field of view as a system message.

ENEMY OF THIS PLANET

When it moved, Demi realized that its back half was tangled in thick, dark vines, and for a moment she hoped that it had somehow gotten tangled in the dense undergrowth of the blightwood. But then she understood that the beast was not tangled. It was grasping at the trees of the wood and drawing them into itself.

It was growing larger, absorbing all of what existed in the blightwood into itself, which was why the whole forest was heaving and shuddering.

While Demi had been staring dazed at the awful horror that had staggered out of the blightwood, Aelfric had not been idle.

Seeing that she seemed transfixed by the monster, he had sworn, and then thrown down a barrier in front of her. Spelltext had gleamed in the air before her, and a bloodred magic circle had flared to life, and then another and another, until there were four circles worth of protection standing between her and the horrors of the blightwood.

On the ground, spelltext raced away as Aelfric completed a second spell, and the ground underfoot lit up in a circle four hundred feet across.

Then Aelfric had dashed away, circling the beast along one side.

He did not close, but instead relied on his long guns, firing shot after shot at the monster, each bullet glowing with enchantment. He was agile, but there was a weight to all of his movements, as if he was building momentum inside of his body, engaging chains of muscles, directing the kinetic energy through the length of his spine. His steps sounded like gunshots each time his feet struck the hard stone of the road.

He seemed to be a master of the run-and-gun technique, never staying in any place long enough to draw concentrated attack. He was always on the move, running and striking swiftly, shot after shot after shot, and with each step he built external momentum, moving faster and faster.

He never stopped. The most he did was redirect himself as his speed and the power behind his movements continued to build.

One of the most incredible things to see was how he used his Airstep. He did not fly, he could not, so far as she knew, but somehow he gave the impression that he did, like a gymnast or an acrobat gaining altitude as he kicked off footholds made of nothing but seemingly empty air. Each of his steps and jumps from the Airstep footholds rang in the same way as when his feet hit the ground, propelling him farther and faster. Because of his ability to find footholds in the air, he never ran out of road. He could always go up, and he did.

And his ability wasn’t limited solely to his feet, it seemed. He also used his hands to catch hold of the air or to push off of it, especially as a means of dodging or redirecting himself, allowing for precise corrections to his shooting angle. Sometimes he wedged his glaive against nothing and then caught the pole loosely, using it to redirect himself in a hairpin turn without losing much speed. Other times he struck the glaive in at an angle and then jumped up to kick off of it, using the flex of the weapon to gain even more height in a vault. When he did physically connect in a glaive strike against the monster, he also used these impacts as a way to gain height and power, bringing the weapon around multiple times in quick succession to deliver rapid blows.

His ability to jump farther and farther into the air through these direct, linear strikes allowed him to fight much more strategically than he would have been able to do if he had remained grounded. He thought in three dimensions, planned in three dimensions, and acted in three dimensions. He was constantly gaining altitude to get a better firing angle for shooting, and he reacted to threats fluidly, weaving his way around attacks.

If Aelfric used Airstep for traversal, then he used Shadowstep for power projection, moving into one shadow from another to both dodge attacks and to spring unexpected ones. It was midday, meaning most of the shadows were at their shortest, but Aelfric made use of every inch of them, using them to essentially teleport around the area.

It was breathtaking to watch him fight, long gun in one hand as if it were a pistol, and the other hand thrown out, moving through a complex spell, or striking or blocking with his glaive. Each time he emptied one of his guns, he dropped it, moving on to the next. The emptied guns disappeared after he dropped them, and he called up new ones, as if drawing them from the shadow of his cloak.

Aelfric didn’t seem to actually fire the bullets he had loaded into the glaive, at least not in a strictly orthodox sense. Instead, he used them to trigger effects on the blade of the glaive, and to generate bursts of exceptional power when he was sure to connect.

His glaive followed him as he moved, held in place by magic when he wasn’t handling it himself. He also seemed to be able to dismiss it and call it up again instantaneously, and he made use of this ability with shocking utility, dismissing the glaive when the momentum might have left him imbalanced, or when he needed to be in the place it occupied, but then pulling it from nothing again when he needed its reach to block or strike. Since he could dismiss it and bring it out again so seamlessly, there was no chance of it getting knocked away or hopelessly stuck in the flesh of his enemy.

And he always put the force of his whole body into those glaive strikes, driving them forward with explosive kicks, or dropping from above like a falcon, the weight of his entire body behind the dive, further propelled by the power of expending a chambered shell.

This is what it means to use the inventory system, Demi thought in a daze. I mean, to really use it. He uses it like an extension of his body, like an extension of reality.

And he had to. This creature demanded every trick that Aelfric had at his disposal.

The vines around the legs of the beast could apparently be wielded like tentacles, each as swift as the strike of a cobra. Aelfric dodged these when he could, stepping into the air and jumping off nothing, or dashing through shadows. When he could not dodge the tentacles, he parried them with his glaive, but no matter how many of the tendrils he sliced off, there were more to replace them, and the pieces that he did slice off did not lie dead on the ground, but instead twitched violently and then slithered back to the mass of the monster.

Apart from powerful area-of-effect spells, the only thing that seemed to give the thing even slight pause were the explosives that Aelfric hurled at it whenever there was an opening. When an explosion hit, the thing shuddered, and a sizable hole appeared in it.

But soon enough, viscous black fluid filled the hole as if it had never been there.

He kept at it, throwing powerful explosives whenever there was the hint of an opening.

How many bombs is he carrying? Demi wondered, her mind spinning in circles as she watched him fight. This is an alchemist. This is how an alchemist fights: with guile and preparation and holding nothing back.

And it wasn’t only bombs, although they were the most arresting of the items he pulled from nowhere to either throw at his enemy, consume himself, or smash against the ground. He saturated the ground and the creature with accelerant and then set it ablaze. He tried a dozen different ways to bind it, to slow it down even a little bit. He tried poisons, one after another after another, corrosive acids, caustic salts. Surely the things he threw at the creature and at the ground would have hurt both her and Aelfric greatly if it had not been for the protection spells that he had thrown down at the very beginning.

Even now he was trying to contain both the monster and the chaos he was causing as he tried to fight it.

But then something even more awful happened.

He had just soaked it with a storm spell and then electrified it, and the smell of the lightning still cut the air around them.

From the back of the beast, a wrinkled, fleshy neck rose up, long, slender, and whiplike.

There was a human head on the neck, but it was not growing from the neck in anything like a natural manner. Instead, it looked as if it had been impaled. The thick tentacle of the neck was thrust through one of its ears and out one of its eyes.

And once this head appeared, the terrible monstrosity began using magic.

Aelfric did his best to keep range from the monster, but it was still growing, absorbing the blightwood into itself. Inevitably he had to start fighting it back with his glaive directly, although he did keep shooting and firing off spells whenever he had the opportunity. It could move surprisingly quickly when it made use of the vine tendrils instead of its bear feet.

A second head on a stalk appeared from the back of the creature, and then a third. Each time this happened, the creature began using a new kind of magic. Each head seemed to be capable of casting magic independently, which meant that Aelfric was now fighting a gigantic, horrifying monster with three mages attached to it.

No matter how good he was, he began to lose ground. He was beginning to show fatigue, repeatedly throwing back potions to fortify his stamina—but he was sweating, covered in filth and grime from the fight.

This was not a fight that he could win.

Demi understood that just by looking at him. He was fighting desperately, with all of his blood and breath and bone, all while keeping up the barrier he had put in place in front of her.

She was still crouched in the grass, in the same spot where she had fallen to her knees when she had heard the thing scream for the first time.

The first sight of the monster that had lurched out of the blightwood had horrified her on an existential level. This thing was part of something that had the power to wipe all native life from this planet. She could feel that just by looking at it, even if she did not fully understand the context of what she felt.

The thing was beyond horrifying.

Demi was an ordinary young noble lady. She had never learned any sort of combat or self-defense. She had been raised to be a politician and bureaucrat-governor, an expert at contracts, law, management, and diplomacy. For her safety, she had always relied on a security detail. She had never imagined that she might find herself in a situation where she would have to face down an unspeakable cosmic horror.

But as she continued to watch Aelfric fight, rooted to the ground as if she were a tree herself, her fear faded.

And it was replaced by anger.

How dare this thing come here?

How dare it lie in wait at the edge of her place, eating away at the fringes of it, ready to devour those that she cared about?

How dare it consume and consume and consume, turning everything vile and wretched and wrong?

This was a wrong thing. It was a horrible, horrible wrong thing.

And then the monster dropped some of the wet, fleshy nodules from its belly, as if it were laying eggs, and leechlike parasites with dozens of tiny tendril legs burst from them.

And that was the last.

That was the end of everything.

She would not accept it.

Even as the disgusting, floppy parasites rushed toward her on their hundreds of tiny feet, Aelfric swore and strained, stretching out with everything he had toward where she stood. In that same moment he burst out of the space directly behind her, having leaped to her shadow, but the jump was a move too far, pushing him far past his limits. He had already spent much more than he had in himself, and as he lurched out of her shadow, he lost control of his limbs and skidded to a halt shoulder first against the hard soil of the road’s edge.

But then a brilliant light cut a circle into the ground around Demi, lifting her gently to her feet as if she were in zero gravity. The column of light surged upward, clearing a circular hole in the cloud cover above that went all the way through the troposphere. She spun around inside the column of light, her clothing disappearing in bursts of rose petals and the sound of bells to be replaced with a flowing green dress. Her feet were bare as she stepped out of the light and onto the stone of the high road.

Roses burst out of the stone behind her as she walked, and twined into a crown around her head. There was the musky scent of flowers all around, cut by the smell of ozone.

The horrible creature did not yet seem to understand its situation, nor did the leechlike parasites that were still scrambling toward her. As they surged forward, she simply unmade them.

Aelfric, ground against the soil where he had fallen in his desperate attempt to shield her, could do nothing but stare, breathing raggedly. His weapons dissolved into nothingness, entirely forgotten, and he lay there, completely transfixed.

As Demi walked toward the abomination from the blightwood, she seethed. She let herself be angry. She cloaked herself in rage against the reality that would allow a thing like this to come to pass. She was furious.

This was the reason that Tata was sick. This was the reason her farm had been infested with invasive grass that choked the life from everything. This was why everything had been so sick and frail. This was the reason that the forest before her was warped and twisted.

She would not allow it.

She would never allow it.

“Get away from my land!” she howled, and as she did, her hair was blown into the air by the energy gathering around her.

Snowy white wings burst from her back as she splayed her bare toes against the ground, and she unmade the awful thing.

It was as simple as that. She did not fight it.

She did not have to fight it. Such an idea was honestly preposterous.

She unmade it, and it dissolved into threads.

Before her, the dark, foggy expanse of the blightwood stood open like a festering wound.

Demi slowly exhaled and let her eyes go completely out of focus. She saw it all. She understood it all.

She would not allow this wrong place to exist.

And so, like pulling the thread of a sweater to unravel it, she pulled at the edge of the blightwood. It was slow at first, almost unnoticeable, but as she pulled and pulled, it began to unravel faster and faster, like a crescendo building in music, or water breaching a dam.

She pulled and pulled and pulled, and somehow, the whole forest came undone. Every tree, every flower, every plant, every fungus, every bacterium, every beast and bird, it all came undone.

Watching from the outside, Aelfric saw the blightwood first begin to heave and shimmer, but then it began to dissolve into ribbons of light. This mass of light built and built, growing brighter and brighter until he could no longer bear to look at it, and he shielded his eyes.

But then, all at once, the light faded.

He looked again at Demeter Serraffield to see that she was still standing, her long hair moving gently in the breeze. Her white wings were folded behind her, and she was looking at something in front of her.

He struggled to get to his feet, bracing his hands against his knees and breathing hard. When he looked up, it took a moment for his brain to process what he was seeing.

There were verdant green woods as far as the eye could see, with tall beautiful trees: oak, maple, pine, chestnut. There were wildflowers in bloom along the roadside, and the songs of familiar birds filtered down like dappled sunlight through the branches of the trees.

It was beautiful and serene.

But he was not looking at the dryad’s forest nor the woodland that ran alongside the high road, concealing the picturesque farm from view.

He was behind Demeter Serraffield, looking past her, into the space that had been the blightwood only minutes before.

There was no longer any trace of that accursed place.

It was simply gone.

It had been there for decades, a deadly hazard to all of the lands around it, poisoning them, draining them, turning them into itself.

And it was gone.

He had no idea what to say, no idea what to do, how to process what had happened in front of his own eyes.

And then she had turned to look at him over her shoulder and given him a painfully beautiful smile.

“That’s better, don’t you think?” she asked, as if she had simply swept aside old garbage to reveal wildflowers growing underneath.

But he had no time to answer because she swayed on her feet, as fluid as a slender blade of grass being moved by the wind.

And then she collapsed.

the alchemist has a flashback

Two Months Prior

Aelfric waited patiently in the quiet study, his hands folded behind his back. Inevitably, his eyes were drawn to the portrait that hung prominently over the fireplace.

Conri, first king of Prystir.

I wonder, my old friend, what you would think of the state of things, he thought pensively as he looked at the painting. What we tried to do. What we failed to do. Has anything really changed? Is there any way out, at this late date?

But the first king was long dead, and silent.

He was still lost in thought when the door to the study opened with a soft sound.

A young lady crossed the threshold of the room on dainty, satin-slippered feet. She wore an exquisitely tailored dress with bell sleeves and a long cloak trimmed with ermine. The train of the cloak was embroidered with the crest of the royal family of Prystir, the rearing unicorn.

If her beautiful dress and finely trimmed cloak had not given away her rank, then the tiara she wore on her royal head would have certainly. Her corn-silk blonde hair was elaborately braided and studded with jeweled hairpins that had been fashioned to look like flowers. She had a regal bearing, and even at fourteen she was considered a great beauty: the pearl of Prystir.

She was followed closely by a retinue of guards, maids of honor, and inevitably, the prime minister.

The guards had opened the doors for her, but upon crossing into the room, she turned to those following her and said, “That will be all. We shall call you again when we have need of you.”

“Majesty—” began the prime minster in protest, his eyes flicking to where Aelfric still stood silently. “At least allow one of your maids—”

“We refuse,” the young lady said with some force. “We do not require a chaperone when speaking with the councillor. He is the most loyal subject that Prystir has. You are dismissed, minister. We will not require your services for the remainder of the day.”

“Majesty, there is a meeting of the privy council, a briefing about the state of the southern border with General Cross, and an evaluation of potential court appointments all scheduled for this afternoon—” the minister lectured sternly.

But the young lady was resolute.

“You are dismissed,” she declared, throwing out her arm.

The prime minister’s expression was grim, and he cast one final disapproving look at Aelfric to fully communicate his feelings on the matter, then bowed and backed away from the study door. The guards closed it, and then there was the soft sound of footsteps on the thick carpet of the hall as they retreated.

Once they were gone and the young lady was quite sure they were out of earshot, she promptly locked the door with a jeweled key from her person, and she launched herself at Aelfric.

Fortunately, he had enough experience with her to expect this, and caught her even as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rubbed her cheek against his middle.

“Ahhhh, now I can finally recharge my energy,” she said, her voice muffled by his clothing.

He made a nonverbal noise, a soft sigh of exasperation.

“Arcady, you shouldn’t antagonize Minister Morrow,” he pointed out. “We are not in a position where we can afford division in the court.”

Freawaru Brighid Rozenn Arcadiana I, the princess-king of Prystir, puffed out her cheeks in an inspired pout, and simply hugged Aelfric tighter.

“He doesn’t respect you like he ought to,” she complained, grumbling. “How dare he suggest that we require a chaperone just to speak to you! Dealing with the rules of the court is exhausting,” she complained. “One of your most important duties is healing our royal heart! And take off that mask so we can see your handsome face! We demand it!”

Aelfric made another nonverbal noise and unfastened the mask he wore in the palace during his role as the shadow councillor. He set it aside on the nearby desk. Only the reigning monarch was ever allowed to see his face.

That was, perhaps, why he often had difficult relationships with prime ministers. It was challenging for a person to put their trust in someone whose face they never saw. Still, the mask was necessary, and by this point, it had become almost theatrical, part of the traditional matter of Prystir, a symbol of the royal family and the reigning dynasty.

“You cannot simply abandon your duties and play all afternoon,” Aelfric pointed out to the young lady. “I am sorry that these responsibilities have fallen on your shoulders so early. I wish I could change that, but I cannot.”

The regret in his voice was honest, but he had allowed the young lady to hear it because he understood her personality, and knew it would have an effect.

“Ahhhh, it’s not your fault!” she hastily denied, squeezing him furiously. “I can do it! You can depend on me!” she insisted, slipping out of her formal way of speaking. “I promise to go do my work after this, just please, pat my head like you always do. Everything is just so hard.”

Arcady’s distress was real, but much the same as Aelfric had known how she would react when he expressed his regrets, she knew that showing her exhaustion to him would rouse his sympathy. This was how the two of them had engaged with one another from the time that she had been a very little princess, toddling around the palace.

Aelfric sighed again and patiently removed the ribbons and pins that kept her royal tiara on her head and set it carefully down on the desk behind him, next to the mask of the councillor.

And then he patted her head the way he always did.

Arcady’s soul animal was a small and lively golden blonde cocker spaniel, and when Aelfric petted her head, one could almost see the furiously wagging tail that indicated her absolute bliss. She also had the appeal of the pretty little pup, with large, soulful eyes that she had often used to get her way as a little girl.

For a few blissful moments, Arcady thought of nothing else besides having her head patted. She did not think of the etiquette of the court, nor the complicated relationships between the factions of feudal aristocrats who were her retainers. She certainly did not think about the incredibly dangerous situation that was still developing in Annarrow, the kingdom’s southern neighbor.

But alas, all good things must inevitably come to an end.

Once Aelfric had patted her head for what he considered a suitable amount of time, he broached the subject of his visit.

“I hope you didn’t call me back to the capital simply because you were lonely and wanted your head patted,” he said flatly. “I have nothing to report yet from my current assignment. As far as I have been able to determine, she hasn’t descended yet.”

Arcady made a petulant noise and after a final squeeze, let go of Aelfric and moved to collect her tiara, settling it back on her head.

“Of course we would never do something so irresponsible and childish,” she scoffed. “We are not a frivolous ninny!” She folded her hands behind her back and turned around. “The situation to the south seems to have deteriorated in the time since you left the capital,” she said seriously. “We are concerned that there is something happening in Annarrow that our diplomatic liaison has not been reporting. Something terrible.”

“An incursion?” Aelfric asked seriously.

He was not surprised that things had worsened in Annarrow. The southern barrier was under great strain.

“We are afraid it might be more than that,” the princess-king admitted, her voice tight. “You are aware that diplomatic relations between Prystir and Annarrow have been worsening. We fear that an incident along the southern border may provoke war.”

Aelfric made a dark sound, deep in his throat.

“Humanity cannot afford to war against itself,” he said darkly.

“The wolf is at the door,” Arcady agreed, sounding very tired.

“The wolf is already inside the house,” Aelfric corrected grimly.

She nodded without turning around.

“We still do not have a clear idea of what is happening at the southern border. We need to understand so that we can prepare for the dangers ahead,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself and trembling slightly.

This was not an act, and he knew it was not. Arcady was afraid.

And for good reason.

They all ought to be afraid, every single one of them. That they were not only revealed their ignorance of the situation.

“Have you dispatched intelligence operatives?” he asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

“We cannot trust anyone with this mission other than you,” she insisted, turning around to look at him at last. “If we send other people, we fear they will not return. We need clear information so we can decide how to proceed. We are not certain that Prystir could survive a war against Annarrow, even in its weakened state. We must find a way to navigate through without war.”

She looked very small and fragile, dwarfed by her royal cloak. She could not even wear the crown yet. It was too large and heavy. That was why she wore the tiara of state instead.

Aelfric closed his eyes briefly.

Arcady was a good ruler, as good as one could wish for from a girl who was only fourteen years old and had neither father nor mother to guide her. She was intelligent, compassionate, and hardworking. She was dedicated to protecting her country and its citizens.

And she was right. It was unlikely that Prystir would emerge unscathed from a conflict with Annarrow. Nothing but annihilation was waiting at the end of that path.

Arcady was still a little girl in some ways. She had no older relatives from whom to get advice or comfort. This meant that she depended heavily on Aelfric, most especially when she felt frightened or distressed.

She still had the childish notion that he was somehow superhuman, able to resolve any situation he was set against. He was the rock that kept away tigers.

He couldn’t blame her. To some degree, this was his fault. He had often doted on her when she was a child, and then after the tragic events that had led to her becoming princess-king at the tender age of eleven, he had been the one to help her secure the stability of her position. He had also been the one to see her when she cried, to hold her when she wept for her parents, when she could no longer show her deep grief to anyone else.

But he didn’t regret that. She was a kind girl, and she had needed his comfort. He had sworn an oath to Conri to guard Prystir and to look after his children. That oath still held true, even down to Arcady’s generation.

“If I go to investigate the situation in the south, I may not be there when the goddess descends,” he pointed out calmly.

Arcady had been the one to dispatch him to Cradle in the first place, to await the descent of the goddess, to locate her and bring her back to the capital.

“We are aware,” she said, squirming slightly. “We trust that your two subordinates from the intelligence division will send accurate reports about the situation. You may rejoin them after you assess the situation in the south.”

She seems to have already made up her mind, he thought to himself.

Although the shadow councillor was technically a servant of the crown, Aelfric was not actually under any obligation to accept any assignment or order, even if it came from the princess-king herself, and they were both aware of that. It was all dependent on what he thought about things.

But if she was this distressed, it was probably better to investigate the situation in the south. It was possible that there was a flash point waiting to happen there, something that might set off a greater chain of events. Arcady often had good intuitions when it came to things like this.

He brought his hand to his chest and bowed his head slightly.

He was under no obligation to bow his head to anyone, and yet he usually did, if only to Arcady.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said.

the alchemist faces reality

Things in Annarrow were much worse than he had expected.

I left it alone for too long, he thought to himself, feeling both guilty and exhausted at once.

But even he understood that this was an unreasonable thing to think. He could not be everywhere at once, at all times. He was just one man. He could not micromanage an entire continent, not even with a laundry list of remarkable abilities.

And yet, he could not escape the crushing feeling of guilt as he reviewed what he had so far uncovered.

The front line had been pushed another two hundred and fifty miles inland. That meant Annarrow had essentially lost a thousand miles of territory to the quarantine zone. That was without even considering the great southern blightwood.

Annarrow, already militaristic as a culture, had shifted even further toward fascism as a result of their losses. Even towns and villages outside of the quarantine zone were now being run as police states. The whole country was under emergency martial law.

The situation of average citizens—

It was not good.

Famine, disease, homelessness, and a brutal enforcement of law. It was no wonder that the people of Annarrow had begun to look enviously at the more stable and prosperous lands of Prystir to the north.

People were resentful, and he had more than once heard the words “we’re killing ourselves protecting them, and they’re getting fat and comfortable from our blood without doing anything in return!”

But that disregarded the truth that Prystir had already dispatched practically all of its adventurers to Annarrow’s quarantine zone, in an attempt to secure it. They were still there now. Besides that, Prystir sent food and resources south regularly, or at least it had, until Annarrow had begun refusing to accept aid around three months ago.

The queen of Annarrow was young. She was not as young as Arcady, but at nineteen, she was not very experienced. Aelfric had met her several times in the past, and found her startlingly intelligent. Even now she was astonishingly popular in her own kingdom, despite the dire circumstances of the nation at large.

In times of trial, people needed a symbol, and she was their symbol. Annarrow had thousands of soldiers who would throw themselves upon their swords for a smile from their queen.

He did not know what the true thoughts of the queen might be regarding the possibility of war between Annarrow and Prystir, and he did not have time to try and find out. She was very well guarded in a mountain fortress far from the front lines.

He had a different assignment. He needed to understand how bad things were in the quarantine zone.

And they were

very

bad.

The ground was dry and dusty, and dangerous quagmires cut through the landscape. Invasive species were everywhere: grasses, molds, fungi. He had to wear an air filtration artifact to keep from breathing in dangerous fumes. He kept purification and disinfecting spells up around him at all times.

Many villages were completely abandoned. Those that remained were heavily fortified and populated almost exclusively with adventurers and conscripted foot soldiers.

It was grim and dirty and dangerous.

And one of the most dangerous things of all was the fact that there were rumors of composite invaders roaming some distance from blightwoods.

And although there were soldiers in the quarantine zone, there didn’t seem to be as many as might be expected.

Either Annarrow had incurred significant casualties that it had not reported to Prystir, they were in the midst of military redeployment, or Annarrow was conserving its military might for another purpose.

He felt he had seen enough to make a suitable report.

He turned his face back toward the north, and that was when he encountered the abomination.

Noise of a battle had drawn his attention.

He had steeled himself to ignore it and continue his journey back to Prystir, but then he had heard a familiar cry go up.

It was the battle cry of the fighting unicorn. These were adventurers from Prystir.

And then he heard something else—

A voice rising in pitch as it brought down a spell.

He knew that voice. It belonged to a talented young mage he had briefly mentored in the past. There was desperation in the sound.

He knew. He knew that he had to leave them to their fates and continue north to report the findings of his mission. He had done it before. It was the only reason he had lived this long.

He knew that.

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes and forced himself to walk forward.

But then he thought of someone. He thought of someone he had not thought of in a very long time.

And all of his hard resolve crumbled, and he left the road and ran toward the direction of the sound.

the alchemist’s deliverance

It was over.

Everything was over.

He was the last alive.

Again, he was the last alive.

But he would not remain so for long.

He was bleeding out, and he could barely feel his extremities.

And then there was a fraction of a second when Aelfric felt that his brain had been shattered by the force of a single thought driven through his skull like an iron spike.

He saw a girl.

He saw a young woman with a flurry of curls, roses set into her hair like a crown. She was dressed all in green, her feet bare. At first he saw her only from behind, his view consumed by her thicket of curly hair, but then all at once enormous wings burst from her back.

And she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes as deep and limitless as the dark ocean. She was lit from above by the glow of a ring of golden light.

And she smiled.

She smiled at him.

He knew he was dying. Everything that he felt in his body told him that he was dying, but somehow, seeing her face, seeing her, standing on the green grass in her bare feet, it put his heart at ease.

The thing he thought when he saw her was nonsensical, but in that moment, it made perfect sense to him. It made absolute sense, the sort of sense that transcended time and place.

He thought:

Oh, I finally found you.

At last.

I found you.

And then everything went black.

He thought he had died.

He had resolved himself that he had died.

That was why he was very disoriented when he opened his eyes again.

He only managed to open them a sliver, but when he did, he saw something that nearly made his heart stop.

It was a girl. There was a girl leaning over him, a streak of dried blood or black ichor on her cheek, the riot of her curls held back by a kerchief. It was the girl he had seen before, the one who had turned and smiled at him.

Looking at her, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of concern for her safety that flooded into his bloodstream like adrenaline.

She needed to get away from him. The thing had already marked him. He was carrying the parasite. He could not feel much of his body, but he could still feel that thing, festering against his middle.

She needed to get away from him. This thing would kill her. This thing would kill her.

And so he said the first words that occurred to him, because at that level of pain and horror, he had no ability to temper anything he said.

“You,” he struggled to even form the words. “You should have left me there.”

It was the plain, unvarnished truth.

But these words had a very unexpected effect.

They made her angry.

She slapped the floor with her bare hand, sounding like an agitated beaver slapping its tail.

“If you have the strength to say something like that, then you ought to have enough strength to drink something,” she had declared, and then she had pressed a noxious smelling bottle to his lips.

It was no use. He was dying. He knew that he was dying. His mind was a disjointed confusion of pain and shuddering misery. He knew that he was beyond any potion, beyond any spell wrought by mortal hands.

But she was staring at him with those deep, blue eyes, fiercely determined. She was prepared to wrestle death itself to the ground.

Irrationally, he felt that he did not want to disappoint her. He was dying, awash in pain and misery, but the thing that was most important to him at that moment was nothing more complicated than that.

He did not want to disappoint her.

So he struggled to drink the noxious swill.

It tasted horrendous, bitter and poisonous. He had imbibed some terrible brews in his time out of desperation and necessity, but this was by far the worst thing he had ever tried to drink.

Discipline was the only reason he managed to swallow any of it.

—But the moment he did...

It was incredible. Within seconds of the horrible mixture touching his tongue, he could feel the effects cascading through his body. His pain and confusion eased. His mind began to clear.

He was in some kind of room. He was in a room that looked like a young lady’s bedroom in a well-appointed country house. It felt as if he was on a bed, with the softest linens that he had ever felt underneath him.

But he didn’t have much time at all to observe the location before he lost consciousness again.

When he awoke again—

He was mildly perturbed.

He was not dead.

That is, he did not feel dead. He felt alive and whole and generally on the mend. It felt as if he were recovering from an intense but relatively short illness, something a bit like a severe cold.

He was not fully convinced that he had not died, however.

He seemed to be alive. His senses told him that he was alive. But the circumstances of his current situation...

They were the elements that made him most dubious about the question of his continued survival.

First of all, it did turn out that he was in the bedroom of a young lady of the nobility. This bedroom was in a fabulous country house that was elegant in its simplicity, but also whimsical, fanciful. It seemed to be a house conjured directly from the embroidered daydreams of a princess who often fantasized about being a bucolic milkmaid.

And the house was wall-to-wall with alchemic fittings that not even he fully understood. Everything about it was clean, wholesome, picturesque, and very convenient.

Well, relatively convenient.

It turned out that there was only one real bed in the place, and that bed belonged to the young lady. Even in this questionable state between life and death, he was not comfortable enough to let that stand and had tried to give up the bed.

But then she had bullied him until he had reluctantly agreed to continue convalescing in the bed.

And then she had put an enormous pillow into the bed after him, and then peacefully climbed in herself.

Her audacity was one of the most challenging things about her.

He had not shared a bed with another person for a very long time, longer than he could remember, really. He knew he had done so in the past, sometimes in search of comfort and other times merely out of necessity, but large sections of his past often smeared together in long streaks of indistinct anxiety and dread. But if any concerns about propriety troubled the young lady, they were certainly not on display. Whenever it was time to sleep, she simply changed into her pajamas (in an engaging show of lights and sound effects), crawled into the bed, wished him sweet dreams, put out the light, and was asleep and quietly snoring within what felt like seconds.

(When she didn’t read until the early hours of the morning. Even then, she was conscientious, and promptly turned out the overhead light and read by a small directional light she kept on her nightstand.)

He found himself easily carried along by the unique rhythm of her days. He spent most of his time in a state akin to slack-jawed wonder, either at her astonishing behavior or the inescapable strangeness of the situation.

He had no earthly idea where they might be. It was one of the reasons he was still in debate about whether or not he was alive or dead.

This place was idyllic.

It was picturesque.

It was a paradise, a garden where deities might have walked.

(And he felt qualified to make this judgment because he had had multiple dealings with multiple deities.)

The house was beautiful. Every corner of every room was beautiful and welcoming, with intricate details that might have been easily overlooked if he had not had so much time to study them. Everything in the place, every stick of furniture, every cushion, even the walls themselves, it all looked as if it had been constructed by a master craftsman to exacting specifications.

It was astonishing, really, and he had spent a not inconsiderable amount of his life in palaces and other abodes of kings. Although this place was generally less ostentatious, less overtly gorgeous, it was certainly on par with any palace he had yet seen (and it surpassed many).

And this was completely ignoring all of the alchemic devices that were tucked away into every corner and integrated seamlessly into the house. Every single room had alchemic lights, most controlled by switches on the wall for convenience. He had not discovered any external power source for any of them. Wherever that source was, it was neatly hidden away someplace in the house.

(He had a vague feeling that their source of power was the house itself, but that was not something he could prove. It was simply a gut instinct.)

There were five indoor bathrooms in the house. Five. There was only a single bed, but five bathrooms. This was one of the elements of the house that felt absolutely deranged, as if it might be part of a cosmic practical joke. Each bathroom had shocking amenities. There was hot water on command from every faucet; the toilets became warm when one sat upon them. They whisked all waste away before it could be smelled, and then there was a refreshing spout of clear water that cleaned the behind.

That alone was surely a mechanical wonder worthy of a palace.

There were also little spots on the walls where cables could be connected to draw up power. This allowed items in the house that required power to be easily rearranged. The young lady called them “outlets.”

In addition to these astonishing wonders, and others that were readily on display in the kitchen, there was a library in this house.

Home libraries were not that uncommon in the houses of the nobility. The printing press had made books more readily available since they no longer had to be copied painstakingly by hand. Even some commoners had small libraries of their own. Prystir had mandatory education for children, and due to this, the literacy rate of the kingdom was much higher than it was globally.

But this library—it was something else.

As beautiful as the country house was, it was largely devoid of furniture, rather like a place newly constructed or recently inhabited. But the room that the girl called the library was practically overflowing. The room was dominated by enormous shelves made of dark hardwood. They were floor to the high ceilings, with broad, deep shelves, and they were absolutely stuffed to the gills with books.

There were even stacks of books in the corners around the shelves, some on the rolling library ladder, or piled on the secretary desk.

The room did not have much in the way of furnishings apart from the shelves and desk, but the books housed in it were beyond astonishing. It was a collection worthy of the most aristocratic of bibliophiles. And it wasn’t simply the number of books, but also their make and condition. They were all beautiful, and beautifully maintained.

And then there were the titles. There were fascinating and intriguing titles on the shelf that begged investigation, titles that he had never seen in any other place.

The young lady was generous and unguarded with her books, and suggested that he read to help pass the time as he convalesced.

Unfortunately, when he attempted to pull a book from the shelf to read it, he encountered a system error.

You have not been authorized to access books from this library.

Well, that was curious.

That was beyond curious. It was absolutely suspicious.

This outcome surprised the young lady and left her quite embarrassed. She was very apologetic but seemed to be unable to alter the permissions to allow him to take any of the books from the shelf.

This remained true for almost all of the other books scattered around the house, which had presumably originated from the library. It was particularly true of what appeared to be a long series of interconnected illustrated novels that alarmingly featured one of his most common epithets, the Shadowstep Alchemist.

Strangely enough, these particular books had unique rejection messages when he attempted to open them.

You’re not allowed to read these!!!

As if to make up for what she clearly perceived as a terrible personal failing with regard to his permissions related to the books in the library, the young lady rounded up a number of unusual books and arranged them on a small shelf in the bedroom, near his side of the bed. Unlike most of the books in the house, these had no protections and he could read them freely. It was a strange collection, and many of them were heavily illustrated. It was sometimes difficult for him to immediately follow their stories, since based on the numbers on their spines they mostly seemed to be individual volumes from the middle of unrelated series. Still, he was glad of something to read, particularly in the early days when he had not much been able to get out of bed.

A few of the books did seem to be stand-alone novels, and he enjoyed reading those in particular, which seemed to make her honestly happy. She was always ready to talk about them, just as she was always ready to run off and get him whatever he needed. She had that kind of personality, the kind that begs to be looked after.

But the strangeness did not stop with the girl and her library.

Even when one stepped foot outside the inexplicable country house, the surroundings got somehow even more perplexing.

The house was set between two beautiful waterfalls, with verandas that wrapped around the side of the house and over a wide, calm pool on one side, and a charming but swift brook on the other.

And whenever there was the slightest breeze, red rose petals rained down from the mountainside behind the house. There seemed to somehow be a limitless supply of them, perfuming the air with a sweet, musky, old-fashioned scent.

There was a garden in front of the house that she sometimes puttered around in. She seemed to particularly like flowers and herbs. She also kept two chickens, who lived in the most opulent chicken mansion he had ever seen. It was far nicer than the homes of many commoners.

To the east there was an idyllic forest, and to the west there was gently rolling farmland with rich, dark soil. It was calm and safe, and wild animals moved about the area as if they had not a care in the world.

The whole place was a little surreal. It felt as if it had come from a fairy tale, a story of an idealized past that had never existed in reality. Even the colors of the place were striking: jewel-like and saturated, as if the whole of the world was being viewed through some sort of filter.

And of course there was the young lady herself.

She was small, short and delicate of build, except where she was not, when her assets were noticeable. She was beautiful. This was an unquestionably true fact of nature. She was beautiful, with a long tangle of curly hair that fell almost to the backs of her knees, and blue eyes that were deep and soft. She was as doe-eyed as any forest queen, perhaps even more so than an actual deer. Most of the time she moved with an elegance and grace that were breathtaking, and surely the result of a favorable combination of natural gifts and intense etiquette lessons.

(The rest of the time she was almost comically clumsy, but that, in itself, also had a powerful appeal.)

And she was also cute. She was beautiful, but also cute. The distinction was important and very clear in his mind. Watching her run around each day, busy with her own interests, was a little like watching a kitten. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her, while at the same time being fascinated by her inexplicable behavior.

In the beginning, he had stayed as close to her as he possibly could because he had held on to the lingering fear that the invader who had marked him would somehow find him here, at the ends of the earth in paradise, and attempt to do away with the young lady. But as time went on, he lost track of the reason he had begun watching her, and simply kept watching her because everything that she did was somehow nonsensical and flabbergasting at the same time.

For instance.

She had an alchemy atelier, a workshop where she produced her own potions and other materials. It was as fine a workshop as any alchemist might have dreamed of, and much like the house, she was the sole proprietor of it. The whole place had been built to accommodate her diminutive size, which left the equipment somewhat challenging for him to use.

And yet.

She did not have an alchemy master, and she did not have her own cyprianus. She had gone on studying and practicing Fluid Alchemy with no way to convert her experience into levels.

She was making potions and medicines with astounding properties and traits even while roadblocked at level one. The potion she had used to stabilize him had been one of her own manufacture. It had been unpolished, and of absolutely obscene taste, but unquestionable efficacy.

He had silently observed her alchemic activities for some time, trying to make sense of the situation, but had finally given up on an external solution and begun teaching her Fluid Alchemy from the ground up, beginning with how to use the tools of her own atelier.

(He still lacked certainty over exactly what had happened when she had impressed her cyprianus. It was a question left open for further investigation.)

She was a shockingly adept pupil (which probably oughtn’t have been surprising given everything else and yet somehow remained surprising) and she swiftly piled up levels in Fluid Alchemy, never satisfied with her progress and always pushing herself to improve.

They were largely alone at the country house, with the exception of a small slime and a very ornate chicken who lived with them in the house. (The ordinary house, and not the opulent chicken mansion.) The chicken was certainly a holy beast, although attempting to pretend otherwise for some reason or another. He and the young lady sometimes secreted themselves away in a corner and carried on muffled conversations with one another. They didn’t appear to be plotting anything, so he did his best to politely ignore them when they went around the corner and started whispering to one another.

There were occasionally other guests. There were dryads in the whimsical fairy-tale forest, and fox and beaver critterin dropped by with regularity, primarily to discuss civil engineering, of all things. The young lady was apparently the president of an organization they had formed to build a canal. She turned out to be shockingly adept at clerical and managerial work, churning out piles of paperwork and reports every day.

She was a busybody, involved in anything and everything, with a penchant for rounding up trouble and borrowing it when she felt that she did not have enough of it on her own.

If he followed the threads of the place, he always came back to the same spot. It seemed that at the center of everything was the young lady: Demeter.

The perfectly ordinary farm girl, Demeter Serraffield.

If I’m somehow not dead, and this isn’t paradise, then I seem to have accidentally accomplished my mission, he had thought pensively to himself.

Everything about the circumstances and her demeanor practically screamed that she was a goddess.

And this was one of the reasons he had decided that there was an eighty percent chance that he was no longer on the earth but had skipped into a divine realm where a flighty but good-natured goddess was playing at being a farmer.

But then there were other things, small tells that indicated that the world might not be as perfect as it might have seemed to be at first glance, and the most jarring instance of this was the state of the chestnut dryad Tata.

She was dying. She was dying slowly and painfully as her trees succumbed one at a time to a terrible disease.

Death is here too, it seems, he had thought grimly to himself.

But the perfectly ordinary farm girl had not been discouraged. She had immediately decided to supply the sick dryad with advanced potions round-the-clock, as if promising such a thing wasn’t a preposterous thing to do, outside the bounds of common sense. Only a member of the royal family might have been able to access such treatment. It was extremely expensive and very few people could produce such an advanced potion with the specific and relevant effects necessary to make it effective.

Each and every thing she did was ridiculous. She was always throwing vegetables and flowers into the serene pool whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. Miraculously, these items always disappeared without a trace. She gained twenty-three levels in Fluid Alchemy in a single week. Twenty-three in a single week. She did not seem to have even the most rudimentary idea of how magic worked, despite being otherwise cultured and well educated. When she sang to worms, they immediately popped out of the earth, ready to be put into her bucket. When she sang to worms, they answered.

(She worked too hard. She did not always seem to like herself. She was sometimes overwhelmed with anxiety and distress.)

She knew his true name.

When he had cautioned her about using it, she had politely changed to calling him Alt, but he knew that she knew what his real name actually was.

And ever since he had woken after having been miraculously cured of his parasitation, a curious new tag had been applied to his status page.

Handsome Old Man.

He had no comment on that, and she was obviously so desperate to ignore it that he felt bad questioning her about it.

Everything was so ridiculous, he had stopped even reacting to it much over time. It was like, “Oh, another bizarre thing happened? Well, that figures.” He was so swept away by the unusual rhythm of the place that he very nearly forgot the way he had arrived, forgot that she had somehow saved his life, restored a missing limb and multiple missing fingers. He forgot to be wary of the invader who was still in pursuit of him, forgot his overarching mission. He simply existed in the inexplicable country house on the absurdly beautiful farm as if he always had and always would.

But then something happened to shake the sense out of his world again.

The beaver foreman had been visiting. He was a regular visitor at the farmhouse and he and Demeter most often discussed the progress of a large public works project that the beavers were engaged with somewhere vaguely nearby. Aelfric had not been to this site because she had not gone, and he always stayed in close proximity to her.

(There were times when she behaved as if she had spent her entire life in a little pen.)

During the visit with the beaver foreman, Demeter had been excitedly describing the possibilities of waste management when the foreman had casually dropped a bombshell.

He had mentioned the town of Cradle.

He had mentioned the town where Aelfric had set up his medical practice under the assumed name of Alt Irondale, where Fanni and Yuriy were even now waiting for his return, collecting information on the supposedly imminent descent of the goddess.

He had mentioned it as if it were nearby.

Aelfric had been so agitated by this revelation that he had broken into their conversation to verify the information.

Demeter had simply tilted her head to the side curiously and confirmed that Cradle was nearby.

This fantastic paradise of verdant woods, rich soil, crystal clear streams, and raining rose petals was somehow in close proximity to the greatest blightwood in Prystir’s unorganized territories. He felt like tearing his hair out.

He managed to collect himself, but the peaceful, easy comfort of the place had been shattered. There was no way he could simply continue whiling away his time here, even if he had found the goddess he had been dispatched to find. He had no idea how he had arrived in this place, how he had traveled almost two thousand miles in an instant, not when all of the divinities he had pacts with were still in deep torpor. But if he had done it, then it was possible that the abomination had also done it.

It was very possible that the invader that had marked him was still after him, even after his miraculous recovery. That was a very real danger to the people of the area, including his own comrades, and represented an incursion of a high-level threat deep into the lands protected by the barrier.

It could not be allowed to settle itself in this blightwood. That would mean the fall of Prystir, sooner or later. Even if it killed him, he would have to hunt it.

They were running out of options.

It had likely been gathering strength in the time he had been lazing around, enjoying a vacation in paradise. He could wait no longer. He had to go now.

So she had cheerfully agreed to take him to the road. He had been anxious about not exposing her to danger but had ultimately resolved that she could retreat into the safe territory of the farm. He was the one the invader had marked, and whatever peculiar circumstances were protecting the idyllic little farm, they had so far sufficed to keep the invader out.

They had gone together to the road.

And it had been waiting for him.

the goddess’s morning in the middle of the night

Demi was having a very unusual dream.

She determined that it was a dream fairly early on. More often than not she could do this with her dreams.

This dream had turned out to be quite interesting, so she had resolved to sit back and enjoy it.

She had come to a strange land after a brief interview with herself (a self that was not her self, in the way that things in dreams were often not-really-things). At first it had been a little disappointing, but then it had become much better. She had made friends with charming animal people, met dryads, grown flowers, and cared for chickens.

And then she had rescued a very handsome old man who had conveniently decided to promptly move in with her. She particularly appreciated this aspect of dreams.

But then one day he had decided to go away. She did not like that. She had had the terrible feeling that if she let him out of her sight, she would never see him again.

She did not want that to happen. She did not want anything bad to happen to him, not beyond what had already happened.

So she chased after him when he turned to leave, and she just caught the edge of his cloak.

And it was then that she woke up.

She came fully awake almost at once, somewhat disoriented. She was not exactly sure where she was because it was dark. She could feel that she was in a bed.

Her mind rapidly filled in the details that she couldn’t see.

She was in her bedroom. There was a wall six feet to her left and another ten feet to her right. There were shelves against that wall which held an assortment of scale figures and model horses. Game consoles were stacked neatly on a shelf beside the television. The door to her personal library was on the wall behind her. Her bathroom was through the door nearest the far outer corner of the room, and her dressing room through the door adjacent. Past the thick drapes and the wide window was the Deep Wood, slumbering quietly.

She must have woken up in the middle of the night.

But then she heard soft words and was bathed in low light.

She blinked, because even though the light was dim, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

And it was then that her surroundings changed utterly.

She was not in the familiar bedroom of her childhood.

She was in a different bedroom, a new bedroom. This was her bedroom. She was in her bedroom, in her bed, in the farmhouse at Rosewood Farm, and one of her arms was stretched out toward a chair that had been pulled up close to the bedside.

She was holding tightly on to the cloak of Aelfric Farrant, who was sitting in a chair at her bedside. He had called up a light spell, and it hovered near the bedside lamp.

She was so astonished that she could not think of a single thing to say.

Apart from, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he answered quietly, then paused as if considering. At last, he added, “It’s actually the middle of the night. Around three a.m.”

“Well, that’s still the morning,” she pointed out sensibly.

He made a nonverbal noise which she decided to take as a full agreement with her statement.

After one last squeeze to reassure herself that it was real and material, and that he was going nowhere, Demi let go of his cloak and sat up in bed. As she did, he gradually turned up the light so they could see one another better.

“You seem to have fully recovered,” he said, and the relief in his voice was plain.

“Oh right!” she said, brightening. “I think I had just finished remaking that nasty place, but then my memories get a little fuzzy. It’s like everything just grayed out.”

“You lost consciousness,” he agreed. “I can only assume due to the massive amount of power that you handled. You’ve been asleep for four days.” He closed his eyes briefly. “At first I thought you had killed yourself doing it,” he said quietly, “but then I detected your heartbeat and breathing. They were very slow, but you were alive. I’ve been monitoring you since then. Fortunately, you have been very stable.”

“You’ve been sitting with me all of this time?” Demi asked, wide-eyed. “For four days?!”

“Someone needed to monitor you in case your condition changed abruptly,” he pointed out. “No one else lives in this house besides you, the chicken, and the slime.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes briefly. “I must apologize for taking the liberty of managing the house while you were incapacitated.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Demi answered, feeling embarrassed that he had bowed his head to her. “I have to thank you for looking after me—”

Aelfric cut her off before she could let loose a disorganized flood of apologies and gratitude.

“I took on the responsibility myself, of my own volition. You should not feel that you owe me anything.” He exhaled quietly. “Besides, you spent much more time caring for me after you found me in the forest.”

Oh, I suppose that’s true, she realized.

“But,” Demi began hesitantly. “Weren’t you leaving?”

He had seemed very anxious to be on his way after having determined his location.

And now she had delayed his departure again.

He exhaled through his nose, and the sound was short and faint.

He laughed? Demi realized.

“Let’s just say that circumstances have resolved themselves and I no longer have urgent business requiring my immediate attention,” he explained.

“Ahh,” Demi said, feeling relieved. “I’m glad.” She breathed in slowly and let it out again. “I do appreciate you taking the time to care for me,” she said shyly, ducking her head slightly.

“Well, I am a doctor,” Aelfric pointed out.

“I suppose you are,” Demi realized. The system had alerted her to this fact some time ago. As she was thinking this over, Aelfric leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees.

“I am relieved that you survived the encounter unscathed.” He paused weightily before delivering the final blow. “Goddess.”

Well, there’s no hiding it at this point, she reflected. Not after he saw me put on that light show.

“Ehee hee~ I guess you figured it out,” Demi admitted cutely, putting one hand behind her head.

“Yes,” he answered dryly. “It certainly was a spine-tingling mystery.”

The sarcasm positively dripped from him, pooling in the floor underneath his chair. If it kept up at this rate, soon they would both be ankle deep in it.

And yet, apparently unsatisfied, he moved in for the kill.

“What else could you be, other than a perfectly ordinary farm girl?” he asked flatly.

Demi flushed and rapidly waggled her arms in distress.

“Hollyhope came up with that, not me!” she insisted, deeply embarrassed. “I don’t know how to change it!”

His eyes flicked upward briefly, but then he shrugged and sat back in his chair again.

“It is what it is,” he said flatly.

Demi pointedly looked away. She still found the “alias” that Hollyhope had prepared for her to be deeply embarrassing.

But thinking about it made her recall something else.

“Didn’t I have wings before?” she asked, giving herself a hug in an attempt to feel her back. “Or am I just remembering that completely wrong?”

“You did,” he agreed. “But they seemed to dissolve when you lost consciousness.”

“Oh,” Demi said, her curiosity curiously satisfied. “Well, I suppose that’s convenient. It’s nice to look divine in the moment, but what would I do with them the rest of the time? Actually having wings like that all of the time would probably be a big nuisance. I’d have to sleep on my stomach and wouldn’t be able to wear normal clothes, and I bet that feathers would get everywhere.”

“That’s one way of looking at things,” Aelfric answered incredulously.

“I bet I looked lovely though,” Demi said decisively, with a delighted wriggle in place. “Wings look so cool! The perfect final form for any magical girl.”

Aelfric was not sure what to say in response to this observation, and so wisely remained silent.

The talk of wings and feathers brought someone else immediately to her mind.

“Where’s Glimmer?” Demi asked, looking around the room. She was surprised to see that her faithful chicken companion was not roosting on the footboard of the bed. Her familiar living hot-water bottle was also absent. “And Dollop? I hope they’re all right. I’m really glad I made Dollop stay at the farm when I walked you to the road. Otherwise they might have been badly hurt.”

Aelfric’s eyes flicked heavenward at that statement, but he again chose to remain silent.

It was probably a good thing that Glimmer hadn’t been roosting on the footboard, she decided. If he had been, then if Aelfric’s light had not awoken him, then their conversation surely would have, and he could be...extravagant in his reactions. She could easily imagine him dashing about in circles, making quite a lot of noise, stopping only to pose artistically as he loudly celebrated her miraculous revival.

“They’re both sleeping downstairs with Tata,” he said shortly. “I had to sedate the chicken. He’s been in a state since I brought you back to the farm.”

“Oh, poor Glimmer,” Demi murmured guiltily. She hated to think that she had been the cause of anyone’s distress and anxiety.

“He’s fine,” Aelfric confirmed. “He was just exhausted and anxious. He wasn’t doing anyone any good pacing around in circles up here.” He shook his head. “That little slime has been with you almost the entire time. I finally got them to go downstairs and eat, and they ended up passing out on the sofa next to Tata.”

I have a sofa? Demi wondered. But it was the mention of the sick dryad that caused her to sit up abruptly in bed.

“Is Tata all right?” Demi asked in concern, and he raised his hand to gently ease her back against the pillows.

“I had her come to the house so I could monitor her condition more easily and administer treatment,” he explained. “She isn’t completely better, but she has improved considerably, perhaps due to the sudden influx of healthy chestnut trees in the vicinity,” he said, then paused before adding, “But even with the blightwood gone, she will relapse in time unless the disease is destroyed entirely.”

Demi leaned back against the pillows behind her and looked up at the ceiling. “Nothing is ever simple, is it?” she asked.

“No,” he agreed quietly. “It is not.”

Watching her staring pensively at the ceiling apparently motivated Aelfric.

“Here,” he said. “You’ve been out for a long time. I’m sure you’re hungry and thirsty, but we should start slowly.”

From under his hand, a mug appeared on the small bedside table. From the gentle steam wafting up from it, she could tell that it was warm. It smelled very nice.

He passed it to her. She took it in both hands and raised it to breathe in the aroma before tentatively taking a sip.

It was an aromatic chicken broth, and it was the perfect temperature for drinking, not too hot and not too tepid.

As she sipped on it, she looked over at him, tilting her head.

“You can access the inventory system too?” she confirmed. That was absolutely in line with what she had seen from him in the battle with the horrible bear-elk. He had pulled a seemingly endless supply of long guns from out of nowhere and discarded the empty ones to a similar place.

“Mm,” he answered in affirmative. “I have a feeling that it doesn’t function in quite the same way that yours does, but yes.”

Since they were laying all of their cards on the table now, she nodded.

“That makes sense, I suppose,” she said mildly. “You are a Hero, after all.”

“Mm.” He again answered with one of his nonverbal noises. He seemed to be thinking about something.

Oh, she thought to herself as she watched him silently think. I suppose I ought to check on things. Who knows what it’ll say now.

She had done something...extreme after all.

(Although it had not seemed extreme at the time. At the time, it had felt like an absolutely ordinary thing to do, the obvious thing to do, which was honestly bonkers all by itself, now that she thought about it.)

She opened her status screen.

Her level was now 385. She had stopped being amazed by it. Every time she checked her status, the number was different, although now it was growing more slowly than it had before, presumably due to the amount of experience required to level even a single time post level three hundred.

At the top of her titles section was “Goddess of Life from Another World.”

“Oh,” Demi said in faint surprise. “I guess she was right.”

Well, I did unravel an entire forest before weaving the whole thing into something different, she reflected to herself. I guess that falls into the Goddess of Life portfolio more than the Harvest Goddess portfolio.

Oh, this was really a golden opportunity, wasn’t it? She currently had Aelfric as a captive audience. She could badger him all she wanted with all of the questions that she had been building up since her unexpected arrival.

Since he knows I’m a goddess, I should really ask him about the things related to my status screen that I don’t understand, like the fifteen pages of skills, she thought weakly. He is an Archmage after all. If anyone can understand all of that, then it’s him.

She had decided to trust him with everything. She needed him as an ally.

the goddess demands an explanation

With a swipe of her fingers Demi set the permissions of her status screen so that Aelfric could also view it.

After looking at it for a moment, his only comment was, “I see.”

Well, that was understandable, she supposed. It was a lot to take in at once.

He was reticent by nature. It was probably best to go straight to the heart of the matter.

She flipped over to her skills page and advanced until she got to the magic skills.

“Can you help me understand these?” she asked.

He looked at the page for several seconds, but then he gave an unexpected answer.

“No,” he said, his voice low and even.

Demi squirmed in place.

“Look,” she said. “I know that I’m probably supposed to go on a voyage of self-discovery to learn how to use all of these things, but I’m overwhelmed. I don’t have any idea where to begin. Just give me some basic guidance.”

The lines between Aelfric’s eyes deepened, his brows drawing together as she spoke.

Finally, he raised his hand to stop her.

“You misunderstand me,” he said, his voice quiet and flat. “I have no idea what any of that means.”

...

Demi could feel the ellipses piling up in her brain.

At last it burst out of her.

“Aren’t you an Archmage?” she asked incredulously.

That was quite a rude thing to say, and she immediately regretted it, but fortunately, Aelfric did not take offense.

“I have never seen magic skills like that before. The magic of this world appears to function according to a different logic,” he explained. He gestured at the words “from another world” on her status screen. “I suspect it has much to do with that.”

Before she could question him on this curious statement, he opened his own skill listing for her to consider.

As he did, Demi suddenly realized, Oh, I suppose I could have just peeked at them at any time to give myself an idea of things. But that still feels really terribly rude.

In the end, it turned out that it would probably have left her more confused than when she started.

Aelfric also had a wealth of skills, although not quite fifteen pages, which was something of a relief. He sorted them so that his magic skills were grouped and they could compare.

Just like Demi’s, his magic skills were roughly divided into passive skills and active ones. Most of the active skills appeared to be specific spells. There were elemental bolts, and wider area-of-effect spells as well, along with some utility magic, like the light spell he was currently maintaining.

In contrast, Demi’s inscrutable magic skills were much more broad. If she drew upon her knowledge of games and fantasy novels, then her skills were not so much individual spells, but instead different schools of magic, that is, different ways of thinking about, shaping, and using magic.

“I’d say you’re the Archmage in the room,” he pointed out dryly.

“But I don’t understand,” Demi said helplessly. “I don’t understand any of that. Is this because I became a goddess?”

Aelfric shook his head, “No. Not even the goddesses of this world use magic like that, the magic that you used to purify the blightwood. Even they have to abide by the logic of this world.”

“I didn’t purify it,” Demi answered absently, lost in thought. “I unmade it. That isn’t the original forest, or whatever was there before the blightwood took root. It’s a new place. All of the things in it are new things. I wove them out of the stuff that had been the blightwood.”

Even if she didn’t understand any of the vague and complicated information on her skills page, she naturally had the language to think about and talk about what she had done at the blightwood, and before, when she had saved Aelfric’s life. She wasn’t entirely sure how to trigger that state, outside of intense emotional distress, but she understood what it was: greenweaving.

And then she found it, right there on her skill listing: Greenweaving.

But the level number beside it made no sense. It wasn’t even a number, but an inexplicable collection of symbols. That was definitely different than the last time she had looked at it. She would have remembered something so bizarre. She wasn’t even sure she had even seen “Greenweaving” among her skills the first time she had looked at the listing, but it was always possible she had simply overlooked it. She had been absolutely overwhelmed at the time.

I have got to ask him what he thinks about that weird not-a-number, she decided.

And then he said something that pulled her completely out of her thoughts.

“That is not something that even Hollyhope could do,” he said.

“What?” Demi asked, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Exactly what I said,” he answered, then closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Although I have had regular dealings with the goddess-administrators, I cannot claim to be an expert on all of their powers. But I do know, based on the state of things, that if she could do what you did, with only four days of sleep as a consequence, then she would have already done it.”

Oh, Demi realized. Elder Ashbark said something similar, didn’t he? That if the problem was as simple as just going there to fix it, then Hollyhope would have done it already.

“Do you mind?” Demi asked hesitantly. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

She felt that there was something critical about the nature of this world that she did not yet understand.

After all, that bear-elk monster thing was super far over the line of “invasive species.” It was more like “crawling interstellar horror,” she reflected.

Aelfric took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze was clear and direct.

“You have already surmised this,” he said quietly, “But my name is not Alt Irondale. I am Aelfric Pwyll Farrant. The princess-king of Prystir dispatched me to this area because we intercepted information concerning a revelation received by the high priestess of the Verdant Cathedral. It revealed that a goddess would descend in the unorganized territories of the west, somewhere in the vicinity of the town of Cradle. The princess-king wished for me to find this goddess and escort her back to the court, where she could be protected and her skills utilized in the most efficient way.”

She wanted to put me on a leash, she thought grimly to herself. I can’t say I’m surprised. The princess-king has a responsibility to her people. It’s no wonder she would want to secure me solely for the prosperity of Prystir. But I’m not here just to help Prystir, and I certainly don’t want to be detained in a royal court.

I’m sure Hollyhope predicted this might happen. That’s why she didn’t send a revelation to the princess-king or the queen of Annarrow, but she did inform the beavers in Rushford and the foxes of Hollyhain Assembly, she thought to herself.

Aelfric continued.

“I arrived in Cradle three months ago and established my cover story as Alt Irondale at that time. I am working as a physician,” he clarified.

“Three months ago?” Demi asked in surprise. “That’s a long time before I actually arrived.”

He nodded.

“We didn’t have specific information on when you would arrive, so I was dispatched immediately,” he explained. But then his brows drew together. “Unfortunately, a situation had been developing at the southern border of Annarrow, on the front lines, right at the edge of the continental barrier. Prystir and Annarrow do not currently enjoy a positive diplomatic relationship, so Prystir could not send aid directly.”

“Wait,” Demi said in confusion, drawing both of her hands up to halt his explanation. She had heard a term she did not recognize, and in a context that was concerning. “Continental barrier? The front lines? The front lines of what?”

Aelfric sighed and then closed his eyes. He brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed the space above the bridge of his nose. He seemed very tired at that moment, exhausted, almost fragile.

But then he carefully put all of it away, and when his eyes flicked open again, they were steady, and his voice was even, and he began to speak as if he might be giving a history lesson.

“A hundred years ago, a cult worshipping a dark deity from outside of this world succeeded in ripping a hole in the fabric of space,” he said. “That’s when the invasion began.”

Demi’s eyes widened. “You mean that tag I keep seeing, ‘Enemy of this Planet,’ it literally means—”

“Yes,” he said shortly. “Those things are not of this world, and certainly enemies of it. When they poured through the rip, they brought their own logic with them.” He frowned, pressing his lips together thinly. Then he gathered himself and continued. “This world was lucky in that its logic is so different from the world the invaders came from that the most powerful entities could not survive here, at least not immediately. That’s when they began terraforming this world to suit themselves.”

“Oh, oh no,” Demi said, realizing. “All of these horrible invasive species, the diseases and parasites—”

“That’s all a part of it, yes,” he agreed. “We call them invaders, or abominations. The invaders consume all biological material they encounter and use it to replicate beings that are like themselves. Since they are unfamiliar with this world and not suited to living here, they copy the biology of the creatures of this world, imitating it, or even use the corpses of their prey to directly construct their bodies. Everything is a means of changing the nature of this world so it suits the invaders,” he said quietly. Then he closed his eyes briefly. “This world was not prepared for the invasion. As you might have surmised, previous to the invasion it was a peaceful place. There have been conflicts in the past, but largely, this world is amiable and pleasant, and the logic of this place keeps it so. Even the monsters in this world are relatively tame and easygoing, and almost always remain in dungeons or in their own designated fields.”

“Right,” Demi said, as she thought over the pictures of slimes and other monsters that she had seen in the pages of various books from the lending library. They had all, almost without exception, been extremely cute and charming. Even the spooky monsters were somehow cute. Zombies, ghosts, and lunatics in hockey masks carrying chainsaws were all extremely cute.

It was hard to square the images of those creatures away with either the parasitic thing that had tried to burrow into Aelfric’s intestines, or the horrible monstrosity that she had so recently disposed of.

“We call places where the invaders have gained a foothold ‘blightwoods,’ although not all of them are forests. It differs depending on the climate and the terrain, but it was in the forests where they first took root, so all such places are called blightwoods,” he explained.

“Outside of blightwoods, larger abominations have difficulty surviving,” he said, waving his hand briefly as if warding away a terrible smell. “But things like molds, bacteria, and the seeds of their anchor species still spread. Inside the woods, larger, more complex abominations can grow more freely. Trapped inside the borders of the wood, they feed on one another, and on whatever the blightwood can drag into itself. Over time, most woods become the nest of a single powerful abomination, one that has devoured all of the rest of the contenders.”

“Like a kodoku,” Demi said in surprise, drawing her hand to her mouth. “A curse jar.”

“Yes,” Aelfric agreed grimly. “Very much like a kodoku.” He leaned back slightly in his chair. “Once a single large animal-type invader takes control of a wood, they begin reproducing copies of themselves as parasitic organisms. They were the most successful predator, after all.” He laughed bitterly. “Abominations birthed and grown in this world, even inside the blightwoods, have a much greater tolerance to it than those from outside. They can survive for some time outside of blightwoods, although they are most comfortable inside of them. Their ability to hunt outside of blightwoods and to range across territory in attempts to seed new ones makes them one of the most dangerous threats that this planet faces.”

He shook his head. “The older those things get, the more intelligent they become. In the beginning, they are little more than mindless consumers, but as they survive, they learn, and they become more able to engage with the logic of this world, to shape it to their own ends. This is particularly true if they manage to consume the intact brains of sentient beings. This makes people their highest priority target.”

Those heads on stalks, Demi thought, feeling mildly queasy. Those heads on stalks were the intact brains it had eaten.

“Once an invader infects another being with a parasite produced from its main body, it will hunt that person until it can be fully consumed and drawn into the amalgam, or until that being is subsumed and begins metamorphosis,” he continued.

“That’s what you meant when you warned me that it would come for you,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Although it became inescapable in my case, infestation is not always so clear. A person might not even be aware that they have contracted a parasite. One infected individual can bring an invader down on an entire group, even if they are otherwise well hidden. In the case of parasitization, the most responsible course of action is self-immolation. A high enough temperature is effective in destroying the parasite.”

“What happened to you?” Demi asked in concern, leaning forward. She still did not fully understand the situation in the world, but at that moment, she was more concerned with Aelfric himself. Something about the way he looked when he talked about all of this—it was dry and clinical and he had the pose of being removed from the situation, but she could feel it there, roiling under the calm surface.

Something had happened to him.

He had survived much.

“I went south,” he answered shortly, then shook his head, drawing his hand to his face again. He brushed his hair back and cleared his throat.

“The princess-king became concerned that the situation on the southern border might have ramifications for Prystir, so she sent me to investigate,” he explained. “That was around two months ago.”

“Wait,” Demi said, confused. “I thought she sent you to Cradle, to wait for me.”

His brows drew together again and he nodded.

“That is correct. She called me back,” he agreed. He paused, apparently debating whether to continue. At last, he said, “The princess-king is young and under a great deal of pressure.”

She panicked, Demi realized, reading between the lines of his words.

“I went to investigate the situation in the south, and you arrived during my absence,” he explained, then closed his eyes, his brows drawing together. “Things along the southern border are extreme, and it was much more volatile than our intelligence suggested. The princess-king’s intuitions were right. Annarrow has been concealing the severity of the situation. That is how I came to encounter the abomination.”

“The Grizzlyuck!” Demi interjected, feeling quite inspired. The name absolutely fit, she thought. After all, it was too cumbersome to just keep thinking of it as “the bear-elk monstrosity.”

The thing had made her ill just looking at it, and not merely because it had been grotesque, but more because it had felt wrong when she looked at it. Now that she understood a little bit more about what it was, she found it even more horrible. It wasn’t simply a disgusting horror that had tried to kill her or Aelfric. It was a disgusting horror that was attempting to kill practically everything on the entire planet.

And again, that knowledge made her angry.

It made her angry enough that she wanted to fight the thing again, right now.

But her seething was interrupted by Aelfric, who said, “Excuse me?” his brows drawn together.

“The Grizzlyuck,” Demi repeated confidently. “That’s what I named it.”

“I—” He paused, apparently unsure of what to say to that declaration. “I gathered that.” He brought his hand to his forehead briefly and seemed to be pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked at her again, he said, “It’s classified as Atragith Holoparasite Parent-Core, Grade: Commander, Rank A.”

Well, that’s even more cumbersome to say than “bear-elk thing,” she immediately thought, but she waved her hand gently.

“That’s nice,” she said mildly. “But it makes it feel much less scary if we give it a name like ‘Grizzlyuck,’ don’t you think?”

“I—” Aelfric began again, clearly uncertain. “I suppose. But please don’t expect me to call it that.”

“That’s rosey-posey to me,” she agreed amiably.

the goddess and the alchemist

Some time passed between them in silence, and Aelfric got a very drawn, exhausted look.

It was clear that he was thinking about something very difficult.

When he spoke again, his voice was very low.

“When I was leaving the quarantine zone of Annarrow, I—”

Aelfric looked away, at the wall.

“I—” She saw one of his hands briefly tense against his trousers. “I made a miscalculation.”

He was silent for a moment before he quietly continued.

“I encountered that abomination when it was in the process of consuming a party of high-level adventurers. It was foolish for me to get involved, but I thought—” He stopped short and was silent for several seconds. “I thought that I might have saved one of them.”

The event had cut him keenly, she could see that, far beyond the awful physical wounds he had carried away from it, and they had been such that they would have ended him if she had not intervened.

“Aelfric—” she began gently. She wanted to tell him that he did not need to tell her, he did not need to tell her if it hurt him this much to even speak about it. It looked like he was reexperiencing the trauma as he spoke.

But he cut her off.

“I was wrong,” he said bitterly. “It took all of them, and then it came for me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Even after all this time, I’m still such a fool.” He laughed, and the sound was raspy and thin, the sort of laugh that dances at the edge of agonized tears.

This time, she moved without thinking about it. She leaned across the space between them and covered both of his hands with her own.

“Stop,” she said with more force. “You don’t have to tell me this. You’re hurting yourself.”

He moved back slightly in surprise, but then he froze. He trembled briefly under her hands, tense and conflicted, but then he closed his eyes and sat back in his chair so hard that it creaked. He leaned his head back and was very still.

He sat that way for a very long time. Demi kept her hands on his, and over time, gently began stroking the backs of his hands. It was a simple movement, calm and sure, but delicate, like stroking the fur of a wary animal.

Little by little, he relaxed.

Who knows how long he’s been like this, Demi thought to herself as she watched him wistfully. Strung so tightly it seems he might break under the strain of it.

Finally, he sat back up. In that instant, their eyes met, if only for a moment. He gave her an unguarded look: hard, intense, difficult, painful. It was terrible, terrifying, and yet somehow splendid, true and real and wonderful. It struck her straight through the heart and she smiled at him, because that was what she wanted to do.

He was the one who looked away.

“I didn’t mean to come here,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to go anywhere at all. But something happened,” he said, shaking his head. “Something happened in the last moment, when I knew that everything was over.” He closed his eyes. “I saw something. And then I saw nothing. And then I was here,” he said, indicating the bed with a brief wave of his hand.

He sighed again and then dryly admitted, “I thought that I had died.”

“Really?” Demi asked, tilting her head to the side, perplexed.

“This place was so much like paradise, I was willing to believe that I actually had died.” He laughed again, and while it remained dry, it wasn’t as painful as it had been before. “Then I thought I had maybe skipped through time and realities to find myself in a different place from where I had started. It was so peaceful here, warm, nostalgic.” He shook his head. “It was a world that I hadn’t seen in centuries—” He stopped, then corrected himself. “It was a world I had never seen, honestly, at least, not that I remember. I was lulled into a state of ease and comfort. I was somehow alive after I had been certain I was dead, and this place was so good—I told myself that I had done enough, that it was all right if I rested here. And despite having infected me, that thing never came.”

“If it had, I would have unmade it then and there,” she declared, because this, she felt, was an unquestionable truth of the world.

This brought a rare smile to his face.

“I appreciate that,” he said wryly.

Her cheeks got very pink and she covered them with her fingers, ducking her head. A smile so rare was very potent. She squirmed in place.

But then he continued.

“And I couldn’t keep from watching you,” he said, words that would have surely set any young lady’s heart to pitter-pat, if he hadn’t sounded so exasperated. “You were so inexplicable that I couldn’t help myself. After the first day, it became clear to me that I had somehow managed to accidentally fulfill my initial mission. If there was a goddess on this planet, then it was certainly you,” he said, pointing at her as if indicating a criminal in a courtroom drama. He shrugged. “I decided to stay. I had no idea where I was, but I was absolutely certain that there was no possible way that I was anywhere near any place I had ever been in my entire life. I had somehow found the goddess I had been looking for, and she had invited me to stay in her house. At first I stayed close to you because I had a lingering fear that the invader might still attack, even here. You are very small, and look as if a strong breeze might carry you away,” he pointed out frankly. It did not sound entirely like a compliment. “I doubted you would last even a minute against such a thing.” Here he laughed again, and it sounded both exhausted and incredulous. “What an idiot I was. But after it became clear that the invader wasn’t coming, I kept watching you because you were always doing absolutely absurd things.”

“High praise,” Demi laughed wryly. “I was just doing whatever it was that I thought I ought to be doing,” she admitted. “It’s not as if Hollyhope gave me much direction. She just told me to go and ‘do farming things,’ so that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I have a feeling that that’s the reason why some of this information was kept from you,” Aelfric said with a slight move of his body. Demi recognized it as his shrug. He made a quiet, disgruntled noise. “The more I observed you, the more I became certain of it. Your personality is such that the moment you heard that the blightwood was the main source of troubles to the people around you, you would have certainly gone charging directly into it, even at level one.”

Well, I can’t really disagree with that, Demi reflected weakly. I guess that’s why all of the history books I read started becoming very vague at around a hundred years ago. There was nothing much about current events so I wouldn’t suss out what was going on and then get myself into trouble that I couldn’t get out of.

He had her to the last atom.

He closed his eyes again and his brows drew together. When he spoke, his tone was unmistakably incredulous. “None of us, the goddess included, could have imagined that you would deal with the blightwood in the way that you did. Everything you did contradicts the logic of this world. You have brought new logic with you, and it is already having an effect on the fabric of reality.”

“I still don’t fully understand what that means,” Demi said honestly. “The logic of this world.”

Aelfric shook his head. “No one understands it fully,” he admitted. “Not even me. I doubt even the resident divine administrators completely understand the logic of this world and how it functions. I just have some perspective on the subject.”

That wasn’t really what she meant. Although she did want to understand what “the logic of this world” in particular might entail, because it was bound to be useful, given that this was the world that they found themselves in, what she really wanted to know was what the word “logic” meant when he used it in that context. She had a vague sense of it due to her understanding of the general definition of the word and could make inferences based on how and when he used it, but there was certainly a clearer definition that simply escaped her.

But he continued speaking before she had a chance to ask him exactly what he meant, and revealed some devastating information that pushed the thought from her mind. “The invaders have been attempting to terraform this planet for the last hundred years, primarily through biological means.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, they have been largely successful. If we don’t begin to reverse the process soon, it may become impossible to restore this place to the way it was before.”

“A runaway climactic change,” Demi murmured to herself. It had happened in her own world multiple times in the geologic past, and every single time it had resulted in— “A global extinction event,” she finished, covering her mouth with her hands. “If we can’t stop this from happening, then most of the life on this planet will die.”

“Yes,” Aelfric agreed grimly. “That is what will happen. This place will become unrecognizable, a hellscape for all but the creatures that came through the rip, and those that they have changed.”

“Those that they have changed?” Demi asked hesitantly, then she balled both of her hands into fists. “That parasite!” she realized. “If I hadn’t been there to pull that parasite off of you—”

“I would have changed,” he confirmed, his brows drawing together. He paused for a moment, then said, “The same has already happened to most of the people on this planet.”

This revelation caused Demi to lean back hard against the bed.

“Most of the people—” she echoed in a whisper.

“We’re currently on the continent of Larencia,” he explained. “This continent is the last stand of the peoples of this earth. All of the other continents have already fallen.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “They aren’t fully terraformed, or there would be no going back. The logic of this world still supports us, or there would be no hope left. But the invaders, and the cult that worships them, have taken over the governments of all of the other nations of this world. There are some pockets of resistance, but they remain at large primarily through hiding. As the climates of their countries continue to change, it becomes more and more difficult for them to survive. And consuming food that has been altered or infected by the invaders will cause a person to become infected as surely as being attacked by a parasite.” He silently shook his head. “Some people choose to be turned rather than consign themselves to death by starvation.”

When he spoke about it, he got a haunted look again. It was clear that he had experienced much that was gruesome and horrifying.

“Once a person becomes a host to one of the invaders, they cease being a person,” he said flatly. “We have no way of saving them. Sooner or later, they will turn. The only recourse is to kill them before they infect others and incinerate the body.”

This is just like a zombie horror movie, she thought to herself tiredly. Everything is so terrible and bleak.

But then—

“Wait,” she said. “I managed to do it,” she said, her voice rising in timbre as she got excited. “That horrible parasitoid was already in the process of turning you,” she explained. “I could tell that much just by looking at it. And I managed to get it off of you. You’re safe and whole.”

“Yes,” he said after a moment of thought. “As I understand it, that is the first time that has occurred since the invasion began. I believe that it was only possible because of the logic you brought with you when you came to this world. Your existence has created the possibility of a new outcome.”

“But why?” Demi asked, still confused. It wasn’t as if she’d had astonishing magical powers in her own world. She’d just been a perfectly ordinary young lady of an aristocratic family.

But Aelfric shook his head.

“That’s unclear,” he admitted. “You don’t seem to have any understanding of magic, and you keep insisting that it doesn’t exist in the world you came from. Despite your absurd catalog of skills, I have no reason to doubt that you’re telling the truth, not the least of which being the fact that you seem to be terrible at lying.”

She grimaced. That was at least partially true. She was actually fairly apt at lying, at least in her own way. She had developed it as a necessary survival skill. But that didn’t mean that she liked doing it. She particularly hated lying to people that she trusted and cared about.

“It’s possible that you created this logic yourself, out of your own desire to change what could not be changed. I believe that this might be possible, with a strong enough will and an unshakable belief. A world’s logic can be somewhat malleable, given the correct conditions. And you are a goddess administrator now,” he pointed out.

Demi shook her head. “It’s still difficult to wrap my head around the idea that I can do things that Hollyhope can’t,” she confessed weakly. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“You can do things that she can’t, and she can do things that you can’t,” he said evenly. “Your capabilities are dictated by your native logic. If you could both do all of the same things like carbon copies of one another, I believe this world would be doomed. She summoned you here because of the potential you have to change this world with new logic.”

He looked away for a moment, as if he found the wall fascinating.

“I am glad—” he said haltingly. “I am glad you are here. I can’t imagine that this is something that you wished for, but regardless—regardless. I am glad that you are here.”

She was touched by his sincerity, and leaned forward again to put her hands on his.

“I don’t know what I would wish for,” she admitted, “But I am glad that I’m here,” she said honestly. “Because it means that I got to meet you.”

There was the unexpected sound of the chair scooting back against the hardwood as he abruptly got to his feet. He turned his back on her and immediately clasped his hands behind his back.

“Hollyhope exhausted herself erecting the barrier that surrounds and protects this continent,” he said, having apparently returned to his lecture. “That’s one of the reasons she’s sleeping now, and why her holy spring has been growing weaker over time. Without that barrier, we would all be lost already.” He made a brief dismissive motion with one of his arms. “But even with the barrier, things are bad,” he said honestly. “The presence of an advanced abomination here, far past the northern border of the quarantine zone, ought to be enough to prove that. The blightwood that you cleared was the largest in Prystir, but there are others. The largest one on the continent is to the south, in Annarrow. We can’t begin an offensive until the blightwoods have been purged from Laurencia.”

“But just getting rid of blightwoods isn’t enough,” Demi pointed out, her brows drawn. “I mean, of course, we have to do that. We’ve got to stop the process, and then work to undo the harm that’s already been done. But many people face food insecurity because of the changing climate, or were driven out of their homes completely by the invasion and are now forced to live as refugees, right?” she asked pensively.

That was bound to happen in any situation where territory was lost for any reason, due to war, natural disaster, or in this case, terrifying cosmic invaders.

“You are correct,” Aelfric admitted, looking at her steadily.

“Then it isn’t just a case of ‘let’s defeat all of the bad guys, and then everything will be fine,’” she said. “The invaders have been messing up the climate for decades, right?”

“A century,” he confirmed.

She closed her eyes and thought about things.

Aelfric continued watching her.

I’m sure she’s feeling overwhelmed and discouraged, he thought to himself. Anyone would be. But she’s got to face the reality of the situation.

He was readying himself to give her some quiet encouragement when she opened her eyes again.

“I think even more than magic I don’t fully understand, the real special power I have is a thorough and modern understanding of management, logistics, and governance,” she said frankly. “This is not something I can do alone,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s going to take everyone working together, and it’s not something that will be done in a month, or even an entire year. But I do believe it is possible. Or rather, I feel that it must be possible.” She smiled then, and it was beautiful and brilliant because it was true and sincere. It was a smile that had the power to ignite the hope of others. “This is the best of all possible worlds because it’s the world that we’re living in, where I met you, and all of the other wonderful people here. Because this is the best possible world, there must be a way for us all to make our way to a future worth having.” She shook her head. “I refuse to accept anything else. So we’ll begin here. We’ll begin in this place. Let’s save this world with agriculture, ecology, and public policy!” She tilted her head to the side slightly, and asked, “Will you help me?”

Aelfric, a committed realist who had suffered more misery and despair than one man ought in a dozen lifetimes, answered without even thinking about it.

“I will,” he said quietly, but with an intensity that made the color rise in her cheeks.

She laughed then, leaning back against the pillows behind her. It was a laugh of elation and relief.

Of all of the people she had met in this world, he was the one whose help she needed most. She did not fully understand why she felt that way, but she did. If she was going to put a halt to the devastation of this world, then she would need his help.

He was the Hero, after all.

“I’m glad,” she said honestly. Then she hesitated for a moment, but finally asked, “What are you going to tell the princess-king?”

He didn’t hesitate to answer because he had already taken action.

“I’m going to tell her that I haven’t found you yet, and that I’m still investigating the strange phenomena around Cradle,” he said. “In fact, I have already done so. Freedom of action is what’s most important to you at this point in time. You don’t need to become embroiled in the politics of Prystir and Annarrow at this stage. I will work to keep you concealed for as long as it’s possible to do so, so gather your strength.”

She nodded.

“I appreciate your discretion,” she said, and then she shifted on the bed, swinging herself around to put her feet on the floor. Before he understood what she was doing, she had gotten to her feet to bow.

It was a beautiful bow, one filled with earnest sincerity, and polished from years of etiquette lessons.

And just as her smile had, it struck him through the heart.

He had not been so moved in a very long time, centuries, perhaps. The feeling was unfamiliar, and a little frightening.

As unfamiliar as this feeling was, he knew what it truly meant. It meant hurt, pain, anguish. It meant loss.

If anything were to happen to her—

He pushed the thought from his mind and buried the realization as best he could.

“Raise your head,” he said abruptly, and it came out more sharply than he had intended.

But she was apparently unperturbed.

“Thank you,” she said honestly, then turned to look toward the window.

It was still dark out, but it would not stay that way forever.

“Let’s go downstairs and make something to eat,” she said. “A good day begins with a good breakfast!”

He nodded silently and followed her out of the room.

It was a first step.

It was a first step, after a first step.

She would keep moving toward the future.

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The Young Lady Is the Substitute Harvest Goddess Vol 1

Table of Contents

a Harvest Goddess?

the goddess and the world’s most beautiful chicken

the goddess has a challenging first morning

the goddess makes some tools

the goddess organizes sticks

the goddess’s unexpected encounter

the goddess builds a shelter

the goddess’s twilight

the goddess and the shadowstep alchemist

the goddess has a much better morning

the goddess makes some friends

the goddess answers questions

the goddess learns a lesson

the goddess and her people

the goddess gives a treat

the goddess gives a blessing

the goddess builds a house

the goddess has a sandwich

the goddess gets some chickens

the goddess gets cooking

the goddess wheels and deals

the goddess, chickens, and a very fine cauldron

the goddess and her library

the goddess and a lot of research

the goddess and a surfeit of skills

the goddess and her garden

the goddess’s moment in the sun

the goddess’s garden grows

the goddess thinks too much

the goddess lets the flower house

the goddess enjoys a forest jaunt

the goddess learns about alchemy

the goddess wishes

the goddess goes gathering

the goddess is very surprised

the goddess’s new houseguest

the goddess’s new teacher

the goddess’s new book

the goddess’s prescription

the goddess and the potion

the goddess and vermiculture

the goddess and the open door

the goddess and a departure

the goddess and the invader

the alchemist has a flashback

the alchemist faces reality

the alchemist’s deliverance

the goddess’s morning in the middle of the night

the goddess demands an explanation

the goddess and the alchemist