Dammar, Xamiliere and Maximillian were sitting around a table in Rosie's inn, though it would have been more accurate to say that two of them were sitting and one floated above it. While Gilbert and his party were busying themselves with Yulia’s well-being and Emilia’s situation with Sylvia, they had their own troubles in dealing with Xamiliere’s missing weight. When the effect hadn’t began to wear off after four days, they had taken the spriggan to be inspected by mages that specialized in curses and other lasting magical effects, but this had given them absolutely nothing to go on. It appeared that this was simply how things were now: the entity known as Xamiliere had absolutely no mass. Even discarding and regrowing most of her body did nothing to help. While she could strap herself onto bigger objects like trees and houses, if she tried holding something with the purpose of weighing herself down, the object would temporarily gain the same weightlessness, until she let go of it; this even included other people, but after Anastacia had fallen off her and almost hurt herself once, Rosie banned it.

“We can’t really take you with us anywhere before this gets fixed. One unlucky push or a gust of wind and you’re forever lost in the sky.” The dwarf said and puffed his pipe while thinking. “Even if we tie you down, every rope can be cut or loosened somehow. It’s just too risky.”

“I have to agree.” Maximillian pitched in. “It is best for you to remain indoors, unless you wish to visit the mother grove? They might be able to do something, and I’d be glad to take you there.”

“Not a chance. I’d rather float around forever than go back there. Valor is my home now and will be for as long as it stands.” The spriggan quickly rebutted the suggestion. “I’ll just wait until Emilia gets her shit together and then ask her to fix this. Shouldn’t be a problem for another god, right?”

“Aye, sure hope so. Without you, we’re stuck doing other people’s housework for quests. Before we founded this little group, I was in the same situation and let me tell you, walking for days to down a couple of wolves or something gets boring really fast.” Dammar said and waved for the inn’s new employee to bring them a new round of drinks.

After being disoriented and slamming into walls a lot for a couple of days, Xamiliere had started getting used to her weightless state and was now drifting around the tavern with relative confidence. Though whenever Anastacia took a break from her project, she made it a point to throw pebbles at the spriggan to change her course midflight.

While trying to orient herself into a position where she could drink, one such stone missed her by a few centimeters. Xamiliere glanced at the necromancer who was trying to silently get her attention by waving her hands. When she waved back at the girl, Anastacia hastily wrote something on a piece of paper, crumpled it and tossed it towards the spriggan. The shot fell short by about five meters and the necromancer quickly retrieved it and threw it again from where it had first landed. This time she hit her target in the shoulder and sent Xamiliere hurling at a wall. When she was finally able to pick up the note, the necromancer had already run upstairs.

“It just says: I need a hand, come with me. Why couldn’t she just ask?” The spriggan asked and kicked the table to send herself towards the staircase. “You guys coming?”

“The lass always has something interesting going on. I reckon we want to be a part of it.” Dammar said and headed upstairs as well, with Maximillian on his trail.

Anastacia was waiting in her room with King. When the party entered, she made sure to lock the door and gestured for everyone to lower their voices. “Guys, I’m making a new hand for Yulia, but I have no idea where I could find the materials for it.” She whispered.

“Oh damn, you were being literal. You need an actual hand, from like a person?” Xamiliere asked and tried to grab on to King to stabilize herself but only spread her affliction to the simulacrum, who started to drift towards the ceiling as well.

The necromancer dragged both of them down and slapped the spriggan off. “Yeah… It needs to be fresh as well, like from someone who died within a week.” She explained and took out one of her prototypes made from some decayed, dirty bones. “I’ve managed to make it work with one of these, but the bones weren’t prepared properly, and this thing would just break in a week.”

Dammar took the prototype and started bending its fingers. “I see… This is indeed a neat little thing you’ve created. A bit grim for my liking, but definitely handy. Max, any ideas on where we could get one?”

The elf stared at the prototype intensely and rubbed his chin. “Yes. I think I know how we can get our hands on some spare ones.”

“Right… I’m not going to ask where, but please don’t kill anyone for it. I don’t want any more blood on my hands.” Anastacia said and hid the prototype in her wardrobe. “Oh, and please don’t mention this to anyone. I’m not sure how happy Yulia would be if she knew her new hand used to be someone else’s…”

Vilja’s forest had been burned to the ground yet again, and even the goddess herself had lost count on how many times she had created and subsequently destroyed it, simply because it was too perfect. This was a problem Vilja had no answer to as every time she created the forest, it turned out exactly like it had been last time, leaving her a seemingly endless cycle. However, in the middle of the endless desert of ash, was a single spot that was never touched by the fire. To this spot the goddess gathered a random assortment of items she had taken a liking to as they were ‘sufficiently crap’ according to her own words. None of the collections ended up lasting for too long though, as the items were consumed by her, whether she wanted to or not.

This time she had found herself a small stove that had been lost in a housefire - caused by the stove itself, a severely dented coffee pot, an incomplete set of chipped tableware and a wobbly table. Sitting around the table were her guests: Sylvia, the lifeless husk of the simulacrum prince and the core of the cancer god. Despite only one of them being able to enjoy the coffee prepared by their host, four cups had been placed on the table simply because Vilja felt it was appropriate.

“I promise you, this time it’ll be good!” Vilja assured her guests while pouring them her obviously weak and tasteless tonic.

Sylvia carefully picked up the chipped cup offered to her and tried her best not to break it with too much force. “I fear that might not be possible, given your affinity for the unwanted, it is likely that you might not be able to create anything that others might desire.” She explained and swirled the nasty-looking liquid in the cup.

“But that doesn’t make any sense! My coffee beans might be trash and equipment somewhat faulty, but if I do everything just like Rosie does, it should taste perfectly fine! I just need to figure out the right temperature or whatever…” Vilja said, mostly to give herself some confidence.

“Very well. You and your powers over the world are still largely a mystery to everyone, so perhaps you just need time to perfect your craft. Whichever the case may be, do set a cup for me when you feel like trying. I feel partly responsible for this after all.” The goddess of joy said and smiled before taking a small sip. “It… has a nice scent…”

Vilja placed the writhing lump of cancerous meat on the table next to the cup she had poured for it. The core showed no interest in the disgusting drink and started to slowly flow away from it but was caught again. The goddess searched for any sort of opening or hole in the lump and upon finding one, emptied the cup in it. The core immediately spat out the coffee and wiggled itself free.

“Could you not torment it? It is an important asset for us, or at least will be once I find a way to give it some form. If the pieces fall as they should, it will become a god like us. So please, try to get along for now.” The goddess of joy pleaded and forced down the rest of her drink. “But I do like the little one you dragged back from the mortal world. Such a shame he is in a rough shape, I would have liked to meet him.”

Hearing that, Vilja perked up and took Sylvia’s hand. “You know something about simulacrums?!”

“Why yes, of course I do. I was not born yesterday. Their endless numbers and devotion towards protecting their dwellings were one of the few real threats I ever faced in the mortal world… I ended up learning quite a bit of them, though their creation predates mine.” Sylvia said and laughed gently. “Perhaps you would like to hear more about them?”

Vilja jumped on the table and lied down on her side to listen to Sylvia’s story, but just as the goddess of joy was about to start, Vilja stopped her and started to look around for something. Something had entered her plane, but the goddess couldn’t find the intruder anywhere. With the forest burned to ashes, there was nowhere to hide – not that hiding would have helped in the first place, as Vilja’s gaze covered her entire realm without blind spots. It took her a while to notice it, but as she slowly looked up, she realized that there was something wrong with the sky. “Why is there a sun? I didn’t create one…”

Sylvia glanced at the sky and smiled. “Seems like The Father of Light has agreed to our terms.”