Itxaro would have thought the outsiders might try to avoid the other villagers but the first sign of the two that morning was them at the well, washing clothes. They then stopped by her home to ask the elder if they could use the drying pole. The elder allowed it and the two wandered away. Itxaro did not follow them like she would have days before, distracted by Eneko and also certain they would not simply vanish without their attire. Alvah wore village clothes as he left his to dry in the wind. He was too wide for his borrowed attire. His every move stretched it and when he lifted his arms, his shirt’s hem rose.

Itxaro trusted her mother would send someone to inform her if the two drifted towards the east. They would likely not go far no matter which way they went but they were quite willful. They ventured south, the way they once came in from with Itxaro.

The outsiders returned around noon. “We would have brought our own food but we did not know how you prefer to prepare for winter. Did not want to poach a rabbit you intended to let survive through winter so it could go make a bunch of little rabbits come spring,” Desdomena explained as they received their lunch.

That was very considerate of them. Was it Alvah’s idea or were both tired of antagonizing the locals?

“The rabbits can breed all year here,” Itxaro informed them.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Then I hope you do not mind if we try to snare a few next time. Your family can have a share of the meat and pelts,” Alvah offered.

“You can hunt anything you want except for wolves.”

“Why do wolves get special treatment? Are they sacred to you?” Desdomena inquired while Alvah ate.

“No, we just have to keep count of them. If we hunt too many, the deer, rabbits, and other herbivores will grow too great and there will be no herbs. If there are too many wolves, we have to compete with them for the other animals so we do kill a few.”

“That seems very well thought out,” Alvah observed. “Makes me think of you like shepherds yet different.”

That was an apt choice of words. Her people’s old culture had a respect for such that profession even families that did not have someone who chose that as their primary careers were prone to own their own small group of sheep and goats. None of the sheep survived the migration.

What they had now was a matter of pragmatism rather than tradition. Another concern if there were too few wolves and too many prey for them would be the few wolves there were would have plenty to eat and potentially grow larger with time. However too many predators would force those predators to compete against each other, resulting in a particularly dangerous or cunning breed.

“Before I forget, I have something for you,” Itxaro stated, pointing to the aberration.

Desdomena placed a hand over her chest. “For me?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

Itxaro returned to her room and retrieved the floral necklace. “This is for you, as thanks for helping me with Eneko yesterday,” Itxaro presented the necklace to the aberration when she returned.

Itxaro did her best to banish all thought as Desdomena took it into her hands. As Itxaro expected, the seeds were reacting to the unnatural existence. It might have been a gift but it could also serve as an early warning of the aberration’s presence. Itxaro would have to clear her mind to notice but even an inadequate safeguard was better than no safeguard at all.

The aberration frowned as she dangled the necklace in front of her own face, scrutinizing it. She then tried to force it back into Itxaro’s hands, however Itxaro had both hands around Eneko. "Sorry, but I do not wear accessories. No necklaces, no bracelets, no headdresses, no gloves." She extended her leg and looked at her covered feet. "I could live with or without shoes." The shoes sank into her skin and she wiggled her freed toes.

So, it was not the idea of the gift she took issue with but the concept. Now that she thought about it, Desdomena truly did wear no accessories, not a single ring or earring, not a splash of paint or powder either. “Why don’t you wear such things?”

“What makes me wonderful is me, not what I wear," Desdomena answered.

Itxaro could not help but accept that statement. She did not agree with it nor disagree. It was a sentiment she never expected an aberration to espouse but the way it was said fit too well with the image of Desdomena she knew.

“But it would not hurt,” Itxaro reasoned. “Anyone looks better with a small addition like jewelry.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Desdomena declared. “When you look are someone covered in sparkling jewels, you are looking at the gems not the person. The same can be said of those that have their features caked in dirt and mud. Eyes like to wander and are easily drawn away from what is important.”

She placed herself behind Alvah and his eyes with her hands like a blindfold. “Allow me to provide a little demonstration. No peaking, Alvah.”

“Understood,” he acknowledged flatly.

“I am going to lift my hands but do not open your eyes until I say you can.”

“Please be quick,” he requested.

“I will,” Desdomena replied as she put the necklace on. The green did not suit her but the flowers blended well with her hair.

Itxaro hugged Eneko to herself. “What are you about to do?”

“Just showing you what I mean,” Desdomena answered with her features all mistakenly human as she brushed her hands over her forehead and through her hair. “Let me see, horns symbolize might and majesty while wings are associated with freedom."

As the grew those additions to her body as easily Itxaro might slip into a new set of clothes as quickly as she mentioned them. From her forehead sprouted ebony goat horns and on her back a pair of ivory wings situated themselves.

The aberration ran a finger over a horn. “Both symbols that are majestic on their own but together form quite an unseemly combination.”

Itxaro was not sure what Desdomena meant. The aberration looked gorgeous as she was, the black horns stood in fine contrast with the white wings and all of it was somehow framed by her blood red hair. The flowers went well with the wings. The only features that seemed somehow wrong were her already strangely mismatched eyes being so near a symmetrical set of horns.

Indeed, she looked terrifying like some demon but she already seemed uncanny. Her looking more monstrous somehow made her less unnerving, her inhuman appearance matching her nature. Even Eneko did not seem disturbed by her new form.

“I disagree,” Itxaro politely argued. “If this is what you meant, then I think such things suit you. Maybe you are the type that looks good in anything though.”

Desdomena closed her eyes and frowned. “Thank you but there is a limit to all things.” She lifted her hands and pressed her horns back into her skull and the wings retracted in turn. “I will settle for something more mundane then. Here is something one might find in the old concubine chambers.”

Her dress shortened and tanned so it looked like sand. Around her wrists and neck coiled golden bands. From the gold sprouted gems like fruit until her arms and chest seemed to coated in fragmented rainbows.

“See what I mean now?”

The colors were too bright, they clashed with each other. Oddly, they synchronized well with the dull cloth but not with her hair or even her eyes. Desdomena was right, Itxaro was no long paying attention to the aberration herself.

“You are right, that is distracting,” Itxaro agreed. “But do you not think that is an excessive example?”

“Compared to the fashions of yore, I think I chose something quite tame,” Desdomena answered before rubbing away the bracelets as if they were dust. “Just wearing these make me feel weird. Like I myself am unappreciated.”

Her dress returned to normal as her jeweled necklace evaporated to reveal the flowers beneath. “You can open your eyes, Alvah.”

His eyes slowly opened. “Even if she did accept your gift,” Alvah noticed. “She would need to leave it behind when she rejoins with me.”

“You could use your old orange magic to bind something to me though,” Desdomena reminded him, pulling as the flowers around her neck with a finger, examining them further. “When you remaster it.”

“Orange?” Itxaro focused on.

Alvah sighed. “I’m sorry but I’m not supposed to discuss it with you.”

“You are not supposed to teach me about magic. Do you plan to teach me that spell.”

He exhaled deeply through his nose in a contained groan as he considered. “Orange was my color for gravity. The force that binds us to the ground.”

“You could control gravity?”

“As a concept it was more often used as a form of binding but no more of this talk please.”

Desdomena removed the necklace and held it out.

“Maybe I might consider this, not as an accessory but a memento or toy. Might be worth walking around with the first gift a human ever gave me but I think I might just store it in our room so we can enjoy the smell.”

What she just said had to be a lie.

“Alvah never gave you a gift?” Itxaro exclaimed.

Desdomena smiled widely as the aberration’s eyes drifted to the side to stare at her frowning human companion. Neither said anything.

“You never gave her a gift?” Itxaro directed the inquiry to the man.

“Of course I gave her a gift,” he replied indignantly.

“You have not given me anything since I acknowledged you as human.”

“Please do not phrase it that way,” Alvah requested, treating this now as a game.

“It took you years to even give me your name,” Desdomena convincingly pretended to sob into her hands. “We knew each other for years and the number of things you have offered me without exchange can be counted on one hand.”

“I gave you my everything.”

Desdomena removed her hands and laughed deviously. “That just counts as one.”

“What would you like me to give you?” Alvah inquired half seriously.

“Anything would do,” Desdomena settled before bursting into further playful laughter. “Unfortunately, I already have your everything. Good luck finding something that is not already mine.”

Alvah looked indignant as he struggled to conjure some counter while Desdomena’s hearty laughs filled the air. Eneko’s eyes widened to the uproar as his face twisted into a little grimace. Itxaro recognized the signs but could do nothing to stop him as he opened his mouth to wail.

The laughing stopped as both outsiders’ attention were drawn to this new distraction. “It is alright,” comforted Itxaro as she shushed him. “It is alright.”

Alvah looked at Desdomena and the edges of his lips rose into the beginning of an awkward grin. “No need to say anything, Alvah,” Desdomena intercepted. “I know what you are about to say.”

“What was he about to say?” Itxaro asked

Alvah covered his mouth and held back something for a moment. “She said my laugh scared people,” Alvah commented.

True, Alvah’s laugh sounded more like a low growl but Desdomena was certainly louder. Eneko tolerated singing and laughing before but that must have been too much. The baby was still crying.

“How long are you supposed to look after him?” Desdomena asked through the crying.

“If he survives a month, he becomes my mother’s responsibility,” she answered.

“If?” Desdomena inquired. “That is quite pessimistic. Then again, he almost didn’t make it here.”

Eneko was slowly calming down. For a moment, Itxaro thought he might have needed changing. It was too early for him to eat again.

“He really is well behaved,” Alvah noticed. “He really should be crying more often or maybe I am not giving you enough credit as a wet nurse.”

“He is well behaved,” Itxaro clarified.

“I do not think he would be in such a fine disposition if his sister was not the one with him,” Alvah compromised.

There was that strange word again. She was Eneko’s sister. “Do you want to hold him?” Itxaro offered.

He removed a hand from his walking stick and held it out as if to push away the suggestion. “I am afraid not.”

“Why not? Desdomena held him already. If you sit down it should be fine.”

“I simply would rather not. Though I would like to sit down.”

He sat in his usual half cross legged fashion. His borrowed clothed scrunched around him. From above, she could see unnatural colors through the gap in his bandages his moving collar pulled down,

“I may have asked but what is that?” Itxaro asked as she sat across from him, pointing directly at the bump on his chest.

“It is hard to describe.”

“Desdomena said it was not an injury.”

“Indeed it is not,” he confirmed.

“It is a gift,” Desdomena chimed in, crouching so that she was a little above both of them.

“May I see it?” Itxaro asked.

“It may or may not be an ugly sight,” he replied. “Are you sure you want to see such a thing.”

Itxaro’s medical curiosity or perhaps quite ordinary curiosity urged her own. He should not have phrased it so vaguely, after so many days, she had to see now. “I am surel”

He pulled down his collar to his chest, rustling his bandages further along the way. The large bump unveiled itself to be what looked to her at first like a multicolored glass egg.

After some examination it became clear, it was an ovaline crystal a little larger than a egg surrounded by dull pink thickened skin that seemed to be trying to swallow it. The area was spotted with the occasional red bumps, akin to a rash. Itxaro winced as she realized that if the object truly was a complete and regular shape, it had fused with or even replaced his sternum.

The wound was still new. That much she could estimate from the coloration and swelling. There was no bruising left so it had likely been more than two weeks. It was still in the scarring stage, everything had been rebuilding but had yet to flatten. She would think it had occurred between three to four weeks before unless magic was once again making such calculations impossible.

“Does it… hurt?” Itxaro asked unsure of what she was looking at.

“A little,” he acknowledged. “It is still sore.”

“And you say Desdomena did this to you?”

“You make it sound like I did something bad,” Desdomena commented.

Itxaro stared at Desdomena. “What exactly did you do? What is that?”

Desdomena raised her arms and shrugged. “I simply returned a few things he lost and made sure he could not lose them again this time around. My own speedy little surgery.”

“What exactly does it do?” Itxaro asked.

Desdomena wagged a finger at her. “No no no. We can’t speak about magic with you,” Desdomena mocked. “Your mother was quite clear with us.”

“Yet you tell me whatever else you want to tell me,” Itxaro countered.

Desdomena smiled widely. “I think the only thing she told us not to teach you was magic but explaining the majesty of my art would be lesson in itself.”

“Aberrations can use magic?” Itxaro at least wanted to learn. Desdomena referred to it as her art.

“Aberrations are in a way magic themselves. They do not seem to normally have the discipline or even self awareness to cast spells themselves though,” Alvah commented.

“No lessons, Alvah,” Desdomena teased.

“Fine,” Itxaro relented as her eyes rested one he glowing green glyph on Alvah’s cast. The implantation on his chest was recent, so was his leg’s injury if she was right. “How is your leg feeling, Alvah.”

“Fine,” he replied as he slipped his collar back to his neck. “I think I will be able to walk unembedded soon maybe in a week.”

“Magic is convenient,” Itxaro commented. “My medicine would not allow such swift recovery. It would take maybe two months to even heal from a minor fracture with what I have available. When exactly did you break your leg?”

“Around the same time I sent my message out,” he answered flatly.

“So, about four weeks ago?”

“A little bit less but that would be accurate. Right, Desdomena?”

“That sounds right,” agreed Desdomena.

Itxaro struggled not to react. She relaxed her face as much as she could but she could not control her eyes. She played with Eneko for a moment to allow herself to calm. The wounds possibly happened at the same time.

She needed to learn the truth. She needed to ask Alvah what happened. But how?

There was so much to figure out and yet these two planned to simply walk out when he was finished recovering. The identity of Girin was still a mystery to her. The one her grandmother knew about was a deity.

"So, the only thing you can not tell me about is how to use magic?"

"That would be correct. Your mother seemed to particularly approve of history."

“Can you tell me about when gods were still around? Or maybe… where did the gods even come from, according to you?”

He went quiet for a long time. A certain heaviness settled over him as his eyes looked downcast.

“The latter is the easier to answer without spending days of discourse on the everyday matters before the downfall but it is seeped in mysticism.”

“Do you worry she has the potential to make a new god?” Desdomena inquired.

“No, I do not,” he denied.

“Then you can tell me?” Itxaro asked.

“Yes but this is a simple matter of history. I have no guidance to offer on hopefully forgotten rites,” he explained. “I am no expert on the creation of gods as I know them so I know not what process was required to make one but I have seen gods and observed their nature firsthand. If I must draw comparisons, they are similar to a mage’s art but rather than be rooted in an individual, they are born of a group.

“It appeared the creation of the gods had a price. They say we could understand each other perfectly in the days before. Remember Desdomena having to define a word for you? Before gods, it might have been possible if I told you I planned to build a ship, you would somehow know exactly what I meant. You would know how many sails it would have, how large it was, and how I intended to build it.”

“My grandmother never mentioned such a thing. Was that understanding a forgotten magic?” Itxaro inquired.

“Maybe. It was a legend even in the time of gods. It would not surprise me but I do not believe it to be magic as it was described as universal. I imagine it to be some lost instinct, the same as us breathing. But with the formation of the gods, such a convenience went away at some point. I believe perhaps the manifestation of multiple interpretations of the same concept such as multiple sun, moon, and sea gods resulted in a disruption in the realm of thought.”

“So you met gods? What were they like?”

“They were however the people wanted them to be. They were soulless constructs, acting according to a narrative made by humans. Until the people began to forget they were the ones that created the deities and worshipped their own creations. Fortunately not every god became manifest.

“In order for a god to properly be made to manifest. It must have an established identity. Formless, mysterious, or all powerful deities failed to be conjured because there was too much to be contained. Those of monotheistic dogmas usually see their creator god as an universal existence rather than something that can be directly observed.

“I would dare to assume those without manifested deities would have fared better than those that relied on their gods. If not for being spared the attention of…” He hesitated. “-Amirit then for their lives to be less immediately affected before the other Great Ones made their presence known.”

The topic of gods inevitably led to the one that ended the reign of gods. A name she heard very recently.

“You probably do not remember this,” Itxaro began. “But the first night you were here, while you were… intoxicated. You mentioned Amirit.”

His eyes widened. He breathed deeply as terror flashed across the windows of his soul. “What did I say?”

“Just her gloriously unholy name,” Desdomena assured him.

“Yes, but can you tell me about it? What is your understanding of the First Titan?”

“You want to know what Amirit is?” He seemed reluctant.

“I have an idea of what it is. The Great One that ate the gods,” she recollected.

“That is what Amirit did, not what she is,” Alvah stated sternly.

“What is Amirit then?”

Alvah clasped his hands together. “Nature is viewed by most as a maternal figure. It is what grants us life.”

He said nothing for a long while. His hands shook.

“What does that have to do with Amirit?” Itxaro prodded.

“That is Amirit. Or rather the fear of it is her. Did you ever get in trouble with your mother when you were very young? I myself was raised by my father and my mother took me in when he passed. A majority of people in incomplete households are raised by their mothers. Even in a family where both partners are present, the women in most but not all societies are the ones that look after the children so mothers are usually the first ones to ever discipline their child.

“So imagine the dread that such a maternal figure inspires when laying down judgement. I imagine that is a part of what decided Amirit’s appearance.”

Itxaro was unfamiliar with the fear he spoke of. Or maybe she was. She did not remember ever needing to be disciplined but maybe she never strayed because some part of her was afraid.

She always had her role. Or maybe she always was her role. She had little need for the dread Alvah claimed others had.

Alvah certainly had some kind of fear. He had been screaming that name. There were even worse Great Ones. Amirit brought devastation but there were those like Cuh’rana that were truly death incarnate.

“Why are you scared of Amirit?” she asked.

“I would be a fool if I was not scared of any of the Great Ones,” he replied. “To be afraid draws their attention but the reason for their fear existed before they were ever born.”

“But your fear is not of a maternal figure, is it? Not in the way you described. You were raised by a father so… What happened to you?”

“Amirit ate gods and left destruction in her wake,” Desdomena reminded her. “She was not the type of thing one would threaten misbehaving children with. There were plenty affected by her directly.”

Desdomena’s cheeks blushed and she hugged herself. “Oh how wonderful it all was.”

The aberration began to act out Amirit’s rampage. Amirit first came from the land. After eating the gods on land, it strode into the water and ate those in the sea. Then it disappeared for a time to rampage through the underworld. Desdomena’s smile stretched to her ears as she reached towards the sky. The aberration described how the titan finally reemerged and stretched her hand towards the moon.

Alvah looked away. His companion’s recreation causing him visible discomfort.

“What happened after that?” Itxaro directed herself to Alvah, hoping Desdomena would cease her narration.

“There has been no sign of her since the lunar massacre,” he replied. “That I am aware of.”

“Were there no signs before?” Itxaro inquired. “It simply one day suddenly emerged from the ground?”

“There were prophecies predicting the downfall. There were warnings but you see there are several types of prophecies. There are…” He paused. “Excuse me. I was about to ramble about the art of foresight.”

“Go on,” Itxaro urged.

“Many forms of divination are magic which I may not speak of. What is best to know is that it is something one should not rely on unless one understands the nature of the prophecy itself.”

It seemed there not much left she could easily spur him to speak of on that topic. He was already unwilling as he was. However, the conversation gave Itxaro time to think of a way to ask Alvah privately about his injuries.

Alvah had already walked quite a distance with his injured leg by simply leaving the village. He should be too exhausted to return to the forest through normal means.

“You mentioned catching some rabbits earlier, do you think you could catch some for me so I can prepare them for dinner?” Itxaro asked.

Alvah grimaced. “You needed some for tonight? How unfortunate that we did not catch some while we were out.”

“It was your idea to not try to anger anyone any further,” Desdomena replied. “I wager they would have been somehow unhappy if we hunted without permission beforehand.”

“Still we should not be rude,” Alvah said. “We owe them much such as all our previous meals this very week.” He planted his walking stick in the ground and worked to pull himself up. “Just give me a moment and I will be ready to set a trap.”

“Maybe later,” Itxaro recommended. “If you set a trap, you will have to move away from it and back. That would be bad for your leg.”

Desdomena’s eyes narrowed on Itxaro. “Why ask it of us then?”

“I did not think you two would resort to traps,” Itxaro answered honestly. “I thought you might be able to snatch a hare the way you fetched that gypsum for the plaster.”

“Not everything should be resolved by Desdomena,” Alvah replied, still on the ground.

The aberration bared her teeth as she locked eyes with Itxaro. The young woman returned the stare before her eyes drifted to the side, unable to return the intensity of the gaze.

Desdomena turned her attention to her human companion, took a step towards him, then grabbed his walking stick and laid it sideways on his lap. “No, I will go catch something,” Desdomena begrudged before regarding Itxaro menacingly. “Keep him safe. Any harm comes to him and you will answer to me.”

*****

Desdomena’s departure left Itxaro unnerved. She closed her eyes and listened to the plants around her to make sure the aberration was truly gone.

“Do not take her threat to heart,” Alvah told her as she opened her eyes.

“I think she would hurt me if I hurt though. No, I know so.”

“I think you are right but she did not need to tell you that. She saw a chance to scare you and took it.”

“Why is she like that?”

“It would be easiest to explain her as being an empath,” Alvah began. “She drinks your emotions the way we would indulge in wine except in her case in spite of her claims of having a refined palette only cares that the flavor is strong. She will say whatever might make you happy or whatever might hurt you. It makes little difference to her. If you want her to stop, you simply have to ignore her.”

“That is easier said than done,” Itxaro replied.

Alvah scanned the village below them. “May I ask something? Do you have a loom here? I see you wear linen and goat wool rather than animal hide. You must have flax available to make the linen.”

“We do have a loom, not my family but the seamstress has one. Do you need to have some new cloth made?” She remembered the strange thing fused to his chest. “Your bandages do need to be replaced.”

“So, only one person here has one? I would appreciate some spare bandages but I have something else in mind.”

“What would that be?”

“Do you think your father would mind if I asked him to bring me either a pair of quails or a pair of blackbirds? Dead but unplucked of course. What was that man’s name.”

“It is Zorion but why not ask Desdomena to do that?”

“I can not have Desdomena do it.”

“Why a pair of birds?”

“I could use just one of something larger like a swan or eagle but I would not ask for that nor would I use a goose,” he considered.

“Is this for magic?” Itxaro guessed.

“No. It is simply the beginning of an idea. An idea I can not form just yet.”

“Why can you not form it?” Itxaro asked. “Is something distracting you?”

His concentration when meditating was superb. He also seemed quick to have some solution with how he made his cast from plaster. She had to wonder what could make him stumble on an idea.

“I can not form it because if I know what is, Desdomena will know what it is.”

“Oh…” Itxaro responded, trying to conceal her disappointment. His reasoning was outlandish but Desdomena was the answer, something she felt she should have predicted. Suddenly, she felt a bolt of excitement. “Does that mean you are trying to keep a secret from her?”

“There is not a single thought that I have that is kept secret from her. I am her and she is me.”

“There has to be a way,” Itxaro reasoned. “Are you not at least allowed the privacy of your own thoughts?” Even Itxaro did not tell her family about Desdomena being the one in control.

“I suppose that as long as she and I are not of one body, she does not have access to my thoughts. Though she can still read my emotions.”

“Isn’t that too much?”

“Do you know what it is like to have someone know everything about about you? Every secret, every desire, every detail you want to keep hidden even from yourself?”

“I thought I did,” Itxaro replied. When she was a child, she thought her family was omniscient.

“She is that to me,” Alvah stated with a sad ordinary smile. “The ultimate threat, the ultimate terror, yet she vindicates me. She wants me to be me. I never knew such a thing even in the seemingly glorious past.”

“I do not think she wants you to be you,” Itxaro observed. “You are a decent person while she is… this… thing. She is a bad influence on you.”

“Do not say anything to me you do not want Desdomena to know,” he warned her lightly as he closed his eyes for a moment as if to turn a blind eye to her remark. “Between me and Desdomena, Desdomena is the better of us. I am not a good person. I can speak of justice because I know the weight of going against it. Desdomena was born to be vile. I am less than what I was while she is greater than she ever should have been.”

“I think you are confused,” Itxaro disagreed politely. “What makes you a good person is what you do.”

“Would you say anything Desdomena has done to you has been evil?”

Itxaro opened her mouth but froze. She was ready to list the time the aberration attacked the elder but in that same minute, Desdomena saved Alvah. The aberration retrieved the gypsum, the aberration soothed Eneko, and even at that moment was hunting for rabbits. “No,” she answered. “But how can you be worse than her?” The aberration was still something he should walk away from.

“What is better a man born to be good but is a coward or a monster that helps another?”

A monster being born a monster did not excuse its existence. Desdomena had not harmed Itxaro yet but the aberration’s nature was still… The aberration was still dangerous, undeniably so.

“Is that supposed to be the riddle of the poison and medicine?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “What is the riddle?”

“What is better? The poison that healed someone or the medicine that killed someone?” she quoted.

He pondered for a long moment. “What was the answer?” he asked after reaching his silent conclusion.

“They are the same,” she answered. “The line between poison and medicine is how they are used.” She rested Eneko in her lap and held out her hands as if they were scales. “However, you two are not the same.” She tilted a hand down and raised the other. “You are unequal. Is it true what you said that you could not go against her?”

His eyes became like flint as he cane to some realization. “Did you ask for us to hunt just so you could separate us?” he asked coldly.

“I did,” she confessed with a tinge of guilt after hearing so much being said in the aberration’s defense. She hardened her heart with her suspicions.

“Why?” he asked irritably. For the first time, she saw him angry. His eyes glaring at her while his lips curled.

He glanced down at Eneko who stared at him and inhaled. The baby was scared. He brought a hand to his mouth to hide his worsening scowl from the child. “Why?” he repeated.

“Can you not go against her because she will hurt you?” Itxaro accused.

“Why would you even ask that?”

“How did you break your leg?” she repeated her question from the time they first met.

“It-“ he stopped after a single word, unable or unwilling to continue.

“It was broken by me, if that is what you want to know,” Desdomena finished for him, suddenly there standing a short distance beside them. Blood dripped from her fingers as three rabbits hanged limply in her hands. “He was trying to run away from me so I twisted it around until it snapped.” She sounded proud of herself. Desdomena nonchalantly walked to rejoin them.

“It was more complicated than that,” the man swiftly commented. “Like I said, I was being foolish.”

“For running away from her?” Itxaro exclaimed, grabbing Eneko as she rose to stand. The baby cried from the sudden movement.

“Yes and no,” Alvah replied.

Itxaro brought Eneko to her chest and rested his head on her shoulder. She lifted him up and down as she turned to face the bloody-handed aberration. She felt she could not look away. If she did, the thing might leap on her like lion.

“That injury was recent…” she continued speaking to Alvah even as she failed to watch him.

“It is complicated,” he insisted.

“Tell me again. How long ago was it?” she interrogated. “You told me a few weeks ago when we first met. How long ago exactly to this day?”

“About four weeks ago,” he replied quietly.

“Four weeks ago?” she repeated.

So, she had been right. The injuries happened at the same time and Desdomena already admitted she was the culprit to both.

“It is not that simple.”

“There is nothing complicated about breaking someone’s leg!” Itxaro exploded. Eneko’s crying worsened. It was bad enough that knowing their connection had a horrific start but for such things to continue happening was too much.

“Tell her who gave me this scar,” Desdomena interrupted, her voice serious.

Itxaro looked down at Alvah. “Who gave her that scar?”

“I did,” he said sadly.

“When?” Itxaro began before her voice turned cold. “No, it does not matter. I do not know what you two have between each other but whatever it is, it is wrong.”

She started backing away. They were at her home. All she had to do was make it to the door.

“Who are you to call it wrong? What do you truly know of us? What if what we did helped the other?” Desdomena inquired, standing perfectly still.

“No, it is wrong. If you hurt each other, you should have nothing to do with each other.”

Desdomena pointed a finger. “Then why are you holding that baby? If you really believe that, you should drop him this moment. You are the one that brought him into this world of chaos.”

Itxaro’s cheeks burned with anger. “You are a monster!”

“I know what I am,” Desdomena replied. “Do you?”

Itxaro reached a hand back and patted for the entryway. Finding it, she opened the door, slipped in and slammed it behind her.

*****

“It all makes no sense,” Itxaro talked to herself. Eneko stared at her blankly now that he stopped crying, ignorant of her troubles.

Itxaro was afraid of the aberration but she did not dislike her. The few times Desdomena proved violent, Alvah was involved. Otherwise, the aberration seemed more prepared to threaten than actually resort to making those threats true. Maybe if Itxaro and her family had not done what they have, there would be more civil discourse.

Then again, both Alvah and Desdomena confirmed it was she who broke his leg. The man said it was complicated while the aberration said it was because he was running away but Alvah was the more honest of the two. Maybe it was an accident or self defense like when the aberration attacked her grandmother. At this point, Itxaro preferred to treat Desdomena like a wolf, dangerous but not senseless.

She explained everything to her grandmother after the elder was startled by her sudden and violent return. The elder agreed with her, only getting on to her that she should have been more subtle. If the outsiders left because of the fight, it would be Itxaro’s fault. Hopefully, his injury would keep them there.

As for dinner, the two needed to either cook those rabbits the aberration caught themselves or go hungry.

“He could control gravity,” Itxaro found herself explaining disinterestedly.

“Very interesting,” the elder replied.

Itxaro revealed her suspicions of Zibin as well.

“So, you think him to be the same Zibin we spoke of?”

“I think he is older even than you, grandmother. He talks about events from lost times that only someone from there would know.”

“I thought so. His eyes were old. He must have used a spell or drank a potion that extends his life.”

“Why don’t you do that for yourself? Maybe you can ask him to teach you his trick so you can guide us forever?” She did not want to talk to him but the thought of the elder living on seemed comforting.

“I already know how to escape death, dear. Humans should never live forever. Death gives us a reason to learn what we can in the time we are given so we can pass it down to our children so they can build onto it. Eternity breeds sloth my dear. However, it is almost inevitable for a mage to try to extend their life no matter what form their art takes. People especially those so dedicated to mastering their craft are afraid of dying. If he has binding spells, maybe he bound his own time.”

That must have been what he meant when he described himself as a coward.