Abbot was known as the God of Light and he had been a huge fixture in many mortal religions and traditions all over Trace, but especially those to the east where the sun rose first. Over the millennia, he had taken the time to visit each and every mortal settlement that prayed in his name. Unfortunately, he was not what many of them imagined; he enjoyed the wine too much or focused too much on the female form, and he took too much of his time drawing or smoking, setting a bad example for kids that grew too indolent to work the fields.

Thousands of years ago, many of the mortals had stopped worshipping him, calling him a false god and turning to worship the sun itself. Acela, recently crowned as Queen of the Gods, had bent the mortals’ whims and took away Abbot’s title and rank. Both of those meant nothing to the gods, given to them by the mortals, but the insult still stung.

“Maybe it’s the Demon Mound?”

The second voice drew D’Argen back to the mortals’ conversation, having missed something but not sure what.

“The stories that come from there are always so over-the-top and ridiculous. You never know what’s true and what isn’t.”

“What Demon Mound?”

“Apparently, that’s where the gods first fell to the mortal realm. It’s somewhere near the southern coast. When they fell, they cracked the mountain open and the demons of the underworld spilled out. The first demon wars were waged not that far from there thousands of years ago. Though nobody’s sure if the original mountain still exists at all, and the Demon Mound isn’t something else completely.

“Maybe the bodies of all the people that died during the wars? But it’s all stupid stories. Hah, demon wars? Demons?”

“We have the gods walking among us, but you think demons is taking it too far?”

D’Argen could not stop the grin from growing on his lips when he heard that. A quick glance at his companions revealed that they all found it as funny as he did.

“Your gods. Plus, the gods is one thing. Winged lizards that breathe fire? That’s just ridiculous! Also! Your gods? I doubt we’re even going to see any of them, even at this thing. Last I heard, many of them found the whole event—”

“Excuse me!” D’Argen interrupted, jogging a few steps to walk alongside the two men.

The moment they noticed him, the entire group of mortals stopped, stumbling over themselves to keep the mule and cart from going on without them. All of them looked at D’Argen with wide eyes and open mouths, instantly recognizing him as one of the gods even if they could not tell which one. Sometimes, D’Argen loved the way his mahee brought attention to him.

“You said something about an animal that uses magic? Near some… Demon Mound, was it?”

“I… uh… eh…” They both started stuttering, unable to get a single word out.

“Ah, never mind that. This merchant you mentioned? He’s the one telling the stories?”

Another set of stuttering syllables that made no sense at all.

D’Argen rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “What is the name of your village?”

“Badal,” a woman from the back of the group answered immediately.

D’Argen turned to face her when he asked again, “This merchant?”

“Ah… he… I don’t know. He never stays long.”

“And you’re sure he said Demon Mound? Some mountain to the south?”

“No,” one of the men that had been talking earlier finally broke his spell to answer. “No, milord. I… uh… I’m sorry, deity… umm…?”

“Not the Demon Mound?” D’Argen stumbled over the man’s efforts to find his title.

“No. Just… a mountain. Didn’t catch the name.”

“To the south?”

Both men nodded quickly.

D’Argen thought it over and though the description rang something familiar, he was not exactly sure what it was. A quick glance back showed Abbot smoking his pipe without a care, Yaling glaring at the group with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, and Lilian holding their scarf over their mouth, clearly hiding a smile. D’Argen opened his mahee to reach for them, touching them even without the physical contact that made it easier.

“Should we—?”

“No,” Lilian interrupted. “Evadia first. Check the records. Maybe there is something in there about this merchant if he is going around spreading rumours about demons.” Their words tasted like fresh raindrops when D’Argen wrapped them up in his mahee.

“You’re right.” D’Argen turned back to the mortals with a grin so fake that it hurt his cheeks. “By the way, you know that you’re the ones who came up with the terms ‘Gods’ and ‘Mortals’, right? Not us. Don’t blame us for not fitting into your neat little stories.”

Without another word or even letting the mortals say anything else, he finished wrapping Abbot’s braids in his mahee and he pushed himself to run once more.