Chapter 70: A Way to Save
The Little White Dragon struggled to name the vision before her—like fog trying to hold a moon. Her adorable daughter, the Reaper Fragment Morris had picked up, cradled Eternal Life’s skull-white head. Bite by bite, she swallowed her nominal elder sister into the dark lantern of her stomach.
As she devoured the bone like frost nibbling at autumn leaves, the small child grew. Her slight frame widened a ring, her hair spilled longer like a river of silk, her silhouette gathered gentle curves like dawn gaining light.
She was growing.
“Is this… normal?” The Little White Dragon tugged Nidhogg’s sleeve, worry pooling first like rain under eaves. “Will Litt eating Eternal Life do something bad to her?”
“I don’t know.” Nidhogg shook her head, a black wing shadow across the ground. “I don’t know Divine Fragments well. But as a practitioner of Death Magic, I’ve heard a little.”
“Reaper Fragments born of the same source can, through certain rites, gather their split authority,” she said, voice like iron bells. “In the end, they merge into a true god. Then the calamity that god left on the continent fades on its own.”
“So Litt’s integrating her and Eternal Life’s authority,” the Little White Dragon said, catching only part of the tide. “She carries both Eternal Life and Untimely Death.”
“Yes.” Nidhogg nodded, a black dragon’s certainty like night settling. “Two authorities make her energy redundant. She has to expand her vessel, so her body grows. And not just the body.” She added, a shard of cold humor glinting, “Absorbing Eternal Life’s memories and skills should sharpen her mind—a lot. She won’t be that dumb-cute little fragment anymore.”
“Is that so.” Lilith breathed out, a quiet ache like winter sunlight. For no clear reason, thinking of the tagalong little puff at her heels now stepping into girlhood left a hollow in her chest—like a mother watching her daughter slip past the gate into her own life.
Maybe those months of Litt calling “Mom” seeded extra feelings she hadn’t planned to grow.
Lilith shook her head, snow shaking off a bough. She didn’t want to go down that trail.
Slowly, Litt finished the last bite of Eternal Life’s head. The small child became a well-proportioned maiden. Her face mirrored Lilith’s like a lake reflecting sky; only the twin crimson eyes marked her apart. Even those red irises now carried threads of Lilith’s clear blue, like dawn washing rose with azure.
“Litt?” Lilith called softly, a warm hand in cool air. She could still recognize her girl. Her voice gentled.
“Mom.” Litt’s tone had shed its past crispness; it cooled like glass, aloof like a junior high rebel. But the word didn’t change. That alone let the Little White Dragon exhale, breath like mist gone thin.
“Any discomfort? You swallowed Eternal Life’s powers and memories—did that guy do anything to you?” Lilith hurried closer, nerves fluttering like sparrows. Habit pushed her to squat and rub Litt’s head, to ask from eye level. But the soft snow dumpling was now nearly her height. She couldn’t crouch and crown her with a palm anymore.
“No, Mom. I’m fine.” Litt shook her head, white hair fanning like silk in wind. For a heartbeat, the Little White Dragon mistook the girl for herself just waking, pillow-warm and tousled.
“It’s just that my sister’s memories are a lot. I need time to digest.” Litt tilted her head, a small owl’s candor, and reported her state. “I’ve inherited all her abilities, including Eternal Life’s authority and command of the Moonswallow Mist. But I’m not practiced yet.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Lilith rubbed her head anyway, smile like sunshine through paper. “You couldn’t even manage your own attendant calamity before. Now you can use a bit of Moonswallow Mist—that’s already great.”
“Mom.” Litt deadpanned and caught her hand, cool fingers like snow. She moved Lilith’s fair arm off her head, puffed her cheeks like a tiny steamed bun, and said, annoyed, “Has anyone told you you’re bad at comforting people?”
“Really?” Lilith pointed at herself, blinking like a startled cat.
“Mm.” Nidhogg nodded without mercy, a hammer hitting the anvil.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Mom. I’ve got something more important right now. I’ll chat after we deal with it.” Litt cut across Lilith’s small storm, voice steady as a drawn string. “When we reach the next place, I want to sleep with you for a night. Then we’ll talk properly. Okay?”
“Mm.” Lilith agreed, but a new question stirred like a fish under ice. “What are you doing now?”
“Sakunae Mashiro, miss.” Litt didn’t answer directly. She walked to the fox lady resting nearby, steps light as frost on tiles. “I need something from you.”
“What is it?” The fox lady pushed herself up, a big question mark floating over her like steam.
“I’ve inherited my sister’s memories. In them I saw, under the big palace outside, in the dungeon, a room piled with precious gems—like stars dumped in a chest.”
“And among them, one gem carries a woman’s soul.”
“Her name is Jillian Kerry. She has another identity.”
“Imperial Princess of the Undead.”
“It’s her.” Sakunae Mashiro’s face sank like a moon behind clouds. Pain pulled her back into an old corridor of thorns.
“And in my sister’s memory,” Litt said, voice steady as a lantern flame, “I found a way to release the soul imprisoned in that gem.”
“You mean—?” Sakunae Mashiro’s eyes widened, her body trembling like a leaf on water.
“I think I can bring her back,” Litt said, and her judgment fell like a clear bell.
