"Nathei..."

My voice is soft. The Dark Lord kneels in front of the crushed bed of flowers, staring at them rather despondently; I sigh. I know how important they are to him, and it kills me that I didn't think to install some sort of protective ward over them.

Though to be fair, I hadn't exactly expected an entire invading force to land on our doorstep.

It's fine, he tells me. We'll just grow a new one.

"This one was important to you, though." I take a flower from the bed - the one that seems healthiest and least crushed. The stem is a little broken, but the petals are nearly entirely intact; they're a wonderful mixed shade of blue and pink and white. It's one of his favorites, if I remember correctly, because they remind him of me.

A small application of healing magic heals the broken stem. "We'll keep this one for the next flowerbed," I say. "And install some wards next time."

Thank you. Nathei composed himself. Some would say I care too much.

"Yeah, well, fuck 'em." I shrug. "They didn't spend thirty years under a perception curse that prevented them from seeing anything positive about the world."

Nathei is silent for a moment. Do you have any leads yet on that?

I don't look at him when I respond.

"Yeah," I say. "I think... I think it might be one of the gods."