Three days passed in a flash, and Ramona's followers finally arrived. A thousand of them, weary but burning with faith, trailing dust, and the smell of long travel. Enoch was ready, because I'd made sure of it. I'd planted the dream in his head three nights in a row: two symbols, a cross sharpened at its ends and a barren tree. When placed together, the dream always ended the same way, liight spilling outward, life blooming around them. Subtle, yet obvious, whichever way you looked at it.
When the two groups met outside the settlement walls, the air was thick with wariness. Swords weren't drawn, but they might as well have been. Then Enoch and a broad-shouldered man from the newcomers stepped forward.
"Hail, traveller," said Enoch, voice steady.
"Greetings, stranger," the man returned, clutching a necklace of the leafless tree.
"That's Alfonso," Ramona whispered beside me, her tone proud but casual. "Leader of my group."
"Mm," I hummed, eyes narrowing.
Alfonso raised his necklace higher. "We have come to your settlement pursuing a divine revelation. Our God promised we would find a home here."
He glanced down, then pulled out the cross symbol as well. Together, the two radiated faint light, just as I'd designed. Enoch, not missing a beat, lifted the sharpened cross I'd given him. Alfonso's face split into a grin, and he stepped closer.
"I am Alfonso," he said firmly. "Apostle of the God of Storms. Our Lord promised us rest and allies here."
Enoch extended his hand. "Then welcome, Alfonso. Our God announced your arrival… and our prosperous alliance."
Alfonso clasped it, eyes shining. Behind them, both groups exhaled like they'd been holding their breath for years.
Ramona leaned closer to me, her eyes flicking to Alfonso. "He looks surprised, daemon. Did you tell him my followers were coming?"
I grinned. Couldn't help it. "Of course I did."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then why does he look like you dropped the sun on his head?"
I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. "Where's the fun in being straightforward? Gods are supposed to be shrouded in mystery. I'm just… playing the part."
"You're enjoying this confusion a little too much," she muttered, arms crossed.
"Our people are joined now," I said, gesturing down to the mingling groups. Then I turned sharply toward her. "Wait. Hold up. Why didn't you tell me you were the goddess of storms? How does that authority even work?"
Ramona arched a brow, her lips twitching. "You never asked." She huffed and looked away, feigning disinterest.
Down below, her thousand followers stopped dead when they saw my statue. One by one, they knelt in worship. I sighed, extended my hand, and conjured the triangular halo behind it once again. Light poured outward, washing over them. Gasps turned into cries of reverence as they bowed even lower.
I turned to Ramona and pointed. "Your statue goes there beside mine."
She nodded once, regal. Alfonso caught the gesture immediately and began barking orders. Her people swarmed into action, fetching stone, carving, sweating to raise her own likeness besides mine.
Days blurred. The settlement pushed forward, bigger and louder each morning. Stone was abundant, but mining was painfully slow. Watching them chip at rock like desperate ants made me restless. Then it hit me: a wonder of my old world. Cement.
I dragged Enoch out to the pool and walked him through it step-by-step step, furnace construction, limestone burning, clay heating, and coarse sand mixing. The first block came out rough but solid. Stronger and faster than stone.
Enoch stared at the block like it was a holy relic. "My lord… you are wise. Truly wise. Are you perhaps the God of Wisdom?"
I slapped the back of his head. "Quit your rambling. Train a team to make more of this mud and shape it into blocks. Stack them as I show you. It's not divine, it's just work."
He rubbed his head but grinned. "As you command, my lord." Then he bolted back toward the village, clutching the crude block under his armpit like it was a jewel.
"Interesting creation," Ramona said from above, perched casually on a branch.
I dipped my hands into the pool, washing the soot away. "It's practical. That's all."
She tilted her head, studying me. "You don't treat him like a servant. Not really."
I shrugged. "I forget I'm supposed to act lofty sometimes. When I do remember though, hohoho, I put on a proper show."
She chuckled softly, then leapt down, violet dress rippling as she landed beside me. We walked toward a forest.
"Tell me," I asked, "why do some of you gods carry that purple murky aura?"
She matched my pace easily. "You know of the godheads, anyway there are three factions. Order, balance, Chaos. The aura marks those bound to Chaos. Some neutral gods bear it too."
I smirked. "So… you're an evil god?"
Ramona rolled her eyes. "Those words, good, evil, are mortal labels. For gods, only interests exist."
"That," I said, pointing at her, "is exactly how politicians talk. And that glint in your eye right now? Terrifying." I looked away dramatically.
"Low-class gods wouldn't understand anyway," she said with a wicked smirk, hands on her hips.
"Whatever," I muttered, kicking at the dirt.
We walked deeper into the forest, our clothes billowing with the wind. Conversation flowed, circling between banter and philosophy. As the sun sank low, I spotted a white lily by the path. On impulse, I picked it up and handed it to her.
She raised a brow. "Are you courting me like a mortal?" Her tone was sharp, but her mouth betrayed her with the faintest twitch upward.
"I just thought," I said, glancing away, "that flower would look better in your hands than on the ground."
I could feel her gaze burning into my back. My ears grew hot. My cheeks twitched ever so slightly.
Damn it. I got carried away again.