The lad of the shores had traveled just inland. He swore this land had not been here before, but here it was, ripe for the taking. He would call it Amaya. His sister Marigold and the sigma Delilah had come, leaving Belladonna to take care of their mother, who was close to giving birth. Rambaldi threw his head back in a howl, exclaiming, “Come one, come all, to the lands of Amaya to thrive!” When his call ended, he turned to his sister and Delilah. Mari was impatiently examining a flower; Delilah sat there stonelike. Irina, literally a day or two away from giving birth, had declined to come, and Belladonna-that stubborn, stubborn loyalist-had insisted on staying until Irina had birthed her newest children and was well enough to travel. Rambaldi had at first been reluctant to leave his mother, but he knew her well enough. Nothing was going to keep her down. She had been close to death once already, and miraculously healed. She’d been ousted from her throne, only to decide it was for the best. His mother-fluid and adapting as usual. Rambaldi often forgot how much he loved her.
“Do you think they’ll come, Rambaldi?” worried Delilah. Practical as always. He musn’t get ahead of himself. Surely they would. Surely Amaya wouldn’t fail.
And surely Hecate wouldn’t come, looking to kill them.
Rambaldi’s eyes looked around to the sky. Then the trees. Then his sister. Goldie smiled back at him. “Don’t worry, Rambaldi,” she said. Her serene tone calmed him.

“One last breath ‘til the tears start to wither!”