No, it was not. I wasn’t a woven being either, but unlike my children’s, my choices were rarely my own. Acheron willing, Aion and Daphne would never have to shoulder my burdens.
But Phix hadn’t come here to question me about my children, not really. “You’re sentimental, too, aren’t you, Phix? Shift Day always ruffles your fur.”
“Perhaps.” She sniffed the air and stared out into the distance. “I can’t help but feel, Ferryman… Something is changing. The lake is making its own choices, too.”
She was right. The Blighted Lands were expanding. The death-touched brides were becoming stranger. The death energy spoke differently to us now. And the Acheron had blessed Daphne and Phonos.
To what end, I didn’t know. But we were death-blessed on Alia Terra, and we could only do one thing. “We will follow the currents of the Acheron, Phix. Come what may.”
Phix said nothing. She lay down on her paws and closed her eyes, settling by my side in a restless slumber. As for me, I continued to keep watch.
Once, in the Old World, I’d ferried the souls of the dead. Now, I created life. I had no regrets.
