It was his turn to carry the baby, a task they had been taking turns with ever since they left the destroyed village. It wasn't a task they appreciated at all.

Girl or not, she was still an aberrant, and they had dedicated their lives to ending her kind. Moreover, the existence of a female could be an extremely bad omen.

Until now, the aberrants could only reproduce using females of other races, as their species had no female counterpart. The fact that one had now been born could open the door to the appearance of more in the future, which would mean a drastic increase in the number of aberrants walking the world.

"It's your turn, Brother Theodor," one of his brothers said before handing him the baby, almost as if she were burning his arms.

He took her carefully, making sure she wouldn't fall or be uncomfortable. He didn't do it out of affection for the creature; it was more of an instinctive act. It's well known that healing magic users like him are empathetic and kind by nature, so despite his disgust for the creature, his nature prevented him from treating her as anything other than a baby.

He looked into the creature's eyes, which were now gazing at him with curiosity. His brothers had been making comments about her since they set out; a common one was that she was adorable. Though Theodor had always been one to think babies were ugly, not adorable. But that was a personal belief not shared by everyone. In the case of the little aberrant, he found her ugly like any other baby, which was strange because aberrant babies aren't just ugly—they're horrible.

On top of that, she was odd. Her skin color was more like that of trolls, and her lower fangs reminded him of ogres, though smaller, maybe because she was female and her jaw wouldn't be as prominent. She had yellow eyes, unusual for aberrants, who typically had red eyes, and her red hair was not a feature he had ever seen in any aberrant.

He didn't even know what kind of aberrant race she belonged to. He would bet on some type of ogre, but the skin color, eyes, and lack of horns didn't match. She could be a troll, but she wasn't the right size, as she measured the same as any newborn baby. She also wasn't an orc, as she lacked the distinctive pig snout.

Another oddity was her birth. The attack hadn't happened long enough ago for her to have been born. The nun who would have been her mother would have been impregnated only a few hours ago, and although monsters are born quickly, it usually takes a few days for the fastest-breeding races.

Besides, all aberrant babies are able to stand at birth, and this little one definitely couldn't do that.

The only option he saw was that the nun had been impregnated several days ago, perhaps in some large-scale or individual attack, and had arrived at the village seeking refuge. But that would only be a theory that would likely never have an answer. The nun was dead, and the only survivor of the village, as far as they knew, was headed in the opposite direction they were taking.

"Brother Leonhard," Theodor said, looking at his captain, who watched him, waiting for him to continue speaking. "Do you really think Mother will have an answer to this?"

It wasn't that he doubted Leonhard or their Mother, but this was quite a unique event.

"I hope so. Perhaps she has had some vision related to this girl, and if not, she'll know better than anyone what to do with this new discovery."

Theodor could only nod.

They continued advancing on their horses at a steady pace. The journey remained uninterrupted for a while, until Theodor felt the baby squirm in his arms. He looked at her, noticing her frowning. She wasn't looking at him; she seemed to be looking at the sky.

"Brat, don't stare at the sky; your eyes will burn," Theodor said mockingly.

"I don't think she understands you, brother. Aberrants barely speak our language, and she's just an infant," one of his brothers said.

Theodor couldn't help but agree.

"True, but this ugly little thing seems to be burning her eyes looking at the sky," he said, glancing at the little one, who turned to frown at him. "Huh? You don't like being called ugly? Well, you are," he added, teasing.

He looked like a fool talking to a baby who didn't even understand him. Still, it was a welcome distraction from the slow, silent journey.

However, those thoughts vanished when Theodor felt the little one tug at his hair, which he had always kept long for simple aesthetic reasons.

"Ouch! Hey, don't pull, brat!" he shouted in pain at the tug.

The little one seemed very pleased to see him suffer, with a small malicious smile on her face. Teodoro squinted his eyes at the girl's expression.

"You little ugly, fat thing," he said.

Immediately, the girl's expression changed to one of anger, as she reached out her hand again to grab his hair. But he didn't let her this time, pulling his head back, keeping his hair away from her.

"Ha! Ha! The same trick doesn't work twice on a knight," he mocked her further, seeing the little one's expression of frustration.

"Brother Theodor… you're fighting with a baby," one of his brothers said, looking at him as if he were an idiot.

In fact, Theodor realized all his brothers were looking at him with various expressions, ranging from amusement to disappointment.

"She started it!" he said, pointing at the little pest, who now had a completely innocent expression, as if she had done nothing wrong. "Don't play innocent now, little pest!"

"Brother Theodor, just give me the girl. I think you've held her long enough," one of his brothers said, reaching out his hands.

Theodor gladly handed over the child, and when his brother took her, he saw the little pest stick her tongue out at him.

Theodor could feel a vein bulge in his forehead at that, though the momentary anger and the ridiculousness of the situation prevented him from realizing that the girl, in fact, understood perfectly well everything he and his brothers had been saying.


The darkness had spread from both the south and the north, merging to form a fierce, four-legged beast with jagged teeth and an unbounded ambition gleaming in its eyes. The creature emitted a sound she couldn't recognize, but it made her shiver down to her bones. The beast's darkness began to spread, forcefully moving south, threatening to consume everything.

Eight beacons tried to stop the darkness, but one by one, they were on the verge of being swallowed. All seemed lost: the darkness had no equal, and the beacons were about to fall. Then something else appeared. A green light, much like the darkness, arose from the north and the south, taking the form of a winged creature that soared into the sky. With an unrecognizable screech, it began to disperse the darkness invading the south.

Its emerald light seemed to strengthen the nine beacons that had attempted to fight the darkness, giving them more power, and together they pushed the darkness northward. However, it wasn't a complete victory. The darkness fought against the green light, the four-legged beast against the winged creature.

Despite the absence of clashing swords, blood, or anything more than two colors battling to dominate one another, she was certain she had never witnessed a fiercer struggle. Some traces of darkness emerged in the south, near the beacons. They seemed to be trying to weaken them, but both the winged creature and the beacons resisted. The battle seemed destined to last forever, and she would not witness its end.

She blinked, and everything vanished. She was back in her room, facing the mirror, with a maid combing her long golden hair. She immediately rose from her seat, startling the maid a little. She swiftly moved across the room, grabbing a book from one of her many shelves. She sat at her desk, opened the book, took a pen, and began to write.

Seeing the future was her gift, the blessing she had received at birth as the reincarnation of a goddess. A gift many envied, but one she hated. The reason for her hatred lay in how the gift worked, something few understood. Everyone knew she could see the future, but not how.

The first difficulty of her gift was that she had no control over the visions. They came at any time, without warning. She could be sleeping, in the middle of an important meeting, or simply relaxing, and the vision would paralyze her for several seconds. The second difficulty was that she didn't just see the future—she experienced it: she could hear it, feel it on her skin and in her body. This made any vision both mentally and physically exhausting.

The third difficulty was time perception. To others, the visions lasted only seconds, but for her, they could last hours, and the longest ones, days. When she returned to reality, she felt disoriented, needing several seconds to remember where she was and what she was doing. The fourth difficulty was that sometimes distinguishing between reality and visions became challenging, especially when the visions were prolonged and vivid. Returning to reality was a complex process.

The fifth difficulty was the clarity of the visions. Sometimes she could see the future with total precision, but at other times, like now, the visions came in the form of metaphors that she had to interpret. The sixth complication was that there was no clear indicator of when the events would occur: she could have visions of things that would happen the next day, in a week, a month, a year, or even a century later, without knowing when they would take place. And finally, the visions behaved like dreams: they began to fade from her mind bit by bit, leaving her only with key points. That's why, after a vision, it was crucial to write everything down, just as she was doing now.

She would then have to try to interpret the vision, preferably with the help of her sisters, whose perspectives had always been useful in deciphering the more confusing visions. As her mind tried to make sense of everything, she thought about the northern and southern forces uniting to form a dark beast and the green winged creature. It was confusing. She knew that when her visions showed her the north, they usually referred to Garan and its dark forces. When they showed her the south, it represented Eostia and the Alliance.

But this vision was different. The dark forces usually appeared as an amorphous horde of red-eyed beings, not as a beast. And the Alliance had always been represented by shields, not by a green bird. Moreover, both creatures emerged from the union of the north and south, something she had never seen before. There were also the nine beacons. From their positions, she assumed they represented the forts, but the presence of an eighth and ninth beacon confused her, as there were only seven. And the darkness near the beacons was also puzzling.

She couldn't make sense of the vision, which frustrated her. Even so, she finished writing everything she remembered. She would have to call her sisters to discuss it. Then she heard someone knock at the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Your Majesty, the goddess's sons, led by Captain Leonhard, are here," one of her servants announced.

Hearing those words brought a smile to her face and dispelled the doubts generated by the recent vision. Her sons had returned.

"Let them in," she said, barely containing the emotion in her voice.

The door opened, and several men entered, dressed in white armor. Her smile vanished as soon as she saw Leonhard. His white armor was blackened in several places, his eyebrows partially singed, and his face stained. The smell of smoke emanated from him.

Following her maternal instincts, she rushed to him, cupped his cheeks in her hands, and began inspecting him for injuries.

"My son, what happened to you?" she asked.

Although she was not a small woman, her figure seemed diminutive next to Leonhard's. Even so, the man leaned slightly so she could touch his cheeks and smiled with the shyness of a child caught in mischief.

"I'm sorry, mother. Before coming here, we responded to a call for help from a village that was about to be attacked by a horde of aberrants... we didn't arrive in time." Shame was visible on his face as he said this.

Celestine had heard similar stories so many times that she had lost count centuries ago, but it never became easier to hear. Her people were dying, and she could do nothing to stop it. She clenched her teeth slightly and let out a sigh, trying to ease the pain that spread in her chest.

"But we discovered something," Leonhard said. "Though… we should speak about it in private," he added, glancing at the maid who had been combing Celestine's hair.

The queen glanced at the maid and motioned for her to leave. The young woman bowed slightly before exiting the room, closing the door behind her, and leaving the queen alone with her children.

Once the maid was gone, Celestine noticed how her sons seemed to relax a little. Before Leonhard could speak, she took a few seconds to greet each of them. She would have liked to ask how they were doing and what had happened in their lives since they last saw each other, but she didn't want to keep Leonhard waiting any longer. He remained patient while she greeted his brothers.

"When we arrived at the village, it was already too late to save anyone. We sent a group to chase the aberrants, but amidst the destruction, I heard the cry of a baby," Leonhard explained. Hearing that he had found a baby in the middle of such tragedy, Celestine's heart tightened.

It was common knowledge that she had a soft spot for children. After all, she had adopted so many, and today she had hundreds of adoptive children scattered across Eostia, with about twenty-seven living with her in the fortress.

"But it wasn't a normal baby," he said, lifting something slightly covered by his cloak. Celestine realized she hadn't paid attention to what Leonhard had been holding, too focused on her sons' well-being and the rest of them.

He uncovered the cloak, revealing a newborn baby, but the difference was that it wasn't human, elf, halfling, or beastman; the small creature was an aberrant. From her experience raising babies, she knew it was female.

Despite the strangeness of what lay before her, Celestine's first instinct was to reach out her hands to take the baby from Leonhard's arms. He seemed hesitant to hand her over, but a stern look from his mother made him relent. Although Celestine could be sweet and kind, she hadn't spoiled any of her children; all had received their fair share of discipline. She liked to think that they all loved her as much as they respected her.

Finally, Leonhard handed over the baby, and Celestine cradled her in her arms. The little one weighed no more than any other baby she had held before, and her yellow eyes remained fixed on the queen's face, watching her with curiosity. Celestine extended a finger and gently caressed the baby's face.

She was absolutely adorable, though somewhat strange. Celestine had never seen a baby aberrant, mostly because she never set foot on the battlefield and rarely left her home. That task was left to her older sister, the warrior and military leader. However, she had heard many times that aberrant babies were born ugly and capable of moving and taking care of themselves, something that didn't apply to this little one.

Moreover, there was the obvious fact: all aberrants were male.

"We came here right away, thinking you might have some idea as to why a female has been born among the aberrants," Leonhard said, looking at his mother.

Celestine felt a sense of pride knowing that, despite his age and the fact that he was already a father, her son still turned to her for answers. Unfortunately, she had no idea. "I don't know. This is the first time I've heard of a female among their kind," she said as she gently rocked the baby in her arms.

Her sons seemed disappointed by her response.

She wished she could give them more, but she couldn't. She looked down at the little one, who continued to observe her with curiosity, though her expression had softened.

"What if she's the first of many?" asked Theodor.

Celestine pondered the question for a moment. She had lived long enough to know that evolution wasn't so simple. Cases that defied the norm within races tended to be unique and difficult to replicate.

"It's possible, or this could be a one-time occurrence," replied the reincarnated goddess. "May I ask you a favor?" Though she knew the question was unnecessary, as her sons would agree without hesitation.

Leonhard nodded as soon as she finished asking.

"Could you please look for information on cases like this? Not in books, I've read enough to know you won't find answers there. I mean field information, questioning people or even aberrants. I think it's the only way to know if this is an isolated case," she explained.

"Of course, we'll do that, mother," Leonhard said. But as he finished speaking, his gaze shifted toward the little one in his mother's arms. "What are we going to do with her?"

The answer nearly escaped her lips before her mind could process it, but she managed to hold back. It wasn't that simple, and she knew it. This baby wasn't like any other, and while her existence was currently a secret, it likely wouldn't remain so as long as she lived.

But the mere idea of ending the life of an infant made the queen feel nauseous.

No, it was something she couldn't do or approve of. However, the other option—the one she almost voiced without thinking—would bring its own problems.

"Are you thinking of adopting her, mother?" Theodor asked, causing his brothers to look at him in horror.

It didn't surprise her that Theodor had figured out her thoughts. He had always been an empathetic boy, capable of reading people easily.

"Don't be ridiculous, Theodor! Mother would never adopt a monster!" Albert said, who was never very empathetic. He wasn't a bad boy, but he tended to be naturally aggressive.

"He's right," Celestine said, stopping the argument before it escalated. "I'm considering it."

Her sons looked at her with varying degrees of horror, except for Theodor, who watched her with a resigned smile.

"Mother... she's a monster," Albert said. Though his tone was harsh, Celestine knew he wasn't trying to be offensive.

"She's a baby," Celestine responded.

"She's not human," Leonhard interjected, supported by nods from his brothers, except Theodor, who distanced himself from the group, likely because he already knew how the discussion would end.

"I know, my son, but that doesn't change the fact that she's a baby," Celestine said, sighing as she sat down on her bed with the baby in her arms. "What should I do with her if not adopt her?"

No one answered, but she could tell they were all thinking the same thing.

She felt disappointed. She had thought she had raised them well enough that the death of a baby would seem as repugnant to them as it did to her.

"We could... leave her in the wild," Albert suggested. "Aberrants can take care of themselves from birth." As he said this, she noticed that even he knew that didn't apply to this case.

"She can't," Celestine said, revealing her anger at such a cruel suggestion. Even if the baby could fend for herself, she wouldn't have accepted it.

"Mother..." Leonhard stepped closer. "I understand you see her only as a baby, but she's an aberrant. She's part of the dark forces that have attacked our people for centuries, destroying so many lives."

"She hasn't done any of that. She's just a baby," Celestine said, meeting Leonhard's eyes. "Why should she pay for the crimes of those who came before her?"

Leonhard gritted his teeth at his mother's words. "Mother... you haven't seen it. The evil is inherent in them; it's in their blood," he said, clearly speaking from experience.

Celestine was always willing to listen to others' experiences. Surrounding herself with capable advisors and knowing how to listen was an important part of being a ruler. Her sons, members of the Order of the Goddess's Children, were the most active knights in the kingdom, responding to any call for help, no matter how distant or minor.

But when she looked at the creature in her arms, she could see nothing but a baby, another victim of this war, as innocent as any other baby and in need of her protection.

"It's better to keep her close," Theodor finally interjected. His brothers looked at him with varying degrees of anger, likely wishing he had taken their side.

"Brother Theodor, you're not helping," Leonhard said.

"Yes, I am," he replied simply. "We brought her all this way to try to learn more about her existence, how and why she's here. If we keep her close and observe her, we might discover more about her, and maybe about any others that might be born in the future. For an aberrant, she's pretty tame... if you ignore her love for pulling my hair." He said the last part while looking accusingly at the baby, who seemed to feign innocence.

"She's still a danger. Don't you think about what could happen to mother if she keeps this aberrant close?" Albert asked.

"What? Mother is protected all day by the royal guard. Her sworn sword is Grave Levantine himself, and the last time I checked, mother has enough magical power to simply erase her from existence with a snap of her fingers," Theodor replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't see how a lone aberrant could be a threat to her."

"Maybe not a physical threat, but certainly a political one. What will people say if mother starts adopting aberrants?" Leonhard asked.

"That her mercy is such that she's willing to give anyone a chance," Theodor replied. "Besides, we're not talking about just any aberrant here; this is the first female aberrant the world has seen since... ever. I think many will overlook this situation."

"You overestimate the common sense of the nobles," Albert said.

"Albert, watch your tone. Do I need to remind you who my lady wife is?" Leonhard responded with a stern look.

"Enough!" shouted the reincarnated goddess, stopping the argument before it turned into a fight between them. "My decision is made: this girl will be adopted. I don't want to hear another word against it." Celestine rose from her seated position on the bed, standing tall with an imposing look. Seeing her like that, her sons were reminded that, beyond being their mother, she was also their queen.

"Forgive us, mother... we were only thinking of what's best for you," Leonhard said, bowing his head.

"I understand... and I appreciate it, but this decision is mine to make. I'll be careful with her, I assure you. Now, why don't you all take a bath and join your younger siblings for dinner? I'll meet you later." They nodded, some more reluctantly than others.

They all left the room, leaving her alone with the baby, who was curiously looking around the room.

"You're a brave little one," Celestine said with a smile, cradling the baby in her arms. "Most babies your age would be crying after feeling the tension in the room... but I guess I should expect you to be different from the average baby. Let's see, what shall I call you?" She paused to think for a moment. Naming children was always tricky; she tried to give them names that suited them, their appearance, and their demeanor... although with this little one, maybe she should make an exception.

She would stand out; her very existence would make her remarkable. She didn't need a name that would make her even more noticeable, so a common name would be best.

"Emma, that will be your name," Celestine said, gently caressing her cheek, rewarded with an adorable smile from Emma.