Helga reappeared at her own quarters through the misty portal. The quarters could not be reached physically. There was an enormous bed, vast as a farmland, with four pillars of burnished wood and curtains of glossy satin falling in hanging arches. The pillows were palatial, yellow tassels dangling from their corners. The herbage was arranged more orderly here, avenues of pink cherry trees lining the borders of a stream, shelves holding golden statues, as well as a collection of books and stacked documents. She had a watchful eye on the world above, biding her time before surfacing.

“Circumstances have changed,” Helga said, dropping them before her. They landed on two pink flower pushes, which formed two columns lining a path from the portal toward her bed. There were topiaries of armies fighting, chiseled stone rings around pools and various fountains spouting rainbowy water.

“What has changed?” Milton said, crawling out of the bush, him and Rennard gathering in the middle of the path. “Why can’t we go on like we previously decided? Establish a connection with us, and we can help you from above.”

“I don’t think so.” Helga’s foot came forward from the hem of her dress, one slow step. The boys retreated several steps, and then she took another massive stride, deliberately slow, carrying enough threat to flatten them that they had to keep their pace backwards. “Your friend and the giant he came with, they certainly aren’t allowed to leave. And that’s not something you would just accept. Every second out there, thinking of your friend, explaining to his relatives why he’s gone, mind constantly drifting down here and considering plans of how to get him out. The scenarios are endless. It is the fear of death I see on you two. But don’t worry. I will not kill you. I will give birth to you anew.”

“Give birth?” Rennard’s voice wavered, a concerned glance to his friend. Not even his intrepid nature could remain staunch against her limitless strength. “What are you talking about?”

“You will journey in my body, and I will give birth to you. When you come out from me, your loyalty to me will be steadfast, without thought or, perhaps, even memory of this life.”

“Why?” Milton yelled. “What’s the sudden problem? Was it the mention of the miracle stone?”

She raised an eyebrow, the shining dot on her forehead unmoved by whatever contractions her face made. “You simply know too much, what not even Ester knows.”

“I swear on everything holy in my life, right now and that will ever be,” Rennard hollered, “we shall not say anything.”

“No, you won’t.” Her next step was fast, aiming for them. Both dove out of the way and ran down the path with their base magics. Rennard scored a quick look back to see what she would do.

Helga was smiling.

“Come.” Rennard tapped his friend’s shoulder and veered off the path, past the row of bushes and under the short trees. The herbage was like a tiny jungle for the two, but nothing higher than the knees for Helga. They bolted past branches and bushes, kicked and slapped their way forward, and sought shelter under a willow by the pool.

“Where do we go?” Milton whispered, panting.

“I don’t know. I thought about the streams, they have to course through somewhere, right? Maybe just dive into them, I’ll burn pockets away, give us some air. It sounds ridiculous but what’s left?”

“How about returning through the portal?” Milton said. “Take us back?”

“But then you’ll be in the same room, where there weren’t many options.” The voice was Helga’s, right behind them. Startled, the boys turned to find her lying front down upon everything, her chin resting on the soil.

They dashed, but Helga snapped forward like a snake. She caught Milton’s left arm between her lips. His whelps caught Rennard’s attention, who returned. Helga was frozen like a statue, not one muscle moving, yet Milton couldn’t gain one inch of his arm back. He threw a tether at a tree and made it tighten, Rennard grabbing his free arm and pulling as well, and it amounted to nothing.

With an explosive suck, Milton vanished as if a hurricane had taken him away, slurped inside those lips. Faint groans muffled past her cheeks, Milton being wrestled around by her tongue.

“Let him out!” Rennard punched her lips, the flesh buckling in and absorbing his pitiful strength without a care. He summoned his flames and tried to torch her as much as possible, and it seemed to make less of a dent than his punches. She opened her mouth to let him see Milton, coated in her saliva.

“Milton!” Rennard rushed in to grab him, but the tongue punched him back out. The lips closed again. A faint smirk formed.

“You…” The smile Rennard had witnessed, the smirk before him now, the way she toyed with them, it removed any visage of impersonality she had tried to show them before. “You’re not some goddess or deity, you’re nothing. You’re just a fucking brat who stumbled upon… something. Miracle stone, whatever it is. You’re nothing without it!” Rennard paid attention to the tiny, radiant stone on her forehead, as large as a plum. He formed a fireball over his hand and threw it right there.

Helga flinched. As insignificant as it was, it was something. She raised her head off the ground, covering her forehead as Rennard threw more fire there. Helga opened her mouth again and presented Milton on her tongue, who lay unmoving with half-open eyes, drowsy.

“Rennard… I’m sleepy.”

“Brother, just hold on.”

Helga closed her mouth again, reared her head up, and swallowed, a distinguishable lump rolling down her throat.