Penicillium - Epilogue
Feronie could feel it, the moment her power was used, the moment the boil was lanced.
Oh, it wasn't a great thing. A small relieving of pressure, a break in the skin to let slip some of the sickness weakening her. It was not very much at all.
But she enjoyed the experience all the same.
She could only imagine the dismissive curiosity of her younger peers. Their observance that the mundane schedule had been disrupted, then their self-reassurance that it was nothing at all.
The situation had quieted, of course. The lanced boil was hardly more than a blip. Some took more serious note of it than others, but all moved on.
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Feronie, for her part, revelled in that ignorance.
She had been the same, once. She had seen the signs and dismissed them as nothing of great value. The mundanity of her own living continued. A shift in the weather? Merely an unseasonably warm year. The god of insects moaning of the loss of some small beasts? Interesting, but hardly of note.
No, she had been a fool, buoyed by her own hubris.
It had nearly cost her everything. Now these young gods, those who were high on their own pride, were blinded by the same certainty she had once had.
Yes, this was going to be just fine.
She wouldn't wait though, wouldn't relax. Her little crusader had proven their worth. The child deserved a just reward. But Feronie wouldn't stop her work just yet. Not until the world was reshaped in her image.
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