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Manmageri felt tired, as she had for years. Her eyes had seen many things, and her heart had endured many hardships, so she had long chosen to practice daicia and live in harmony with the world. And in doing so she did not forget, but she forgave, the fate bestowed upon his clan, for she was the last of Angi’s blood.

Forgotten by the world, who was busy hunting down her brothers, she lived and saw her family’s downfall. She saw many good men and women killed by the Blind Death, and petty warlords rise and fall, not even a shadow of the Anginite’s former power. She observed as her people went from treating cattle as no more than an edible tool to divinifying it and refusing to eat its flesh. She observed as more of them were enslaved and forced to go into farming, while others took to fishing, the only meat not forbidden by the gods. She also watched with skepticism as the Naputi and the Dani kept hunting Monera’s folk, a premise only bestowed upon them due to their status.

She lived through a time marked by fire and murder, and endured the hardships of that age. She saw her husband die and her children be changed by the illness and get killed themselves, but she never caught it herself. She walked from the ruins of old Agaebu to the head of the Gattainniu, and saw the pain inflicted on the Miecans.

Now it had been years since anyone had died from the Blind Death, but the wounds were too deep and the scars could still be seen. After annihilating the Anginites, many lamented that there was no one who could unite the Miecans and re-establish peace. Manmageri could only laugh at the irony. She would have mocked them, but the only thing she wanted was a long sleep. Uroni, Angi, Dela, Eiani, Agappi, Surinadi. She longed to see their faces again. She closed her eyes and smiled.

They would meet again soon, once she became one with the Nea.