Nali was a weak and sickly child. Her mother Mara gave birth squatting in a wheat field in Kural when she had emerged weighing perhaps half of what a newborn infant ought to. The next morning, Mara had to go back to work in the fields with her scythe, lamenting that she could not afford to be a very attentive mother in those days. She feared that perhaps the Kuralic goddess Nerukia would call her strange infant back to her underworld realm before she could reach adulthood. In some ways, Nali was unremarkable. Like Mara, she had the typical features of the people of that hopelessly conquered land of Kural: wiry hair, amber eyes, and olive skin. Yet she did not flinch from loud noises or painful sensations, and she often seemed to be incapable of hearing anyone or responding to them. When she grew a bit older, Mara was relieved that she started speaking and that her frequent, debilitating fevers seemed to have come to an end. But there was still the way Nali often gazed into the distance for hours in complete silence, which gave Mara the uncanny feeling that she could see things that others could not and that she may become a target for malevolent spirits.

Mara did not feel as though there was any future for Nali in impoverished Kural, which had by then been completely subsumed by the Aradalan empire. Libraries had been burned, palaces destroyed, and the altar by the river where animal bones had been placed as offerings for Nerukia had been replaced by a formidable temple for the Aradalan sun god and moon goddess. So mother and daughter eventually fled to neutral and unvanquished Sylvania, a land with a difficult language, unfamiliar animals, and strange gods who were said to take on the forms of these animals and dwell in the forests.

Although politically neutral towards Aradala, Sylvania had allowed Aradalans to establish a few seminaries in the country where they aimed to preach about their sun and moon deities to whoever would listen. The Sylvanians still maintained the ancient tradition of knowledge transmission from elder to child in the form of oral storytelling about the animal gods. Mara was terrified of both approaches to education. She did not think Nali’s fragile nature could withstand either of them, and she knew that neither culture frowned down on corporal punishment for absent-minded students, though the Sylvanians were more sparing in the use of the rod. Fearing also the bears and wolves of the dense woods, Mara decided it would be simplest to totally ban Nali from leaving the house.

So Nali was confined, but Mara aimed to make this feel like being confined to a gilded palace rather than a prison. She taught her daughter the art of lyre-playing and of reciting Kuralic love poems. Of history and politics, Mara taught the child nothing. She could not stand the thought of Nali ever knowing that bad things befell the good, and that the sun shines on both the just and unjust. She prayed to the goddess Nerukia that her daughter would never have to wonder why the powerful can never be touched, and why it is usually the ones you love the most who betray your trust.

So the girl hardly knew of the existence of other countries, and Mara distorted the conquest of Kural to sound like a peaceful takeover, and did not mention that the Aradalans were now threatening to invade Sylvania.

Nali’s only assigned chore around the house was to ring the bells near Nerukia’s altar every day and say a few words of gratitude to the goddess.

She did this right before her mother left for the marketplace in the morning. Mara spent her days trying to convince Sylvanians of the value of Kuralic goods so that she could feed her child. Sacred heirlooms were seen as mere trinkets and curiosities. Every day, it seemed like the locals were becoming more hostile to her as the influence of Aradala’s dark shadow expanded.

“You spineless Kurals need to go back to where you came from. We don’t have the resources to provide for you lazy people. We have our own problems to worry about,” said a seller of animal hides. Knives and hide scrapers hung from her belt. It was clear she had to do the hunting, tanning and processing of hides all by herself. Mara decided the lady must be acting out because of stress.

There was no way for Mara to return to her homeland like the woman suggested. It had been reduced to ruins, and she believed it would not be long before people spoke of Kural as an ancient civilization if it was ever mentioned at all. The few native inhabitants who had not managed to flee the country were killed at whim by their overlords or enslaved.

“The Aradalan army was no match for you pathetic people who spend all your time worshiping your ugly goddess, but we Sylvanians would not give up so easily,” said an old woman.

Nerukia’s head was a skull. Devotees were not supposed to be attached to physical beauty, but Mara had to pretend not to hear this gross ignorance about the complexities of her religion.

Finally, there was a woman who seemed to be interested in Mara’s snake-shaped brooch. It once belonged to Mara’s great grandmother, and Mara used to long for the day when she could pass them down to her own daughter. Snakes were also a sacred animal in Kuralic religion, and Nerukia was often depicted with a serpent around her neck. But it was more important for Nali to eat than it was for her to own a brooch.

“I do collect artifacts from vanquished races, so this would be a perfect addition,” said the Sylvanian woman. She ended up paying the price of a fish for what would have been valued so much in Mara’s culture.

Later that day, Mara tried to be grateful for what she had as she took home a trout. It would at least be a nutritious meal for her daughter. She was pleased to find Nali sitting in front of the idol of Nerukia in quiet devotion.

But poor Mara, who did not want her daughter to have to do anything more strenuous than ring a bell, could not protect the child from harm even within her own house.

When Nali finished the trout, Mara advised her not to dispose of the bones. “We will make a necklace for the Nerukia idol out of fishbone. This was a common practice back in Kural. Our goddess is also known as the Skeletal Lady, and is fond of offerings of handmade bone jewelry.”

“Okay mom,” said Nali. But the child had hardly gotten out of her seat when she collapsed on the floor without warning.

Mara screamed and broke into tears. “Nali? Nali, my heart, answer me. What has happened, my precious jewel?” She fell to her knees, and placed the child’s head on her lap. Still, there was no response or stirring from Nali, and her body felt dreadfully cold. Mara’s mind raced for possible explanations. Food poisoning? Choking on a fishbone? She did not have much time to process what had happened, for all of a sudden came a dreadful sound. Like the ringing of a prayer bell but much louder, and then the room started filling up with an eerie red gas.

Instinctively, she knew she was dealing with something otherworldly. Mara had plenty of spiritual knowledge. She had administered charms and potions back in Kural, and knew of the lore of Nerukia and the lesser deities. But this was a land where her magic did not work and her knowledge meant nothing.

She was poor and helpless and a foreigner, and did not understand why the local gods would deem her worthy of their attention. She feared that she had somehow angered them greatly. But what could she have possibly done? She was not a greedy Aradalan invader.

Her vision blurred by tears, Mara looked down at Nali, whose eyes were closed. She almost seemed to be asleep, except that her chest was not rising and falling and so Mara feared she was not breathing.

The red gas grew thicker. Mara was hardly surprised when a being of some kind began to appear, knowing that something horrible and supernatural was unfolding before her.

She was a feline creature, not a humanoid. As the cat materialized, Mara could see that she had bright, red fur. She was as feral as the lynxes of the nearby forests, with long whiskers and tufts of fur coming out of her ears. Upon her head grew a pair of antlers as large as a stag’s. And she had three eyes, two yellow ones and a larger, red one on her forehead. At first, Mara thought this was some kind of fire spirit, judging by the red fur. But as the feline came closer, she noticed webbed feet that left a trail of water on the ground as the red gas thinned. There was a row of wide, blue spines down the creature’s back. And the final detail that Mara noticed, a scaly tail like a mermaid’s, confirmed that this was an aquatic deity.

Mara began to beg and plead. “Feline water goddess, please have mercy on us. If we have angered you in some way, please smite me, not my daughter.” But the creature only stared at Mara with her yellow eyes, while her third eye was fixed upon Nali. “We are newcomers and have not learned the ways of your country, forgive us.” Her daughter remained still and lifeless in her arms. “Everything that I love, that I would die for, is within her. I am nothing without her. I am prepared to endure the worst torture if you let her go free, to be your slave if necessary.”

Nali began to stir now. But instead of feeling relief, Mara’s heart filled with dread when she realized that although the child was moving, she was not conscious. “No! Please don’t do this,” she begged the cat, “let her go.” She was horrified by the thought of her daughter under supernatural possession.

Nali’s eyes opened and were now bright yellow, like the cat’s. Mara shrieked when her daughter made eye contact with her. “No. No! I’ll be your slave. I’ll be your slave for eternity. Please-”

“Cease your babbling, fool.” Nali spoke in the feline’s voice while the feline herself paced around the room.

Mara could only whimper.

“The girl is mine now. I will make her do my bidding. She will fight for Sylvania, against all the enemies of this land.” Nali got up, eyes ablaze. This new voice seemed so sinister, so terribly unsuited to the child.

“My only child…” Mara’s voice trailed off.

“And did you ever stop and think of my child? I am known to my people as the Mother of the Waters. That’s why Sylvanians always dump fish bones back into the water after they eat them. It is I who reanimate the bones of my children, so that there is always a steady number of fish in the water. But what have you done, foreigner? You’ve devoted the bones to your horrible skeletal lady. Now I can not reanimate them. You took my child, so I’ll take yours.” The creature’s voice thundered from within the child.

“All this… is because of a fish bone?” Mara blinked in disbelief.

“You are a fool. You do not understand our ways. Nevermind, this child is mine. But her frail body is of no use to me right now. I will return again, once she is older. But do not forget that she does not belong to you.” With this, Nali fell to the ground in a coughing fit as her eyes changed back to their natural amber shade. Mara rushed to comfort her.

The creature, while using Nali to speak, had been licking her own paw in the most domestic catlike manner. She turned around, and, dragging her mermaid’s tail behind on the floor, disappeared as she crept away.

Nali moaned.

“Nali! My soft dove!” Mara embraced her in relief.

“I had the most terrible dream about… a cat?” said Nali. Although she was no longer possessed, she seemed very ill. But her mother was not unused to her being feverish. She tucked her into bed after making her some tea.

“Sleep now, my true love. That whole business about the cat was just a dream. It can’t hurt you,” said Mara. In her blind motherly devotion, it seemed she was always obscuring reality to protect her child.

Mara nursed Nali for several days, throughout which she did not want to leave the child’s side for even a second and kept holding her hand. Then just as Nali began to feel well again one day, it was Mara who fell ill. Her nine year old daughter was not well-prepared for handling tasks other than the ringing of the bell. The mother’s condition only grew worse by the day, her temperature rising, and she also lost her hearing. This meant that she did not hear the sound of Sylvanians blowing into conch shells one morning to warn of an Aradalan raid, and she did not know how to instruct Nali on how to flee to a safe place.

Nali seemed mesmerized by the conch shell trumpeting. She did not register it as a sign of danger.

Sylvanian militias fended off the worst attackers. Much of the valuable stores of copper, obsidian and red flint tools were lost. But no Sylvanians were killed or carried off as slaves. Needless to say, the militias did not care to defend the row of huts where Kuralic people were taking refuge. It only took one Aradalan soldier in gleaming armor to carry off Nali from the screaming but helpless Mara.

The mother died after the raid. Whether of heartbreak or of her illness, it could not be determined.

Nine years old, weak, ignorant of history and geography, and incompetent in any useful skills, Nali was taken to Aradala to be a slave. Her frequent illnesses and her tendency to bungle simple tasks led to many beatings, but somehow she lived to adulthood. In fact, her natural submissiveness meant that she was not seen as a threat, and so she was spared to become a palace attendant to peel the grapes of the Aradalan nobility. Perhaps for such a pathetic creature, no better fate could be hoped for.