Theea
a lost son is called a prodigal
I nod slowly, because yeah. Mort probably does hear it—just, a lot. It’s Caido, after all. This world chews people up like it’s built for it. Wars, monsters, deities and strange enemies throwing their weight around like they’ve never lost anything themselves. If Mort’s listening, he must be tired.But when she says my dad probably hears it too… something in me eases. Just a little. Like air slipping into a space I didn’t realize had been locked up tight.
I don’t say anything right away, just blink at the offerings at the shrine’s feet. I always hope he hears. Always hope he’s proud. That he’s looking after mom.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I made one for him. I add to it every year. I’ll start over when it’s got too much on it.”
I almost leave it at that. Let it settle. The ache in my chest is dull but familiar by now.
So when the conversation shifts—when Melita doesn’t press, doesn’t prod—I’m quietly grateful. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about him. I just haven’t figured out how yet.
I snort a little when she mentions talking to Ludo. Like it’s just a casual thing, like chatting with the wind.
“I don’t really know Ludo.” I glance back at her, smile tugging at my mouth. “Despite how loyal my mom is to Mort. She always talked about it like it's this... complex sort of being. Tricky. Sacred. Not the kind of deity you approach unless you’re sure of what you want.”
But she says it like it’s no big deal. Like Ludo’s just... someone to talk to. I grin a little wider.
“You’ve actually spoken to it? Like, in person?” My eyebrows lift. “What’s that even like?”
a lost daughter is just called lost
