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Ewron, a red panda hybrid, had been abandoned at a ministry at just the age of 2. He never really knew his birth parents. All he had was a faint memory of his mother’s voice, soft and distant. She had been saying something to him, something that felt important, but every time he tried to remember the words they slipped away. Sometimes at night he would lie awake and try to piece it together, repeating the sound in his head, hoping it would come back clear, but it never did.
The ministry raised him the same way it raised all the others abandoned kids. Days were structured and quiet, filled with routine . Prayers two or three times a day, always before meals, they all sat always in the same rows, hands folded the same way. The air inside always smelled faintly of wax and old paper. The chapel itself was large, almost too large for how few people really paid attention. Tall ceilings stretched overhead, painted with faded scenes of biblical stories that no one bothered to explain anymore. Wooden booths lined the sides, each one worn smooth from years of use. Small slots held religious books, their pages delicate and thin, slightly curled at teh edges.
Ewron spent most of his childhood in the chapel, sitting still when he was told, whispering words he barely understood when it was his turn to share a verse or two. But there was one thing that always pulled his attention away from everything else. One statue among the many.
She stood taller than the rest, placed near the center as if she had once mattered more. The stone she was carved from seemed lighter, almost glowing when the light from the windows hit it just right. She had small dog ears at the top of her head, and long hair pulled back into a ponytail that fell neatly behind her. Her gown flowed down to her feet, covered in tiny carved patterns that looked like they had taken years to finish. If you got close enough you could trace them with your eyes and never quite find where they repeated.
But what made Ewron stare every time were the wings. Large, avian, almost too big for her frame, they curved around her body instead of stretching out, like they were protecting her. They didn’t look rigid like stone should. They looked soft. Gentle.
Below the statue was a small label, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.
‘Mother of All’
When he was younger, people still prayed to her. Not as often as the others, but enough that Ewron would hear her name spoken out loud. Over time, though, that changed. Fewer candles were lit at her base. Fewer people stopped in front of her. The priests spoke more about other deities, ones they called stronger, more responsive, more worth devotion.
Ewron never understood that.
To him, she felt different. Not louder or more powerful, but quieter in a way that made everything else seem hollow. While others rushed past her, he would linger, staring up at her face, trying to imagine what her voice would sound like. Sometimes he thought it might sound comforting.
He started leaving small things at the base of the statue when no one was watching. Bits of food, small trinkets, even scraps of paper with messy writing on them. Little offerings that no one had told him to give. It felt right, even if he couldn’t realy explain why.
Sermon after sermon, year after year, Ewron grew up. By the time he turned 18, the ministry felt smaller than it used to. Or maybe he had just outgrown it. The routines that once felt normal now felt suffocating, like he was repeating the same day over and over.
So he left.
The world outside was louder, messier, and far less certain. Villages came and went, each one with its own beliefs, its own rules. Ewron learned quickly how to talk, how to present himself, how to take what he had been taught and reshape it into something people would listen to. He spoke about the Mother of All often, sometimes with real belief, sometimes because it earned him a meal, money, or a place to sleep.
But no matter how much he traveled, her image never faded. If anything, it became clearer. He could picture every detail of her face without trying. Sometimes he would catch himself comparing strangers to her without meaning to, looking for the same shape, the same expression, the same feeling. He never found it.
Years passed like that, blending together until he stopped counting.
Then one day, he found himself on an island, surrounded by people who didn’t quite fit anywhere else. They were loud, strange, unpredictable. It felt different from the villages, less structured, more chaotic. Ewron didn’t mind. He moved through the crowd easily, introducing himself, smiling, saying the same practiced lines he always did to get a good impression.
It was a routine. Familiar.
Until it wasn’t.
When he reached her, he almost treated it like any other introduction. He started to say his name, to give the same small speech he always gave. But then he actually looked at her.
And everything stopped.
His voice caught halfway through the sentence. His body went still without him meaning to. For a moment, he just stared.
The resemblance hit him all at once. The dog ears. The shape of her face. Even the way she carried herself, as if she knew exactly who she was and didn’t need to prove it to anyone. Her ponytail was shorter, less formal. Her clothes were completely different, a bright pink tuxedo that stood out against everything around her. Pink sunglasses rested on her face, hiding her eyes, and her smile was confident, almost playful.
She looked nothing like a statue. And yet she looked exactly like her.
Ewron felt something twist in his chest, something between disbelief and recognition. His mind tried to rationalize it, to explain it away, but the thought kept pushing through.
This is her
This is her??
at least, it was the closest he had ever seen.
Who was she supposed to be. Why did she look like that. Why now, after all this time.
She spoke before he could figure out what to say next.
She introduced herself as KatieB, her voice casual, like this was just another normal meeting. She smiled at him, and for a brief second, with the light hitting her just right, it almost looked like she was glowing.
Ewron didn’t respond right away.
For the first time in years, he didn’t have words ready.