Chapter Two

“Were I to threaten someone, I would think it prudent to approach in person. With a weapon, at least.”

Six women stood at the shore of God’s Isle, and Leshin led their ranks. Twelve guards had forced them from their homes onto double-hulled canoes that morning, chaining them to the decks. The six priestesses all wore simple, white cloth robes, which just barely tickled the ground as they walked through the sand. Leshin had never met her five companions, but they seemed just as terrified as her. She couldn’t bear regarding them. Everyone had heard of the horrors God’s last priestesses had gone through before it allowed them to die. If anything, God reveled in the rumors.

Before them, between groves of titanic palm trees, loomed a stone temple. A brutalist ziggurat with fifty levels—its intricately carved walls held up a lone staircase with a thousand steps, which led to the golden palace at the top. And once in, there was only one way out.

There, at the top, they could see it. God. A tiny figure in comparison to the temple, but massive all the same. As the guards prodded the six of them up the stairs, it watched them approach, a white, unending smile on its “face.”

As Leshin reached the top, panting from the utter exhaustion of the climb, she looked at the thing in terror. God looked like a tall, wooden puppet, with a smooth, endelwood body covered in illegible runes. Its limbs and head floated freely from its torso, with gaps of air in between its joints. And its wooden face was fully blank and featureless, save a set of fleshy, nightmarish gums and teeth locked in a perpetual, unnaturally wide smile.

Worst of all, in the center of its torso lay a bloody, beating heart, its veins and arteries hastily stitched with thick threads to the ends of roots that swirled in circles from the edges of its chest to the middle. It throbbed at an intense rate, squelching as it went. When Leshin glanced at that heart, every emotion slipped away from her mind, replaced with an all-consuming sorrow, and she had to fight to keep from weeping, mourning at even the most fleeting glance at it. Whatever unholy ritual had birthed this abomination, it was the gravest sin imaginable; that much, Leshin could intuitively feel. This thing could not exist on its own—should not exist. Staring at it with any intensity made her mind screech in agony, and already she could feel her grip on reality strain. And still, it smiled.

The six priestesses stood silently, before one of the guards shoved Leshin forward.

“O-oh, almighty God,” Leshin said, forcing her voice to work. “We have come as o-offerings, so that thy w-wrath may leave The City, and that the Fell Rot may w-wane. Do with u-us as y-you please.”

Somehow, that smile widened even further. It snapped its carved fingers, and the six of them felt a spritz of liquid sweep over them from behind. Leshin shakily looked behind herself, only to realize that the twelve guards had been reduced to a thin, red mist, which wafted away on the breeze.

“Oh, my God,” one of the younger women muttered.

“What are your names?” God asked. Its voice seemed odd, robotic, tilting between octaves and tones in a discordant, staticky sort of melody; its mouth never moved when it spoke.

“I-I am Leshin dono Ki’luin. Your H-high Sister. With me are Kilini dono Mo’kian and Mikele dono Re’lenele, your Sister of Sorrows and your Sister of Joys. Ilaki kino Ko’kana, Nikime kino Mi’nele, and Shina kino Re’molui are our attendants.”

The guards had forced her to memorize those names on the boat ride, just prior to being obliterated in an instant, but she had no idea which name went to which woman. Had God actually killed those men? Were they sacrifices, just as the women were? Was it just an illusion or a trick, to get inside the priestess’ heads? Who could say, when God was concerned?

“You’ll do!” God said. It snapped its fingers once more. “As promised, the disease has passed! Now. Follow me.”

The priestesses trudged behind God as it walked into the temple, its wooden feet clacking against the stone floor. Wherever it went, the very air seemed to go stale, and whenever it spoke, Leshin’s heart trembled in terror.

Inside the temple, Leshin found an unnaturally long hallway, which stretched on and on and on. From outside, it only looked like the uppermost floor of the temple itself was about fifty feet square, but they kept walking for the better part of fifteen minutes, wordlessly wandering behind the deity in that dark, dank, featureless stone hallway. And then, they arrived at the throne room, a tall, wide space with gilded windows, a golden aisle carpet, and a simple, wooden chair on a plinth. That chair looked like a tree that had grown into its current shape, and God lounged back in it, once again flashing that never-ending smile.

“Well?” God said. “What do you think of my throne room?”

“I-it is beautiful,” Leshin said.

Nodding, God leaned forward. “Name ten things you like about it. Go.”

Leshin blinked. “Uh… I like the… carpet? And the size of the room is nice and open. Um… the throne is interesting, and I like the… carvings on the walls behind you?”

“That’s four,” God said, its voice buzzing with anticipation.

“Y-yes, well, I like the floor pattern. It’s a nice pattern. And the—those curtains look like they’re made of gold, so that’s fancy. And that plinth is nice and… elevated. I guess I also find the… color of the stone appealing. And there’s a nice atmosphere, with the lighting, and—actually, I do like how the room is all lit up, even with no torches or fires.”

God leaned forward. “Nine.”

Turning around, Leshin stared back out the hall. “And I like how there’s no door, so you can see the darkness grow the further you look through the hallway. That’s ten, right?”

God giggled. “Can you believe I made it myself? It’s impressive, no?”

“Y-yes,” Leshin said, “it is.”

As Leshin trailed off, God’s smile began to falter, lowering into a toothy frown. “Tell me more,” it said, its mouth staying completely still when it spoke.

“Uh, I—I guess, well, I’d never be able to do anything like this, and you can make it all with a snap of your fingers, and that’s an amazing power, and… uh, I’m impressed. Really impressed! You’ve done a great job.”

That smile returned, and God leaned back again. Leshin blinked. When she opened her eyes, she, her five companions, and God were all standing in an endless field of knee-high grass. Puffy clouds wafted on a calm breeze above, shining in the bright blue sky. Then, the grass receded into the ground. Leshin found herself standing on bare dirt, which shifted and warped beneath her feet until it turned to a sheet of pure gold that went on forever in all directions. As God waved its hand, the sun and moon swapped places, then circled around each other in the sky. In an instant, the celestial bodies warped and split into two identical copies of themselves. Then, they split again and again until there were twenty of each, all circling each other in kaleidoscopic patterns that boggled Leshin’s mind to imagine.

“This isn’t an illusion,” God boasted. “Illusions are boring—anyone can do them. But, see, I need no trickery. I can do anything I want to this universe. Is that not impressive?”

All six of them nodded in unison, and Leshin began dumping praise on the deity, who basked in the attention. Eventually, the other five women began to chime in, and God sat in the center of the semicircle of flattery, basking and leaning back in its chair, grinning.

But then, one of the girls said something she shouldn’t. “It’s so amazing and wonderful—I almost can’t believe it. How are you able to do all this?”

God’s smile vanished.

It stared at the girl—she was one of the attendants, maybe three or four years younger than Leshin, with slender hands and a petite nose. She had a habit of fiddling with the rudder fin on her tail, and she started wringing the poor thing as soon as God looked toward her.

“And who are you?” God asked.

“I-Ilaki, your grace. I’m a Lower Sort, from the sub-Guilds in the—”

“What makes you think I would care to know more than your name?” God asked. “Did I ask for your autobiography?”

“N-no, your grace,” Ilaki said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh? Are you sorry for what you asked? Or are you sorry I noticed your self-importance?”

“I’m s-sorry I asked, your grace.”

“Ah, you are, then? Tell me why you shouldn’t have asked it, then, if you’re so sorry.”

Ilaki fiddled with her tailfin, her long, blonde hair beginning to sway in a breeze that gusted by her and her alone. “I—shouldn’t have questioned your p-power?”

God’s wooden lips thinned. “I can do what I can do because I can do it. No one gave me this power, it’s mine! I earned it, understand?”

“Y-yes, your grace. I’m sorry, your grace.”

“And stop fidgeting,” God said, waving its hand. “It’s making me anxious.”

Ilaki dropped her hands to her sides and stood stiffly. “Yes, your grace!”

“Your grace, your grace, your grace,” God mocked. “If I have to hear that one more time today, I’ll make you regret it. Honestly, how many times do you expect me to answer to the same name again and again?”

“Yes, your… excellency,” Ilaki said.

“Good. Wouldn’t want to start this new arrangement on a sour note, would we? Now, get out. Off to your quarters, or somewhere, I don’t particularly care. I’m going to sleep. By the time I awaken, I expect a feast. I don’t care what—but make it warm, and… savory.”

“Your omnipotence,” one of the other women, a lady in her late thirties or early forties said, “where do we—”

“Again, I don’t care. Did I ask you to speak?” God snapped. “Figure it out! Didn’t anyone teach you anything? What, did the council just send six odd women with no training? Am I going to have to correct that?”

“N-no, your lordship,” Leshin interjected. “We are more than capable of serving you with all the expertise you desire, I swear it.”

“Oh, you swear it?” God said, its smile returning. “In that case, I shall hold you personally responsible, High Sister. Have fun!”

God hopped up onto one toe, balancing on the backrest of its chair, before leaping straight into the sky, among the kaleidoscopic suns, disappearing into the void. With that, the palace returned to its normal shape. There they stood, alone, in a stone room with gilded windows. Behind them, the hallway that led to the palace’s entrance had vanished.

There was no way out.

A flamboyant, androgynous challenger approaches! It/its pronouns, and don't you forget it.

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