Chapter Ten

“Where did that tenacity go? Did it run off with your principles, En’Del?”

 

Leshin awoke in a cold sweat, shivering. These hellish nightmares had taunted her for weeks upon weeks, getting worse and worse with each night. But she could hardly recall a single detail. A man’s face, staring with cold eyes from behind mirrored glass; the sensation of searing fire against her skin; and the word “Papa,” repeating again and again in desperation.

So odd. As she sat up and shook her head, prying her damp nightclothes away from her skin, she considered the strange dreams. They felt foreign in an unnatural way. But then, everything felt foreign and unnatural now. Had it already been a month since her sacrifice? And yet, she had only seen the demon who pretended to be God four or five times. And every time would prove the same. The thing would grin with its cruel, unending smile, demand endless praise, then consume the flesh of those strange “human” things again and again, before skipping off into the darkness. Usually, it did at least something to burn any sense of hope from the priestesses, performing horrific miracles and demanding that they praise it for its power and supposed majesty. Most recently, it had taken her, Ilaki, Kilini, and Nikime into its throne room and dangled them all from invisible strings, lifting them high into the air until the stars seemed closer than their own planet. It had then shown them how easily it could create planets just as beautiful and complex as their own, full of flora and life—only to crush them into tiny, black marbles, which it proceeded to eat with a sickening smirk.

And then, it had simply waited, expecting them to grovel before it. And grovel they had. What else could they do?

Worst of all, Leshin hadn’t even stopped praying to it. Every night, right before she went to bed, she would close her eyes and, on instinct, ask God for strength, mercy, and the courage to go on. When she did, she hardly ever imagined the cruel face of her captor. Rather, she always envisioned a kindly presence gently gazing down at her, listening intently to her as she communed with it. That ritual had kept her sane for years. Surely, God couldn’t actually hear her prayers? If not, what was the harm?

Sniffling, Leshin stood and shuffled out of bed, squinting to make out anything in the dim light that peeked out from the crack under the door. Two beds down, Ilaki slept, peacefully dozing into the night. And even further down lay Shina, who Leshin figured she ought to have a conversation with at some point. Two women who had—or who had at least considered—courting other women, all in the same room as her. That couldn’t be a coincidence. None of this could be a coincidence.

With a deep sigh, Leshin aired out her nightgown and creaked open the door to the hallway. As always, the invisible lights in the halls lanced down into her retinas like fiery bolts lightning. It burned—she couldn’t see a damn thing. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes until she adjusted, and soon she was well enough to wander the halls.

Bare feet padding against the cold, stone floor, her tail dragging limply on the ground beside her, Leshin laid her hand on one of the walls and followed it, rounding each corner and entering each door she passed. Most of the doors led to yet more halls, but a scant few opened into empty, half-furnished parlors, unstocked libraries, barren closets.

In a way, she supposed she felt guilty over prying so hard into Shina’s past. Ilaki seemed so uncomfortable to say any of it. Whatever curse had transformed Shina into a woman, it clearly left a mark on the girl. Or… boy? But then, Ilaki had made it sound like Shina actually wanted to be a woman. That she had, in some way, chosen her fate. And as instinctively disturbing as Leshin found that concept, she had to take a breath and step back from herself. If Shina was woman enough to serve in God’s realm, then surely Leshin owed her at least a chance to explain herself. And since she had promised never to pry any further, nor treat Shina and Ilaki any differently, she supposed she had no recourse but to suspend judgment entirely. If Shina was a woman, then she was a woman.

As she considered that thought, she passed through a heavy, wooden door and took a step forward, only to yelp as her foot fell out from under her. She clung to the doorframe in terror as she realized the room before her opened into a seemingly bottomless pit.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, breathing heavily. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuck.”

“I see you found the chasm,” a horribly familiar voice said.

“Fuck!” Leshin screamed, whipping around. Then, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Before her, gums and teeth glistening in the night, stood God itself. “My, my,” it said. “Such language.”

Leshin fell to her knees, bowing so hard she banged her head against the floor. “I am so, so sorry, your majesty. I—I’m so sorry!”

Closing her eyes and feeling the damp heat of her breath bounce off the stone floor, Leshin awaited her punishment.

“So jumpy,” God said, chuckling. “My, my, High Sister.”

Leshin seethed, unsure of what to do. Should she get up? Stay down? Speak? Be quiet? “I-is there anything I can do for you, your gloriousness?”

“No, no, I’m alright,” God said, waving its hand.

With that, Leshin stumbled to her feet, coming face to face with the monster that called itself a god. “Your grandness, ladies Kilini and Mikele are in the kitchen with—”

“Ha!” God said. “Yes, yes, I’ve seen you all wandering about, taking the kitchen in shifts. Clever play, that. My last attendants left so much to be desired. Who knows? Perhaps, I’ll keep you lot for a while longer than I had them. But in the end, it’s always a shame when the time for harvest comes.”

Leshin just stood there, blinking at the deity, hoping it would get bored and wander off soon.

“Walk with me,” God said, its wooden body creaking as it turned down the hall. Though its limbs hung in the air, jointless, they still seemed to have some unnatural influence on the shape of God’s torso as they swung, as though sinew connected them the same way it did on a living thing. Its carved frame seemed to ripple and sway, giving the impression of muscles and blood coursing under its bark-like skin. And yet, Leshin had no doubt that if she knocked on God’s body, it would sound the same as if she’d rapped her knuckles against a solid tree.

Reluctantly, she followed the abominable thing down the hall.

“Did you know,” God said, its head swiveling like an owl’s to face Leshin, “that this universe is only forty-nine quadrillion cycles old? Quite young for a universe—it’s practically infantile.”

Leshin took a deep breath. “I did not, your grace.”

“Indeed! It’s quite fascinating, the study of reality formation. The natural cycle from expansion to regression, then back to expansion. Like a great, cosmic heartbeat. I look forward to seeing this universe’s heat death one day—I imagine it will be quite an enlightening experience. We immortals must whet our minds, of course, lest they grow dull over the eons.”

“I’ve never known a mind sharper than yours, your eminence, so I can only imagine how often you whet it.”

God’s grin widened. “Hmm. You’re good at this.”

Leshin nodded. “Thank you, your w—your wondrousness.”

“Ah! Almost lost it, there. Oh, fallibility—what a precious thing it is.” God wheeled around to a bare patch of wall and stared into the cobblestones. “Well, well. Here we are!”

It stretched its hand out and touched a flagstone in the wall, then stepped back as a large section of the wall melted into a bloody ooze that splashed uselessly to the ground. Behind the new opening, a grassy forest opened up around them. “Come on, then,” God said as it skipped inside, humming a morbid tune.

Gingerly, Leshin stepped over the bloody pool, keeping her tail from dragging through it until her bare feet padded onto the spongy forest floor. Leshin looked back to find that the hall she’d just come from had disappeared. Only palm trees and brush remained around her. Strange, distant, howling calls sounded off in the night sky, and Leshin rushed up behind God, who had begun striding down a thin dirt path.

“You know,” God said in its buzzing, tinny voice, “I’m sure that, by now, you’ve come to realize I have certain… limitations.”

Leshin shook her head. “Never, your opulence—you have shown us a thousand times that you have no limits or constraints. We can only bow before your majesty.”

Chortling, God palmed its face, scratching at a knotty divot in its wooden temple. “Ah, but if you did not think I had limitations, why would you bother plotting against me?”

Leshin froze.

Bared teeth glinting in the moonlight, the abomination twisted around and loomed over Leshin like a specter of doom. “I may not have the Knowledge of All Things—but who needs it, honestly? A Divine’s Knowledge runs out where another’s Knowledge begins. Such a petty, restricted thing. Why lament one’s lack of such a useless talent? I have far more valuable tools.”

Every vein in Leshin’s body tightened, and she struggled to take a breath in. “I—I—”

“You see, High Sister,” God said, “this is a simple arrangement. You and your assistants merely have to do your job, and I will not harm a hair on your heads. That is all. So long as you do it right—well, that’s a free guarantee of immortality, is it not?”

Leshin nodded.

“But that’s not what you want, is it? You want to go home, see your friends, swim, play, run, yes? Death is hardly as terrifying as an eternity of service, isn’t it?”

For a while, God just stared at her, its inhuman grin wider than ever before.

“You can speak your mind, High Sister, this is a safe space, you know.”

Lips twitching, Leshin considered that statement. “Is it? Is it really?”

With a chuckle, God sat down on a bed of thin air, much in the way someone would lounge in a plush chair. “I can promise you this,” it said, scratching a thin letter X into the divot where its eyes should have been. “No harm will come to you because of anything that you say in this conversation. You have my word, and I do not offer that often.”

“And I’m to trust your word?” Leshin asked, quivering with something between terror and rage.

“Oh, dear High Sister. I am a being of words alone. My oath is myself.”

“Okay,” Leshin said. “Okay. Fine. I never wanted to be sacrificed. I even tried to run, the day they chose me. Happy?”

Cocking its head, God’s smile faltered. “And this plot you have arranged?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bold. You do realize I could simply Will you to tell me, yes? Or conjure a scroll writ with all your deepest secrets?”

Clenching her fists, Leshin shook her head. “It’s the principle of the matter. Even if you compel me to tell you, at the very least, I won’t consciously betray anybody.”

“Ah, but if I made you want to tell me?”

Eyes widening, Leshin took a step back. “T-then I wouldn’t be me anymore. Might be close, but that wouldn’t be me.”

“Hmmmm,” God buzzed, propping its chin up on its hand. “But what are ‘you,’ anyway? If your soul was the same, and if all I changed were your memories, your desires—well, then, you’d have no room to call yourself a different person, now would you? In that case, you would be betraying them.”

“W-well, I disagree.”

God crossed its arms. “Hmm. Not much of a debater, are we? I’m disappointed, High Sister.”

“Look, you’re trying to terrify me. Of course I’m not wont to engage with a philosophical discussion—you can do whatever you want. Fine. Then why not just do it? Just make me your little puppet, force me to betray my friends. You’re God. Do what you will! There aren’t any consequences for you! Erase me with a blink! Who cares if we plot against you? You’re invincible, yes? What harm does it even do if we try to find a way to kill you? It won’t work, no matter what we do. So, fuck it!”

With a giggle, God leaned forward. “Why, High Sister—it’s the principle of the matter. You can understand that, right?”

“Gah,” Leshin said, planting her arms on her hips. “You just get off on making people miserable.”

“You’ll find that I don’t ‘get off’ on anything, actually.”

Leshin looked God up and down. “You know, I’m honestly relieved to hear that.”

“Pah,” God said. “I am aware of my grotesquerie. You do realize I can appear however I please, yes? I prefer honesty to pleasant lies.”

For a moment, things went quiet. Leshin shifted her weight, feeling the soft forest floor under her bare feet and staring up at the starry sky that glistened above. “What do you want from me?”

For the first time, God’s smile fully disappeared, and its wooden lips turned down in something that resembled a sincere frown. “Sadly, I agree with you. That changing your mind would be dishonest. A fabricated loyalty that would leave you all but useless in the end. In truth, all I’ve ever craved is honesty. The flattery, the praise—it is a game we play, Leshin. But the game must end. I am the god of this universe—I am eternity, I am everything. Do I not deserve better than empty compliments and half-baked assassination plots? Yes, you have heard it said that ‘fear is a worthy successor to adoration,’ but truly I say to you that fear can never compare.”

“You… want me to adore you?”

God looked off. “Is it too much to ask for both worthy service and adoration?”

Leshin sputtered. “It is if the service is cannibalism!”

“Ah,” God said, leaning back in its invisible chair. “But I’m afraid to say that particular habit of mine is not optional.”

“You could just make your own dinners, then.”

“Then what is the purpose of service?”

“You tell me. You’re the god.”

God sneered at Leshin. “Well, it shouldn’t surprise me that you’d have such a sharp tongue. The council did elect you High Sister, after all. There had to be a reason they didn’t like you. Besides the obvious.”

“M-my apologies, your—”

“As I said,” God said, waving a hand. “The game must end. As I have sworn an oath today, so shall you.”

Leshin’s heart raced, and she frantically looked around for a way out. But, of course, she had no hope to leave. When God wanted something, it got it.

Reaching its hand out, God stood up and let its smile return once more. “Shake my hand, High Sister.”

“Y-you’d compel an oath? Isn’t that dishonest?”

“Far from it,” God said, gesturing to its outstretched arm. Saliva began to trickle out from its fleshy gums. “This shall be the truest test of honesty you’ve ever seen.”

Wrists shaking, Leshin took its hand and swallowed a dry lump. “O-okay. Okay.”

“Very well, then. Repeat this now to me. Swear this, and make it truth: I, Leshin dono Ki’luin, High Sister of God and celestial envoy of the Kinfolk, do swear under the Wills of the True and the False that I shall never utter another lie so long as I shall live.”

Panic streamed through Leshin’s veins, and she could hardly think. Unconsciously, she stammered, “I-I don’t want to.”

“Indeed,” God said. “Swear it anyway.”

“B-but—”

“I swore that I would not harm you and you alone. If you do not make this oath, I shall have you watch me rip your friends’ limbs off one by one until you change your mind. Either way, it will be you who swears this. I will not remove your agency nor alter your soul in any manner. Watch them suffer as long as you please, or make a simple sacrifice. It is your choice.”

Minutes passed, and the two stood there in silence, hands clasped, listening to the strange caws of the distant forest creatures.

“I—I’m…” Leshin said, weighing her options and finding herself coming up short. “What does it even mean to never lie again?”

“Experience will teach you better than I could. Now, if you wish to speak the words, speak them now. If not, we’ll head back to your chambers and wake the others up.”

She had no choice. By God, she had no choice.

“S-s-shit—fuck—I… I, L-Leshin dono Ki’luin, High Sister of God and c-celestial envoy of the Kinfolk, do swear under the Wills of the True and the False that I… shall never utter another lie so long as I shall live.”

With that, something clicked in Leshin’s head. She could hardly tell what it was, but in that moment, she knew that her oath had become binding.

“G-God, oh, my God, f-fuck, oh God,” she said, ripping her hand out of God’s grip.

“You certainly say my name a lot for someone who doesn’t worship me.”

“I do worship you,” Leshin blurted. “I pray every night. How could I not? What else is there to worship?”

“Ah. I see it’s working,” God said, grinning at her.

Leshin sank to her knees, dry palm fronds crinkling under her weight. She clapped her hands over her mouth, muttering, “No, no, no—fuck, no, this is…”

“You can still choose to say nothing,” God said. “It might prove a tad more difficult, but it is still possible. Of course, now you’re thinking of all the ways you could still lie by omission, aren’t you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Leshin said, the words flying from her lips. A tad? She could hardly keep herself from spilling her guts right there.

“And you’re not even thinking about giving up this assassination plot?”

This time, she braced herself, desperate to resist the pull. “I-I—fuck—I’m—no, I’m not. Not after this. I’m going to make you pay in blood for what you’ve done.”

“Do you have any specific plans for how you’d carry this plot out yet?”

“N-no.”

“Didn’t think so,” God said, standing to its full height and leaning over the prostrating priestess. “Well, since you graciously spared me from bloodying my hands tonight, I’m in a charitable mood. So, I’ll indulge your little fantasy. As you said, what harm does it do?”

Leshin looked up at the abomination with teary eyes.

“I’ll give you a little hint: I’ve nearly been killed before. And by a being hardly any more powerful than you! Isn’t that an interesting little tidbit? Have fun with it. Truly. I want you to get your hopes up.”

“O-okay,” Leshin said.

“Come, then,” God said, snapping its fingers and making the passageway into the hall appear before them. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Wow, this "God" character kinda sucks. Somebody should probably try and kill that thing. Hey, maybe they'll kill it in the next chapter! A chapter you might see a little quicker if you support me on my Patreon! I don’t do early chapter uploads anymore, though—those kind of burn me out.