Mariwa: An Ivian Tale

Olivia Weaver watched her last friend die from the sidelines.

The moment his body was cast aside like a broken toy at the hands of an angry child, she didn't know how to feel.

No, she knew the correct thing would be to grieve, cry like when she was told her oldest son would never be coming back from outside, but not a tear came to her. How long ago had they predicted this? It didn't feel like a tragedy unfolding right before her eyes, more like a bittersweet memory, forgotten but then suddenly recalled.

And so, she calmly combed the jungle, every nook and every cranny, just for him. Beyond prediction, however, were the heavier steps dogging hers at every turn.

"Will you keep following me?" she asked, in truth not particularly interested about the answer.

"Why not?" Rose Willard said.

"I imagine you must have other obligations to attend, or places to go."

"Where?"

"To your cousin, for example. Should you not report the good news? The Elder of the Seneschal's is gone, and his plans are heading for failure."

"... Ain't seein' none."

"The consequences would be most severe had Elder Willard heard that."

"Tchh! Elder Willard!" He gave the falsest chuckle she had ever heard, "I did all Pomen asked me. He can't complain."

"Which was?"

"See that Long Hair dead, 'no matter which cost you must pay!' Heh! That Smithy too, if they were in cahoots."

"Quite the gamble for power. Or just sheer paranoia?"

"You too, if it came to it."

"I know, but that doesn't answer the question."

"Ain't you too calm?"

"Aren't you?"

"Nope. Not at all."

"Uhm. It's simply nothing I hadn't expected."

For a moment, she had dared hope that Florid's honeyed words were spoken from a place of knowing, that the monster he had brought up would mean something. In the end, she should have trusted her instincts more, but wasn't that hope ever sweet?

Those words had never led her stray, was the thing. They had saved her from her wretch of a husband, and guided her grandchildren away from the beast her youngest son had become. She had only become an Elder thanks to them and it was hard to believe she hadn't been purged as an unwelcome anomaly for any other reason than his personal influence.

So when she found him, draped over a bush like an old rag, she once again didn't know how to feel.

The earth shook like it was about to crumble under her feet, and she lamented how he had reaped nothing he hadn't sowed.

His bestial daughter howled like no creature of natural descent, and her chest was lit aflame at the indignity afforded to the man who dared sacrifice the most for Lesser Hollow.

She followed her heart this time, rushing besides him...

And hitting him with the strongest slap her old body could muster.

"She was supposed to be strong, you stupid old geezer! She was supposed to be our savior!"

He didn't flinch, didn't sigh, didn't so much as frown. Couldn't, really. His fate was one she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy, a charred and diminished body with a missing bottom half, only barely distinguishable as human by general shape. She could only tell it was him because she had been there, otherwise...

"... You, help me." she said, glancing at Rose.

"Ain't your henchman, woman."

"As if you have better to do! Help me lower him."

In the end, Rose did come over, picking up the body and nearly throwing it to the floor.

"No! Over there, by the roots of that tree."

"Why?"

"I want to dig here."

It was the only place in sight with proper empty space, hopefully going at least deep enough to cover his body with a thin layer of soil, a proper if plain mound. She knew she wouldn't finish it in time, but set out to the task nonetheless.

"I ain't helpin'."

"I don't remember asking you to."

"Just so you know. Don't think the old fucker deserves a mound."

"Frankly, I don't think he deserves it either. If we could measure one's sin, he might have proven the worst sinner among us."

"My pah' used to say a mound for a traitor is like peg legs for a snake."

Elder Florid Seneschal had been many things.

He had been a mystery, an unknown element, an outcast for much of his young life, until he proved himself a Godspeaker. He had been a life long cantankerous sourpuss, quick to insult and to injury, vicious enough to charge a lad half a body taller than him with just his walking stick. He had been, admittedly, a heartthrob in his youth, as well as a tremendous heartbreaker, with no respect for anybody but himself.

"... But if there is one thing he never was, it is a traitor."

"My eyes say different."

"Then I'm afraid you are going blind."

"And you senile, woman."

"All the other Elders were going blind. All of our people were going blind. Only he saw that we only had one fate in store, that our only choice in the world was in how it came to be."

"Pray all that makes his souls burn a little less, cause you ain't convincin' me." Rose sighed, "All I saw was monsters fighting."

There was worse to be seen there, she thought, if only you knew who she was. No reason to speak on that, however.

"... Did you guys bring someone else?"

"I don't quite understand what you mean."

"There is somebody else in there. I been hearin' talk."

"Perhaps, with the loss of the previous Godspeaker, you have awakened to your latent gifts."

"Tch! Just listen!"

She did, stopping her work for a moment, but no matter how much attention she payed, an uneasy silence was all she heard.

A moment later, light bloomed from the Father's Throne.

It rose over them like a great storm cloud of crimson, burning away the shadows like the day had just broken, sunlight parting and rejoining like buzzing insects.

It took her a second to understand what she was seeing.

It triggered a long buried memory, the first time she learned the truth about the Ceremonies, standing alongside her husband. She observed tradition the exact way she had been taught, entering and chanting and leaving with her head down, keeping the fear in that bride's screams locked deep within herself, but as she crossed the bridge back she noticed something quite peculiar.

Coming from the trees, heading in her direction, was a little red sprite gently glowing in the moonless night. As it came closer, she realized it was the petal of flower, small and delicate, gorgeous beyond belief, too gorgeous to ignore, so she craved to touch it.

She extended a hand and let it come to a rest against her palm.

It was not a pleasant memory. God's greetings never were.

Sighing, she turned to Florid one last time, looking his mangled body in what remained of its sockets. She bowed her head once, slightly.

"I'm sorry, Florid. I don't think I can grant you this favor after all."

"What's going on?! What's all this?!" Rose asked, too late for an answer.

She stood up, patted the earth out of her dress but only made it dirtier. She cleaned her throat, rolled the aches out of her shoulders, straightened her back, and clenched her hands together.

This was it. Whichever modicum of pity God held for them, it was done and over.

So she faced her end, not with fear, but with that steel in her blood that had kept her alive this far.

Cassia Seneschal watched the earthly sun explode alone.

It came so suddenly she was left blinded, covering her face in vain, though thankfully she was sat down. She could hear the villagers cry out, they too victims of the same phenomenon.

She had to blink several times before she could clear her vision, and finally see what had become of the Father. Where his glorious display once stood, now a great fragmenting pillar of light grew, a million shards descending in all directions like a grandiose flock of birds, their touch turning every tree into a torch, raising a wall of destruction that expanded with every second.

It had started in truth this time. She trembled, all semblance of resignation gone, trying to hurry up to her feet while holding onto the doorstep.

"R-run...!" she screamed, barely a strangled croak. "R-run! Everybody, please!"

Nobody moved. Nobody had heard her.

She panicked. If only her legs weren't failing her she would run to them herself, shake every slack jawed fool out of their astonishment and send them running! But what could she do from here? She tried again.

"R-Run! Run! P-please, you need to g-get away from here!"

Worse than not hear, some people had laid down in prayer, mesmerized by the Father of the Wild's might. A man, clutching the shoulders of his young son, just barely looked over in her direction. She pointed a shaking hand at him, trying to get his attention.

"Y-you! Please, you n-need to tell everyone to run, to go-"

To go where?

Where could the villagers flee from God's fury at her father's betrayal?

She was at a loss. Still, the man seemed to be curious, gesturing to his son and taking a step forward-

The ground beneath him gave away.

He was torn through the chest, his child wrenched from his grasp with enough violence to send him tumbling, given no time even to struggle against his assailant before it came back with a backwards lunge that blew his cranium wide open.

Cassia barely had time to realize what had transpired, before the wooden serpent retreated underground. The people barely had time to realize what had transpired, those who had turned quick enough to see the murder simply watching in dull shock.

The second strike was crueler, impaling a praying old woman through the head, then squashing her off against the wall of a house, almost in revulsion.

The third came from inside another house, breaking through to outside with an old man at its tip, torn apart by the collision, drawing a blood curling scream that would haunt her dreams for eternity.

Pandemonium broke.

People ran, people fought, not recognizing what had come to reap them, but it was all hopeless. She could feel the Father's wrath, and it was omnipresent, omnipotent, predicting the movement of its Herd with heartless precision and killing without mercy. Men, women, children, nobody was spared the massacre. The homes and storehouses they once carefully tended to were methodically destroyed, those hiding within sent running into the embrace of death.

And with that distraction, only she noticed as the wildfire approached, heralded by great swarm of petals, engulfing the edges of the Lesser instantly.

They were trapped in its path.

With no recourse, she ran, not away but inside, tripping over the fallen door and hitting her face square on the floor. Pain, however, did not blind her for even the blink of an eye, so terrified she was. She crawled on her hands and knees, clawing the floor for any extra purchase her weakened limbs could find, until she reached the dark beneath a table, barely as much protection as a shirt in this moment.

Still, it was the best she would find. Closing her eyes, she curled into herself, clutching her black medallion hard enough she felt it dig into her skin, sobbing and quietly listening to the death of her Herd.

"Come!" Agare called.

But Holly couldn't move.

The world had turned into flame.

Every miserable centimeter beyond the moat, every patch of dry earth, every exposed shrub and tree now burned around them, tongues of fire devouring everything within sight with wild abandon.

It called back to a word she had heard in one of Elder Seneschal's stories, one of those he had made specially for her, during its climax in which the hero was stuck under the assault of a furious storm wraith, the hometown he once loved so much burning around him more and more with every lightning strike.

Inferno.

"Come!" they repeated.

She had to force her eyes away from the calamity, not in the least calm as the magnitude of the fight grew out of their control. She had no time to wonder any further however, as a root jumped from the ground, coated in flames and speeding towards her chest.

"Traitors," God said. "Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors. Traitors."

The horrid blade swung in front of her, once.

It was as if the root, large enough to bisect her completely, had been made of old damp paper, the way that thing tore through it almost without resistance. There was a hair-raising chorus of giggles and vicious tearing as it cut, just in time for the dismembered limb to miss her by a hairsbreadth.

Through his Will, God did not so much scream as whimper, the agony conveyed so unspeakable that it made her whole body shiver. The cut limb uselessly squirmed on the ground, while the stump left behind grew black, a trails of flaked off bark shrinking into themselves as it retreated.

The earthquakes came a moment later, and the Throne, already ravaged, shattered like an egg, great ravines opening across its surface, chunks of earth falling away into the lake of flames revealed below. She looked above and was awed, as she saw the enormous bulk of God pulling itself up and away from Agare.

From a mess of twisted trunks fused together, God now resembled a thousand legged spider, rearing itself in warning.

"I-it's running a-!"

She had no time to finish, as next came the leafs.

God's crown had gone barren after the previous flash of light, but now she could see the branches filling themselves, only to discard their loads into serpentine masses. It ignored her completely, gaining speed as it pounced Agare.

"B-be careful!"

Agare didn't listen. In fact. Agare met them head on, covering themselves with their cloak while holding their weapon firm against the tide.

She expected the worse.

Instead, she heard the tearing again, the giggles breaking into the malicious laughter of a dozen bullying children as God truly did scream.

More roots rose, bursting the peak of the Throne and pelting them with boulders and shrapnel. Agare made short work of those close, and she battered a few away herself, emboldened both by the strength she didn't know she had and the new ally that had come to her aid.

"Y-you're amazing!" she said, finally approaching Agare. "How did you-"

"Not behind me, besides me!"

"S-sorry! B-but, wow! You're so strong, how are you doing all-"

"Don't count your victories before you won!" Agare said, lower. "Now, come!"

"... Alrighty!"

"Traitors," God said. "I damn you Seneschal. I damn your cursed blood. I damn your cursed kin. I damn you to the eternally biting worms, I damn you to eternal cleansing."

God had learned their lesson. No more overwhelming them with numbers, now they struck carefully, from odd angles and blind spots, from inside the flames or behind, and it never worked. Agare moved like they had eyes in the back of their head, always turning and countering with prejudice, slower yet so decisive, slicing through wooden serpents with every blow, drawing screams with every blow.

She had no such reflexes, so she had to improvise. Jumping, ducking, sidestepping, throwing herself to the floor, her heart always at the peak of lunging out of her chest, but never hitting back, afraid of being burnt.

With every cry, every whine, God creaked and fracture, black ooze whipping from its many wounds, becoming a thick coat of flames in contact with the air. Above as well, dripping from their branches, becoming deadly traps in their way.

Still, she held strong, because even if she couldn't see a way out of this, her new companion seemed so sure of themselves!

Next came the swarm again, bigger than before, breaking into two as it nearly headed straight into the fate of the last. This time, there was nowhere to evade, so she fought them back. Will to Will, still feeling like an ant stalling the boot of a man, but slowing them down enough for her to call, "A-Agare!"

The horrid blade fell through the thick of the swarm in a blunt strike, ripping them apart as if it was made of a thousand razors and vanishing everything it touched, though coming too close for comfort. So close, she heard the ceaseless tearing as something else, something she refused to think about. What remained of it quickly dispersed, headless fireflies seeking safety in any direction their wings brought them.

By the point they reached the Throne's new peak, God had stopped fighting entirely.

"Why?" God said, body quivering and twitching with every word, "Why? Why?"

"W-why? You're asking us why?!"

"Yes. I offered you escape, I offered the traitors succor. Yet, I stand wounded."

"Y-you're ki- you hurt Elder Seneschal, you hurt my sister, and you hurt everyone in the village, and you still-"

"Hey!" Agare said, sharp as a slap.

"H-huh?"

"Don't waste your breath, things like these wouldn't understand! We need to keep moving!"

"O-okay!"

But there was no convenient way forward, as all the ground had crumbled away. Everything beyond the edge of this final cliff was either flame or the web of roots holding God aloof, a lake of convulsing worms of all sizes eager to drive themselves into her ribs.

"All I do is follow," God said.

"You hear the Bloom speak, right?" Agare said.

"T-the Bloom? Oh! K-kind of? It's not talking really, but like-"

"I know. It can hear and understand us then, right?"

"I followed the Sucessor's song of awakening. I followed my Guardian's call to conquer and maintain."

"Y-yes!"

"Do you know how to stop it from hearing us yet?"

"I can do that?!"

"... Nevermind then."

"The Traitors took me as Above, and I took them as nourishment. I followed their wishes, only asking to be fed."

"Follow me, and follow my words to the letter if you want to survive."

"I am above."

"Huh?"

"I do not betray. I commit no cruelties. I am no infant. I protected myself, I protected my nourishment, and my nourishment fed me."

"What? What is it saying?" Agare said.

"I-it's not only what it's saying, it's that I'm feeling..."

There was something coming their way.

"If my nourishment betrays, then it is no betrayal to punish. I have had enough." And for what felt like the first time, Holly felt glee in God's Will, nakedly vindictive. "I commended your learning, similar, now commend mine."

"W-what are you-"

"For I learned I have much to grow."

She felt God's Will bearing down on them, but this time it didn't feel like it was coming from God themselves.

"A-Agare, behind-!"

It was too late to escape.

Through God's recovering crown, a sky so crimson the stars looked as if they were swimming in congealed blood peaked through, along with glimpses of the inferno that had devoured the forest and only grew larger and larger, a living, writhing wall of tongues, impenetrable.

But far above all that a colossus now loomed, a shambling snake of spiraling flames, so bright and so large that for a second she thought God had amassed millions of leafs outside of view to strike in one decisive blow, but its shape was too consistent, too fluid.

By the time her musing ceased and her eyes widened, the serpent's maw was wide open, its strike certain, the Will guiding it hitting her mere moments before the strike.

Agare acted immediately, throwing himself in front of her and opening their coat. She rushed to their feet, only for that blade to block her way.

"No, we need to-!" Agare tried to speak in vain.

The serpent bit.

Agare was pushed towards her with such violence she nearly slammed into their weapon. The heat found her a second later, the cloak too small a shield to fully cover both. In an instant her legs were consumed, a burning not even the numbness could prevent. All around them, a cloud of dust rose as the highest reaches of the Throne were shaved off like a knife carving wood.

Everything became noise. She was screaming, she was digging her nails into something, she was dying. Then, she soared, feet no longer touching anything.

"Hold on!" came faintly through all that madness.

Suddenly she felt an impact, the wind, then herself hit the ground head first, hard. Her head swam and her vision darkened, her tongue filling with a strange bitter taste. For an instant, she even forgot who she was, where she was.

Then, nausea. The world lurched around her, her head spun. Some urgency with no source tried to hurry her to her feet, but she didn't think she could turn around if she wanted to. She decided to take a rest for a while, see if it helped...

"- Up!" something called, or maybe it was just her imagination. It sounded so distant...

Something hit her right in the face.

"Ouch!"

"Get up!" She recognized Agare. "This is no time for fainting!"

Everything sharpened around her, a little.

It wasn't just the dizziness, the ground did squirm beneath her. Smothering heat made even breathing unbearable, torture to her lungs. And the smell! The rot had reached its apex, as if she had been dipped into old intestines left in the sun. And even through all that, Agare fought as if nothing had changed, movements just as precise and devastating.

His armor was exposed now, the cloak completely ruined by glancing blows. Reflections danced in the metallic rings covering their torso, glowing a color too faint to tell, holes perforated through into their leather tunic and all the way down to their skin.

They were in the stomach of the beast, being digested from all sides. Roots came at Agare one after the other from every angle they could exploit, swarming leaves burning in their wake; gouts of fire spouted from below, flowed from above in blazing rivulets. Agare was slowly pushed back, misstep by misstep, no longer capable of reciprocating every hit.

Meanwhile, God babbled. Their attacks had lost all cohesion, erratic and rippling, yet overwhelming through sheer numbers and terrifying violence, nevermind the results of their failures littering their immediate surroundings.

She had to do something. She tried rising to her knees, and fell to the side, this time not thanks to her state of mind. Something was wrong. She looked down to her legs.

And realized they had been ruined.

From foot to knee, and crossing the back of her thighs, a great path of destruction had melted her into strips of black and red. Even of her pale hardskin, so tough it had been, only fragments remained, cracks spreading all the way to her to their edges on her hips. Worst, however, was how she couldn't feel a thing, as if it was all happening to somebody else.

The sight was to too much. she vomited pure bile, the ground beneath her quivering in response as if trying to flee, disgusted. It was impossible, it was a dream, it was far too horrible to fathom.

"A-Agare," she called.

"Come!" they said.

"I cant! I'm hurt!"

"But you aren't feeling a thing, are you? We are close now, but the Blossom is still rising! Soon, we'll be exposed again!"

She looked back. It was true, little by little God rose further into the air, and beyond that, hovering over the forest, serpentine fires fought and fell as they intertwined together, their shambling forms increasing in number with every passing second.

The fear of death overrode her horror. So, with just the strength of her upper body, she galloped forward to stand besides Agare. Being used to walking on legs or all fours, she was surprised by how light she felt, how fast she could still move.

"We need to find its radicle. Can you do it?" Agare said without looking her way, piercing the roots underneath with a shallow stab that nonetheless created a great wave, nearly shaking her off her hands. "It should be right in front, beneath the trunk!"

"H-how could I?!"

"You have Divinity, don't you? Use it!" Taking advantage of the momentary stun, Agare sliced a row of limbs, quickly moving in between the absence. She followed soon after.

The battle grew fiercer. There was no holding back anymore, no hesitation. God struck without mercy or thought at anything that moved, even themselves. As Agare tried to take ground again, Holly half expected him to be mauled in that frenzy, but they held on, losing bits and shreds of armor with every hit, yet fighting ti maintain momentum.

Her? She was an oversight, only targeted by happenstance. It was like watching the lighting under the rain: she was not the focus of God's fear, but a blink's worth of distraction and suddenly a massive form glanced by her forehead, the span of a fingertip away from decapitating her. dividing her focus, she worked to find that radicle.

How? She had not idea. It didn't take her long to understand what exactly Agare meant by Divinity, but how would it work? She could, and was, using her Will to get in God's way in any manner feasible, for as little as that counted, but it was hard to even imagine how to use it in searching for something!

It was like suddenly learning you had a third arm you had never seen, grown weak and shriveled with decades of neglect, then told to use it to sew a hole in a shirt. Now that she had the need, she could only curse herself.

Though, perhaps... thinking of it as an arm, could she use it like one?

She tried willing it so. From a shapeless blot to a thousand pronged mass, slender wrists and hands tipped with deft fingers to probe every corner of God's own Will. It was a crude as it could be, but not like she had the time to perfect it, just hope it worked as intended.

Immediately, she knew it was weaker, bending like a rotten plank wherever it came to clash with its enemy, making by squeezing through gaps in God's focus, nothing more than imperceptible caress so long as she wasn't caught.

It was... imprecise too. Or rather, just not actually analogous to tactile sensation in any way, but she couldn't be bothered to consider it in any depth. The same way God's Will was no boulder rolling down hill in truth, nor a wall of thorns trying to entrap her right now, though they certainly felt like it, it couldn't touch anything

"Why? I am not unwise, you could have avoided such ravaging."

So focused she was on her Will, she almost got left behind by Agare, now pushing through at the cost of their own body. So focused she was on her Will, she almost understood the process of Speaking with Intent, emanations from God piercing her likes stones on water.

"Wwwwww- Waaa- Whyyy?" She mimicked.

"I am in agony, similar," God said, and she looked up at its cracking facade, almost entirely engulfed in flames. "I followed the desires of the Savior. I followed the desires of the Father. I followed the desires of my nourishment."

"Why?" She mimicked again, emotionless, the ways of tone completely lost on her. "Why? Why?"

God's Will was porous, she understood now, powerful but stretched too thin to notice her presence. Wherever the claws of her Will sunk, she occupied their efforts while making paths at different junctions. A repetitive pattern emerged: get caught, distract them, hands disperse elsewhere, repeat.

Finally, God had enough of her, clenching down on innumerable arms with impossible strength. It wasn't analogous to tactile sensation, but that was pain alright; like having your hand smashed into pulp by a falling rock, that kind of pain that was burning hot with no heat at all, leaving cold prickles behind afterwards.

God's physical body fell with all its might at her, the ground ahead opening like a maw to bite her in half, to melt her alive with its flaming tongue, a landslide of grubby wooden claws falling in her direction, too tall to jump over and too wide to escape, every gap filled by embers and cascading leaves, a wall that became the horizon itself.

For a second, her life flashed before her eyes. She though of Hazel and Elder Seneschal.

Something bumped into her shoulder. A horrid thing, its yellow mold now cast away like rusted flakes, cackled its way before her eyes, forcing her to shut them tight.

She wished she could tell what happened next by hearing alone. If somebody had told her the world had come to an end before she opened her eyes again, she would have believed it. Screaming, roaring, laughing, the tearing of a thousand beasts upon an intact carcass, sizzling, and finally crashing, an entire forest toppling over.

She only saw the aftermath, heart pounding out of her chest, a strange numbness on her cheek.

Agare stood in front of her, struggling back to their feet. That dreadful blade of theirs had been dropped, viciously tearing at the roots holding them up with the flat of its blade without prompt.

All Agare had in their hand, their sole remaining one, was the cape of grey on white, a rag of its original self.

"Agare!" she said, eaten alive by despair. "W-why did you get in front?! Oh no, y-you should have left me to it, I'm-!"

She was stunned silent. Without the cloak's shadows, and the helmet hidden below that having slipped off with an entire half gone, Agare had been revealed. A head of dark skin, a delicate chin, hair as black as the night, what remained untouched of their thick curls still attached in the flimsy impression of a short ponytail.

But none of that mattered.

It was the face.

The lack of a face. Eyeless, mouthless, noseless, in their place an oval shape, impenetrably dark and opaque liquid swirling to an invisible stir, an overturned bowl that refused to spill so much as a drop no matter how far past its edges it turned. A void, she thought, an endless void capable of swallowing her whole if she stood too close, letting her be for no reason other than whim.

She was frozen in place, too scared to run when that nothingness slowly turned her way, its rightmost edges a mess of blood and melted skin, right ear completely gone.

"... One minute. Maybe one and a half. Ugh..." Agare said, swaying lightly.

"W-what?"

"It's how long we have until we are hit by another tornado. Have you found the radicle?"

She took a deep breath. Had they not noticed? Or did they not care?

"A-agare, your face!"

"If we get out of here, you will learn a whole lot about me, one way or another, so ask me later! Have you found it?!"

"N-no, I-"

Except, something startled her.

Another sensation she couldn't explain, a certainty borne from nothing, guiding her sight to somewhere in the thick of God's roots. One in specific, it had... a density to it, she supposed, an intrinsic importance perhaps? How did she know that, to begin with? Instinct? Foreknowledge? She couldn't tell.

"Show me," Agare said. "If you can find it, showing it is the next step."

Said and done. It was like taking your second step after the first.

Though all around them fires raged, little light reached that deep into this nest of worms. Suddenly, however, one began to stand out, in a way the eye could neither identify nor deny, like a fortunate coincidence, as if every circumstance conspired to highlight it, leaving it exposed and ever so faintly glowing.

"... Was I supposed to know how to do that all along?" she said.

"We will have all the time in the world once we are done. Take this, and come,"

They moved. Agare took the front, fighting ferociously though ungainly with his single remaining arm, keeping his weapon close and avoiding those wider slashes that made God go mad with hurt. Her battle was another: to keep the radicle on their sights at all times, no matter what.

It was easier said then done. Once caught, it was war: she was in the innards of a body, all fangs and muscles, flexing repeatedly in an attempt to mince her Will to pieces. She put everything into protecting her discovery, pieces of herself shredded by those unavoidable, invisible motions, each and every sending a shiver down to her core and leaving her a deep sense of loss.

That was why she nearly missed it when the roots barely three paces away from her suddenly spread open, a large gout of flames pouring out and raining in every direction. Agare cut sideways and down, severing a bundle of roots that rolled down squirming, blocking the brunt of the attack too late.

She had to hold on. It was disturbing the way she could feel the wounds but no pain, enough to throw off her focus. She felt her hooks on God loosening. She didn't miss, however, the injection of words right inside her.

"My death means the death of my nourishment."

"Death," she said, nearly burning to cinders under a waterfall of flames and black sap, was it not for the rags she was carrying on her back, broken clasp held in her mouth.

"I cannot be killed. I ask you to surrender."

"Cannot," she said. She could feel it, separate yet together, God's dread.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why inflict me with such suffering?"

"Why?"

"Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Leave me."

A root flew over Agare's head. Another speared towards her burnt hand, and she barely had to sidestep. A swarm flew in, wide enough to engulf them both but so sparse and aimless they simply ran through. Many attacks at once, waves one after the other, trembling and careless, too weak to stop them.

"I succor. I protect. I saved. I never betrayed."

"Never." she mimicked.

"Disgusting Worms. My Father granted you life."

"Worm."

Snares opened all around them, Squirts of liquid and flame glanced off her skin, scalding every exposed piece of her on their path. The smaller roots joined the fight, nothing but hairs and sharp fingers, bothersome obstacles but ignorable. Yet, pricked and cut, they carried on, and finally arrived at God's trunk, their goal unusually still in comparison to its innumerable kin.

But they had come too late.

"They're here!" Agare said, piercing another serpent in half.

"Aaaagaaaeeee!" she said through shut teeth.

"I won't miss it now! Follow me, and let go of your Divinity!"

She did, the faint root disappearing among many others, indistinguishable to her eyes.

Agare lifted his arm as far as it would go, the blade held almost horizontally until it crashed down. After a second of unbearable sounds, a great hole was opened, not only by the wound but the seizing flinches of its adjacent roots.

"Down, now!"

The first great serpent of fire arrived, slavering to devour them. As one, her thousand handed Will tore in its direction, searching for perches to dig into. And there they were! Wide pores, hard to find, squeezed so hard they were nearly fused, but she knew what to look for now. She lost, of course, but ever so slightly she pushed its aim off, crashing it right against the trunk above their heads, bursting apart on impact. Even from this distance, the heat was so strong she briefly wondered if it would cook her alive.

It was like if the ant had managed to push the boot of its back: the exhaustion that took hold of her couldn't be described in words. Had it been physical, the effort would have snapped all her limbs until they could bend like snakes. Her vision went dark again, her ears deafened by the whine of a colossal mosquito, her limbs becoming such a distant feeling she wondered if she was floating in midair.

No way she could push off the second.

Agare carved a way ahead, the act of merely holding that ugly thing in his path sending any blockages scurrying off.

"There!"

Agare lunged, stabbing nearly blindly through the thick of remaining roots directly below God. This was it!

"Enough."

The walls closed around them, needle teeth and a hundred tongues of blaze an wood pressing them from all sides but up. Her limbs wrapped and crushed, she could do nothing but watch as Agare fought to free themselves in vain.

"Worms. Why? I will never recover. I am marred. Poisoned."

"Worm!" she said through Will. Trying to escape only got her bindings to squeeze harder.

"You mock me."

"Mock?"

"Nothing but an imitation of my words. Larva."

She wouldn't be able to escape, nor turn the final blow in time.

And so, like Elder Seneschal before, if she was to die here, she wished to speak.

"Now, I purify y-"

"Loser."

She was so used to voice and tone to be one and the same, speaking through Will felt like talking through claps. Once she saw the fine mechanisms of it, something slid in place deep down, and from there she could almost follow the flow, though it was a little different from manipulating Will through... well, will alone.

"You baby! Tyrant! Idiot!"

"I commend you, si-"

"Do you think you have the right to speak? Do you think you have the right of begging and demanding explanations after everything you have done?!"

"I succored, I-"

"You are the reason I'm in this nightmare today! You are the reason I couldn't see my sisters whenever I wanted! You are the reason the villagers used to beat me and mock me! Because you are a paranoid coward, because you were too afraid the slightest thing from outside could make everyone want to resist you."

"None would resist me, I-"

"Held everybody's lives by the foot!"

Emotion was difficult. It came wherever she wanted to or not, but she couldn't mix them too well. She knew her meaning well enough, however.

She felt it, the crushing Will behind the second serpent, bearing down on them. She would not live to take a deep breath. She screamed, first in body, then in mind.

"You hurt everyone! Elder Seneschal, Hazel, me! You live to break and ruin others, then dare to cry because others refuse to love you?! The Elder was completely right, you are just a cruel little kid!"

"I just did as told."

"Traitor!"

Their crushing Will weakened. The hold on her limbs slackened, slightly. Her death never came. She refused to look up, the light that still flickered above threatening to completely kill off any nerve still left in her, but that horrible impact far away was unmistakable.

"I never betrayed."

"You did! Everyone believed in you!"

"I never betrayed."

"Give me back my sister! Give her back! Giver her back!"

"I never betrayed."

She almost felt pity then. What was happening? She couldn't read God's emotions anymore. No, she wasn't sure God even knew what they were feeling. Were they simply incapable of properly understanding things not conveyed this way? Something else? She managed to pull herself from the root's grip.

"I never betrayed."

Agare, however, couldn't. No matter how strong they were, they were too important, so the roots still held them firmly by the waist and wrist. She watched as they carefully maneuvered their hand, a labor that made their blade look heavier than stone, until it was lined with the serpent constricting their arm, then let it tip. That was it.

Their waist would be a whole other matter. It wasn't just one root holding them, it was as if the ground had converged to swallow them, holding them tightly with its lips

"I never betrayed."

Agare lifted their blade above their head, and in a feat of terrifying power, threw it straight forward, through spears and hairs, through bulbs and wood! the radicle was right there, the cruel laughter echoed, that skin crawling tearing...

God twitched. Nothing else.

"Fuck!" Agare said.

The handle still peeked out, slowly sinking as it cut its way down, too shallow.

The moment was gone. Fury boiled over, a scalding touch against her Will forcing all her limbs to spams, pursuing her own with red hot needles, three words and something else, which now she knew were not apart but a complement.

"I never betrayed!"

A surge of power engulfed them both, pillars of fire shooting to the stars and coming down like downpour. In the brief glimpse up she took, another shape flew above, its slithering path obvious, a smiting blow from the skies, impossible to dodge or avoid.

She did the only thing she could. She ran.

" 'Ake 'isss!" she said, throwing the remains of Agare's cloak in its owner's direction.

"What-"

The walls converged, pulsing back to life. Sharp tips forced their way into that midst, a palisade closing in over their only hope.

She was afraid. This was a fight worthy of the Elders stories, but all she felt was the need to puke her intestines out. She had felt horrible things before, but never had death held her so close, not when she was sick, not when she fought the village's boys with stones and sticks.

Yet, with a body that was barely there, she ran. It was nothing but instinct, self preservation pushing drunken limbs to their limits, no longer capable to judge what was safe or what was suicide, no longer willing to. Consciously, all she could do was one thing, and one thing only.

"Bastard!"

Everything else stopped, the briefest flinch, and she ran. The spikes were the first to stir, the lag behind roots coiling together into gnarled spears for one last assault, so many she had nowhere to escape.

"Useless! Trash!"

They became unsteady, but her trick was losing its effect. Ripped into what felt like a hundred different places, she ran, and now she was right there, the wicked blade's leather wrapped handle just within reach-

She fell over. God had caught her, right above the knee, a thin root had driven itself all the way through and now wrapped itself around with enough violence to squeeze blood out of the stump. Driving her nails down with enough strength to rip holes into the wood, she pulled herself forward, making a pace and instantly losing it, another root driving itself into her and adding its efforts in keeping her back.

How long did she have? Ten seconds? Five? Was she already burning alive without realizing it? With every thought, another serpent joined its siblings, until if felt as if the entire village was dragging her back. This would have to do!

And so, biting down unto the closest root she could find, she pulled her shoulder all the way back, and slammed her right palm into the hilt.

The pain was immediate.

A dreadful choir of inhuman squeals rang inside her ears. A million invisible ants were crawling down her fingers, mandibles sharpened beyond the possible driving themselves into her, making short work of her outer layers and infiltrating her flesh, swarming into her veins to torture her insides with filth-caked stingers.

That she held on for even a second longer was a miracle her body could never repeat.

She fell on her face. Nothing tried to pull her back.

Suddenly, there was silence. No screaming , no cracking of bark, no crackling of ember, no sounds of battle.

She looked up. Through dying flames and drying ooze, hundreds of eyes were staring down, none of their previous intensity there to press her still.

"All I did was what I was told. I just wished to survive," God said, this time truly without emotion behind it.

"We just wished to survive too."

God's Will pulled back. Pores grew into holes, grew into fissures, its structure collapsing like a house, foundations rotting and crumbing into dust at an absurd rate before her very own Will, a macabre spectacle not meant for the eyes. The wildfire outside the Throne's limit raged as if alive, but those within died little by little, the many flowing swarms of leaves losing color then fragmenting into ashes.

God looked up, one last time.

"Father."

And then they all fell.