Mariwa: An Ivian Tale

3 - The God of Lesser Hollow 3

There was a hole in the ceiling.

Cassia spent her last hours sat on her father's throne at the meeting hall, mesmerized with nothing, when she first spotted it. The Meeting hall was a sturdy building, better put together then all the little decaying houses below it, and according to her father a lot more recent too, dating from around the time of the Father's emergence.

Be it Strong or be it young, it was only a matter of time until it started showing faults, and it was no small fault either: the hole looked big enough for Cassia to shove a hand through, big enough they might have serious troubles come the rains, right above the seat of an Elder. She wondered how it had come to be: had time and weather simply worn it? An architectural mistake? Was it somebody's fault? Maybe one of the lads had gotten rowdy, threw something at the roof.

Regardless of the reason, Cassia basked in that flaw. Far above, the red and ever reddening dusk glowed like a candle into the pitch black Hall, stars just starting to peek out. It had only been a couple days since they had a full moon, and tonight was bound to be a gorgeous night.

"It's beautiful, Hazel! You would have loved it so much!"

Obedient to a fault as always, she had followed her father's instructions, locking herself inside the Hall and closing all the windows. At some point, lads had come banging on the door, asking her to step out, but they lost interest rather quickly as her father had known they would.

She was trapped up here, after all.

She paid them no mind, and paid her father's orders none either. Ever since yesterday, a hole had opened in her chest, draining everything that was her into a void. She wanted nothing, wanted to go nowhere, wanted to see nobody. The world was a dull haze, where everything was a fragile illusion bound to soon break.

So she waited for her end, enjoying her sliver of moonlight and the fights breaking across the village, small succors they were.

So when the shouting took a turn from the wrathful and despaired to something closer to animal dread and pain, she expected that to be it. She closed her eyes, and imagined what life on the other side of the cycle to be like, how it would feel to become nutrients, if the Father didn't deem to purify her in the end. Once she was reborn, she hoped it would be far, far away from here.

She could tell people were running now, and she knew there was nowhere to go. The lads who stood guard outside the Hall began to speak in horrified whispers, before screaming in fear and breaking off in the wrong direction. she heard when one of them slipped on the steepest side of the hillock and went tumbling down.

Seconds after, something heavy fell nearby, briefly shaking the room.

Her eyes shot open.

Three gentle knocks echoed in the dark.

Having seen the Father in many occasions, Cassia struggled to imagine why he would strike the hill so violently but not tear right through the building, or shred both apart in a single blow. The door was knocked at again, a bit more insistently this time, and she realized she might have been mistaken after all. Were the lads trying to lure her out again?

"I know there is somebody inside! Please open this door immediately, we have no time!" the one outside said.

She tried, but failed to recognize the weirdly melodious voice outside as anyone from the village. How could she miss something so distinct? No, it wasn't possible. Given time, she could count and name every neighbor of hers, and she would know this one too. Unless-

The knocking grew in intensity again.

"I must know of the whereabouts of this village's leaders, quick!"

"Wh-" She cringed at the rasping sound that came out of her throat. Coughing into her fist, she tried again. "Who are you?" But they did not respond. "Who are you?!"

"... My name doesn't matter right now. Would you be- no, you wouldn't. Do you know where the heads of this village are?!"

She felt a chill seep into her stomach. No wonder she hadn't recognized them: at the end of the world, another outsider had come, in the week two others would die. She could almost imagine, a phantom of revenge come to reap her and the Elders for failing to stop her father's crime, a silhouette of wriggling shapes in the form of-

Another knock, this time practically a slam against the door.

"I'm afraid I can't leave without an answer!" they called. "I presume you can see out the windows?"

She kept quiet, holding back a whimper as she curled up against herself.

"You can see something is going on, I don't need to tell you that isn't normal. I'm not going to assume how responsible you are for it, but I'm sure you know what it means, and what will happen soon." Something pressed against the door with enough strength to make it creak. "Listen to me: I am your only hope! I'm the only one who might be able to fix this, but I need your help! Please, open this door, or at the very least talk to me!"

The idea of a stranger being their salvation felt almost comic She knew the way the men from outside killed their lads, she had heard it in lurid detail before. Who in their right mind would trust them?! It was certain death.

And yet, when she thought on the idea, she discovered she didn't much care for it either. Her outrage was smothered in her throat, and all that was left was ashen bitterness.

"Let it burn," she whispered.

"... What?"

"What is there to fix? We reap nothing we haven't sowed! This is the least we deserve." Then louder. "Leave us alone! Let us die in peace!"

A moment of silence followed. Cassia breathed a sigh of relief, thinking for a moment the stranger had actually listened to her and left back to where they came from. She slipper her feet back to the floor, a looked up to the hole once again.

It was this moment that the once robust door, locked with bolts, was pushed down.

She screamed, suddenly alerted by the crash. Crimson light flooded into the hall, invading her quiet respite. Through the gap, the Stranger entered.

Bathed in God's rage, the Stranger was a nightmare. Smaller than she thought, yet a nightmare, a living shadow with a single outstretched appendage sliding back out of view, not fifteen paces away from her now. For a second, she forgot herself, lost the haze covering her mind, and pressed he back hard against the throne, as if she could hide herself inside its wood. It was too late: even if she couldn't see the stranger's face, she could sense their attention boring down upon her.

"I don't think I've heard you well," the Stranger said, stepping over the fallen door.

It took her several seconds to find her voice, at which point they were facing each other from opposite ends of the gathered tables. "I-I told you to leave us alone!"

"I won't." they moved, a slow stalk into the dark, around the tables and the thrones of the Elders, right towards her. "Before that. You told me to let this place burn."

"I-I said..." She gulped. "Y-you don't know the things we've done here, what we lost to survive."

"I do know. I can more than imagine. I know people like you, and in all honesty, I don't greatly care about what might happen to you and your village either. I'm glad you think the same, and won't make me pretend otherwise."

"T-then leave us, please! Let us die, let us suffer what we wrought!"

"No."

They had stopped a couple paces away from her, but the only evidence was their voice. The general chaos of the village made hearing such things difficult, but she could swear she heard neither breath nor movement from the Stranger, so perfectly placed in the space between two windows as to be impossible to see.

"I'm looking for something, and I will not leave until I have it," they said.

"W-what could there even be of interest in such a small village?" Cassia said.

"I don't know."

Suddenly, light poured out, revealing his cloak of white and grey, and not a single thing beneath, as if liquid shadows had pooled to hide their identity. They came from a small pouch or bag, she couldn't see very well, one as crimson as the sky and the other a very faint blue.

"...But I have an idea what it might be." They threw a short glance over their shoulder. "You're harboring something else, aren't you? Besides the Blossom."

"T-the Blossom? I don't quite understand what you-" And then Cassia did, the casualness of the insult sending a shiver down her spine. "Y-you can't refer to him with such irreverence! if you court his wrath-"

"I already do, by mere existence. Now, tell me the truth."

"... There is nothing here like the Father, except the Father himself."

"But you have something that you shouldn't."

She looked away, towards the entrance of the Hall again. She briefly saw the head of a lad peeking from grass, and wondered if they were going to make a move, but he quickly left. She considered keeping their shame hidden, but what was the point? As if it hadn't been revealed to all already.

"... Perhaps we did. Or, my father did." She rubbed her hands above her lap, feeling a foul taste on her tongue. "Just another of his sins. Something unholy came to us and he insisted to raise her like a daughter. She was kept locked away in the abandoned mines to the northeast, but not for much longer now."

"What do you mean?" the Stranger said in a low voice.

"He is taking her to the Father's Throne, to sacrifice her in apology, and himself as well I imagine."

"Damn it!"

She jumped, startled by the outburst, musing on the why but not daring question it.

"Tell me everything you know about this thing." they said.

"I-if you are planning on interfering somehow, I don't think we have the time."

"Then be brief. Tell me everything I need to know about her." Their voice came from close enough she should smell their breath. Instead, all she could feel was a slight tang of iron that made her stomach churn.

"I-I don't know much!" She felt tears in her eyes. "S-she used to be human, t-then she perished from an illness and became something else! My father burned the healer's hut and told the village she had passed inside, then made our family keep it a secret as he and Hazel absconded with her."

"Hazel?"

She gasped at hearing her name from such a cold voice. "M-my sister. Our sister, rather. She is... gone. A bride to God now."

"A bride, is it?" they said in a tone that made her shrink further into herself. "Keep going, Tell me about the other, her behavior and capabilities specially."

"C-capabilities? I don't know of such things sir, I have-"

"Sir?" they said, and she thought she had sensed a certain bitter quality to their voice, but would not dare assume.

"I-is it not appropriate?"

"Just don't call me that. Carry on."

She nodded. "I have visited her many times, always at my father's behest. I suppose I would say she is polite, somewhat kind even, despite her foulness. T-they called her a Rootgnasher, the other Elders, and I had never thought of her as such, b-but maybe..."

"I don't know what that is. You say she is kind, has she never show any signs of undue hostility? Any instinctive distaste for you, or your father?"

"Never that I recall, rather..." And she felt that uncomfortable chill again, in the pit of her stomach. She wanted nothing else but to hold herself tight and disappear into the gloom; only good manners kept her still. "She always seemed so very eager to see us. It disturbed me, always did..."

"How was she kept there? Did she ever try to escape?"

"She was kept behind iron bars and a locked gate. She did almost escape once, but my father caught her in time. How he convinced her back in only he knows, but I know he added black metal objects to her cage soon after."

She expected more question, but the stranger merely hummed to themselves in acknowledgment, before saying. "I see. That will have to do. Come with me for a second."

She heard them walk away without waiting for her answer. "W-where to?"

"Outside. Are you afraid? Don't be. I have no intentions of harming you, if I did I would have killed you where you sit."

"... I-I see. P-please, give me a m-moment."

She tried to stand up, but her legs shook, feet heavy as stone. She struggled forward, holding on the Hall's furniture for balance, while the Stranger stood by the door, watching. By a miracle, she managed to get to the doorstep without toppling over and looked to the world outside.

The night was just as gorgeous as she had imagined, basking Lesser Hollow in the color of blood. The arguments were dying down, little by little, anger replaced with that fear only a calamity of this scale could bring. People were kneeling on the ground, prostrating themselves with hands above their heads, neighbors brought together one last time for a desperate prayer.

Far away, amidst the towering trees of the Hollow, a red sun was rising even this late, something that for so long was content with remaining hidden, and now blessed them with his visage.

And towering above even that, even the mountains and the peak of the sky tearing Mt. Tremor, the glorious red moon, the great six fingered hand-print left on its surface hidden to the ring finger by the creeping waning shadow.

Traitor's moon, they called it.

"Point me the way your people reach the Blossom," the Stranger said. "There must be a road there."

"Don't call the Father that, least you-"

"You should be far beyond the point of caring about that."

Cassia swallowed dry. "Can't you see him? Follow the light, and you should be there."

"So long as it lives, any path through the forest would be unreliable, with exception of one."

"... the one we have always used. I understand, but why? If you want to reach my father, shouldn't you aim for the mountains?"

"No, there is a chance I might miss them."

Y-you know that this is tantamount to suicide, right? It is the Father himself who protects us from you outsiders, you won't be able to even touch him! Or are you so arrogant you believe you can fight a God? If it was t-that easy, do you think this would have happened in the first place?!"

She was panting from her efforts and rant, when they calmly responded. "It's not arrogance, no." Then stopped, as if measuring their next words, but simply shook their head; "So? Which way?"

She sighed but pointed eastwards, "Follow the road that way until you are close to the Old Wall. You see those houses right there? You should find a breach with a burnt log, and a threaded path northeast through the woods. It will be very difficult to follow in the dark, but it should lead you right to his Throne."

She looked down. Downhill, lads were forming a defensive circle, weapons in hand and hatred in their eyes, though none of them dared break the outsider's silent musing. They just stood there, waiting for the first move of a person who didn't even care to acknowledge them.

"...you, sir, or, uhm... I'm not quite certain how to refer to you, I'm afraid."

"Anything."

"W-well, uhn, I was just wondering, what will you do if you find Holly?"

"Holly being your sister who came back?"

"C-correct"

"I will bring her with me, of course. But first, I should deal with the matter at hand."

"Wait!" There was too much she wanted to say to this stranger who would be soon departing to certain death. Why did he want Holly so much? How was he planning on surviving the Father of the Wilds face to face? What came after, should he win or lose? she shook her head, and one surface thought prevailed, voiced as a whimper. "I-if you run into my father, please don't hurt him. Despite everything, I have to-"

She hadn't even finished her sentence when a heavy crack rang besides her.

gust of wind blew dust and dirt onto her eyes. She tried to retreat and only managed to fall over on her rear, a mere centimeters away from where the hillock grew steep enough she would be sent rolling down. She waited, heart racing, not sure what to expect next, listening to the lads below scatter like frightened insects.

Where the Stranger once stood, there was now a gouge in the earth. She looked around herself, but found them missing.

She couldn't say she found any relief in being alone, however. Resting against the Meeting Hall's front, she sighed and waited for what came next, admiring the sky.

Elder Seneschal walked, feet sore and legs struggling by this point, when he heard a whisper from besides.

"You son-in-law is gone," Olivia said, never turning to look at him, panting from the walk but holding strong.

"And four of the little morons Smith brought too." he panted. "Guess he just didn't bring Willy's best."

"Are you not worried about him in the least?"

"If we make it past tonight we made it too long, Olivia. This is nothing I didn't expect."

"You should have sent him away then. Who will look after your daughter?" Olivia asked, severe.

"It would have been too suspicious if I sent my assistant away, there was nothing I could do."

"We already are under suspicion."

"Of a sorts, but I don't want to make shit worse by giving away to Smith how much I accounted for."

"... Let me say this, Florid: you are one wretched little man."

"Wouldn't be alive otherwise." He shrugged.

The trek from the old mines to the Throne had been surprisingly silent, probably because they hadn't ran into any trouble. God had refused to make his move, and Elder Seneschal was patiently waiting, while Olivia and Smith so far only served as observers.

Only Holly had complained.

That hand cage had always been part of his plans, one way or another. From what he had gathered, they had to do something with parasites usually found in Mountain's Guts, as they were supposed to be very valuable in some way or another, but none were ever found. They stayed in the mines for over a century, gathering rust and poisonous crust, many becoming nothing but scrap. The one in which four lads were carrying Holly, tarped for their mental well being, was a small miracle.

Small miracle, too, that nobody had fallen over. The forests of the Hollow were dense, ground practically all grasping vines and tripping roots, not the space of a foot clear from obstructions.

"Seneschal."

Elder Smith, previously enraptured in his own conversation with that Rose brute, slowed until he walked in pace with the both of them. The dark hid his expression, but Elder Seneschal didn't need much light to tell how taut his usual smile had grown, to smell the cold sweat pouring from under his robes.

"Smith?"

"Elder Smith? What a surprise, what brin-" Olivia tried saying, but a fit of coughs interfered.

"... Olivia dear, I would offer a lad to escort you back to the village, but there is something I have to ask you both."

"Just do it, Smith." Elder Seneschal said.

"Me, Elder Smith? By all means, of course."

He didn't speak right away. Elder Seneschal could feel his eyes on him, gauging something only he knew, as if he could see anything. Unlike him, a Godspeaker both blessed with some of God's Will and used to the darkness of the Hollow, Smith was through and through a dweller of his Father.

"Tell me, why?" Smith said.

"Why what?"  

"Why all this, Seneschal!" Smith sighed, chuckled ruefully, then took a deep breath. "H-how many years did you keep that monster fed and entertained? I remember the old healer, for goodness sake, I gathered the ashes of his shack and buried what remained of him myself, that was many years ago and yet here it is! I mean- I'm sure you had to have a purpose? What were you thinking?!"

"Haven't we talked enough? Everything I could tell you, I already told!"

"You won't tell us why we got here in the first place!"

"I won't waste my breath. You wouldn't understand, so long as you call her that vile word." Elder Seneschal said.

"Rootgnasher, yes, you love it like a daughter. You too, Olivia? What are you getting out of this?"

"... I'm afraid I don't understand the question, Elder Smith." Olivia said.

"See, I'm not convinced. Don't think I can't see the way you both are so buddy-buddy! I thought you both were just lovers and he got you hooked in by that, but thinking about it, it might just go much deeper."

"Elder Smith, you can't be insinuating I had any part in this, can you?" Olivia said. "Was it not my grandson who delivered us the truth? Who brought Elder Seneschal's schemes to light, ones better kept secret?"

"And that is where I doubt you. You think you are so clever, woman, but you don't trick me. How come your grandson is the one who managed to sneak up on the Godspeaker, when nobody else even knew he was leaving?"

"My grandson is-," She stopped to breath, "a skilled man, as any of his peers might attest, and-"

"Rose has over a decade of experience over your nephew and patrols the east of the village almost every day. How come he never caught a whiff of it when the family closest to the Seneschal's did?"

"And what could I-" She panted, "gain from this, Elder Smith? Lesser Hollow's well being is mine as well," she said, Elder Seneschal catching a brief glimpse of her frowning under a beam of moonlight. "And if I may, I would like to correct you, as the Weaver's are no more friends to the Seneschals then they are to the Smiths!"

"This idiot isn't thinking clearly, Elder Weaver," Elder Seneschal said. "Another hungry grub trying to uproot me and take my place, as if he could!"

"Oh Seneschal, you really are a piece of work, aren't you!" Smith laughed, not a drop of mirth. "I might be! I might be one huge fucking idiot, Seneschal, because I knew we would get to this point eventually and I still listened to you! Because why wouldn't I? The voice of God presents the most perfect bride, who will walk uphill without a tear or a broken heart that matters."

"I always fought for what's best to the village, Smith, then included."

"Honestly? I believe you! Seneschal, I might not like you, but may the vermin eat my tongue if I didn't like your conduct! You did an excellent job, there's been no better man at convincing a lass into dancing to her end without breaking, not one man with more vision and tactical acumen to catch brides, in and out of here! Well said, you always did what you thought was best for the village, and we wouldn't have made it so far without you, so I don't doubt you actually believe you are helping in your own twisted way, just like your grandpa once did.

"I've been in my seat for a good while now however, and I've had ample opportunity to watch you play your games. I just know that the treachery in your blood is too thick and corrupts the best of intentions, is all."

Elder Seneschal sighed. That was a cudgel with his name written on it. There was no point in arguing no matter how angry he got, it would always come back for another hit.

"Your grandpa breaks taboo by inscribing down our stories and dogmas in a way the enemy can exploit, betraying his creator. Then comes your father, destroying his works, going up and down the Lesser proclaiming how much of a disgusting, envious, rancorous man he had been in life, betraying his kin. It's only fitting that you went and committed both, I would say!"

And you, commit betrayal by extension, commending my decisions and following along with what I say? Don't be a fool, Smith, when your father defended my granfather's honor to his dying breath. What did that make of him?"

"A blind old fool. Just like me, I've come to learn." Smith spat. "And you, Olivia? Ready to say your part?"

"I fear I have said everything I could, Elder Smith." she spoke.

"Alright. Not like we had much time for a long conversation anyway. We're nearly there."

And indeed, it was as if their trek had lasted all night long, day breaking right before them. With every step, the heat grew more unbearable, as did the now perceptible saliva like stank permeating the stale air, Not a hundred paces, and they would be right in front of him.

In antecedence the lads and the other Elders lowered their heads, those with empty hands holding their palms together in respect. Elder Seneschal did neither, head held high and hands clutching his walking stick together.

"I don't know myself what you are doing here either, Smith." He broke the unconscious silence. "I had imagined Willy would be the one chomping at the bit to drag me around in shackles."

"Pomen is a very hasty man, he would have killed you at the first opportunity." Smith said.

"Good, isn't it?! Going ahead and just breaking this ploy of mine!"

"Hah! And you will die Seneschal, and your ploy will be broken, but unlike Pomen I won't underestimate you. I Thought you many things over the years, Seneschal, but until today never unwise. Who knows what measures you have taken? No, the Father will take care of you."

Elder Seneschal smiled. "I'm glad at least one of you old coots can see past their nose, shame it doesn't go much further than that."

"Huh? And what do you even mean by that?"

"Means that I wish you weren't too stupid to look to the horizon, and see what actually lies there Smith. its easy to imagine a world where things didn't have to end this way, where we could join our little brains together and actually solve the issue rather than play scuffs."

"Oh, Seneschal, you're incorrigible!" Smith shook his head. "But I mean this sincerely: I hope that once the fires of the Father have cleansed you to the marrow, that you are reborn somewhere that big noggin can actually be put to good use!"

They descended into the gentle slope of a large gorge. Above, the cliffs were lush at first, but the further down, the less vegetation grew, until they reached the barren edges where not even weeds dared germinate.

They entered a large clearing, a crater of unnatural erosion that had become a shallow moat of pitch dark ooze, into which they went down through a path both narrow and treacherous, but this was nobody's first journey here.

From that moment onward, nobody spoke, each set of eyes glued to the way ahead. Before them rose a tall hill of dry earth, three sides sheer cliffs leaking black liquids, the last flat at the base but growing more precipitous the higher you got, covered in dust and withering Purple Ring Flowers, the last of their dim ethereal lights still wavering at their cores. This was the Throne.

And the tyrannical sun that occupied its highest point, panted like a starved animal.

His skin prickled with heat, and sweat poured freely from his body. The buffets of putrid breath with no origin used to make him want to gag, but having seen in person the results of retching on such sacred ground held his stomach. Muffled cries and choked coughs broke among the lads, even as they trembled their ways through their prayers. It was a necessity, if they were to stain his seat of power with their filthy presences.

Seneschal limped to the end of the small bridge crossing the black moat, nothing but a flimsy path of rocks and dirt stomped flat, in front of Olivia and behind Smith. Here, in his last moments, he though of defying those old customs, to stare his eternal captor in the eyes, just once more.

Until a Will touched his own.

His bravado disappeared instantly as he remembered why Lesser Hollow could do nothing but die.

It was the anger, and unlike most times Elder Seneschal didn't even need to guess his master's mood. Generally, he tended to barely acknowledge anyone but his brides with anything but cold dismissal, so to be the victim of his focus, to bear the crushing weight of divinity intent on nothing less than showing him how utterly minuscule he was, that was a fresh experience.

He knew then he was an idiot beyond belief, a failure that brought doom for the sake of his own ego.

His voice was no voice at all, and spoke in no language known to man; it came in the dancing heat around them, in the rustling of leaves, in the squeaking of branches. A voice that brokered no disobedience.

"Seneschal."

Elder Seneschal halted, only to be lightly pushed along by one of the lads. Idly, he realized the lads with Holly's cage were dropping her on the ground and stepping away.

"F-Father of the Wilds. With your blessing." he said.

"Up."

It was impossible to resist. His neck was bent back, forcing him to look.

At the peak of the Throne, stood an enormous shape twisting into itself.

Thousands of branching legs carpeted the grounds above, some as thin as man's arm while other the bulk of a mare's body; a stout trunk, so large as to dwarf the largest building in the village twice over, grew like a three pronged horn, tipped with colossal hands; above that, a maze of myriad fingers growing into uncountable fingers, a canopy so vast it became the sky itself, populated with blinding arrays of leaves, or perhaps flowers, each and every the color and brightness of living flame, cascading in small groups to join the active swarm lazily swirling the main body in an enormous half halo.

There was a sudden creak of bark being pushed open, as one eye the size of a ripe gourd opened to meet his own.

Then another, the size of a human's.

Then another. Then another. Then another.

Hundreds of eyes of a hundred different sizes opened through his body, all fixed on Elder Seneschal and Elder Seneschal alone.

"Seneschal." God said.

To find his courage again, it would be beyond impossible. Holding to whichever meager slice of it he retained to keep his limbs firm, he said: "My Lord, My Father, I-"

"Father! All mighty Father, burning glory in the Heavens and Earths! Austere yet fair, may all things knell to thee!"

The outburst startled Elder Seneschal. Smith had thrown himself into prostration so quickly a small cloud of dust had blown around him. He rose, spreading his arms like wings, and Elder Seneschal paled.

Here, where the light was plentiful and strong, there was no denying it: all that was left of Smith was a broken man. The cocky smiled had been replaced with the rictus of a beast baring its fangs, eyes wide and bulging, motions stiff but frantic.

None of the others were faring much better, he could see now. The lads and Rose were all cowering, and even Olivia had lost her steel, hunching like she had been struck and slowly backing away.

"Oh, Father, forgive these foolish sinners, who in their eagerness to please gave ears to the worms! We erred, my Lord, and here we are to fix our mistake, all we beg is for a chance! Please, Father, your people are loyal, fearful, and awestruck! we have merely been led astray by one of the rotten seed, breeder of Gnashers!"

But God's eyes had not shifted for a second of his rant. He had known the instigator all along.

"I present you the traitor, harbourer of evil, rotten seed of a rotten seed! And the abomination itself, vermin hidden in human skin, burned once and still impure, hidden away from view for his perverted goals!"

The creature side of Elder Seneschal's brain fought for control of his legs, crying and barking to run away and burrow itself in a hole so deep not even the darkness would find him, but even if he was so inclined, the might exerted upon him rendered him paralyzed, gaze stuck on God's own.

"Unpleasant," God said, and for the first time tonight, he felt like it wasn't aimed at him. "Seneschal, forwards."

Without options, he obeyed.

And in his ears, did Smith below. "We shall never bear his loathsome blood again! I promise you, Father, an outsider will never be allowed to-"

"My Lord, My Father!" Elder Seneschal yelled, taking a small pleasure in shutting Smith up. "I thank for allowing us to view at your blessed image once again!"

"Impudent. Poison?"

"I know nothing of poisons, my Father! All i prepare for you is the best our humble village can provide. Has this solstice's Ceremony not been to your satisfaction?"

"Impure."

A grimace and grin tried to bloom together, but he remained placid. "I don't understand what displeases you Father, but I know somebody who might. If I may bring her out?"

"What? Seneschal, what are you-"

Elder Seneschal ignored him. "Holly, my dear, have you been listening?!"

A muffled, distorted voice, like some beast trying to mimic the human tongue echoed from inside the tarped cage, "E-Elder Seneschal! Please get me out of here, please, that thing is-"

"One good kick Holly! To the back of the cage!"

"W-what do you mean?!"

"That's exactly that!"

"No, you wouldn't dare, you couldn't be so bold as to bring that loathsome thing before the Father's eyes, could you Seneschal?!" Smith tried to get up, too late.

"One good kick, right where you entered it love!"

Before she could leave, however, a hand grabbed Elder Seneschal by the scuff of the neck and roughly dragged him to the floor, before climbing over him and raining fists at his face. The Elder tried to defend himself, but he had no illusions what his frail, aged body could do against somebody much larger and more fit like Smith.

"I won't let it! Father, I beg you, while the creature remains locked, purge the filth so that it may never spread its depravity again!"

Another voice broke through, a whip crack of solid metal.

"Are you deaf, lass?!" Olivia said. "One sharp kick, to the back of the cage, now!"

There was no hesitation then. Not a second after, the sound of metal being violently bent rang, the cage's door flying off and crashing its way down towards the moat. The lads around it, once dumbfounded by everything happening, scattered, screaming to all corners.

Their salvation stepped out on all fours.

And to imagine it hadn't been his idea to keep her alive.

Rather, once his hypothesis had been formed, his plan was to use her blood as a poison in the soil of the Throne, but the issue had always been in how. There was no convenient way to bring one to the other, alive or dead, not without raising suspicion and sabotaging everything, and that of course not to speak how the actual most important step would happen without alerting God. Would such a being ever let him freely traipse over his territory's heart, even in better circumstances?

So, lacking in a solid next step, he had sought the council of a friend, and Olivia spotted the obvious biggest flaw in his logic so quickly he felt like the biggest fucking moron in the world.

What next?

That would be the question that haunted his every moment awake and asleep, that would render most of his plans into shambles.

He had spent so much time on pondering and overthinking the impossible task of killing God that he had never spared any for what came next. Once God's protection faded, what would be of them? No, would there even be a soul outside its walls willing to let them be, to not massacre them to the last child or hunt them from the shadows?

The village lived because so God willed. Without him, it died. So then, what next? who could safekeep the survivors?

If they were to keep even a modicum of their safety, they needed something to replace him.

Their substitute now crouched behind her prison, a wretch in the shape of a bare woman. Gangly and misshapen, colors shifting through wildly unnatural hues, tendrils unfurling into the air behind her head, thickset scythes for claws bent over her strange carapaced fingers. A horror from depths even the Gnashers of his childhood imagination would refuse to prowl, so obviously terrified out of her wits his confidence in the new plan started to falter.

It was his grandfather that had come with the idea, based on vague memories of vague reports from wars long past, where the armies of their nation fought aberrations their neighbors called divine. If nothing of humanity was impure as God saw it, then perhaps something beyond it was?

And what was Holly, if not that?

"Oh." Smith, pale even bathed in red, remarked, bringing Elder Seneschal back from his musings.

"Smith, I would run if I were you."

"Seneschal?"

"You overstepped. I'm not yours to purge."

He stared dumbly at him, as if in complete disbelief of his audacity. His mouth opened, once then twice, closing wordlessly. In a flash, his face twisted with unspeakable wrath, the first time the Elder had ever seen him this way. He rose a fist ready to pummel his head into paste.

It didn't last long. Suddenly, Smith was hauled into the air.

A spear of wood the size of a man's thigh had burst from right beside them, and torn through Smith's stomach as if was paper. Their eyes met, both mute with shock, before the damage caught up with him and he began to spill blood. He voided his hemorrhage through his mouth, covering Elder Seneschal, struggling in vain against his beloved Father. Uncaring, the sharp end came back and wrapped itself around his neck. They crashed down with a deafening thud, Smith being pulled against the cracking ground, his mutilated body thrown spinning to the moat.

In the end, all that was left of the desperate bastard was a red smear.

Holly screamed, an inhuman high pitched wail that pierced the mind like rusted nails.

"Worm," God said, with no emotion Elder Seneschal could tell. "Seneschal, forwards."

Elder Seneschal took a deep breath. His chest hurt. He cleaned the blood from his swelling eyes, both his and Smith's, then searched for his walking stick, finding it lying in the dirt downwards, unfortunately out of reach. The lads were running away now, only Rose stood staring in shock at the remains of his master.

Olivia looked resigned at Holly, frozen. He feared her spirit lost.

He would have to fix that.

He turned to God. After two failed attempts to stand up, he began to crawl on his hands and knees. The feeling of dry, hot earth on his bare skin was uncomfortable, sharp pebbled and hidden splinters digging into his palms and shins, but he had to carry on.

"Holly!" he yelled, loud enough to send himself into a coughing fit. "Do you see him above, love?! Holly!"

"E-Elder Seneschal!" Holly said, and he sighed in relief. "Elder Seneschal, t-the other Elder, he, he-!"

"Holly, look above, at the top of the hill! Do you see him?!"

"E-Elder Seneschal?"

"You know who he is, don't you dear?"

"I-I do! I-it's him, isn't it? It's-"

"Quiet."

The command crashed down upon them. Elder Seneschal felt his hands give and his wounded face crash down to the ground. Behind him, Olivia and Holly whimpered.

"Insolent. Forwards."

He had to force himself back up, hating every moment how he almost looked supplicant. Then, as he could finally look up, he grinned from ear to ear, triumphant.

"Holly, he is the one who took your sister!"

W-what?"

"This greedy bastard took her!" he said, slamming a fist helplessly. "She didn't want to go! She hated him, hated the idea of being taken! But his hunger is such, he gave her no other choice! I couldn't do anything!"

She would have to fight. There was no way God would tolerate the presence of a rival within his territory, and so long as she wished to survive she would have to respond in kind.

And even should she lose?

"Holly, we need you to fight! We need you to save us!"

Should she perish and Lesser Hollow be left with its old God, may her blood poison the weakened despot to his last so it may die free.

And may this shameful soul of his be purified in the heart of the Father Cosmical forever more.