The rain had started to pour properly now, which helped me in not overheating as I sprinted through the town. I thought I had had enough running for today after I had evaded the cultists earlier, but clearly not. My lungs were almost screaming at me to stop, the burning feeling at the core of my chest approaching its limit when my house came into view as I turned the last corner. It was one final straight line now.

  Admittedly, I had not taken the quickest route to my house. Instead I took a route that avoided any busy areas of the town, since I didn’t want anyone seeing where I went or seeing my panicked and blood-covered state.

  I ran through the estate of tin-roofed houses, scrawny wooden shacks, and barely-held-together cobblestone homes. Completely exhausted, I couldn’t quite stop my momentum before I reached the house, and I slammed into the wooden door. The door, however, did not fully stop my momentum. Instead the force of me hitting it caused it to swing wide open, and I landed face first in the open hall.

  “Elise?” my sister shouted my name in shock, her mouth agape as she stood there holding a pile of assorted clothes.

  It was no wonder she was so surprised, having seen her sister smashing through the door in a full sprint and landing flat on her face. In that moment before she sensed anything was wrong, I probably looked the biggest fool in Raine.

  She almost had a smile on her face at the sheer absurdity of the sight that just befell her, until I lifted my head. At that point, she noticed the expression on my face, and the blood on my hands.

  “What happened?” She said as she put the pile of clothes aside and rushed towards me.

  I stood up from the floor and closed the wooden door behind me, patting the dust off of myself before speaking.

  “Job’s done.” I said.

  “Is that blood?” She said, looking at my hands and the cuffs of my sleeves.

  I said nothing in response. I walked through the open hall and sat down at the dining table, the old wooden chair creaked below me as I lowered onto it.

  “Elise? Talk to me.” my sister pleaded again.

  I slipped the coin pouch from my pocket and laid it on the old wooden table with the soft chime of coins rustling around inside.

  My sister, Maya, was ten. Eight years younger than I was. We had lived in this old house for most of our lives. Had been just Me and her for the longest time, since our mother ran away from town.

  Mother was a kind woman from what I could remember, stricken with bad luck from birth like many in Raine. We had been without her at this point for nearly six years, but it felt like a lot longer.

  I looked around the room, specifically at the fireplace, the various crudely drawn depictions of mother hanging from the damp-ridden wooden walls above it looking at me with almost judging eyes in this moment. I don’t think she would have been very proud of me in this situation but I could safely say she wouldn’t be disappointed—I did what I had to.

  Maya was a sort of artist, at least, art is what she was passionate about. I had always spent what money I could on making sure she could always keep capturing the world on paper.

  Adorning all of the walls were various mediums of art, depicting people, places, dreams and nightmares, monuments, buildings, even depictions of the gods (however inaccurate they may have been).

  Even though I may have been the one that brought in a lot of the money for us both, and kept us under a roof and away from the dangers of this town, I think Maya was the more mature of the two of us. She was the one I always went to when I was in need of help or advice. Gods bless her she was such an amazing person for her age, and it showed.

  Now this was not the most conventionally risky job I had taken in my life, however this was the first time it had gone wrong like this, and I had just potentially taken someone’s life. I did not know of the outcome of the woman I had plunged my knife into, however the implications of me doing so alone was enough to be a lot of trouble if I were to be identified as the culprit. I wasn’t sure at the time if that witness had been able to identify me, so I was worried that, at any moment, a guard would come knocking at my door and demand to lock me up, leaving Maya to fend for herself. Such is the reason I was apprehensive about spilling the news of any of this to Maya herself. While I have no doubt she would find a way to handle herself on her own were I to disappear, the thought of her being left alone was too much to handle.

  The table in which the bag of coins lay on was one which had been in this house since before even my mother had lived here. Decades old and originally belonging to countless families before us, it still remained standing here, now holding the bounty I had just risked everything for.

  The dim grey light of the oncoming storm was piercing through the windows from either side of the room, front and back, ever so slightly overpowering the candles that lay around on the table and fireplace and shelves and everywhere else. Thankfully I knew a place in the central market that sold cheap candles, and they were cheaper than fuel for the fireplace, so they were where we got our warmth and light from.

  “Elise!”

  My sister’s cry jolted me out of my state and pulled me out of my own head.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.” she begged

  I knew telling her what I had done, or potentially done, would have caused her worry, but I couldn’t go on sitting at this table in silence with blood literally on my hands.

  “You know how I was contracted for a job yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well I completed it today, but…” I paused, “things went wrong. The task was completed just fine and I was paid, but-”

  “Hang on, Elise. What was the job you did?”

  I couldn’t believe I had not already mentioned it to her. It was a massive oversight on my part. What if things had gone even worse, and I had never returned home? She would not have known what had happened to me.

  “I was contracted by a group situated underneath the distillery, near the centre of town, to steal a valuable insignia from a follower of the Goddess of Deception.” I explained. “I completed the job and was paid but, upon returning from the death shrine, things went wrong.”

  “How do you mean? How did it go wrong after you completed the job?” Maya questioned.

  “The group I stole the insignia from found me.”

  “And what happened?”

  Instead of a verbal response, I simply raised my blood-stained hands.

  “Did you-” she held back the rest of her question.

  “I don’t know for sure but, it’s quite likely I killed one. I made sure they didn’t see me returning here, I took a very unorthodox route,” I said, “and there were no other witnesses.”

  I knew it was wrong to lie like this, but I wanted to be sure she would have no worries about the situation. As far as I was worried, the situation was done and over with. In hindsight this was a foolish mindset, as my sister was more than a strong enough person to deal with this situation. I suppose I was blinded by my need to protect her—my responsibility as not only her sister, but as her guardian.

  Maya let out a small sigh.

  “How much?”

  I gave her an inquisitive look, not quite sure what she meant at first.

  “How much did they pay you?”

  I gripped the money pouch, untied the end, and poured out the coins onto the table.

  “Twenty gold coins.” I stated.

  “Gods…” Maya muttered as the coins spilled out from the pouch.

  “The job was risky, I know, but we will be able to live better with this. Obviously we can’t live a lavish lifestyle with this on its own, I will have to do more jobs in the future but,”

  Maya picked up one of the coins to inspect it further up close.

  “we will be able to afford fuel for the fire, nicer clothes, better supplies for your artworks, who knows, we might eventually be able to-”

  “Elise?” Maya interrupted me. She looked at the coin in her hand, her face worried.

  “Hm?” I inquired. “What is it?”

  “These coins…” she began, inspecting the coin further, “have you checked them properly?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked

  “It’s just-” she passed the coin over to me, “I’m not sure they’re real…”

  My eyes widened with shock, and I felt my heart almost skip a beat in my chest as she said this. I took hold of the coin from Maya’s loose grip of it, brought it close to my eye, and without waiting a moment upon noticing it I darted up from my chair and headed towards the door.

  “Elise, wait.” Maya pleaded.

  “I’ll be back.” I responded.

  And with that, I walked through the still slightly ajar door, and into the rain of the oncoming storm.

  - - -

  Tap, tap, tap. The many tiny impacts of the rain had sounded clear through the air. Little droplets of water came down in a barrage and splashed with barely any individual force on the dry stones that paved the road, but together they came together to make a cacophony of noise. A single droplet on its own had no power behind it, however the force of a rainstorm was enough to bring down empires.

  I walked through the street, these little droplets soaking into my hood that covered my long, dark hair. My heavy boots caused waves beneath me, the puddles rippling beneath me. The smell was distinctive, yet subtle. It had been weak for most of the day but now the rain was in full swing, it was at its strongest. Petrichor.

  The low sun peeked through the clouds close to the horizon, casting soft, long, dark shadows, lacking any colour from the cloudy sky, across the town, and allowing the rain to glisten an enthralling golden colour as it fell to the earth.

  Along with my own weighted footsteps were the sounds of lighter ones approaching from behind me. I turned around to see Maya, wearing only her paint-stained white dress. She ran down the street bare-footed, the slapping sounds of her feet hitting the puddles perfectly audible from down the street.

  “Elise, wait!” she shouted.

  “Maya!” I shouted in return, as a stern sister would, “Get back inside. You’ll get ill if you’re out in the rain like this.” I stopped in my tracks, turning around to face her properly.

  “Where in hell are you going?” she asked, “What are you going to do?” her tone of voice was indicative of near tears, but she showed no such weakness in this confrontation.

  “I’m going to get the payment I deserve.” I responded

  “Please don’t. I don’t know why you have blood on your hands, but please don’t let any more be spilled.”

  “Maya…” I walked towards her to meet her in the middle of her route. I lay my hands on her shoulders before I continued speaking. “Stay inside, please.” I pleaded.

  “No! I’m tired of all this danger. It’s going to come to a point where we will have to run away from this town, just like mother did!” she cried.

  I looked at her sternly. It was a fair point, although neither of us really knew the full reason for why mother ran away.

  “Maya.” my grip tightened on her shoulder. “I cannot sit back and do nothing in this situation. This debt must be settled.”

  “You’re risking your life, and in effect my own life, for what? Money?”

  “We won’t survive without that money! I’m sorry that this is how things have turned out. I’ve tried my hardest to give you a good life, and I will continue doing so. So I am returning to that forsaken death shrine, and I’m getting the money that we need.”

  Maya slapped my hand off of her shoulder. She said nothing, not needing to add anything. Or rather, There was nothing else she could say that would change my mind at that moment.

  I had been blinded in my own rage. Blinded by the actions that cultists on both sides had taken. The death shrine’s decision to spit in my face after the work I had done for them left me feeling I needed to take action. I felt as though I could not just sit and do nothing.

  Admittedly I had a short fuse, and things like this only served to shorten it further.

  “When I’m done I will return home and we can discuss other matters. Until then I would like you to stay put inside, and don’t answer the door to anyone except me.” I said.

  I had no worries of having to leave Raine. I was confident I would get this money, and I’d settle in for the night without worries, and knowing Maya would be alright.

  I turned around and walked along the route I was on before the interruption. Maya stood still, looking on as I walked with a heavy stride.

  I looked behind me to see her still standing there in the rain.

  “Go!” I ordered.

  And with that, I marched along the soaked and beaten cobblestone road.

  - - -

  The old buildings of the town square towered high around me. I had hidden my hands in my pockets so as to not show my blood-stained sleeves. Although nothing was overtly wrong from the outside—to everyone around me, I was just another citizen going about their business—it still felt like eyes were upon me from every angle.

  In my hurry back to the death shrine, I had taken a shorter, but more conspicuous route, so the thought at the forefront of my mind at this moment was being spotted by anyone who may have witnessed the scuffle on the street earlier.

  Banners of different vibrant colours hung from canopies, some bearing sprawled-on painted messages.

  Most of these banners, cloths, and signs were advertising various shops and stands that lay around the town square. Of course as the sun was going down, most of these shops and stalls were closing down for the day. A few still remained open, such as weapons tradespeople and such, but the majority of stalls on the market were food and perishable goods related.

  Other shops, that were run by businesses rather than individuals, lay in buildings that scattered the town centre. Blacksmiths, tailors, carpenters, alchemists, etc.

  Upon the thought and sight of my alchemy friend’s shop, I made a quick detour for it, weaving between people in the street until I stood under the canopy that shielded the front door from the rain. There lay candles, hanging from the inside of the canopy, almost providing a welcoming atmosphere against the dirty street it resided on.

  I marched through the front door, the warmth of the room assaulting me as I entered, and approached the front desk as I let down my damp hood.

  “Elise?”

  The concerned voice came from the woman behind the counter, no older than twenty five. She sported a simple dark green dress with a white jacket overtop.

  “Eva, I need some help.” I said as I lay my hands down on the desk and looked her in the eyes.

  “What do ya need?” Eva asked.

  I scanned the shelves behind her. Glasses, stones and crystals shimmered under the candlelight as my eyes glided along the rows of colours.

  “Two veikja stones, and an erdstone.” I said. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Hm? Alright, but what’s the emergency?” Eva asked while picking out the selected stones from the dark wooden shelf.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Hard to explain fully at the moment. I can’t pay you straight away but I will pay you extra when I return here, then I can tell you what’s going on too”

  Eva placed three stones on a small mat that lay on the counter. Two of them glistened a vibrant, clear orange, their jagged surfaces almost sparkling, whereas the other appeared similar to the one I had used as a smoke bomb earlier. It lay dull and flat, its smooth, matte surface most unappealing.

  “Eh, I trust you at this point, so sure. But you’d better tell me everything when you get back. I wanna hear the details.” She rubbed her hands together with a mischievous grin on her face before taking a notepad from her pocket and writing something down.

  Eva was a gossip fan. If something happened in Raine, it was likely she knew about it.

  I picked up the stones and I was about to turn towards the door.

  “Oh, and, before I go,” I started, “do you have any recent info on the cult of Nethraea?”

  Eva paused before responding, a worried look that she unsuccessfully tried to hide spread across her face. “Just… I’ve heard people saying they’ve been seeing some strange things that might be to do with them.” She paused again. “Be careful, Elise.”

  “Thanks, Eva. I will.” I said, before putting the stones in my pocket and turning around.

  I twisted the handle of the door and it opened with a creak, as I walked into the dim street. The end of the day was here.

  The sun had dipped below the horizon now, leaving just the fading light of the dark clouds above to light the streets below before the lamps were turned on.

  It was what you would call “rush hour” at this point, so I was weaving between the people who were starting their walks home, nearly all of them somehow caught off guard by the rain as they hurried with bags and coats over their heads.

  As I turned onto another main street, I witnessed the six o’ clock lighting. In a flash, every street lamp that lined the high walls of the buildings on either side lit up all at once, their flames all flashing a bright pale blue before settling down and remaining a flickering blood-orange.

  This was a tradition brought in with gas lights that were shipped in from the west, although they were only installed around the centre of town. Too expensive for the poorer parts of town, and the council had already paid a pretty penny for the ones we had now.

  As I continued through, dodging past people and taking a frankly awkward route along the road, the voice of an old man could be heard, and sure enough, I saw him, kneeling at the side of the street, heckling at strangers that went by.

  A beggar? I thought. But upon closer inspection, and actually listening to what he was saying, that theory was proven wrong.

  “Judgement!” the man announced with all the might his old and croaky voice could muster. “Judgement be upon ye who turn your back from the truth! Ye who turn your back from the gods that can save us!”

  I tried my best to take a route that avoided the man, but the rush of people forced me closer and closer to him.

  “A third judgement is coming!” he continued. “The judgement of Creden—of Primordial Stillness—will make sure we’re all put back in our place”

  A ‘third judgement’. Seemed unlikely.

  There had been two ‘judgement’ events in the past, long before my time. Unexplainable disasters, inconsistencies in magic and technology alike that brought ruin to cities, animals and creatures acting completely abnormally, many people going insane. Empires fell apart from the inside out from seemingly little things that had changed. These might not sound too bad on their own, however, the events that followed topped it all.

  Most believed these events to be an act of punishment, enacted by countless gods.

  This man somehow almost seemed old enough to have actually lived through the second judgement.

  I was suddenly gripped by both of my wrists. Withered hands with deceptive strength.

  “You! Child,” the old man stuttered. “your eyes… they shine differently. You have divinity on your side.”

  I looked at his own eyes. They were withered, and afraid, but with an air of wisdom and experience.

  “You may pass by without judgement…” he said as some sense of hope passed across his face.

  Admittedly, I was bewildered. A strange old man who was just moments ago shouting at the side of the street had just grabbed me and… complimented my eyes?

  But I wasn’t quite right.

  “Here,” the man said hurriedly as he frantically searched through all of his pockets. “You must take this.”

  He continued rustling and fumbling through the many pockets his battered coat held, before tapping at his chest, suddenly remembering the location he kept the item he wanted to hand me so desperately.

  He reached under his dirty collar and pulled out an extraordinarily old looking key. As solidly built as it appeared, it was coated in a thin layer of rust, and the metal that showed underneath had been discoloured from years of neglect.

  “You must take it.” he said as he yanked the key from around his frail neck.

  “W-what?” I was understandably confused. “I can’t, I don’t even know who you a-”

  “Please…” he placed the key in my hand and held it there, shaking my hand in time with his own speech to emphasise. “I have been in this world for far too long. I don’t have long until I must pass onto the next.”

  He released his hand from mine and I held the key in my open hand.

  “What is this for?” I asked.

  “It is a key… and a symbol.” he answered. “Find the passage. Hear the message from her. She will guide you through the coming storm.”

  “What?”

  I asked in vain for further clarification, but was interrupted when I was pushed aside by a passing group of smartly dressed people.

  “Who’re you talking to? Freak.” one of the group members shouted out.

  I looked at them, then looked back to the old man, only, he wasn’t there.

  I rushed forward towards where he was. I looked amongst the crowd, I looked amongst the shops, I even ventured down the darkened alley that lay not far from where he had been standing. Nothing.

  He had disappeared.

  At first thought maybe I actually had been imagining things, but the key in my hand was proof of the contrary. What he had said, ‘I don’t have long until I must pass onto the next.’, maybe that statement was literal. But that still does not exactly explain how he had just vanished.

  I decided to put further investigation on hold. For now, I had to get back to the death shrine, and so, I put the key in my pocket and continued on my path.

  - - -

  The rain hit the hot cone-shaped metal roofs of the gas lamps as steam rose into the air.

  I walked through the now empty fish market, weaved once more through the north central housing estate, before returning to that same damp side street.

  Since the narrow alleyway was surrounded by tall buildings, the light of the dusk sky couldn’t quite reach the ground, and it was lit only by one small lamp that lay above the door of the distillery. Moths and flies buzzed around the light, casting thin, dancing shadows on the walls.

  Barrels, crates, discarded furniture and other various bits of rubble lay scattered around the alley, blocking a few of the other obviously disused doors that lined the walls.

  Above the door, besides the lamp, was a small sign, displaying the name of the distillery. This was not quite the main entrance, more of a side door for workers and deliveries. The only window that lay on this side of the building was the small glass pane that was in the door, around head height. The light inside had been dimmed considerably but it was still clearly lit by candles or the like.

  I approached the door and peered through the window without being too noticeable. Without looking for too long, I spotted the man from before still behind the desk as he was earlier.

  With great caution I pressed my ear against the door and listened. A moment of silence. A long moment of silence, before…

  One muffled step, followed by the next. He was approaching the door.

  Without warning, the door swung open, the light from inside now escaping through the door.

  The man from inside stepped through the doorway, now wearing a long coat and a hat that cast a dark shadow on his face, and carrying a small leather bag in his hand. He looked around, scanning the alley up and down.

  I watched him silently from behind a stack of wooden palettes that lay a few feet from the door, that I had just about managed to dodge behind before the man could see me. My relatively small size aided me in hiding, allowing me to fit entirely within the shadow that the palettes cast.

  The man turned to the door behind him and closed it, pulling a key from his pocket and locking the door, before turning to walk in my direction. Luckily he was not on guard, so he walked right past the shadow that I lay veiled in, and exited the alleyway.

  I made absolutely sure that the coast was clear before I stood up and crept out of the shadows. I approached the now locked door while I thought of how to get in.

  I think most people would expect to sneak in, picking the lock or finding another entrance.

  I looked around amongst the various bits and pieces of old and discarded wooden palettes and boxes and doors, and different other items like picture frames, cheap trinkets, and old bricks scattered across the alley.

  Then the thought crossed my mind and I crouched without hesitation, picked up a weighty brick, swung it backwards with all the grip strength I could muster, and smashed it against the lock of the door.

  With that one, quick and impactful movement, the brick crashed into the lock, which previously hung from the bolt that kept the door shut, and shattered the rusty shackle, the lock wasting no time in falling to the floor with a metallic ping that rang out through the back street.

  Without wasting a moment, I slid the bolt to the side and entered the distillery. The warm air rushed through me, beginning its work on curing the chill in my bones from being out in the rain.

  The room filled with near silence once I closed the door, broken only by my shaky breaths. Droplets of water dripped off the bottom of my coat and soaked into the old floorboards beneath my feet.

  I grabbed the stones from my pocket and kept them tightly in my hand as I shook the wet coat off of my back. It dropped to the floor with a muffled and continuous thump as it collapsed and folded in on itself, until it came to a stop, and lay still on the now damp wood.

  Surrounding me, upon all four walls of the room, were shelves. Rows of shelves holding countless bottles, barrels, and jars of wine, spirits, and ale. Unlabelled liquids shone in the colours of the rainbow in the flickering light of the candles around the room, and the one lit sconce on the back wall, behind the desk.

  The solitary desk that was positioned closely to the back wall, but with enough space to stand behind it, was almost bare, save a pile of papers which, upon closer inspection, appeared to just be general lists to do with the business, nothing too important to me at that moment.

  It was a nice enough looking distillery, but I couldn’t see from just the surface level. It had good enough records and I had heard of it having marvellous reviews: great service, brilliant quality, etc. Most people, however, were unaware of their harbouring of a cult in their basement. The cult of Nethraea was not well known, but those who knew of them did so for a reason.

  It was strange. With the outrageous amount of religious dedication—not only in Raine, but in most places across the continent—you might have expected more of a direct influence from the deities. Instead, the only evidence we had that they existed were the calls upon the gods and some rare cases of people supposedly receiving visions and messages from them.

  There were three doors in the room: the door I came in through, standing behind me, heavy and old, and two positioned adjacent at either sides of the desk. The door to the right went through into the main fermentation room, but that was locked, a large steel bolt keeping it shut tight. The door to the left, the door in which I had previously been through, hung wide open, the entryway into the storage room of sorts.

  I proceeded through the door and into the room of barrels stacking up to the roof, a tight fit. And a tight fit it was to get through the room, but sure enough I found my way through to the gap in the barrels. I squeezed through sideways, both my back and front in contact with the barrels either side of me, until I could see the arched stone roof of the stairway.

  I carefully crept slowly down the old wooden steps, down towards the equally old door, its rusted handle lying waiting to be lifted, to open to whatever may be lying in wait behind it, to be discovered by my own eyes. I couldn’t have possibly imagined at the time what was going on behind that door, although in hindsight it was obvious.

  I raised my hand, my fingers gliding along the cold and rusty brass ring hanging down heavily. Before gaining a strong grip on it and, with a gulp of forced confidence, twisting the door open, pushing it stiffly against its will.

  I was surprised to see that nobody had heard the quiet shriek of the door, as I pushed through the doorway, and into the death shrine.

  Nine cloaked figures stood scattered at the far end of the room, near the illuminated statue. Eight of them were chaotically sprinkled around one main figure, standing at an altar or pedestal, facing towards the statue. This main figure seemed to be chanting something in a low, monotone voice in a language I couldn’t quite make out. Above the pedestal was a small pinpoint of light, hovering above the main figure. It glowed a putrid green, the kind of colour one would associate with toxic waste.

  The room we were in got smaller the further in you were, with pillars lining the path leading through it, and a few rows of small benches further to the front and to the sides. I moved low to the ground to hide behind one of the pillars a little further in. From here I could get a better look at things without getting too close.

  I thought it might have been alchemy related, but since I had never really asked Eva anything to do with alchemy, I couldn’t come up with any theories past that. Then I thought I could have been magic, some kind of new glyphs or even the rumoured wild magic I had heard whispers of.

  With the distance shortened I could now get an idea as to what the light was. I peaked my head out from behind the pillar and…

  It was the insignia. The insignia that I had gone through the trouble of stealing. I got burned for that thing. I quite possibly killed someone for that thing.

  This realisation reminded me of why I was here, shoved the idea of curiosity out of the way to make room for the anger I felt.

  I took one good look at the group of people and quickly deduced that the man who had given me the fake coins was likely the central figure, by the pedestal.

  As I concentrated a bit harder I could make out a few select words from his chanting. I racked my brain to figure out what he was saying before realising he was speaking Daerumal, a language not often spoken around these parts anymore, but more commonly used further north west.

  I only had a very rudimentary understanding of it so I couldn’t figure out what he was saying. I waited and listened for a moment to find out if I could catch any of the words he was saying.

  “Nülas Nethraea held halmen, irdan erder, holme kathaerden.” chanted the main figure.

  ‘Nethraea’. I definitely heard that. Were they doing a ritual? An offering perhaps? I figured the only way to find out was to stop hiding in the shadows.

  As soon as I raised myself from the ground and stepped out from behind the pillar, I sensed something was off, like the air suddenly felt cold and full of static. It felt like something was about to pounce at me, or like I had just way overstepped my boundaries and I was about to be punished for doing so, but I had no idea why.

  I shrugged this feeling off, seeing that nobody in front had noticed my presence, so I decided to continue. I took a deep breath in before—

  “Hey.” I exclaimed.

  As soon as I did so though…

  Crackle

  A small crackle, like the muffled sound of pages being flipped, emanated from in front of the group. From the insignia? Or from the Statue? I questioned for a moment in confusion.

  The group of people walked back towards me almost in unison, but the main figure remained still for a moment. Scanning the faces amongst the group, they mostly seemed to have a mixture of shock and panic, or fear perhaps. They all got into an almost defensive stance, as if they were just put at knifepoint, almost in unison. A few of them started looking back and forth between myself and the main figure at the pedestal.

  All of this perceived confusion happened in but a moment, almost like it had been in slow motion. The main figure's face as he slowly turned around was one laced with bitterness, anger, but most of all, terror. It shocked me to say the least. I knew that my presence must have been a surprise to them, but I wasn’t expecting the reaction of fear.

  I spoke, addressing the main figure.

  “I know you gave me fake coi-”

  As I was in the middle of speaking, a strange crackle came from near the statue again, this time louder than the last, and accompanied by the same static feeling. My vision seemed to blur, or at least I thought it did. It almost seemed like the air around the insignia—or the statue—was distorting, like an intense source of heat was emanating from either of them, yet the room was immensely cold, frigid even.

  I took a step back, partly surprised by the reaction of the cultists, and partly shocked by whatever event was going on behind them. Then suddenly, once again…

  Crackle

  This time much louder. Incomprehensibly louder. It was like the source of all thunder had been summoned into this room. This bang, or ripple, or however I could describe it, was so obnoxiously loud it rivalled the loudest explosions or bursts of energy humans were capable of producing. My ears rang, an awful piercing sound that trampled even the slight possibility of hearing anything else, but along with that, I couldn’t see. The blinding flash—lasting only a second—caused the whole room to end up dark for a split moment.

  I was knocked off of my feet. Although my sight and hearing were knocked out, I could still feel. Apart from the sickening cold I felt, I felt myself losing balance as I tumbled backwards onto the floor, landing on my butt with my hands placed firmly behind me to stop myself from landing on my back, against the cold stone flooring, which still wasn’t as cold as the air surrounding me.

  After a very quick moment of focusing my mind on what just happened, trying to make sense of things, my sight slowly started returning. A very faint glow—resembling the silhouette of a person—stood a distance away from me. With my sight still returning, I rubbed my eyes to make sense of the vision.

  With the rubbing of my eyes, I saw something unbelievable.

  A woman? Or perhaps not. Something resembling a woman, or maybe even something just barely human-like. Its—or rather her—skin was unnaturally pale, it almost appeared translucent, a faint shimmer painting over it. Her eyes seemed to appear two colours at once, a colour I couldn’t quite make sense of. They appeared almost like silver marbles, seemingly staring right through me, while also having a sense of complete emptiness to them, like a complete void. Her attire was something I could hardly understand. At first it didn’t even seem like any kind of clothing that I knew of, but it being clothing was the simplest explanation. A nearly pure black gown of sorts draped over her body, its folds, wrinkles, and curves seemingly having a life of their own, moving in the not-present wind like it was searching for something, reaching out for anything yet never finding what it needed. On her head—on top of her long, draping hair, reaching down to her feet—lay a crown of sorts, almost seeming to be made of some kind of bramble or thorns, but emitting a cold glow, similar to the rest of her body.

  The air smelt foul and stale, like it hadn’t been circulated in an age. It smelled like death, but without the element of rotting flesh involved. It was as if the air itself had died.

  My sight at this point had adjusted to the point where I could roughly see my surroundings. Nothing seemed too different, other than the dust that fell from the ceiling, choking my lungs slightly, the obvious ethereal being in front of me, and…

  Nearly all of the cultists lay dead on the ground, or at least, they seemed dead. They were crumpled in a way that no mere unconscious body would be. All but one of them lay apparently dead, all but the main figure, who stayed stood up, the imposing ethereal figure appearing in front of him, as he slowly turned from me to face this being, and lowered his hood.

  My hearing had about recovered enough to hear the dust gliding along the floor from the wind this being was blowing outwards, only intensifying the smell of death, along with the indescribable hum it gave off.

  Then I heard the man speak above the noise, addressing the being.

  “O’ goddess!” I heard him proclaim, barely loud enough for it to register thanks to my hearing. “Thank you for showing yourself. I apologise with all the sincerity I can for the welcome we gave you, It did not go to plan!”

  Goddess? What? I thought, utterly bewildered.

  I had only ever heard of rumours of the gods really existing and now I was supposed to believe that one had really just appeared before me?

  Before I could think further, the man spoke further.

  “I, Arne, have devoted my life to you, goddess Nethraea! I am so glad you have finally decided to show yourself to us.”

  The man named Arne looked around briefly to notice his fallen allies.

  “I-I see you ha-” he continued before he could no longer speak, being physically unable to continue any further, as if someone had put pressure on his throat to stop him from speaking further.

  Suddenly, as clear as rain, and sounding like it was coming from every direction at once, including from inside my own head, and in a language I could not understand, yet somehow comprehended perfectly, a voice rang out. This voice was neither masculine nor feminine, in fact sounding hardly human at all. It rang out, almost like a soothing lullaby, yet evoking the fear of a blood curdling scream.

  “I HAVE NOT COME TO THIS REALM SEEKING DEVOTION” It spoke, a cold shiver running down my spine, stronger than I had ever experienced before. This was the goddess of death.

  “I HAVE COME TO PLANT A SEED, AND TO SMITE FALSE PROPHETS SUCH AS YOU” The voice spoke as if regarding the cult leader.

  “B-but goddess, I-” Arne started speaking, but was swiftly cut off once again, but this time it was different. This time as soon as he stopped speaking, he fell limp, collapsing straight to the floor, folding just like the coat I had previously discarded upstairs.

  It seemed he was dead.

  Although I saw no movement in her eyes, I felt as if the goddesses gaze had moved to stare right through me. Directly through into my soul, as if she was conversing with me at the deepest most fundamental level she could.

  “YOU CARRY THE SEED. THE SEED OF ALTERED FATES. LEAVE TONIGHT.”

  Without wasting a moment, the unimaginable ethereal being—no, the goddess of death, Nethraea—disappeared in an instant.

  The room fell dark, before my eyes adjusted once again to the candlelight.

  It was hard to believe what had literally just happened. I slowly rose to my feet, my legs shaking under my weight, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

  What? It was the only question that kept repeating in my mind.

  I sluggishly carried myself back out the way I came, stopping at the doorway only for a moment to look back at the statue of the goddess I had just seen. It did not even capture a fraction of the likeness of the real thing.

  I hesitated to turn back towards the door, lest Nethraea somehow appeared again, but I managed to gain the courage to carry myself up the stairs, through the storage room, before I was faced with the door to the outside.

  “Leave tonight” echoed in my head...