Within the office of his temple, Zareth winced in sympathy as he examined the maimed visage of his latest client.
The person sitting in front of him was a large human man, one of the soldiers who had been hurt when the Conclave detonated flasks of Dragon’s Breath in the city’s barracks. Casualties weren’t as high as they might have been if the attack had taken place just the day before, as most of the soldiers had been away, but the few who were left to guard the base had borne the brunt of the disaster.
Dragon’s Breath was not only an explosive, but was also a weaponized form of alchemical fire that stuck to its victim like napalm. Few survived being exposed to Dragon’s Breath, and the few who did were often left with devastating injuries. The man in front of Zareth was one such survivor.
The left side of his face was a grotesque tableau of burns, with skin melted and fused in ways that would leave most people horrified. His left eye was nothing more than a seared socket, and Zareth could tell from the burns approaching his other eye that the soldier had barely avoided total blindness. A large portion of his lower jaw was completely missing, the Dragon’s Breath burning so hot that even his bones were melted and deformed.
It was a miracle that the man had survived at all, and it was likely only possible because he was a military veteran with a high Level who had focused primarily on raising his Vitality. Otherwise, the Dragon’s Breath would have almost certainly claimed his life.
“Well? Can you help him, sir?”
Zareth turned to address the soldier’s anxious mother, a [Seamstress] by the name of Onara who was one of the earliest people to join his cult. Zareth would have agreed to help the soldier even if he didn’t have a connection to the cult through his mother, but there was a chance that it would have taken months to arrange. He already had many things to do, and there was a limit to how many people he could help before suffering from Skill exhaustion. So, he had to be careful when managing his schedule.
It didn’t help that his [Devotion Perception] revealed him to be a devout worshiper of Silvaris, and thus more difficult to affect with his Skills. Much like most gods, Silvaris was a tad bit possessive and didn’t make it easy for the power of foreign gods to affect his worshipers.
“I can, but it’s not going to be easy,” Zareth finally replied, his voice hesitant as he met the gaze of the woman. “It’ll likely take me multiple days of flesh shaping just to fix your son’s jaw. The residual magic left behind by the Dragon’s Breath and the devotion he feels to his god will make this take longer than I would like.”
Truthfully, this wasn’t the best way for Zareth to spend his time given that his time could be better spent trying to solve his cult’s abysmal financial situation. But what kind of cult leader would he be if he failed to properly help his followers in their hour of need, especially one of his most devoted?
Besides, the soldier’s wounds were a unique challenge that would be very helpful pushing Zareth to his next level.
“Oh, praise Cerebon,” Onara said, sighing in relief. “I’ve seen how you use your god-given abilities to help folks and figured you could do the same for my boy. Ain’t no way we could scrape together the coin for a real [Healer]! Y’hear that boy? Cerebon’s gonna fix you up, not that indifferent old god that your damned father’s got you hooked on.”
Zareth was somewhat surprised by how devoted to Cerebon Onara had become in a short few months, but knew it was likely because the woman was lonely and drawn to the sense of community he’d been fostering.
The disfigured man glared and attempted to say something back to his mother that was likely quite rude, but his words came out as an unintelligible gurgle due to his damaged jaw. Onara simply patted her son’s unscarred cheek in an attempt to soothe his obvious frustration.
“Now, now, none of that,” Onara said to her son before turning her gaze back to Zareth. “Forgive my fool son for not being grateful like he should. His father and those folks over in the tribes have been filling his head with nonsense about us and our god. That’ll teach me for rolling in the sand with a Sand-Chewer just because he’s got a pretty smile!”
Zareth suppressed his wince at the derogatory term used to describe the majority of humans in Tal’Qamar who still clung to their more traditional heritage.
“It’s not a problem, Onara. It doesn’t bother me,” Zareth lied, smiling politely as he used [Deaden Nerves] and began removing the most painful of his patient’s wounds. “The tribes are free to say whatever they like.”
Farida had always been antagonistic to Zareth after he refused to become a [Priest] for Silvaris, but it was only recently that her hostility had started to affect him. Both she and her god had significant influence among the human tribes, which was being used to warn people away from Zareth and his cult.
Given that Zareth hadn’t been raised among them and was considered an outsider to their culture, Farida’s efforts were annoyingly successful. Zareth couldn’t allow this to continue for long, or else he’d find himself locked out of a significant portion of Tal’Qamar's population when recruiting to his cult.
Zareth had a few ideas on how he could resolve the situation, but it would have to wait. Lady Marilith had made it clear to him after the Declaration Ceremony was interrupted that he had a few other priorities that he needed to take care of first.
“I’ll just help your son as much as I can for today,” said Zareth, intending to get this business done as soon as possible.
When Onara responded, her eyes were wet with tears and her expression was overflowing with gratitude, “Oh, bless you, sir. You don’t know what this means to me and my boy. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”
Zareth smiled at her, a mixture of sympathy and encouragement in his eyes. “Your faith in Cerebon is all the repayment that I need Onara. Now, please allow me to concentrate as I do my work. This is quite a bit more difficult than it looks.”
Fortunately, Onara seemed to understand his urgency and allowed him to work on the soldier in peace for the next half an hour. By then, the man’s jaw had been mostly reconstructed and Zareth was starting to feel the beginnings of Skill exhaustion.
After another round of thanks and extreme gratitude from Onara, Zareth sent the two of them away and slumped in his seat. He knew that he had at least a few minutes before either Tamir or Rizok knocked on the door to remind him of his next appointment, so he could take a moment to relax.
Although he was a bit tired, Zareth couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Not only because he was able to help that man, but also because he could sense that he was on the precipice of gaining another Level.
Zareth wouldn’t be surprised to reach Level 21 by the end of the day if everything went as planned, which would go a long way towards easing his mind. An extra Level wouldn’t do much in the short term to protect Zareth from the Conclave or any of his political enemies, but every Level was another step toward power and safety as far as he was concerned.
Besides, Lady Marilith and Zareth had a long conversation after the botched Declaration Ceremony, and he’d been pointed to a promising path to power that he hadn’t truly appreciated.
How ridiculous is it that some rich lady probably knows more about my own Class than I do? Zareth thought bitterly as he sighed and leaned back in his seat. I guess I should just count myself lucky that she considered me useful enough to share information with.
That path was one that he’d take the first steps on later in the evening, but there was something much less exciting that he needed to take care of first. As if on cue, Zareth let out a soft groan as he heard a knock on the door of his office.
“Oi, boss, the [Steward] finished looking through the books,” Tamir said as he poked his head through the door. “He said he’s ready to chat with you.”
“Thank you, Tamir. Please send him in,” said Zareth, smiling as he noticed that Tamir had put a bit of meat on his bones since he’d first arrived at the temple. “By the way, how’s your new Class coming along? Have you been practicing like I told you?”
Zareth had many plans for his temple, but several of them would only be possible with more [Cultists]. Tamir was the first of these, so Zareth was paying close attention to his progress and had told the kid to heal anyone who came to him with minor injuries.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been practicing,” Tamir said, rolling his eyes. “It’s been hard though. I don’t know how to remember all of that ‘anatomy’ stuff you were going on about. It’s so complicated!”
Zareth could sympathize. Tamir had it harder than him when it came to learning anatomy given that the kid had trouble reading, but it was necessary. Messing around with somebody’s body when you didn’t even know what a kidney did was a good way to get someone killed. If Tamir was ever going to move beyond closing superficial wounds, then Zareth would have to continue tutoring him.
“That’s to be expected, Tamir. Learning new skills always takes time and effort. Just focus on practicing every day, and you’ll eventually get better. I promise.”
Tamir gave him a dubious look but nodded in agreement. “Alright, boss. I’ll keep at it.”
With that, Tamir exited the room and the [Steward] sent by House Vhelan slithered in through the door. Predictably, the man was a well dressed naga who sniffed disdainfully at the humble furnishings in Zareth’s office. His scales shone with a polished sheen that Zareth recognized to be the result of alchemical treatments.
“Greetings, Steward Hissal,” Zareth said as smiled politely at the naga. “I’m told that you’ve concluded your audit and wish to speak with me?”
“Cultist Zareth,” Hissal acknowledged with a nod. “I have evaluated your financial documents as instructed by my Lady. It is a grim picture, I’m afraid.”
Zareth sighed, having expected as much. “Yes, I’m well aware of our precarious situation. This temple has been nearly entirely funded by the military. I can’t rely on the budget offered to me by High Command forever. If I ever wish for any degree of independence, then I will need to develop my own source of income.”
Zareth made sure to stress his desire for independence. It wasn’t in his interest to trade one overlord for another by indebting himself to House Vhelan.
Hissal reached into his satchel and retrieved a scroll that he began reading from as he responded. “If that is your goal, then there is much work that needs to be done. Allow me to provide a detailed description of your expenses, Cultist Zareth.”
Zareth listened patiently as Hissal ran through all of his expenses, which was surprisingly substantial. High Command was willing to take care of everything that was strictly necessary, but anything extra came directly out of his coin purse. The gold that he’d spent to hire the Adventurers, feed the members of his cult whenever they had an event, pay Tamir’s salary, buy useful books, and a bunch of other miscellaneous expenses had begun to creep up on him.
It wasn’t pleasant to listen to, but Zareth was lucky that he had a potential plan for how to deal with it. Once Hissal was finished with his long winded explanation, Zareth reached behind him and placed a small cage on the desk for the naga to see.
Inside was a small creature about the size of his hand, a scaled serpent with vibrant, iridescent scales flowing along its body. It had two tiny, feathered wings attached to its back and its eyes glowed with a gentle, harmless light. The serpent was guaranteed to draw the eyes of any naga or lizardkin that saw it.
After all, Zareth had designed it with exactly that purpose in mind.
Sure enough, Hissal’s eyes widened at the sight of the tiny creature as he leaned in closer to the cage, his eyes flickering with curiosity.
“I do not recognize this creature. What is it, Cultist Zareth?” Hissal asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“It’s a Radiant Serpent, or that’s what I decided to call it,” Zareth replied with a satisfied grin. “A little creation of mine that I made by altering the traits of the common Qahtani Dune Serpent. I also had a bit of help from a member of a team of Adventurers who I regularly do business with. They possess the [Beast Tamer] Class, and were able to make the creature quite docile. You’re free to touch her if you’d like.”
Hissal seemed momentarily taken aback by the offer before he cautiously extended a hand into the cage. The Radiant Serpent lifted its head toward the naga’s hand, blinkings luminous eyes as it curiously approached him.
Zareth couldn’t help but smile as he saw the man’s eyes sparkle with delight when the serpent coiled its tail around Hissals finger in a playful manner. The naga’s professional demeanor was momentarily forgotten as he gently lifted the creature out of its cage to get a closer look.
“The Radiant Serpent is not only very pleasant to look at, but it is also easily trained and very affectionate,” Zareth explained with a hint of pride in his voice.
“You made this creature? And you plan on selling them?” Hassal asked, instantly understanding Zareth’s intentions. “I must admit. This is a very creative use of your abilities. It is not one that many people in your position would have considered.”
Zareth felt his grin grow at the naga’s words. His experience as a veterinarian in his past life meant that Zareth was intimately familiar with how attached people could become to their pets. Much of his work had been dedicated to keeping those beloved pets healthy and alive, but now he could use that expertise in an entirely different way.
“That’s the plan, Steward Hissal,” Zareth confirmed with a nod. “In my experience, the best way to make money is to leverage your unique abilities as much as possible. I’ve heard that it’s not uncommon for [Beast Tamers] to tame and sell strange creatures to the wealthy, but those creatures are often difficult to care for. I believe my abilities offer me an opportunity to carve a niche in the market for exotic pets. The Radiant Serpent is the first of these.”
Zareth had thought long and hard about how his cult could financially sustain itself long into the future, and this was one of the better ideas he’d come up with. While his temple could offer healing, Zareth’s visit to the Aetheric Reality Prism had made it excruciatingly clear exactly how severe wealth inequality was in Tal’Qamar.
Healing people who could barely spare a few silvers to their name was unlikely to be very profitable.
Zareth’s makeshift plastic surgery business would likely make a bit more than healing, but it had the downside of the changes being permanent. That meant that the market was limited by its very nature. Once a person was satisfied with their appearance, they would no longer need his services.
However, selling exotic pets to the wealthy had the potential to be a business that could expand indefinitely, especially if Zareth eventually managed to expand outside of Tal’Qamar. If he could one day create creatures useful for war or labor, then that had the potential to become a truly significant source of revenue for his cult.
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This line of work also had the benefit of being fairly challenging, which would translate into quicker leveling.
It was honestly too perfect an opportunity for Zareth to give up.
Hissal was silent for several moments as he gently ran his fingers over the Radiant Serpent’s vibrant scales. The creature was obviously incredibly content with its treatment, wriggling happily in response.
Zareth faintly regretted that he wasn’t able to modify the creature to purr like he had planned.
“While I am no [Merchant], I believe that you could sell these Radiant Serpents for a hefty sum. Especially if you alone control their supply,” Hissal eventually said as he gently placed the creature back into its cage. “My [Steward’s Insight] seems to agree that this could indeed be a very lucrative venture for your cult. However, there are certain matters of… regulations and distributions to consider.”
“Of course, I would be glad to hear any advice that you might have on this topic,” Zareth said with an understanding tone. “Perhaps House Vhelan and I could reach an agreement on the best way to proceed.”
Hissal’s fangs glinted as he smiled for the first time since entering Zareth’s office.
Zareth knew that he would have to cut House Vhelan into a portion of his profits if he wanted to secure their cooperation, but he didn’t mind. It would be worth it to avoid all of the legal complications and gain access to the [Merchants] affiliated with House Vhelan. Besides, having a Great House as a business partner meant that nobody would dare to interfere with his business.
Nearly an hour later, Hissal’s expression was much more friendly as the two of them shook hands than when the naga had first arrived. Soon, the naga left with the Radiant Serpent with promises to talk more after they had the creature professionally appraised at Tal’Qamar’s auction house.
As soon as Hissal was gone, Zareth let out a sigh of relief. Things had gone better than he expected, and Hissal seemed to be confident that his exotic pet plan was a good idea. If this worked out, then there were a lot of ways that Zareth could use the extra gold. In a world where people could freely purchase powerful enchanted items or hire Adventurers to do nearly anything, there were very few things that a person couldn’t accomplish with enough gold.
Now that I’m done with the healing and I’ve finished speaking with the Steward, I can finally get on to the most important event for the day, Zareth thought with growing anticipation as he left his office.
A few days after the Declaration Ceremony, High Command had said that they were nearly ready to hand over the spires in the Spire Garden that they’d confiscated from the Conclave. Zareth had begun to think that it was never going to happen, but today he would be getting his first look inside the one assigned to him.
A part of him had wanted to go there immediately after waking up, but he knew that he probably wouldn’t leave the spire for a while once he entered.
Zareth could vividly remember the nights that he would spend watching the sun set on those spires, once viewing them as the center of power in Tal’Qamar. Of course, the spires had almost certainly been emptied of anything truly valuable by High Command, and Zareth knew that the Great Houses and the military were the true centers of power in the city now, but it was still a big moment for him. He’d never imagined that he would be able to set foot in any of those towers, let alone call one of them his own.
If Lady Marilith hadn’t thoroughly explained to him why High Command valued having useful faiths in their city, he would almost find it suspicious that they actually handed it over.
I really owe a lot to that old lady, Zareth thought as he instructed Tamir to take care of the temple. Especially for that little hint she gave me about what I might find in the spire…
Rizok silently fell in behind Zareth as the two of them made their way out of the temple.
Zareth was so excited to reach the Spire Gardens that he hurried through the streets as quickly as he could without actually running. A part of him noted the subdued atmosphere that had fallen over Tal’Qamar after the start of the beginning of the war and the recent terrorist attack, but he didn’t pay it much mind. The citizens of Tal’Qamar were resilient people, so he was sure everything would go back to normal soon enough.
When they finally reached the Spire Gardens, Zareth was practically bouncing in anticipation and he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The Spire Gardens were aptly named, as both the home of the tallest towers in Tal'Qamar and one of the few places that there was any vegetation.
The Conclave had even gone so far as to magically modify several foreign plants so that they could survive in Tal'Qamar's climate.
Zareth turned his attention to the six towers, one for each god of the Conclave, that loomed imposingly over the Spire Gardens. Each of them was around two-hundred-feet tall and made from a unique amalgam of local red and yellow sandstone and imported white marble, giving them a striking appearance that contrasted against the much smaller buildings surrounding the towers.
Zareth noticed that all markings of the Conclave had been removed from the towers, including the various sigils and emblems that were once carved into the stone.
Although they now looked a bit barren and forgotten compared to how he remembered them, Zareth didn’t mind it. He had always found the religious icons plastered all over the towers to be a bit pretentious. It was better for them to effectively be a blank slate, although that likely wouldn’t last for long.
Zareth could already see people walking in and out of the other spires, many of them wearing robes or other garments that indicated their faiths.
A group of soldiers was stationed at the entrances to each of the spires, warding off any unwanted intruders. As Zareth approached them, he displayed a special sigil that had been given to him by High Command, forged from some specially enchanted metal that was supposed to be impossible to counterfeit. Given how many shapeshifters existed in this world, High Command took identity verification very seriously.
Once he stepped into the structure, Zareth found himself in a grand entryway that was larger than his entire temple. High ceilings with intricate carvings gave way to large arches, supporting the marble and sandstone interior. The central hall was flanked by a series of doorways, each leading to different sections of the spire, and a staircase that spiraled upwards to the higher levels.
Zareth could hear his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor in the silent, empty hall. The spire had obviously been stripped of the valuable adornments that once belonged to the Conclave, but the stark beauty of the building’s architecture was still breathtaking. However, Zareth was unable to appreciate that beauty as he found himself distracted by a strange sensation that he couldn’t quite place.
“Rizok, can you feel that?” Zareth asked with a hint of confusion. “Something about this place feels… off.”
Rizok furrowed his scaled brow ridge, glancing around uncertainly as he tried to find anything strange for several moments before answering. “I do not sense anything, sir. Can you describe what you’re feeling?”
“I’m not sure, it’s a bit difficult to describe,” Zareth admitted. “But… I have an idea. Give me a moment to check.”
Zareth closed his eyes and focused on his [Devotion Perception], intent on proving his suspicion. Nothing happened at first, but Zareth eventually noticed the sensation beginning to grow the longer he focused on his Skill.
I knew it…
Although the System had described [Devotion Perception] as allowing him to ‘sense those who already feel devotion to a deity,’ Zareth had noticed the Skill doing more than that on a few occasions. Specifically, it had allowed him to sense the blessed knife of the [Assassin] who tried to kill him, even when he couldn’t see or sense the woman herself. It also allowed him to sense any item that Zareth blessed with [Minor Blessing of Cerebon].
It was much harder to sense an inanimate object than a person, but it was still possible despite not being specified in the Skill’s description. Zareth wasn’t certain what this meant, but he had begun to suspect that [Devotion Perception] worked by allowing him to sense something akin to ‘divine energy.’ Now that he was standing in one of the spires that had belonged to the Conclave, he was convinced that he was right.
Zareth wasn’t particularly surprised by this. He’d already known that magic and the gods had existed before the System, which implied that there was some underlying mechanism that the System was either based on or worked alongside.
I guess this means that I can’t trust the System’s descriptions to tell me everything…
Rizok watched him curiously as he tried to understand what was going on. “What are you sensing, sir? Is there any danger?”
“No, everything is alright. I think I’m just feeling the divine energy left behind by the Conclave,” Zareth explained, his eyes flicking open to look around the spire’s vast hall. “It’s faint, but it’s definitely here and not very welcoming. I have a feeling that the Conclave’s gods don’t like me very much. I’ll have to find a way to clear their residual energy and sanctify this place in the name of Cerebon.”
Rizok shuffled nervously as he glanced around with newfound caution. “Is that something that you actually know how to do, sir?”
“Nope, but I have an idea on how I can learn,” Zareth said as he made his way toward the staircase, paying no mind to Rizok’s skepticism. “Or rather, I have an idea on who can teach me.”
Lady Marilith had mentioned a certain artifact that High Command had discovered in the upper portions of each spire. Although the military had taken everything of value that they could, they’d left behind a few things that would be better off in the hands of the spires' new owners. Zareth ignored the various floors he passed by as he ascended the tower, intent on reaching the apex where Lady Marilith claimed he would find the artifact.
He would have ample time to explore later.
Eventually, Zareth made his way to the very top of the spire, stepping out onto a terrace that provided an awe-inspiring panoramic view of Tal’Qamar. Although the terrace looked open, it was protected by several enchantments that prevented any harmful elements or creatures from entering. The enchantments even seemed to create a comfortable temperature and atmosphere.
However, Zareth couldn’t bring himself to care about any of this once he noticed the ornate pedestal in the center of the terrace and the object sitting on top of it. The artifact was dark, polyhedric in shape, and each of its sides were inscribed with mysterious glyphs that glowed with an ethereal light.
“Is that what you were looking for, sir?” Rizok asked as he studied the artifact. “It certainly looks like the object Lady Marilith described.”
“The thing lit up like a lighthouse in the darkness to my [Devotion Perception], so I think this is it,” Zareth said as he approached the pedestal with excitement.
According to Lady Marilith, High Command had discovered artifacts like these on top of every single one of the spires. Any attempts that they made to remove them from the pedestals had failed and it had taken them months to discover their actual functions. Apparently, they were tools that the Conclave used to more easily contact their gods.
There were Skills that allowed people to accomplish the same thing, but they tended to come with restrictive requirements that these artifacts could bypass.
Even more than the spire itself, this artifact was the most valuable thing that High Command had ever given him.
Zareth found his mind wandering to the conversation that he’d had with Lady Marilith when she explained why the military and the Great Houses were so interested in promoting the new gods.
After he had agreed to cooperate with House Vhelan, the old woman hadn’t hesitated to lay out what exactly Zareth was doing wrong and how he needed to proceed in the future. Lady Marilith had been particularly… disgruntled to hear that Zareth hadn’t yet established a way to get into contact with his god.
According to her, being able to directly communicate with divine beings was the most important ability that the leader of a religious organization could possess. Zareth not being able to speak to Cerebon was like a [King] without any subjects or a [Sword Master] without a sword, utterly ineffectual. There was a limit to how much deities could affect the Mortal Plane, but they often offered significant rewards to their most favored servants in exchange for completing certain tasks.
In order to demonstrate the potential power of the gods, Lady Marilith had told Zareth the fate of Idraxan the Mad, a powerful [Golemancer] who had once terrorized the Eldamir Empire. Apparently, this man had been so powerful that he was widely considered to be responsible for the fall of the previous dynasty and Eldamir’s current state of decline.
Even someone like Zareth, who had grown up as a copperless street rat without an education, had heard stories of Idraxan and his many evil deeds. When he was young, Idraxan reminded him of horror movie villains he had seen in his past life. It was said that Idraxan had particularly enjoyed kidnapping people and turning them into golems before sending them to kill their loved ones.
To this day, [Golemancers] were even more reviled in Eldamir than [Necromancers].
It was due to these stories that Zareth had been so surprised to hear that Idraxan had been defeated by the worshipers of Luliena, Goddess of Compassion. These worshipers had managed to conduct a ritual to channel their goddess’ power and lay a divine curse upon Idraxan that forced him to feel the pain of all the lives he’d ruined. Almost immediately, Idraxan disappeared with the most powerful of his golems.
There were rumors that the man was still alive, as it was well known that he’d converted his own body into an unaging construct, but his campaign of conquest had ended.
In a single day, a [Golemancer] speculated to be higher than Level 80 had been laid low by a small group of devout [Priests] and [Clerics] who likely couldn’t defeat even the weakest of his golems.
That was the power that religious Classes could manifest on the Mortal Plane with the aid of their gods, and Zareth wanted it with every fiber of his being.
Being able to talk to Cerebon hadn’t seemed to matter all that much when he was just a single little [Cultist] who the god rarely ever paid attention to, but things were different now. Zareth was now the leader of a growing temple and Cerebon’s gaze was now drifting toward Tal’Qamar more than ever.
In fact, Zareth could feel Cerebon looking down on him now, the god’s attention carrying a hint of anticipation.
Zareth felt a shiver run down his spine. He’d grown accustomed to the feeling of being observed by the divine being, but the sensation of anticipation was new.
“Rizok, I’m going to activate the artifact now,” Zareth warned. “Be sure to catch me if I suddenly fall into a trance or something.”
Rizok didn’t miss a beat as he responded with a dry tone of voice. “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure to cushion your fall with my own body if necessary.”
With that comforting reassurance, Zareth took a deep breath and reached out to touch the artifact, bracing himself for his first meeting with the god to whom he’d tied his fate. Unfortunately, after a few moments of nothing happening, Zareth suddenly realized that he had no idea how to actually activate the artifact.
Just as he was about to awkwardly turn back around to face Rizok, an alien feeling of amusement surrounded him and the artifact suddenly flared to life, glowing with an intensity that lit up the entire terrace.
Startled, Zareth attempted to let go of the artifact, but found his hand held in place as though bound by unseen chains. It wasn’t long before he felt a surge of foreign power flowing through his body, nearly painful in its intensity and causing the illusion of writhing flesh to ripple across his body.
For a moment, Zareth thought he could hear Rizok shout out his name before the world suddenly began to melt away and he felt himself sinking into a void. His senses went haywire, screaming against the sudden change in his surroundings. Zareth felt like he was somehow in several places at once, as if he was being pulled apart and reformed again and again. Even when he forced his eyes shut, his vision swam with incomprehensible shapes and colors.
Just as Zareth felt as though he would be swallowed by the chaos, everything abruptly went quiet and he found himself standing in a place far removed from Tal’Qamar.
The ground beneath him pulsed and undulated, like a living creature, while the sky overhead was a swirl of ever changing colors. He was surrounded by the ruins of some ancient city, with architecture wholly foreign to anything he’d seen in either life, and the air was charged with an energy so potent it felt nearly tangible.
However, Zareth couldn’t bring himself to care about any of this when he finally caught sight of Cerebon.
Zareth had been prepared for anything from a Lovecraftian abomination made of wriggling flesh to a seductive temptress ready to steal his soul, but he still somehow found himself surprised.
Sitting across from Zareth on the ruins of an ancient throne was a figure that could best be described as humanoid, albeit with several key differences.
Cerebon wore the form of a bipedal humanoid, taller than even the largest ogre and with the skull of some kind of horned lizard for a head. His eye sockets glowed like two bright stars and his body was covered with sinewy muscles, each one writhing and pulsing as though living independently from the rest. The god was clothed in a flowing robe that seemed to constantly shift and change colors.
An aura of raw, divine power surrounded Cerebon, pressing against Zareth’s senses with an almost physical force that made it hard for him to breathe. It was a feeling that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, leaving no doubt in Zareth’s mind that he was in the presence of a being more powerful than he could imagine.
Cerebon remained silent as Zareth studied him. The god could have almost been mistaken for a statue if not for the constant movement of his muscles.
Pushing down his apprehension, Zareth bowed low with deep respect before the god. “Lord Cerebon, it is my great honor to finally stand in your presence. I come humbly to seek your wisdom, guidance, and blessings as I strive to spread your faith.”
Zareth remained bowed as Cerebon continued to hold his silence long enough for him to wonder if he’d made a mistake. As the silence dragged on and Zareth found himself staring at the writhing floor, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of exasperation.
If he’s going to have me bow like this for so long, would it have killed him to make the place a little less disconcerting?
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a deep booming chuckle that resounded through the bizarre landscape and echoed through Zareth’s very soul.
“Not all divine realms are made to accommodate mortal sensibilities,” said Cerebon, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Oh, what an interesting worshiper you are, Zareth. It is rare that I meet someone who comes from a world beyond even my sight. We have much to talk about.”