The birds are changing.

Forti watched someone nearly kick a pigeon’s head.

The bird flapped away at the last minute whereas the stranger was unaware of what they were about to do, frustratingly occupied by a phone call.

When a person approached or a bus came gliding down, the pigeons, sparrows, and sterlings no longer scattered. They only evade right when they’re about to be struck or crushed under.

Anyone living in the city would tell you this was normal. It used to be the same for Forti until she saw a tourist “shoo” a pigeon and it didn’t startle. Usually, the bird should flinch or walk away, respond with at least an iota of awareness, but it didn’t do anything as if there was nothing done, or no one there. And then she realized, this was not normal.

For a couple times within a month, she tried the same to any bird she encountered, waving her arms like she would at a surprise party. Nothing worked. They all maintained their distance and jumped when Forti was too close, and she was almost convinced that the pigeon with the tourist must’ve been a strange outlier.

But on her seventh attempt, the sterlings did not move.

She crouched down. They didn’t strut aside. She lifted a finger, mere centimeters from a beak. It didn’t care. Then she tried to pet one, and a flurry of feathers filled her vision.

They flew off.

Did anyone else know what she knew? She discovered the source behind the phenomenon based on her observations, and saw it again, huddled within a grounded flock, glaringly obvious as if it desired to be noticed.

White head, brown neck, and brown-speckled-on-white wings. Among the rabble of street birds, the creature looked out of place, for its raised head and billowy chest bestowed it a regal impression. It was a bird for palace grounds rather than city pavement. With a simple search, the internet said they were pigeons of a different color.

Forti didn’t believe that. They came from nowhere, and now they were everywhere. She called them deer doves.

Deer doves are very pretty, thought Forti aimlessly. She pulled her scarf up over her lips and burrowed her hand back into her jacket. How were they doing that? Are they invasive? Where did they come from? An intrusive idea said they came from World 3. No, don’t think like that. She chastised herself, but then again, maybe she should practice pretending to think like that. A bloodthirst for otherness was the ticket to getting in where she needed to go, and it helped her ignore the chill saturating through her jeans. The thermoregulation in them broke somehow, but she was wracked with schoolwork and believed there was still time before the cold fully roosted in Solpolis.

As a consequence of underestimating wind speeds and misjudging the seemingly small difference from yesterday’s temperature, nature harassed Forti mercilessly. Her legs felt like ice blocks, and the frost creeped up to her stomach through her pants. She learned her lesson as she did every winter.

Not every bird stayed still when a threat appeared, like the lone sparrow Forti was nearing. It was already safely away from her, yet it disappeared, somewhere underneath the sky that looked like static, swarming with soaring vehicles zipping from all cardinal directions. There remained an ample number of normal, wary birds.

But the trait is spreading.

She briskly crossed the street.

What if they don’t escape until it’s too late? I haven’t seen one get hit or stepped on yet, but maybe it’s already happening. What if they get lazier and lazier? The birds are in danger–

A bike barreled down in front of Forti, halting all thought. Pedestrians sent glares after the cyclist for speeding at a red light. The other riders on bicycles, scooters, boards, skates, and blades who waited patiently did the same. Forti was stunned, and her eyes trailed instinctively after the retreating figure, but then she moved on. She had to immerse herself into her role.

Every single bird will be within an inch of their lives. There will be dead birds everywhere. The deer doves are pests! They’re trying to kill our birds!

She smiled, humored by the idea. Maybe they did come from world 3. They should go back to where they came from, not causing a mess here and making all the animals strange.

Forti turned around a corner and entered an eerily empty street, but it was an old, stone church that wiped her delight clean.

The headquarters for the Solpolis chapter of Sempirege boldly stood at a pitiful height, tucked between a doorway into a drive-in tower and an old, retro hair salon that occupied the lowest and cheapest floor of another drive-in tower. It was like a stump between trees, looking the worst on its quiet, lonely street. Medieval. Abandoned. Unlike the glorious basilicas and cathedrals that dotted Solpolis. To complete it, the eight-pointed star cross of Pahth was perched at its peak.

In their pockets, Forti’s hands balled into fists. Steeling herself to approach her destination, she pulled the strap of her messenger bag from her shoulder over her head so it crossed her torso. She checked that its flap was closed, fingers flitting over its two magnetic buttons. When she glanced down, her heart thumped through her chest.

Glass doors slid automatically open, and warm air rushed out to greet Forti. She enjoyed how it ruffled her hair and seeped into her clothes.

At the white prism counter positioned in the bare lobby, deeper within the space than it should be, sat a smiling human boy who looked about the same age as her. His cheeks pushed his eyes into black slits and his hair was combed and gelled neatly. She walked in front of him, put on a neutral smile, and he spoke in a friendly tenor.

“Hello, welcome to Sempirege. How may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m here to meet Rula Bargel.” She replied in a matching, bright tone.

His cheeks dropped momentarily and Forti saw the slight dark of his eyes, but they disappeared as quickly.

“Do you have an appointment with Mir. Bargel? What is your name?”

“I don’t have an appointment, but I’m interested in joining Sempirege.”

The boy’s eyes seemed to squint into thinner lines from his growing smile.

“That’s wonderful! You don’t need Mir. Bargel to sign up. Here. This is our form, you just need to tap your phone and that’s it! Easy.” He pulled out from underneath the desk a tablet, and after a password and a tap of an app, he slid it to Forti.

“We’re actually having a congregation today. Once you’re finished, you can join us in the main hall.”

Forti looked down at the blinking request to tap a phone or valid ID card.

“Do you have a form I could write or type instead? I didn’t bring my phone.”

The boy was unmoving, but Forti’s gaze was equally unwavering. Slowly, he pulled the tablet back to himself, tapped the screen a couple times, and handed it back, a smile fixed on his face the entire time.

Forti filled in as much as she wanted, and when she handed it back, the boy, still grinning, looked at the many blank boxes. She didn’t even fill out a last name. No address, no contact information, but Forti saw his line of sight linger in the School or Work section. Of course it would. She goes to Valor Academy.

“Mir. Forti, why do you wish to see Mir. Bargel?”

“I can only discuss that matter with Mir. Bargel.”

Seconds passed, and Forti observed the gears turning in the boy’s head. Her own whirred like an oiled machine, preparing for the ensuing contention.

“I’m sorry, but you need to fill in the form if you wish to join Sempirege.” He pushed the tablet back towards her.

“What specifically do you need me to fill out?”

With a minimal downward tilt of his head, the boy gazed at the form, which was upside down from his point of view.

He pointed as he spoke. “You need to fill out your full name, your birthday, your gender, contact information like phone number or email, your home or mailing address, nationality, ethnicity, marital status, health issues, “ he scrolled down the form. “And in School or Work, you need to tell us your level and if applicable, your specialization, and what future endeavors you’re planning. And if you’re undergoing an internship, that also needs to be included under Work.”

“So what exactly should I fill in to be admitted?”

“All of it.”

His smile looked a little more pointed than before and it pricked Forti’s temper. She kept her composure.

Forti knew her form was quite bare, but she refused to relent, to give her identity to an extremist group. It was too much of a compliment to call Sempirege an institution.

But she needed to see Rula Bargel.

She took a small breath, and compromised by putting one of her faux emails. When he still didn’t move from his upright posture, she let out a meek smile and softened her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable putting out a lot of my information,” she said, gently. “I’m interested in joining, really, and I agree with the values Sempirege has, but it can be… dangerous for me. I’m just a little nervous about filling out so much.”

She could see confusion in his grin. Then he processed her words and she watched sympathy wash over, diffusing the enmity into harmless steam. Forti pushed on.

“I wanted to see Mir. Bargel because I saw online that she's the leader of the chapter in Solpolis, and so I thought it would be safer if I joined under her supervision. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but my school isn’t fond of its students having affiliations to Sempirege. I disagree with that but if I say that or if they found out I’m even doing this, I could get expelled. But it’s what I believe in, and I’m not going to compromise my values just because my school is afraid of doing the right thing.”

Forti had him. He was back to the first state Forti saw him in when she first entered, but there was now compassion in his smile.

“Mir. Forti, I completely understand,” the boy said comfortingly. “It’s unfortunate that a renowned university like ValorA became what it is. I can’t even imagine how scared you must’ve been in ValorA when it’s just crawling with them. You don’t have to worry anymore Forti. You have a place here and you’re not alone.”

The boy pulled out an office phone from under the table and dialed.

“… Mir. Bargel? There’s a person who wishes to join our chapter… She says she wants to meet you… She said she would feel safer if you registered her in… She goes to ValorA… Yes… Will do.”

He tucked the phone and tablet back into the desk and stood up.

“Please follow me. I’ll take you to Mir. Bargel.”

Forti and the boy rounded the wall that stood behind his seat. Double doors were propped open and they walked into a dark hallway that narrowed to a single, closed door at the end. Forti kept at a distance, ready to run if needed, and took off her scarf to throw it at the boy’s face although saddened by the possibility. It was a very high quality scarf made in Dandemy out of silk and wool. Her parents bought it as a gift for getting into ValorA, but they would want her to value her life over a piece of fabric any day. The boy knocked on the door.

“It’s me.”

When it opened, a large, burly, human man in a black, open-collar shirt eyed them like they were trespassing. Forti followed closely behind the smiling boy, stuffing her scarf into her bag.

Why does Sempirege have a bouncer?

When she looked up, her question was answered.

The nave was blindingly white. Numerous gleaming pillars rose symmetrically from the sides and bent near the high ceiling into points, enclosing all the sparkling, glass pews in a rib cage. A large, pristine star cross was suspended above the wide dais at the opposite end. Marble sculptures of angels and religious beings flanked its sides and hovered over it. There were no windows in this vacant hall, but light illuminated every space. Not a single shadow or spot of darkness stained its purity.

“It seems the congregation has ended. You can always come to our next one though,” said the boy. Forti simply nodded, examining the place with awe and incredulity, as she knew she would never willingly step in here again.

Outside the rib bone columns to the right was a walkway and a line of rooms, and through the glass doors and walls of each room were people, old and older. They were having meetings with bibles open on white tables, animatedly chatting and laughing. Only the last room had small children obediently sitting around a low, round table with their own books, listening to the single adult who had their knees bent almost to their chest for squatting on a kiddy chair. The kids looked up at the passerbys and recognized the grinning boy. They waved enthusiastically and he responded in kind. They noticed Forti and she waved shyly with a small smile. They didn’t wave back.

Before the pair entered the white door at the end of the long stretch of white carpet, Forti examined to her left the floating cross, catching the flashes of wire. It was carved with intricate designs that reminded Forti of leaves, petals, and roots, but their meanings were lost on her. She admired the artistry of the angels. They each had different faces but dawned the same peaceful, magnanimous expression, and their outstretched arms to the cross also extended outwards to the empty audience.

How much did this all cost? It wasn’t her first thought – first she wondered who created the beautiful sculptures, then who the architect or designer for the interior was, if the angels were based on real people, and where someone could purchase glass benches – but the price of everything was the most compelling. It dimmed the glory of this miraculous place, and her pupils dilated slightly.

If this place were as honest as it was brilliant, the glass, the walls, the white would be encrusted in dried blood, mud tears, and black carbon.

The boy opened the white entrance, revealing a poorly-lit, spiral stairway that belonged in a dungeon. Forti hadn’t prayed in a long time, not since she was a little girl, but she fabricated a short, insincere prayer at that instance as a momentary talisman. To her relief, the boy climbed up the stairs instead of descending into what looked like a gaping maw.

At the end of the stairs, on the second floor, past a hallway of rustic wooden doors, the boy knocked at the largest and oldest one. Forti admired the ornate metal hinges, large and curled like vines.

“Mir. Bargel, I brought her,” said the boy.

“Come in,” a sharp muffled voice rang. No barrier could hide its scratch like cat nails on a chalkboard.

The office was as ancient as its building’s exterior. The support beams, desk, chairs, shelves, and window were aged as if distilled in an abandoned barrel for centuries, holding memories of ancient clerics. Forti believed this building must’ve once been an actual church before the political, religious, cultish organization fashioned it into its shiny, hermit shell. The modern technology and personal memorabilia disrupted the antiquity of the room, but the skinny, dour man leering at her from behind a thin computer screen was an affront to the entire ambience.

The boy went over and whispered something in Mir. Bargel’s ear. Forti didn’t miss how his eyes shifted to Forti. When he stood back up, Mir. Bargel spoke.

“Thank you Den, you can go. Mir. Forti, please have a seat.”

The boy left without a word. Forti sat down on an uncomfortable, wooden chair with a seat pillow under her as some reprieve. A drag of Mir. Bargel’s finger moved an image of Forti’s form from the screen down onto the desk.

I guess the desk was remodeled. There’s probably a camera somewhere in here too.

“Mir. Forti, why do you need to meet me to join Sempirege?” Forti took out the same face and voice she used on Den.

“Well, I attend ValorA and the school is amazing and all, but… no one thinks the same way I do, about the other humans. You see, I don’t think they should be allowed in ValorA. They shouldn’t even be in our world. They don’t belong here. There’s probably more who think the same way as I do, but we can’t just talk about these things. If anyone found out we felt this way–“

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“They’d attack you,” Mir. Bargel interjected.

“Exactly!” The old man was pleased with himself, and Forti noticed. “So I did my research, and I was so surprised to find out that in Solpolis, there’s an actual Sempirege chapter. And I found out about you. You’re the leader of Sempirege not just anywhere, but in Solpolis, so I thought, or I knew, you could help me.”

Mir. Bargel crossed his arms and gave a thin smile, sitting back comfortably in his grand wooden chair lined with velvet cushioning, especially plush at the junction between backrest and seat. His eyes scanned over Forti’s face, hair, clothes, and posture. She's a naive girl, thought Mir. Bargel. But she goes to ValorA so she’s not all dumb. She could be useful. Forti kept her docile appearance, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that arose with a disciplined fold of her hands.

“How can I help you?” Mir. Bargel finally asked, satisfied.

“I need you to get me into Deodunge.”

The room froze over. Mir. Bargel was no longer basking in Forti’s flattery. Sharpened brows and austere eyes looked with scathing hostility at the young, impudent woman, but Forti knew this would happen. She laid the snare and stood as bait intentionally.

“Do you know of the assault that happened in Parter a couple months ago?” Forti questioned with a hardened stare, not inviting an actual answer.

“Who are you?” Mir. Bargel demanded.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it. A person shot someone in the city ring of ValorA. It’s unthinkable, but it happened, and by a suearis no less.”

“I asked, who are you?” Mir. Bargel raised his voice. Its pitch evolved into something that could shatter plates if he shrieked. Forti felt like she rattled a box of snakes, but in the exhilarated way a tamer would to entertain an audience.

“I’m the older sister of the girl that was shot.”

Mir. Bargel became quiet. He didn’t expect that. He thought someone was trying to have him do their dirty work of sending a kid into the dark city, probably to transport drugs, wash, weapons, or other illegal trash. He considered Crassie, his sworn enemy and head of the Bjolsin chapter of Sempirege, sent the girl so he was caught bringing a teen to Deodunge and arrested. With him gone, Crassie would take over his position and be a seat closer to the coveted title of President of the Eastern Edge Sempirege Federation. To be chairperson of all the east side chapters in Ganmecria was their unfortunately shared ambition, and Rula Bargel would hate to lose his chance because he fell for a ploy by despicable Crassie Selch Yipinson. He’d rather slit his own neck.

“She’s in a coma now,” Forti said. Mir. Bargel looked at Forti as if he forgot the girl was there. “I need your help to get into Deodunge to find the suearis who shot her. I know that you go there, so you must have a way to get in.”

“And if I don’t tell you, are you going to threaten me? Say you’ll go report to the police or the Diapo if I say no?”

“I could.”

Mir. Bargel grit his teeth.

“But I don’t want to do that.” Forti leaned forward, picking her act back up, but with a firmer, determined inflection. “I do need your help, and I did mean everything I said. I can’t keep studying at ValorA, surrounded by suearis when one of them killed my own sister, and nothing is being done because everyone is so wrapped up in getting along with them. It sickens me. I need your help, and I believed you would understand me.”

The man looked at Forti with furrowed brows. Rula Bargel believed he could read people well, and Forti’s eyes were earnest and burning. The girl wasn’t a threat, just angry and hurt and hungry for revenge. He could still use the girl, but he would first have to put Forti in her place.

“I see. Well, I’m so sorry about your sister, Forti. I do understand you. It’s terrible that such a thing happened to her, and to you and your family.”

Mir. Bargel glanced at Forti’s form still shown on his desk.

“I will help you. I’ll get you into Deodunge to find that nasty, sin-made creature.”

“Thank you very much, Mir. Bargel.” Forti stood up and pushed the chair in. “I wrote my email in the form and will await your contact. Truly, thank you so much.”

“Wait a moment, dear.”

Forti paused near the door.

“Please, sit back down. It’ll only be for a moment. Just to register you into our system.”

She stood still, deliberating what the screechy man wanted more from her, before returning to the chair. She sat at the edge of it with both feet planted to the ground.

“You left out a lot of things, but you won’t have to worry because you’ll be in my chapter.”

Mir. Bargel rotated the digital form around so it faced Forti. Forti put on a joyful smile, hiding the rising concern on what to tell and what to twist.

“Could you guide me on what specifically the form needs for me to register?”

“Hmmm.” Mir. Bargel could sense that Forti did not want to fill out the entire registration form. He’s a magnanimous person, so he was willing to accommodate the arrogant girl. “Write down your last name. That’s all.”

Forti typed the instructed area instantly and honestly. Mir. Bargel was surprised, but filed the form away and got up, heading to the doorway. Forti stayed seated, clawing her knees as a repulsive, viscous feeling slathered itself all over her skin and inner organs. She felt like she signed her name away to the devil.

“One more thing, Forti. I need to know if you can handle going to Deodunge. It’s not a place for anyone to enter and tour.” Mir. Bargel opened the door, waiting. Forti caught on and stood to walk with Mir. Bargel. She rested her hand on her bag, fingers poised, and turned her body to face her belonging away from Mir. Bargel’s sight.

Instead of going into any other doors in the hallway, Mir. Bargel moved straight for the stone pillar the stairs curled around.

“Deodunge is an awful place with the worst kind of people. It’s the root of all the crime and sin in this country. I’m hesitant to even send a kid like you in there.”

Forti didn’t see where Mir. Bargel pressed, but the stone slid away with an animated ding, revealing a tubular elevator as shining white as the main hall.

“But I get it, the Diapo isn’t doing anything and letting a suearis roam free, so it’s up to you to get justice for your sister. I’m going to help you get it, but first, I’m going to show you a bit of what Deodunge will be like while you’re still safe here, just to make sure that you’re really ready to go.”

To step into that brilliantly radiant elevator, or run out the place. Forti stifled her nerves that pleaded her to flee. The rage and misery that strangled her when she first saw her unconscious sister lying frigid on the hospital bed, she tried to relive again.

Remember why you’re here.

She hopped in.

There were only 3 floor buttons. The first two Forti deduced were for the second floor and the main hall, and the lowest one must be for whatever laid beneath the church. Mir. Bargel pressed the lower button.

“What you’re about to see, you must swear to Pahth you won’t tell anyone,” Mir. Bargel said. “But I know you won’t. You’ll see, you’ll probably like it.”

The hand Forti had resting on her bag slinked its fingertips under the flap. She had a metal mechanical pencil inside a pocket, prepared to take it out from its holster.

“You’re a member of Sempirege now, and I know for students like you, if word got around about that, it would be detrimental for your education. Maybe even your future career. But you don't have to worry, I’ll keep your secret, and no one will find out while you’re in Deodunge.”

The underlying threat had Forti scoff inside her head. She said a small “thank you.”

“How did you know I go to Deodunge by the way?”

“It was a bluff.”

Mir. Bargel was infuriated that he felt any sympathy for the girl earlier. He wanted to throw Forti out for her insolence, but Rula Bargel wouldn’t be in his current position if he acted that temperamentally. The girl came crawling to him, after all. He let out a forced laugh, loud and bold, but Forti didn’t smile to not let it be mistaken for cheekiness. Aggravating the man any further would lead to a pricier bargain later.

As they went lower, Forti heard the roar of a crowd. The descent was swift but Forti was unsure if that was favorable, as the sounds became intelligible the further down she went.

“He’s a spawn of Ornam!”

“Burn him!”

“Skin the demon!”

When the elevator opened, Forti and Mir. Bargel stepped out into a horde of humans howling in a cave. The crowd was a little younger than the general population in the floor above, a blend of a rally and a rave.

Forti scrunched her nose. The stench of sweat, breath, and body odor struck her like lightning in a monsoon. If there was any ventilation, she couldn’t find it, and she hoped she wasn’t about to follow Rula into the masses.

The two headed to the outskirts of the cave system, and from there, Forti spotted what the people raucously shouted at in utter disbelief. A wooden star cross stood tall in all its imposing glory, and a naked suearis man was tied against it by his waist and neck. His arms were outstretched from his wrists and his ankles were bound but hanging. Fresh red streaked down nearly every inch of his skin and dripped off his toes into a flat pool. His long, donkey ears drooped down, and what should’ve been his tail was docked. An appendage like a cat tail was nailed or stapled to the lower-right ray of the star. Loosely tied around the suearis’ hip was a flimsy loincloth. The faded, rust-colored splotches on the wood told Forti this was not the first nor the only time.

She felt her mind floating away from her body, as if she breathed in too much oxygen, or it was more like her mind was receding into itself, shrinking into its farthest depths that bordered upon the subconscious. She thought she must be going into a mild form of shock. It was surreal to hear and smell and witness a level of gore only seen on screens from movies or shows, but although overwhelmed, she couldn’t entirely disassociate, like how a thick blanket could smother but not dull a knife. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Mir. Bargel, watching her. Immediately aware of her facial expression, Forti swiveled her head excitedly to Mir. Bargel, awaiting an answer to this horror like a thrilled child. Mir. Bargel let out a grin.

“Here we punish the vermin for intruding in our world,” Mir. Bargel explained. “It’s quite violent, but it’s what they deserve.”

Forti nodded enthusiastically.

An amplified cough rang out to quiet the crowd. Forti forced herself to turn back to the scene. A human man stood beside the cross from behind a podium, donning white robes with shining gold print. He was dressed like an orthodox Pahthian priest, but Forti was unconvinced he was one. The same lighting that illuminated the nave was used in the cave to a lesser degree, shadows long and plenty. The herd formed a dense crescent around the man and the cross. His words boomed crisply from the acoustics of the space and because of the microphones and speakers hidden throughout it.

“We must eradicate these abominations born from Ornam’s seed,” the priest preached as he pointed his hand to the tied suearis. “These monsters have sowed a bed of war in our home. They till with vicious weapons, and water with the filth of their heathen ideals and demonic creatures. It is as hideous as it is hilarious to think we are becoming at their mercy. They’re in our schools. They’re in our government. So it is now up to us to protect our human race. During these hard times, the neofairists have the audacity to go after us when we are protecting our families, our lives, and our people. They would rather want us to let those aliens come infest our world and use our taxes to take care of them. And then they persecute anybody who speaks up about it! They persecute us! Their own fellow humans!

The mob booed at the mention of their enemies.

“But enough is enough. Pahth has chosen and blessed the few of us with the truth, and each one of us must bear the holy duty to spread the gospel, guide the misguided, and punish the evil, even if our own kind goes against us. We must stop these aliens from invading our world and our minds any further, or else our planet is doomed!

“They desire our world, they covet it, because it is a world bestowed upon us by Pahth. This suearis you see before you lived in our houses, ate our foods, and took our jobs, while millions of us are homeless and jobless and starvation is plentiful. But enough is enough! It is time to fight back. This world belongs to us and only us, the true children of Pahth. We won’t let the aliens take it! So what do we do? What can we do? We send them all back to their worlds or we purge them from ours, by any means necessary!”

The crowd went wild. They screeched at the bloody man on the cross, hurling insults and expletives like stones. Invigorated by their priest, they felt like they could do anything.

So this is what it’s like, Forti numbly thought. Her hand, opposite to Mir. Bargel, was curled in a fist with whitened knuckles. How is this happening? How did that suearis end up here? She envisioned kidnapping. She saw fear and panic. A van flying down and arms grabbing the suearis. Manic flailing. Brutal beatings. She heard begging and desperation. Taunts and torments given in return. How do I get him out?

The crowd, engorged in feverish rage and righteousness, began shouting policies, politics, and more ways to ruin the tied suearis.

“The portals have to close!”

“Shut down all the Opals!”

“Kill all suearis!”

“Kill him!”

In a moment of exhaustive quiet, a human man yelled out boisterously, “Cut off his demon ears!” The mob echoed his words ferociously. “Cut them off!” “Cut his ears!” The man pumped his fist passionately, proud of himself for his contribution.

The priest, servant to the people, obediently flipped out his pocket knife, still wet with blood. He stepped up the moveable staircase positioned behind the cross, and reached to grab the suearis’ left ear.

His finger barely brushed against it, but the suearis’ eyes flashed open. Teeth whipped and snapped at the priest’s hand, and the priest shrinked backwards, almost falling off the stairs. The crowd gasped. The suearis snarled as if galvanized back to life, but then his eyes rolled back, and his head lolled down again.

The people roared.

The man in priest costume, angered by the insolence of an animal, violently grabbed the suearis’ ear, and sawed away. The screams of the suearis man will haunt Forti throughout her life.

Her imagination was powerful, but it was a double-edged sword, a curse as much as a blessing, for seeing what was before her had her mind conjure what it must’ve been like for the tail to be sliced off. She scrunched her eyes as if it would erase the mental image. The ear was lifted triumphantly like a war prize, and the crowd went crazier than ever.

“You’re a smart girl, Forti.” Forti flinched imperceptibly, remembering Mir. Bargel. “As much as you’re enjoying the show, you know as I do that it’s also not a very… Pahthian thing to do, more like Old Testimonial style, but Deodunge is much worse.”

Anything that lessened the number of senses focusing on the atrocity, Forti couldn’t help but feel thankful for. She faced Mir. Bargel, eager to hear more of the harsh voice. She was met with the man’s side profile. He was enchanted by the spectacle, smug from thinking that all of this could only be possible because of his directive.

“I think you’ll be fine in Deodunge,” he added. “Seeing that you’re not queasy from this.”

The priest pushed the staircase to the other side, reaching for the other ear. Forti grit her teeth. It will be over soon. I’m sorry, man on the cross. I’ll get you out of here. Once I’m out, I’ll send a tip to the police, to the Diapo. We just need to get through this. Just a little longer. Stay alive. We’ll get through this… But what about Deodunge?

Forti was disgusted with herself. A person was being tortured in front of her eyes, but the following thoughts still ensued. I came here to go to Deodunge. If I let the police know about what Sempirege is doing here, I’ll lose my way there. But if I wait to report this until after I go, it’ll be too late for him–

What’s wrong with you?! Of course you have to save him! I’ll just find another way to get to Deodunge. Riel should know other routes.

Mir. Bargel was about to say something else, when a soft noise pierced through the cacophony. Mumbles almost like humming floated in the air, and a hush swept over the crowd. What should have been barely registered was being magnified by the mics. It was coming from the suearis.

The priest stopped his movements to listen. No one could understand the language, but the gentle, tired murmurs were too soothing to be threatening. A particular word was spoken over and over. Lyetasii. Lyetasii.

“What are you saying, suearis? Are you cursing us?” The priest interrogated accusingly. The muttering stopped. Then the suearis weakly looked up and a chill ran down the priest’s spine. The suearis’ right eye was swollen, festering like a rotten plum. Blood fell in teardrops down the beastman’s chin, dark gashes marred his cheeks and lips, and his thick hair that once traveled down his nape was cruelly cut near his scalp. Yet, his glare was vicious. It was as feral as his outburst. After this day, whenever the fake priest closed his eyes, he saw two others shining back at him, and a ghost would seem to grip his very soul with icy hands.

For now, the priest only froze.

The suearis flexed some of his muscles to regain feeling, a testament to his vitality, but all he received were aches and pains. Even he had no idea how he possessed any remaining energy coursing through him, but he was still alive and that was enough.

“I was praying to my goddess,” the suearis said slowly.

The priest scoffed, composing himself. “Pffft, you animals have a god? Some goddess then to lord over stinking beasts that defecate and urinate all over.”

“Do you not do either? I thought humans did, too, like us, or else where does all the waste go? Does it stay in your brain?”

The priest pressed the knife on the suearis’ throat.

“You can’t compare us to the likes of you,” said the priest venomously.

“We are both people,” the suearis retaliated. “We all bleed red, is that not enough proof that we are the same? Our gods may even be the same god.”

“How dare you!”

“HOW DARE YOU!” The suearis bellowed and the priest recoiled, thinking to avoid another bite. The denizens of the cave were startled. Forti’s heart never felt more elated, and more fearful for the suearis’s life, than this moment.

“If your god is as grand and glorious as you say he is, then why does he need you to attack the people who don’t believe in him?”

The man in religious robes, Forti, Mir. Bargel, everyone was speechless.

“My goddess, Lyetasii, was once a jealous god. But She loves us. She loves Her children, Her people. You. Me. All of us. We are Her people, and She forgives us even if we believe in another or come from other wombs across space and time. And my Pahthian friends have said their god, your Pahth, is the same. He loves and forgives all. Maybe we believe in the same being, just by different names. That is what I thought. But I was mistaken. My goddess would never order Her people to hurt others.

“And it was your people who came to my homeworld! Your people used the Opal to conquer and destroy! My great grandparents had to run from their homes, and died before they could return. And their children, my parents, were forced to go back to a world they barely recognized. I came here for a better life because you people ruined all life that could have been had there! I did not ask for your world to take responsibility and give me compensation. No, I earned my education, and I worked for my job. Nothing you can offer would ever atone anyways!”

The fervid suearis remembered to breathe. His energy was fizzling out rapidly, but weariness couldn’t extinguish wrath passed down from generation to generation, fueled further by his own plight. With his remaining strength, he cried an anathema that shook the walls of the cave and the resolve of every being inside.

“Lyetasii will bring down retribution on you all! And if not by her hands, THEN YOUR OWN GOD WILL!”

Soundless as a dead crew on a ship in the doldrums, the people mindlessly blinked and faintly breathed. They were incensed. They wanted to fight, to argue, to retaliate and scream, but their throats were squeezed shut. The knife felt bulky in the false priest’s hands, like a child wielding in their small fingers something they shouldn’t. He swallowed, but his dry tongue clogged his mouth, and he wiped his forehead with the back of the hand that held the blade. He blamed the harsh spotlights for his discomfort, his paleness, even his apprehension. He didn’t know what to say, what sermon to give, or what to do. Forti wasn’t certain either, but she hoped they would untie the man from the cross now.

“We are the chosen people,” a grating voice declared very close to Forti. Her heart sank, and she, like everyone in the cave, turned to Rula Bargel.

“We were blessed with superior intelligence and a superior world, all by a superior god. To our almighty Pahth, your goddess is nothing.” He walked forward and the people parted. He headed for the empty space between the cross and the crowd.

“Humans are the ones who created the Opal and traveled between dimensions. Not ichthyians, not sueareis, not volators. Once fiction, now reality, all because of us. And then we came across your world. In exchange for exploration and peace, we shared our technology, our advancements, the word of Pahth, but you freaks took advantage like monkeys given guns. No wonder all of you still have your animal ears and tails. You’re all nothing but a bunch of rabid and ungrateful savages!

“It was you who attacked first and caused the ensuing wars! You animals stole our weapons and massacred us! And then you have the insolence to try to take our world because of what you brought upon yourself? Don’t blame us for your stupid barbarity. We aren’t the ones to receive retribution. We ARE the retribution, to be given to you! To all suearies!”

The young spectators cheered as if their country won a battle, regaining their zealotry, pouring praise on their savior and vitriol on the wicked creature that had hexed them in such an awful and uncomfortable mood. Like a dam split open, the crescendo of exultation and relief burst out and flooded the cave. Rula reveled in the pious ovation, warmed by the luminosity overhead like sunlight beaming down through storm clouds. The priest snatched the remaining ear more fiercely than before, enjoying the suearis’s wince, and Forti was left alone in the fringes to hear, for a second time, a man’s petrifying lament.