‘I’m a what, now?’ I asked, somewhat perplexed.

‘A God Core,’ she said again, unhelpfully.

I knew the word ‘god’. I knew the word ‘core’. Never, though, had I heard them used together. I waited for her to embellish this with an explanation; alas, she seemed to consider mere repetition sufficient.

‘All will become clearer with time,’ she said, apparently sensing my confusion. ‘For now, I’ll tell you this: Cores are at the center of most great civilizations. They are the nucleus—’

‘The what?’

She made a soft, short sputtering sound which I took to be a huff. ‘The brain. Sort of. Anyway, they’re the nucleus of almost every society, the center and the driving force of any thriving network of living beings. Humans, elves, giants, goblins – if there’s a functioning civilization, it’s generally ruled – or rather, guided – by a single Core.’

‘You mean like an actual god?’ I was a god now? I could certainly get behind that notion.

‘Plenty are regarded as such, yes.’ She seemed hesitant, wary of this line of questioning, but I barely noticed. I was a god! That explained why the foul sunlight no longer burned me, not to mention how I managed to survive for so long disembodied in the dark. I felt vaguely as though I’d accomplished something I’d been aspiring to for a very, very long time.

Yes, things were definitely starting to look up.

‘… similar to Dungeon Cores, though with vital differences,’ the sprite was saying.

What did she say her name was? Kit? Kat?

‘Cores are as many as they are varied, though all are created in the same way. When a freshly departed soul is absorbed by a powerful enough soul gem—’

‘A what, now?’ I asked.

She stopped buzzing for an instant and became deadly silent. Somehow, I knew she was fixing me with a death glare.

‘If you don’t stop saying that, I’m going to stop answering your questions altogether and leave you to figure things out for yourself.’

‘Excellent,’ I almost replied, thinking of the peace and quiet of the deep places.

Had it really been that much less desirable than all this bright light and confusion – and worse, conversation? Was the heavy weight of oblivion really such a hard burden to bear compared with finding myself conscious and trapped inside a damned rock?

My new existence was somewhat painful, yes (though not literally; that was one of the upsides to being made of stone, it seemed), yet I couldn’t suppress a mental shudder as I recalled feeling myself alone, pressed down beneath the weight of the world.

Besides, what had the sprite said? ‘It’s possible you’ll never know what you were before’. Surely that meant it was also possible I would remember. It seemed my only option was to go along with this weirdness – for now.

My tiny airborne interlocutor was still waiting for me to respond to her ultimatum. I had to try and sound – what was the word? Contrite. Yes, I had to act contrite if I was to convince her to help me.

I racked my limited memory for my next words. What was that phrase one was meant to utter when one was attempting to express contrition?

‘I’m, er… sorry?’ I tried. ‘Kit,’ I added hopefully.

She hummed her disgust. ‘My name is Ket. Ket. I won’t tell you again!’

Somehow, I doubted this. Still, I tried again. ‘Sorry, Ket.’

The words tasted strange in my mind; sour, unfamiliar. From the way the sprite huffed again, I guessed I’d soon have to get used to saying them a lot more often.

‘Sorry,’ I said again for good measure. There, that ought to do it. She huffed again, more quietly this time. I sensed something more was needed.

‘I am grateful for your help. Please teach me more.’ I paused. ‘Ket,’ I added proudly.

She was not as impressed by the fact I’d remembered her name as I was. I was pretty sure she even rolled her eyes, though it was hard to tell, her being so small.

‘Well done,’ she said dryly. Clearly somewhat appeased, she began to buzz once more, glowing softly all the while. ‘And what should I call you?’

I began to stutter something, but she waved me down. ‘I know, I know, you don’t remember, but I can’t just call you ‘core’.’

She paused, then brightened. ‘How about ‘Corey’?’

What? True, I couldn’t remember my actual name, but I was fairly certain it was probably something much more majestic and obscure; something many-syllabled, surely, and containing at least three apostrophes. ‘I really don’t think—’

‘Corey it is,’ she announced.

‘But—’

‘What’s that, Corey?’

I groaned internally. ‘Nothing. Fine. Whatever.’ I sought to change the subject; anything to stop her from repeating my distinctly unexceptional new name. ‘What were you saying about God Cores? What exactly are they— are we?’

She seemed delighted to be asked a question, and puffed herself up glitteringly. ‘As I was saying, each and every Core is essentially a soul trapped inside a gem. What’s special about God Cores is that they’re summoned through time and space by the needs of the people they’re destined to protect.’

‘Summoned?” I asked. “You mean by magic?’

‘Yes, and no. It’s magic of a sort, but it’s not so much the will of a wizard as it is the prayers of a people.’

‘Wait… you’re saying I’m here because people worship me?’ I couldn’t help but preen at the thought.

‘Not exactly. Look, before I tell you anything more, Corey – and before you start suffering from delusions of grandeur – I think it would be prudent for you to take stock of your surroundings – and, of course, your denizens.’

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

My denizens? As in, subjects? I felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, momentarily forgetting the debacle of my new ‘name’. What Ket had just said made instant sense to me. That my purpose here should be to rule over others seemed only natural.

But where were they? When I’d recently taken that unexpected out-of-body, god’s-eye view of the cavern, I hadn’t glimpsed any likely-looking subjects. Perhaps they lived elsewhere. I tried to look around properly, just like I had earlier. How had I done it?

‘Here, let me help you,’ offered Ket.

My viewpoint suddenly soared so that I was once more looking down on myself from the cavern ceiling.

Well, this is certainly useful.

I scanned my surroundings again; the stream, the faraway giant mushroom patch, the gaping tunnel entrance behind it.

‘Ket, why is it that I can see like this?’

‘Everything you see here is within your Sphere of Influence. That’s the area currently within your control. You can’t move outside it, so you won’t get past the edge of this cavern, for now at least. As long as you’re within your Sphere of Influence, you can view anything as and when you please.’

‘Perks of the job, eh?’

I could see plenty, it was true, but there was still no sign of these ‘denizens’ of mine. In fact, the only immediate signs of life were those dumb-looking creatures in their primitive tent village. Perhaps they were the servants of my people? They certainly couldn’t be…

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh hell no.

‘Ket…’

‘Yes?’ she said sweetly.

I stared down at the hundred or so sad-looking miniature humanoids. ‘What are those?’ I asked, dreading the answer.

‘I’m glad you asked,’ she said, sickeningly enthusiastic. ‘Corey – meet your new denizens!’

‘But— but—’

How could the world be cruel enough to make me responsible for these… these things? I cast my despairing gaze over them, huddled amongst their pathetic camp of shoddy skin tents.

A small group were poking futilely with sticks at a smoking fire. One of them was simply standing by, watching the others, picking its nose with the enthusiasm of a miner determined to strike gold. Nearby, another was hitting a large rock with a tiny mallet; the reason for this was not immediately apparent.

I noted another gaggle of the creatures heading our way, trailing raggedly one after the other, led by the familiar ugly sight of the one responsible for digging me up and ditching me here in the first place.

The sheer impudence of it still left a bad taste in my mind. Or maybe that was just the dirt. I shuddered again at the memory of being clutched within those grubby fingers.

‘What are they?’ I asked again, trying and failing to keep the question from sounding like a whine.

‘Oh, they’re gnomes!’ Ket said, her voice bright, as though she was pointing out a new species of flower and not a race of potato-shaped humanoids. I struggled to get my head around this.

‘You’re saying I’m here… because they ‘summoned’ me?’

‘Not directly, but yes. Their village is beset by dire circumstances, and their need has drawn you here. They will worship you, if you let them. And you will help them in return.’

Questions raced through my mind. What were these ‘dire circumstances’? Why were the gnomes in trouble? How, exactly, did Ket think I could help them?

Most importantly, what would I be getting out of this arrangement?

I didn’t ask any of these questions, though. Instead, all I could choke out was, ‘You’re saying I’m a god… of gnomes?’

‘Exactly!’ She glowed, clearly mistaking my crushing realization for delight.

'But I don’t want to be their god! They're pitiful! Miniscule, weak, dumb—'

'Corey…'

'—gormless, pointless—'

'Corey!'

The sudden urgency in Ket’s tone brought me back down to earth with a jolt. Literally; she’d yanked me back inside my gem again.

I looked up to see what she was so concerned about and would have jumped in alarm had I not been an inanimate object incapable of spontaneous movement.

Faces loomed above me. Good grief, they really were ugly. Dirt-smeared and horrid just like the one who'd found me, they stared down upon my shiny purple form, their stone-gray eyes wide and puzzled.

‘Are you creatures always confused?’ I muttered.

They didn’t appear to be able to hear me. One of them had a finger stuffed up its nose – a popular gnomish pastime, it seemed. Another scratched its head; flakes of stone dust, scalp and gods knew what else rained down around me.

Revolted, I tried to shrink away, but all that happened was a brief dimming of my already faint purple light. Thankfully, this was enough to make my watchers leap back with cries and shouts of what I presumed was alarm.

The gnome who’d found me – the one with the biggest, palest, ugliest gray eyes – actually slipped over the side of the small hillock. The unfortunate creature squeaked and wailed as he rolled down the slope, drawing further sounds of consternation from those gnomes who'd kept their balance and now watched with interest as their comrade reached the bottom and lay sprawled in the dirt at the hillock's base.

I couldn't help it; I snickered, and my surroundings glowed once more, this time with a bit of cheeky pink tinging the purple. The watchers nearby reacted in a similar way again – so skittish – but to my disappointment none of the fools followed their fellow in his undignified tumble over the edge.

They inched closer to me again. Meanwhile, my finder dusted himself off and clambered back up the hill, elbowing his way to the front of the small crowd. Once there, he gestured clumsily toward me and began jabbering nonsense at the other gnomes, who clustered tighter and murmured to each other.

‘What language are they speaking?’ I asked Ket. ‘It sounds like gibberish to me.’

‘They’re speaking Gnomish, of course. But even if they were speaking Common, I’m afraid you still wouldn’t be able to understand them. As a God Core, you’re simply incapable of processing your own denizens’ native language.’

As relieved as I was to learn that this particular shortcoming was an in-built design flaw and not a personal failing, I couldn’t help but object.

‘Aren’t gods meant to be omniscient?” I asked. “As in, all-knowing? What’s the use of a god who can’t understand his subjects?’

‘That’s the whole point, Corey, don’t you see? You’re meant to intuitively see to their needs; they can’t just ask and have their wishes granted. That’s not how this whole religion thing works.’

I stewed over this, listening to the gnomes talk some more. At times I felt I almost knew what they were saying, but after a while I was forced to conclude that I could not comprehend them in the slightest.

‘What about you, then?’ I asked Ket. ‘Can you tell what they’re babbling about?’

‘A little. I get the gist of it, just like you can pick up on emotions from me – or you will do, the longer we spend together. Right now, the little gnome is trying to convince the others you’re special; that you’ll bring them luck.’

‘What do the others say?’

‘They think you’re a demon.’

‘Oh.’

I felt like this should have concerned me more than it did. For some reason, though, all I could think about was that there must have been some kind of mistake.

‘Ket… this is all wrong. Gnomes? Gnomes? I should be the god of my own people!'

'Right… and who are your people?'

Almost certainly not humans. I suspected this revelation would not go down well with the sprite, however.

'I… well, I can't remember. But—'

‘Exactly. Put all that behind you, Corey. These are your people now.’

Even as I watched, the small party of gnomes began to disperse. Most simply wandered away shaking their heads, though one or two spat parting words at my finder which I did not need to understand to get the meaning of. They clearly thought their compatriot was mad. And maybe he was.

The second-to-last remaining gnome patted him on the shoulder sadly and then walked off, disappearing over the brow of the hillock and heading back toward that stick-and-hide settlement on the other side of the stream.

My gnome’s shoulders slumped as he watched them leave. Then his brow furrowed, his ugly features set into an expression of determination. The gnome squared his shoulders and set himself between my gem and the other gnomes, as though preparing to defend me against any further insult.

Uncomfortably touched by this gesture, I said quietly to Ket, ‘Why such loyalty? I’ve done nothing.’

‘He’s desperate, Corey. They all are.’ She sounded sad.

Together, we watched the steadfast gnome for a moment, until Ket brightened again. ‘And I think you mean you’ve done nothing… yet. But things are changing for the better already. I have faith in you, Corey.’

Such optimism. Such encouragement, from such unexpected quarters. Was it annoying? Yes. Was it the worst thing in the world? Hell, no.

Could I ever get used to the prospect of a life – presumably eternal – as a shiny purple rock? No. But could I put up with it temporarily while I figured out how to increase my influence over this area and possibly escape my predicament? Damn right I could.

‘All right, Ket. I’ll do it. I’ll be their god, for better or for worse.’

‘Of course you will.’ She paused and eyed me sideways. ‘You do realize you don’t have a choice, right?’

There’s always a choice.

I took in the sight of the cavern, the guardian gnome, the tiny sprite no bigger than a firefly.

It’s not much to work with, but it’s a start.