Alene returned to her mother’s glade, eager to retrieve more of her memories. She paused at the altar of salt this time, seeing it anew now that she had some context. Before the human’s devotion to her, they had worshiped her mother. Or at least prayed for her mother’s benevolence in leaving their city safe from her animosity.
The holy would cross the sandbar at low tide, cloaked in brine soaked cloth. This was the only layer of protection offered to those visiting the forest. Such a small barrier against the will of a god, it seemed so…insufficient. And those that were sacrificed had to walk past the altar of salt, leaving their last human raiment behind, clothed now in the cloth of the dead, already, while still living. Had to step into their death, not just a single step, but an entire pathway of them, remaining firm in their decision with each excruciating step, a path of red footsteps marking their way through the silent forest. It must have been so ominous to those in the sacrifice’s procession, seeing those red footsteps leading into the dark, the white figure, clothed in a sheer shroud with their crown of white chrysanthemums or lilies on their heads, disappearing, claimed by the hazy shadows.
As a human, all life seemed sacred to her, it was short and should be treated as precious, human or otherwise. Many humans in her city made the choice to abstain from meat entirely, unwilling to end life even for their own personal benefit, to their lives’ detriment, even. But she was not a human, she reminded herself. It was still hard to accept that she was a god. Una was a god, clearly from her memories, but Alene…was just a lonely ghost, she decided. Still uncertain of her place in the world.
She walked along the forest path, passing beneath a clutch of giant begonia and amanita mushrooms. What must the sacrificed have thought, passing through such an other worldly place, drawing their last breaths, the toxicity of her mother’s slime burning them, decomposing them. They must be so afraid, feel so very small amongst the monstrous flora, she thought, a very human feeling of compassion welling in her chest at the past pains that must have taken place here. It seemed an island out of time, out of phase with the rest of the world, exempt from its morals, its values. Outside was a booming metropolis, the fast paced life of the living, in here was the slow steady hum of the eternal.
She arrived at the glade, the soft blue glow of the pond greeting her through the trees. ‘Daughter,’ her mother hummed a greeting, her voice warm and full of affection, the sound of it filling the clearing. Alene hugged her mother in response. Despite the strange sensation of her mother’s glutinous skin on hers, it felt good to hug someone. She missed Ceit, wondered where her travels had taken her so far.
Alene lay back on the bank of the pond once more, reclining on a springy moss bed, small white flowers interspersed. Her mother lolled in a relaxed manner next to her, half in and half out of her pond, wisteria garlands trailing in the tranquil water. She hummed deeply, directing the resonance towards Alene, building to the exact frequency that had been so successful last time.
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This time Alene was pulled directly into the memory the moment her eyes closed. The dark of the back of her eyelids spun into a conversation she was having with her mother, one that her mother hadn’t yet shown her. ‘...I won’t be back for a while, Mother, I want to live among them for a time, they’re such a confusing species, full of such surprising contradictions.’ Presumably Una was speaking about her decision to walk among the humans, Alene thought, viewing the scene from behind Una’s eyes. Her mother looked wary, or as wary as a snail could look, antennae waving in agitation. ‘But loveling, they’ve been neglecting you and your altars for decades, is it so wise to travel among such a fickle kind of being?’ Alene could feel the muscles on her face forming a smile, though she couldn’t tell what sort of a smile it was. ‘What could they possibly do to me?’ Arrogant, Alene thought, briefly, the thought escaping her as soon as it formed.
The scene whirled away, a new one forming, in the foyer of a house very similar to the one with the greenhouse that Alene’s cat had taken her to. A polished looking woman in a cream pantsuit, a gold wrist watch glinting from a delicate but strong looking wrist, with her hair a long mane of wild dark curls, stood before her, a sly smile on her lips. A mass of shadowy hands on long spindly arms reaching out towards Alene, emerging from the woman’s own shadow, thrown dramatically, backlit from behind the woman. ‘Ah, so you’re Una. Hiru has told me so much about you.’ Veridia, Alene thought, Hiru’s mother, and according to Sym’s stories, the woman who would be a god. A flash of fear for Una went through her. Though Una would have been older, more in control of her godly abilities, this woman, Veridia, had a drive, a very human viciousness she wasn’t sure Una could match.
The arms made contact with Una’s shadow, gripping it tightly, pulling her in. With a pop of displaced space, Una transformed into a kestrel, struggling to break free of the shadowy appendages. With a sharp sweeping motion of her wings, a blade of wind sliced right through one of the shadows, drawing a pained shriek from Veridia. The arms retracted, reforming along the normal lines of the shadow. Veridia gracefully sank down in a stuffed chair nearby, her pantsuit wrinkling slightly with the action, gold wrist watch twinkling as her elbows propped on her knees and fingers steepled in front of her, eyes sharp, before breaking out into a well practiced smile. ‘I apologize, I had to see for myself.’ She had the tone of someone who hadn’t apologized before and didn’t care for doing so now. The sly smile returned, ‘but we have so much to talk about.’ She had talked with Veridia? Had she known of Veridia’s plans for godseed, for the future of the city before they had come to fruition? Had she tried to stop her or help her?
A new image of a sterile lab took over, sleek polished steel with pristine white walls. Strange medical instruments, reagents, and test tube samples lined one wall, labeled meticulously in fine tipped pen and organized neatly on a black topped workbench. A pink haired girl was strapped to a table with thick leathers around her extremities, her curly hair wild, tangled from her previous struggles, her eyes closed in sleep, tear tracts lining her cheeks. ‘Iseult!’ Sym rushed towards the girl from beside Alene, a tall boy with a face very similar to the comatose girl looked on, eyes wide in horror, from behind her.
Alene was glad to finally see Sym, but not like this, she thought, terrified of what came next in the memory. Nothing good, she was certain. Sym and the tall boy worked quickly to unbuckle the unconscious girl, Sym slapping her cheek roughly, trying to wake her. A man walked in, an older version of the tall boy. ‘Mnomo, stop!’ he said, grabbing Sym by her long hair and wrenching her against a wall, where she crumpled, still. ‘It has to be this way, it has to be a kin sacrifice!’ He shouted desperately, pushing his son away with more care than he had Sym. ‘And I…it couldn’t be you!’ Unlike his daughter, he had no tears on his, only determination. The tall boy, Mnomo, shook his head silently, eyes watery but firm. The man’s face hardened at the refusal. He raised a crystal dagger, glinting prettily with some sort of script in the harsh fluorescent light, slitting his daughter’s throat, wetting it with her too bright blood before stabbing the dagger into his own heart. Mnomo screamed.