Idolship is a behavior found in many of the more advanced species. Each with their own Gods to worship. The main humanoid races found a way to grasp this power. Of belief, of creating their own gods and idols. Nothing is stronger than belief in forces unseen, when nothing of note planetside can be grasped.

In the midst of the forest, Meryl-Lee and Lucia were in the weeds, with a Nature sprite connected to Meryl.

“Hmmm.” The roots that were on Meryl’s hands were less than pleasant to look at, but Lucia had to get answers somehow.

“According to what they’re saying, that mayor you took in offered them a choice. Either they could work under them and keep their land, or they would clear the space for farmland.”

An all too familiar deal. With the Black Death wholesale slaughtering people who mistreated the alternative races, they were bound to meet those who blamed them for the sudden upheaval in the social order. The black beady eyes of the creature stared at her for a moment, before revealing a green core in the middle of their overcoat, then leaving without Lucia even saying thank you.

“Well, aren't you a great hero? .” A soft smile greeted Lucia’s confused expression. “Showing you their core and talking so much about you.”

“What was… never mind. Meryl, why do you even know so much about them?”

“Pops always said that a foreigner that knows even a smidgen of someone else’s culture puts them higher than those who don’t. Plus, when you’re at a desk all day, there's nothing better to do than to read. Getting the language barrier solved is just one of my many talents.”

A smirk came as a response to her educated counterpart. “You getting Mon-” The word came out of

- Sapient clients too? Always wondered if those Dragonlings could do some work.”

“Oh don’t get so jealous, you know they couldn’t come close to you and your brother.” Meryl grabbed onto her arm and looked up at her with eyes as full as a pond.” Especially with how caring, strong, and thoughtful you are. Who else could compare?”

“Alright already, name the place and I’ll pay. And stop talking like that!”

The red on her face was imperceptible but with the way she avoided Meryl’s gaze, she knew she could never refuse her.

Beyond the Forest length, down the road where travelers made their journey and patrolmen made their stops for justice and acquisition, a man cloaked in the finest of robes and rings regaled the children.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And with the power of wind by my side, I struck the fiend down!” On his stool in front of the children, he had them seeing stars. A little upward draft and they were immersed.

“Of course, I could only handle such perilous work with the help of people like you. Who else would I fight for then? Who would give me the peas they neglect to eat?”

A round of shushing came from the crowd as their young eyes glanced at him and their caretaker. Her face was admonishing but in her eyes was an unmatched gratefulness.

Another child, skin tanned from a land far past him, his body too defined for a child his age. It was as if he was wasting away a few days prior. Skin barely clinging to what bone there was. Yet even with that appearance, Avean knew that Quincy was getting better.

“Oh? Young sir Quincy, is that you? Are you aiming to be my rival? I’m sure you can, but I’ll be sure to get stronger.”

A broad awkward smile came on the face of the boy. The child attempted to get into a proper fighting stance against Avean, loose and improper. As they threw a fist with all their might, their small hands barely moved the palm of Avean’s hands.

“Look at that, Quincy! Even stronger than last time. Maybe I do have a rival to worry about after all.”

“Hehe. ‘ve been eating my veggies like you said.”

“No more starving yourself, right?”

“No sire.”

“Well, that’s great." Avean looked out the window. "Appears the moon has graced us, which means it's time for me to go.”

As each of the children said their goodbyes, the patchy head of hair of Quincy hung low. “Evil never waits, huh?’

A spirited rustling of the hair shook him back up. A white smile that would glow if it had the ability shined in his eyes. “Never does.”

As the nuns nodded at him as he stepped into the night air, he looked back at those pushed against the window. A smug smile and jump into the air and he was gone. Floating above the houses and the people and all the world's worries. As the moon shone down on him, the slow descent down felt like heaven.

Another place. At some point in time. Dark miasma cursed the land and the earth. The scraping of claws on the trees was one of desperation. In his chair, he looked out.

An onion peeled by moonlight, the stinging sensation flutters into the eyes of the blind. Now he may feel. Now he can see.

There was no one face of god. A golden land of egos fighting against each other. Burning bright via the matchsticks of their citizens.

What was a matchstick? It was a word, a light in the palm of your hand. Something. It was hard to keep it straight. Always hard.

Always harder.

A cup of tea by his bedside. From who? One of them. Didn’t matter.

The moon bright and full. His brain expanding and contracting. He had seen the face of god. He had seen all the masks. And all of those removed left nothing but screaming.