Rylett, Champion of The Protector.

Date [standardised human time]: November 16th, 2119

(16 years, 9 months, 18 days before the invasion of the radji Cradle).

The transport shakes as the hull is ripped open, the alarms blaring a cacophonous symphony. A crossbeam gives way above them, sparks flying as a conduit spews live electricity for a moment before sputtering and dying. A muffled groaning gives way to screeching metal, and the nose of the dropship burrows into the cargo bay. Some radji scream, others pray. A few are silent, but the smell gives away their terror. Rylett had never thought of fear as having a fragrance before, but she knows it now. Instinctive and potent, its long claws slip up her snout to tap at the back of her eyes.

“Hold!” someone cries, the dread in their voice. “Hold!”

There is a thrumming, a hiss, and when the dropships doors slide open the reptiles come crawling in. The voice from before gives the order, but people are already firing. The haphazard defensive formation tries to gun them down, but the half-dozen predators are not hampered by fear. Instead, they return fire, their supple, muscular forms swerving and diving, chittering to one another as they relish in the combat. Rylett cries out in a frenzy as her rifle kicks against her shoulder, but the predators are too quick, flowing in and out of cover. A spray of fire reigns down over her, and she just ducks behind some toppled shelves in time. Riyo, a man she has known for years, crumples in a heap, his face reduced to a vicious wet hole. Her husband pops up from behind their makeshift barricade beside her, his rifle drilling into a predator. It’s satisfying bark of pain pulls Rylett back from total panic, and she rips her gaze away from Riyo’s body.

“Praitor!” she calls out. “Get the children out!” He tries to yell something back but is overcome by the raucous snarls and gunfire echoing in the cramped interior. The four young ones are backed, screaming, into a storage locker; they have nowhere to go as the adults fight the enemies without and within. The main exit to the cargo bay is on the other side of the slowly advancing pyq, or else there is the airlock opening on empty space. One woman cries out as a stray round passes through her thigh, toppling her over in the space before their children. Rylett is not sure who shot it, but the predators capitalise on it regardless, her body perforated in the crossfire. As the woman dies a pyq rushes forward, pushing through the hole in their defence. Rylett is caught out attempting to reload.

“No!” Praitor cries, trying to fire but finding his weapon is also depleted. Bravely, foolishly, her dearest charges it, trying to swing his firearm like a club. Her partner is partway to the door when another pyq peeks out from cover, tearing a round through his abdomen.

“Praitor!” Rylett cries out as he falls heavily, gasping and wheezing. Total panic breaks through the throng as the predator eagerly strides into the creche. A child stops screaming. Bloodstained and wild toddlers come pouring out, and the greys are everywhere, nipping at them with long teeth. Rylett is wild with fright, with anguish, firing blindly when one pulls the legs out from under her, her nose crunching as it is slammed against the bulkhead. The air around her is filled with the snarling and snapping and shrieking of the damned as a monstrous weight presses its massive paw down over her head. She is surrounded, two other pyq ripping into those she hoped to build a better life with.

“Mama?!” she hears a shrill voice cry. Looking up between the claws she sees her son, Carcos, standing in the middle of the carnage. The red-black fur of his cheeks is wet with tears, his eyes glassy and distant. The pyq who led the charge saunters out of the locker, its weapon hanging casually in its grip as it wipes blue blood from its lips.

“Who’s this?” the beast snarls in its guttural tongue, plucking Carcos up like a toy.

“NO!” Still struggling, Rylett flares her spines, and for a moment the monster pinning her down lets up. She dashes forwards on her paws and knees, scrambling for a weapon. She knows that they will just kill her, but she will not let her boy suffer. Death is preferable to this nightmare. Her claws brush against a pistols grip, but a heavy clawed foot comes down on her ankle, and she cries out as it is crushed beneath the weight. Seizing her scalp and pulling her onto her knees the monster stands over her. Her whole head is gripped tight by long powerful fingers, the claws drawing blood.

Her little boy squeals as the leader’s claws dig into him, and Rylett can do naught but howl. The pyq pulls him up to its terrible long snout, looking her dead in the eye the whole time as it bites down on the boy’s torso. She tries to reach for him, wailing in agony profound as the reptile gripping her licks a long slick tongue across her cheek. The only sound is her sobbing and the crunching of the predator’s feast. All is the smell of blood, and madness begins to suck at the marrow of her bones.

In the corner of her eye, Praitor stands on wobbling legs, his paw to his gut. Without a moment’s hesitation he inputs the command into the control panel. The chime causes the predators to spin about, the one holding their son dropping him wetly to the floor. Her dearest turns back long enough to look at Rylett one last time before gunfire rips into him, but it is done. She does not have time to think, time to grieve. Rylett throws all her weight into her elbow as she drives it into the pyq’s stomach, ignoring the stabbing in her leg as she hurls it over herself toward the others. The weightlessness becomes apparent, making the throw travel as blue blood spins from the leader’s snarling maw. Her darling’s corpse is lifted—almost tenderly—up and out of the airlock as the door snaps open, the pyq howling as they get sucked out into vacuum. Hypoxia sparkles at the edge of Rylett’s vision, but with the last of her strength she dives for her little boy as they too tumble toward the opening. The emergency shield affixes itself, and she bounces off of it with Carcos shuddering in her arms. Air floods the chamber again, and the gravity drops them to the slick floor. Rylett wheezes for a moment, her throat coarse and ragged as she tries to breathe. There is blue in her vision, burst arteries bloodying her sight, but she sees enough. Her boy is broken.

“Carcos?!” she gasps, shaking him desperately. His eyes are distant, great holes in his chest.

Her son just gargles and dies in her arms. She is alone. Alone…

Rylett awoke in darkness. Panic rushed down on her, as though falling from a great height, pinning her soul. Her first thought is that she has woken from a nightmare and stretched for her bedside table. But her claws reached out into nothingness, making her stomach lurch. The bed felt wrong as well, too low, too small, but it was undoubtedly a bed. She sat up, rubbing her head. The panic lessened when her feet touched ground, but she still had a tense, throbbing feeling pressing against her head.

“Wha-?” she mumbled to herself, trying to wrap her mind around her predicament. Where am I? What happened? “H-hello?” she called out, the sound told her she was in a small room. “Is anyone there?”

“Yes,” spoke the shade. A chill crept through her, her quills prickling. The voice was light, sonorous, like that of a child, and yet there was something different about it. “Rylett. It’s okay. You had a nasty fall,” the voice whispered. What’s happening?!

“A fall? Wh-who’s there?!”

“This’ll be hard, but I need you to stay calm, okay?” It speaks too clearly for a voice so young, she realised. And yet I can feel its weight in the room, as though the sound and the breath don’t match.

“Calm?!” Rylett knew that word meant something pertinent but could not recall what. “W-what…” She felt like she was spinning, her breathing becoming erratic as the crushing weight of her panicked mind tried to push itself down her spinal cord. I need to get out! She sprung off the bed, running into the unknown. She only made it a few steps when great clawed paws gripped her forearms, there were two barks of fright, and Rylett fell backward, landing heavily on her rump. The pain was trivial now; whilst the contact had been brief, she knew the feeling all too well. A vice like grip, the wide span of dextrous claws.

“D-don’t do that… are you okay?” it said to her, seemingly unaware that Rylett was preoccupied with hyperventilating. The creature lacked the low, rumbling pitch of an adult, but the nervous chitter, the snapping of the maw was unmistakeable. The pyq rises up before her, a sinful black as it steps from the shadows. Rylett screamed, both presently and in memory. She flailed and scrambled backward onto the bed, quickly encountering cool packed clay and dirt.

“Aa!” she barked out madly, her claws digging at the cool wall behind her. “Aagh-a!”

“Please try and calm down.”

“Argh! No! P-please!” the Priestess gibbered, trying to shield her body with her arms from the attack she knew to be coming. She sat against the wall, shuddering. She had not seen a grey since that wretched day, had hoped to never see one again. A pyq on the Cradle?! This was sacrilege of the highest order, a sin like no other. Her mind circled this thought again and again, this final judgement as it awaited the end. But curiously, nothing happened.

“Can I get you something to eat?” it said at last, the words making her flinch. Is it… trying to talk to me? Why won’t it attack? “Maybe something to drink?” Ah, a trap! It wants to lull me, or…

“S-so w-what, you can j-just poison me!”

“That’s just silly. Why would I do that?” Rylett had to admit, the creature had a point. Why not rip her throat out and be done with it? She pushed the morbid thought aside, centring her conviction. I am a Priestess; I must protect others. I need get some message out, some warning, but how? It no longer mattered if she lived or died, she just had to keep it talking and she would find an opening. Her bravery did not reach her tongue quickly enough.

“P-people wi-ll c-come looking for m-me!”

“I don’t want to keep you here any longer than I need to.”

“H-huh? Y-you need me?”

“I need you to understand.” Rylett shook her head at the darkness.

“W-what? What must I understand?”

“Me,” it said quietly. “You and I, Rylett.”

“Us? Y-you know me?”

“My brother speaks highly of you.”

“Your brother?” I don’t know any pyq, thank Kay-ut.

“Imdi,” it said. Rylett could hear her pulse in her ears, and she fought to recall what she had been doing beyond the image of the leering reptile. I was visiting the Brackwood… to see…

“You’re saying… that you’re Ki-yu?!” her voice was incredulous. There was a wheezing breath in the dim.

“You wanted to see me… here I am.” The Priestess struggled to reconcile the brilliant, timid young girl she had encountered in the chat log, and the clear affection that Braq and Turin had for her, with the image of a vicious predator. A hunter in the night. A monster without remorse. A pyq. Rylett made a wheezing noise, before steadying herself. This made no sense, a pyq isn’t a pet! Braq and Turin might be odd, but they aren’t insane! But the more she thought about it the more sense it made; why they lived so far away, so isolated, why Imdi had been so shy and cautious following his fight with Yotun, why the parents had at first denied the girls existence. Even Braq’s insistence on a secure chatroom made more sense; any logs of their conversations would be hard to access without the key chain from both users. All these little details—and a thousand more besides—came tumbling out of her at once, verbalised simply as the most prescient question:

“W-why is it so dark?” Rylett said lamely.

“The lights are off.”

“Yes, but why are the lights off?!” she hissed.

“I thought you’d react better if you didn’t have to look at me.”

“N-no this is childish, turn them on.” A moment later there was a click, and Rylett caught a fleeting glance of it before she began screaming into her paws. The predator was dark as midnight, it’s body lithe and strong. It’s great clawed paw still rested on the light switch as it sat on its haunches between her and the door. Even from that sitting position it seemed to tower over her. It was a shadow, if a shadow had claws.

“Turn it off!!” she begged, her feet kicking on the bed. “Turn it off, turn it off!”

The monster returned them to that terrible darkness. Between her sobs, Rylett thought she might have heard a quiet whine.

“I’m sorry,” it whispered. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“W-w-hy do-don’t yo-u just g-get it over w-with?” she said between her sobs. I’ve been tricked, she realised then. This whole family is a front, just to feed this predator… Ki-yu: the trickster. Oh, Protector…

“Get what over with?” it asked.

“Stop-p playing wi-with me!” her voice begged, Rylett pondering in a detached way if this was the same bravado that compelled her darling to open the airlock. “Just do it!” There was another whine from the darkness, this time more defined.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” it told her. “Honest.”

“L-liar!” she spat.

“No. No more lies. The whole truth from now on, I promise.” Rylett just trembled, and it was silent for a while. “We need to see if you’re okay. You hit your head.”

“S-stay away!” the prey within quailed. She was caught between several impulses; the desire to warn others, the desire to flee until she could run no more, and the desire to die and to end all this suffering. She could not pick one, could not rationalise the fear.

“I won’t come near you,” the beast was saying, “but we’ll have to turn the lights on.”

“W-we?” Rylett’s frayed mind latched onto that datum. Others? Other pyq? Wait… “Braq and Turin!” she hissed. “They- they- they…”

“They’re worried,” it told her.

“They’re alright?”

“O-of course.” There was a noise as the pyq shifted its weight, and Rylett briefly wondered what had unsettled it. She focused on the other radji. Even if they’re mad, they’re still radji. I’d have better luck reasoning with them, surely. Her quills still stood at their full extent, the strain starting to ache. “I’m going to turn the lights on again, okay?” Just appease it, bide your time.

“O-okay…” she said breathily. The lights flashed on, and Rylett instinctively shielded her face, her throat. But there was no sound of movement, save the wretched noise of her own ragged breathing. A Champion does not cower! she chastised herself, forcefully pulling her paws back even if her eyes were firmly shut. Second tenet; conviction in our beliefs, courage in our actions. Rylett took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

The creature had turned around so that it was no longer facing her. It was lying down now, the posture almost casual. Its dark body seemed withdrawn from before, no longer a towering mass of muscle. But that subdued form held a great strength she could see in the way the tail and limbs rested. Strapped to one thigh was a handheld radio, alongside a small pouch, the hilt of a blade protruding from it. It did not fill Rylett with confidence that the predator was armed beyond its natural weapons. She briefly considered attempting to slip the blade from it but decided that was not a promising prospect. No longer wanting to look at the monster, she wrenched her eyes away and looked around the room.

It was a small, simple affair, sparsely adorned with shelves. Yet this space was also clearly well lived in. Leaves, rocks, and natural trinkets littered the racks, as well as little carved wooden figures, bundles of wood, glue, and twine. Books were also abundant, of many different topics, picture books for young and old, textbooks, fiction, and historical almanacs. On a hook in one corner sat a ragged old raincoat, its canvas faintly stained with red and blue blood. Does it not know how to clean? Or does it relish the sign of its hunting? Absently, she noticed there was no window, no computer, no means to communicate with the outside world save the radio.

The bed was comfortable enough. Sitting on the covers—as though it was laid beside her—was a well-worn radji-shaped plush toy. With only the slightest hesitant glance at her captor, she picked it up. It was a simple little thing, one that could be bought at any market on the Cradle, but it was clearly well-loved; the frayed edges betrayed that the toy had seen significant mauling in its life. Suddenly a giggle threatened to burst from her lips. It was absurd, an offensive, silly thing. She began to laugh, her stress and fear overwhelming her. She rolled off the bed, still clutching the toy in her paws. Her whole body shook as she rolled into a ball in the middle of the room. Through her hysterics, she found she could sense the creature looking at her.

“A-are you alright?” it asked cautiously.

“Oh, Protector… no,” Rylett said, her laughter giving way to more sobs. She threw the toy over her shoulder in the direction of the predator, suddenly sick of it. “Y-your last victim.”

Behind her, the dark thing snorted.

“Spike’s not a victim,” it said picking it up. “He’s my oldest friend.”

“Friend?”

“I don’t get to meet many people,” it said sourly. It was at this point that Rylett noticed that her translator was not even active. There was no delay, no disconnect between the vocalisations and the creature’s words.

“Are you… speaking Kejdar?” she asked. “Why… where would you even learn that?” The predator languidly reached down, plucking the radio from its leg-belt.

“Baba?” she called into it. Baba? Kay-ut, there must be others! They’re holding these people hostage! Rylett shuddered, her mind flicking through her meagre options. The muffled sound of footfalls could be heard from outside, she had seconds! The knife!

The door was pulled open, and the Priestess scrambled forwards on her paws and knees. She had no sense of if she was fleeing or fighting. She most certainly did not care that it brought her closer to the creature—so total was her desperation—, she only knew she needed the weapon. But the pyq rose up over her before she could reach for the blade, its form filled with subtle power. They all stopped, frozen in place save Ki-yu’s tail which flowed lazily behind it, swaying like a graceful metronome. Rylett felt herself begin to drown in its dark, dark eyes. Her husband was in those pools of molasses in its long face, his corpse spinning out into the abyss.

“You can’t leave yet,” it whispered to her. “I will keep you here if I have to.” The Priestess fought to retain composure.

“Priestess,” Rylett flinched at Braq’s voice from the doorway. “We know this is hard, but we don’t have much choice.”

“Y-y-you tr-tricked m-me!” she stuttered. To her shock the man reached forward and placed a palm on the still standing pyq’s shoulder. In his free paw he held a small medical kit.

“I told no lies,” he said. “But, yes, I apologise for not telling the whole truth. Would you like something to eat, or drink?” Rylett boggled at him.

“W-why…?”

“We have no intent to harm you,” Braq said. “On the contrary, we rather like you.” He regarded the monster he was touching. “This meeting would have happened eventually, you’re both too damned curious. But I had hoped it wouldn’t be so sudden.” The pyq looked up at him, and Rylett was shocked to see something resembling remorse in those eyes. It crossed its arms over itself, almost pouting.

“I’m sorry. I just–”

“I know sweetheart,” the man sighed. He turned back to Rylett. “I need to check your head. May I approach?” Shakily, Rylett fell back, sitting down on the bed like so many children when being detained. Braq set the kit down beside her, fiddling with its contents. The creature that called itself Ki-yu fell down into a sitting position, its great claws kneading at the carpet. Rylett did not need to imagine their power, nor the firm, rough texture of the pads. She was still looking at them when Braq reached for her, making her flinch. He leaned back at once, holding his palms up to appease her, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Please, Priestess. Will you at least give us the benefit of the doubt?” The man was still earnest, she give him that much. She tilted her snout and let the big radji’s paws range across her head. At another time some scandalous part of her would have relished the touch of so strong a man, but that part of her had left the same airlock as her darling Praitor. Again, she tried to think of some way to force her way out, but Rylett suspected she would have as difficult a time overpowering strong-pawed Braq as she would the pyq. The man grunted, flipping open the medical kit, careful to keep it beyond her reach.

“No sign of a fracture,” he murmured, retrieving a torch, and quickly flashing it across her pupils. Returning his tools and taking up the box again, he walked casually across the room, picking up Spike from where the pyq had dropped it.

“Catch,” he said, tossing it to her, which Rylett caught. “Good. How do you feel? Dizzy? Confused?”

“Definitely confused!” she snapped at him, gesturing with the toy. He chuckled.

“I guess that’s normal considering.” How can he be so whimsical, so comfortable near that predator?

“Where did this thing come from?!” she pressed him.

“Spike?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I bought it as a joke.”

“Not the doll, the pyq you moron!” Rylett recoiled as the dark thing hissed out a rattling, rasping noise, shaking its head.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up little miss,” the man said, stepping out of the room. Laughter? Rylett’s stomach lurched as her eyes met the predators for a second. A moment later Braq returned with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and a glass of water. He set it down on the bed beside her, before stepping back.

“Baba?” the pyq called out. Braq bent down allowing it to whisper in his ear. Did he not realise that the gesture exposed his throat? The man nodded slowly and turned away. The door slid shut behind him, but her captor remained facing her this time. A part of her wanted him to stay, to not be alone with this monster, but she was too focused on what it had called Braq.

“Baba?” she whispered. “You really think that’s your father?” For the first time the reptile hissed at her, the sound like air slipping from the room. The dark eyes narrowed to slits.

“He is my father,” it whispered. Rylett swallowed, trying to process its seemingly sincere words.

“Braq and Turin-?!”

“Raised me, yes.” Madness! Total bedlam! The creature drew its tail around itself, fiddling with the end absently. “This is my bedroom,” it told her. I guess they had to keep it somewhere. She would have to circle back to the notion of ‘raising’ a predator, should she survive this conversation. It was simply too big of an issue.

Rylett considered the bowl and cup in front of her, wondering if she could use them as weapons, be it on the pyq or herself. But both were made of plastic, and the soup was not hot enough to cause any harm. Some notion of poison was still dancing through her raw synapses, but her grumbling stomach put an end to it. If she was to die here, it would be with a full belly. She took the bowl up, gulping down the thick, fragrant stock, the rich spices, and vegetables. At least the food is good, she ruminated. Ki-yu watched her the whole time, its tail flicking slightly when she finished the bowl. It rested its long, wide face down over crossed paws—so much like a lounging vexise—but its eyes never left her.

“E-expect me to beg for meals?” Rylett barked, trying to sound fiercer than she felt.

“No,” it said lazily. “Would you like something else to eat?” Why is it doing this? Pyq are not generous! This purgatory was maddening; she wanted, needed an end to this. Rylett took a swig of water, before hurling the cup at her captor. It did nothing, bouncing off the wall behind it, splattering water above it, but at once the predator was on its feet. It pounced forward, growling, and Rylett scrambled back over the bed. It stopped within a paws swipe of her, and there was nothing sweet or childish in the rumbling passing through its tight lips. A clawed hand slunk forward, snatching up the bowl and tray, and it turned tail. Rylett tried to get her breathing back to its normal in-out rhythm as it returned to the door.

“That was rude,” it whistled, the child-like voice resettling itself as it sat again. “Mama likes her cooking.” I guess if Braq is ‘Baba’…

“You mean Turin?” she said bitterly, trying to rise it to further mayhem. It just looked at her out of the corner of a black eye, sniffing absently at the bowl. Rylett pulled her legs up before herself, pouting sullenly. On some level she knew this pyq believed these people to be its parents, but the whole situation was just absurd. Predators do not care for others!

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“Sometimes,” it said, still sniffing at the bowl, “I sit and watch them cook. Listen to the chopping, or the rhythm of the grating, or crushing, or juicing. Or maybe I’ll read out the recipes or gather ingredients if my paws are clean. It all smells so… interesting.” It ran the pad of a slender digit around the edge of the bowl, picking up grime. For a long moment it just sat there, playing with food between its fingers. “Was it good?” it asked her.

“Wh-what?”

“Did it taste good?”

“Why’d you care?” The pyq shrugged, returning the bowl to the tray.

“It always smells good, and I can’t have any.” If Rylett did not know better, she would have called that angst in its voice.

“Yes… it was good,” she blurted. Now I know I hit my head.

“Good… that’s good…”

“Is it?”

“You should enjoy it.” Something in its tone unsettled her more than its flesh. There was a longing there, a need.

“I suppose it’s not really to your liking, hm?” The pyq just blinked slowly. “No bones to chew on? No marrow to suck out?” She sneered at it. “Tell me, monster, how many people have you lured here? I’m clearly not the first…” It looked away from her, plainly made uncomfortable.

“I don’t do that,” it said simply.

“Brynn-shit!” she cursed. It was most unbefitting of a Priestess, but it had been a trying day. The pyq hissed again.

“I tell no lies,” Ki-yu said. ”I promised. I have never hurt anyone. Never killed anyone. I don’t want to; the thought disgusts me.”

“B-but you must eat something…”

“Animals,” it said. “Stiplets mostly. I used to eat kibble, but it was making me sick.” The knowledge that this creature killed regularly made Rylett want to throw up herself. Blue blood between thin teeth. “I don’t like it,” the pyq added, looking at a corner of the room. Rylett shook her head, confused.

“You don’t like the kibble? Of course, it’s not meant–”

“I don’t like killing,” it almost whispered. For the second time that day, Rylett felt like she was falling.

“W-what? What do you m-mean?” Rylett said hoarsely. That doesn’t make any sense. “You’re a predator! You have to kill to stay alive!”

“I know what I am, but I don’t have to enjoy it.”

“Y-you have to like… th-that’s what you things do!” she yelled at it. “You have to like it! Why-?!” She stopped to catch her breath, finding her paws were shaking again. To her surprise she had stood and taken two steps toward it. She looked at the darkling, this shadow-born hunter.

“I don’t like it,” it repeated.

The door swung open again, but in place of Braq stood a tiny radji. Imdi waddled forward uncertainly, a big blue bag in his miniature paws. The boy looked up at the predator as it leaned over him, its maw splitting in a terrible smile. The sight made Rylett cringe, it was all too familiar. The strong serrated teeth, coated with saliva as a tongue snaked forwards. She wanted to rush the creature, to shout a warning, anything, but her words escaped her, her body failed her. Carcos, gasping for air that will not come. Confoundingly, instead of devouring the boy, the pyq licked him on the snout, and took the bag from him in a paw.

Imdi giggled at it, seemingly unafraid. His smile faltered as he turned to Rylett.

“Hi Priestess,” he mumbled, his typical mode of conversation. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Um… better,” she murmured back.

“This must be scary,” the little boy said, nodding his caramel head. “But Ku is very nice, you’ll see.” He should have been shaking in fear, screaming, and fighting to be free of the room. Ki-yu crossed its paws again as it sat, its head held at eye level next to him.

“Oh yes,” it chittered, “he’s the scary one.” The boy sniggered.

“Ra!” he yelled at her from the bottom his little lungs, waving his paws about in faux aggression. Rylett had never known him to be so animated. Driven, certainly, but the boy was shy to a fault. Imdi then turned to the pyq, roaring again, and to her surprise the creature rolled onto its back, pretending to be meek.

“Eep!” it squealed, the little radji tickling at her strong neck. In an instant the boy could be thrown down that throat, be ripped apart by its sharp claws. But there was nothing but giggles and laughter. Rylett felt like she was watching some cutting piece of DataNet satire, a cruel parody, not real life. They’re playing! No performance, there’s no one here but me! Her expression must have been quite something, for the two looked at her simultaneously, then quickly at one another before bursting into laughter; the radji cackling where the pyq chittered.

“I-I’m glad you find this amusing!” Rylett gawped, gesturing to the pyq as their laughter ebbed away. “You really trust it?” The boy screwed up his nose, Ki-yu rolling back onto her stomach.

“I trust her,” he said.

“Thank you, brother mine.”

“Can we play later, Ku?”

“Whatever you want,” it said to him, blinking its considerable dark orbits. The child giggled, hugging at her comparatively massive head; Rylett did not doubt that Ki-yu could have easily bitten him in two. The pyq shook him from her long face with a snort and a smile, before pushing him toward the door with her snout. “Go on. We’ll talk later.” The boy giggled as he waddled away, and the door slid shut once more. The pyq rocked its head with a snort, as though trying to dislodge something. It was hard to read anything but warmth on its strange, long face as it moved into a sitting position.

“He… really cares for you,” Rylett all but whispered.

“And I for him,” it said, looking at her as it blinked languorously. The Priestess looked away.

“What’s in the bag?” she said hurriedly.

“You asked where I came from.” Carefully, almost dotingly, Ki-yu pulled a large, greenish-blue ovoid from the bag. Rylett blinked at it dumbly.

“An egg? You… hatched here?” The predator tossed its head to the door.

“Down the hall.” Then… it isn’t here to hunt… it’s trying to hide… “In your time in space… did you ever see an egg like this?”

“No…” Rylett said wispily. Its brow tightened, seeming displeased.

“There’s no stories of anyone… I don’t know… finding an egg like this?”

“No one has.” The creature tilted its head, its lips drawn into a pout. Slowly the creature stood, then approached. Rylett tried to slink back, but her back was already pressed against the wall. It stopped at the edge of the bed, seeming to hesitate, before offering Rylett the egg. She was unbearably close to it. She could see the sheen of its scales, the way the smooth, sharp claws joined the fingers. When she did not move the pyq rolled its eyes, holding the egg out more insistently, and looking away. Trying not to touch the monster again, she tenderly took the shell from it and the predator fell back a pace.

It was lighter than she would have thought, although it was clearly empty. It’s rough, porous surface had a remarkable lustre to it, as though one hue was overlaying another.

“My parents tell me they bought it off a trader,” it told her. “A random spur of the moment purchase. The seller didn’t know what it was, nor did they.”

“They… didn’t know?” Rylett scoffed. “That must have been some surprise.” The pyq… giggled. Rylett would have called it an imitation were it not so clear.

“I guess, aheh,” it whistled, rubbing the back of a paw close to its chest and looking away awkwardly. “It was found on one of the colony worlds. I… um… don’t know much else.”

“On a colony world?” Rylett looked up at it, but it just looked back at her expectantly. To think of them… breeding… where we’d hoped to build our homes… It made the Priestess shudder, her claws rattling against the shell. She failed to see any way to use this information or the egg to her advantage. This item offered little in the way of a weapon; she could crush it in her paws should she wish. Unless…

Rylett moved to the edge of the bed, examining the eggs surface in the light, feeling the stippled surface that rolled beneath her paws. It is strangely beautiful… she considered for a moment. Rylett tipped her paw, letting the egg shatter on the ground.

“No!” her captor barked, Rylett pulling back into the corner of the room as it lunged forward. It fell down amongst the shards, picking at the shattered edges. “Ohh…!” It whined, a long keening sound. It’s away from the door! Rylett staggered forward, trying to dart around the predator whilst it was distracted. But it stood after her first step, springing for her.

“Ah-!” was all she could say, those firm paws pressing her against the wall. Terror plucked at some tender chord in her mind as the pyq’s maw revealed all its slender teeth in a ferocious hiss. But it stopped just as quickly as it had started, Ki-yu hanging its head as little unmistakeable sobs shook it.

“W-why?! Why wou-ld you d-do that?!” Its dark eyes were filled with tears as it let go of her, turning back to its shattered cradle. Perhaps Rylett had run out of fear, but in that moment, she felt not afraid. Instead, for the first time, saw how small this creature was. It was clearly strong—it had pinned her to the wall easily enough—but when standing on its toes it would only have just reached Rylett’s navel. The pyq fell down amongst the shards, rubbing a thumb across a sharp-edged fragment.

“Umph-umph,” it rumbled; a sound more felt than heard. “Umph-umph.”

“Are… are you…?” Rylett wobbled away from the wall, one paw resting firm against it; a lifeline lest she fall into the abyss.

“I- I h-hoped you’d underst-stand!” it wheezed at her, another round of Umphs! shaking it. This predator was not vicious like she had expected. It had been courteous and compliant, it had ignored most of her insults, and its first thoughts had been for how she felt. No, this is a predator, named after the sinful brother! All the scripture says this is a monster that relishes in its mischief. Second tenet; conviction in our beliefs, courage in our actions. But…

“That… really meant something to you?” Rylett whispered. The pyq snuffled, wiping at mucus running from its snout.

“M-mama and I rebuilt it…” Ki-yu mumbled. “The day they told m-me that she was pregnant.” No… what is that? a cruel voice whispered. Does Kay-ut’s Champion feel pity for the monster? But she could not deny the evidence of her eyes, the pyq was crying. Ki-yu’s only three they said…

“I… um… pyq I–” Rylett balked as it looked up at her. Tears running across dark fur. It snorted forcefully, eyes like daggers as it began to hastily gather the shards of eggshell back into the bag. “Listen, I…” Again, it looked at Rylett as it regained its feet, and again her voice left her. It turned around and stomped toward the door, the fragments rattling in the sack. “Ki-yu!” Rylett called out. The pyq froze, her clawed paw resting on the latch. “I-I’m sorry,” the Priestess said, stepping forward. “I… didn’t know… I shouldn’t have…” she hung her head. “…I’m sorry.” The predator turned slowly, placing the bag of fragments down on a shelf. With a huff Ki-yu sat heavily, curling up into a wary black ball of scales. She no longer seemed conversational, instead just watching.

The dark gaze of the pyq was unnerving, but she did not dare ask it to turn around now. Rylett started looking along the shelves but the pyq made a soft growling noise. It was a dreadful sound, but she was tired of being scared.

“I promise, I won’t…” she muttered weakly, gesturing at the blue bag. The pyq eyed her warily, pulling her lip to tongue at a tooth in what was a vagrant threat.

“…May I?” Rylett asked. “Please?” There was a wrinkle in her snout, but Ki-yu made a sniffing noise Rylett took for consent. The rocks on one shelf were sorted neatly, organised by colour, or maybe texture. On another they were disorganised, often dirtier, or of poorer quality. Small notes had been left on the former, listing coordinates, and a description of each specimen.

The leaves had received particularly careful care, some even being pressed together in the pages of a book. The notes here were meticulous, listing the type of tree or bush they had come from as well as the area. Some she had even taken the time to draw.

“Why keep these things?” she asked her, suddenly curious. “The rocks, the leaves? What do they mean to you?”

“They’re pretty,” Ki-yu said, sitting up a bit more but still grouching. Rylett shook her head, turning a page to find yet another carefully preserved frond. The notion that a predator could find something so fragile, so ordinary as a leaf beautiful was something of a novel thought. Hunters take trophies, don’t they? But not of foliage… there is little glory in a leaf.

“You’ve taken great care to look after these, there must be some point to it beyond them just being pretty.” Ki-yu looked at her through one eye, before unwinding to stand. The radji’s quills bristled as it drew near, but she managed to resist the urge to retreat more than a half-step. The pyq’s claws moved carefully across the page, tracing the leaf’s edge until it found the stem.

“I like the smells,” she said, bringing the end of her long snout to the page and inhaling deeply. Her dark eyes slid shut, the darker patches around them fluttering for a moment. “The others don’t really know what I mean but… it’s like they’ve all got so much to say. Each leaf has a different flavour.” She twiddled a thin one between her digits. “Like, this one is sort of sweet, whilst this one…” she picked up an almost identical leaf. “…is a little bit less sweet, more tart. I think its ‘cause that one’s a younger tree, and this one’s older. Oh, and…” She flipped through the pages, coming to one that was still a bright autumnal orange, brown nodules infecting its surface. “This one smelt so strong, so bitter. I could taste it whenever the wind blew from the north-east. A few days after I took this leaf the tree toppled in a storm, rotten from within.” She placed it back, fondly but firmly pressing the book shut. “And… It’s like I can place where I found each one in the forest. The ones further south have a, oh I dunno, fresher? feel to them? I think its ‘cause they’re closer to the lake. The ones to the west are salty, from the sea. Go far enough north and they start to smell more like soot, or smoke.”

“Why’s that?”

“The city, I’d guess,” she shrugged. “But now I can’t get lost.”

“So… you learned all the smells so you wouldn’t get lost?”

“More like I learned all the smells because they were nice, and now I don’t get lost.” Rylett picked up a stray twig from the shelf, small seed pods blooming pink fronds within chartreuse leaves. She froze as Ki-yu put her snout within a whisker of her hand, snuffling at the flora.

“Yeah,” she murmured, “see that one’s fresher, it was from a bush not far from the lake.” The girl suddenly opened her eyes, before pulling back bashfully. Rylett carefully returned it to the shelf. On the next level up was a small collection of carved wooden figures. Some were of animals; a reptilian creature she assumed to be a predatory shadow monitor, a few attempts at the distinctive shaggy features of a brynn, as well as very precise and a carefully made stiplet. But at the front of the shelf was a small collection of what were clearly radji. Two were adults, one slightly taller than the other, and a tiny infant.

“And what about these?” Rylett asked, plucking up the smallest figure. Carefully whittled sticks were jammed into their backs to make spines. “You made these?” she asked, feeling the wood beneath her claws. They needed varnish to hold them together, but it was clear a lot of time had been spent on the models’ creation.

“Yeah,” Ki-yu mumbled. “They’re not very good.”

“On the contrary, I used to know a man who’d make toys like these. I think he’d be quite impressed.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Ki-yu admitted, “I’m just having fun.”

“Riyo would say that’s the whole point.” Rylett murmured, wearing a light smile as she recalled the old man’s furry face.

“He sounds like a nice man.” His head is nearly split in two as it thuds against the deck.

“He was.” Rylett felt her face slacken as she replaced the toy on its shelf. “A pyq killed him,” she said before she could stop herself. Ki-yu went still beside her, and Rylett took a shuddering breath to steady herself. “It’s why I joined the faith, to protect people from–”

“From creatures like me,” she finished for her. Ki-yu was looking intently at her, her near-black eyes working their way into Rylett’s brown ones. She picked up her leaf book, holding it tight across her chest as she took a step back.

“Your partner… your son…” It was said so quiet Rylett thought she must have imagined it. “Pyq killed them too, didn’t they?” Her grief, her fear, her doubt, all she had buried deep down for years bubbled to the surface, her righteous anger sucking it all up like tar.

“Yes,” she hissed. Ki-yu whined, a short, sharp sound she cut off as she turned away.

“…I’m so sorry.” It was too much; Rylett almost fell into the shelves. It has to be lies, it has to be!

“Are you? Are you really?!” She started trembling again. “They made me watch, you know? They held me down and–” Ki-yu’s eyes went wide, her teeth flashing in a grimace.

“I…” she brayed, spinning toward the bed. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t h-have asked…” Rylett followed her, her claws biting into her own palms.

“He kicked and screamed, my little Carcos, and they just laughed!”

“Please, stop…” the pyq whimpered, the Priestess towering over it as it curled up beneath the blankets.

“Those creatures you eat, do they kick and scream?!” She was yelling now, the sound muted by the solid walls.

“Every time,” Ki-yu sobbed. Rylett rocked on her feet like she had been struck. The pyq breathed heavily, slow and deep, like a wail. After a long moment the predator drew the blankets around herself, and she rose. The pale fabric clung loose about her shoulders, draping her body so that just her long dark face was visible. With her standing on the bed, she was now eye-level with a pyq for the first time in years. “And I regret every one. Mourn every single one.”

“That’s not what pyq do!” Rylett insisted.

“Then I am not a pyq!” Ki-yu said, snapping her jaws for good measure. “If what you say is true, then they are nothing but dangerous monsters! But I am not them!” She let out a shaky breath, as though hit by epiphany. “I’m different!” Still draped in her sheets, she slid down the wall. “I can be different…”

The Priestess turned away. Could it be true? Could this predator really not want to kill anything? What would it be like, she wondered, to be forced to face the thing you hate the most in every mirror? To see fear in the face of everyone you meet?

The Priestess sat on the bed beside the predator.

“I meant what I said,” Rylett whispered to her, watching the way she looked up at her under her brow. “In our lesson. You shouldn’t have to change yourself on our behalf.” The sheets fell away as Ki-yu moved closer, sitting right next to Rylett. The sight of this thing still made her skin crawl, and she did not understand how Turin could think her beautiful. But she could not deny there was a grace in her movement, an assuredness to which her supple form obeyed. She turned and faced her. I’m tired of this. “I think I’m done talking.” With a shuddering breath Rylett threw her head back, exposing her throat. “If… you’re going to kill me I’d prefer if you just get it over with.” Her heart was thundering in her chest as she awaited… whatever was to happen next. She felt the predator shift. There was a breeze at her neck, and her breath hitched. Firm hands gripped her head, pulling it back down, and she flinched as she peeked out. Ki-yu’s face was but an inch from her own, her dark eyes all she could see. She saw herself there, her own terrified expression reflected back at her. Ki-yu took a long, hard sniff… and released her grip. She stepped off the bed and… unlatched the door. Amber light glowed alluringly into the room, warm and inviting. Ki-yu sat by the door, waiting patiently.

“Y-you’re letting me go?” Rylett remained unmoved on the bed, not quite believing it.

“I think I’ve taken up enough of your time,” the pyq said with a wry smile. She stood shakily, the prey animal inside trying to reassert itself. But there was no fresh attack as she passed the predator, she merely watched her go before padding out behind her. Her nerves were shot, and she must have looked dishevelled as she stumbled into the living room. Braq and Turin were waiting for them, the former sitting at the table where the latter stood with crossed arms. Across from Braq sat little Imdi, a board game between them.

“All good?” Braq asked, almost conversationally.

“I think so,” Ki-yu said, striding over and casually leaping up onto the table. “Would you like to stay any longer, Priestess?” She curled up beside Braq, his paw moving reflexively across the pyq’s scaly back.

“N-no,” she mumbled, gawping at the strange display. “I um… have some thinking to do.”

“Let me walk you to your car,” Turin said.

“Oh, I’m sure–”

“Please,” she said coolly. “I insist.” Rylett swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked back to the table.

“Goodbye, Ki-yu. I- um… Goodbye.” The dark creature flicked its tail almost playfully. Rylett turned and would have run for the door had Turin not been before her. The air was cool and fresh as they stepped outside. The sun was setting, a flock of… something forming a flowing shadow over the trees. It was beautiful.

“Well?” Turin said. “Was she everything you hoped for?”

“I… uh… I dug deeper than I should, huh?” Turin grunted a half-laugh, and Rylett’s usual professionalism attempted to reset itself. “I stand by my initial assessment. Brilliant. Capable. Cripplingly lonely.”

“Will we be seeing more of you?” Turin said, a chill in her voice.

“I… uh…” Rylett eyed her hovercar. ”That depends on what she wants. I must apologise.” Rylett said. “I was incredibly cruel to her.”

“I know.” If her words had been cold before, they were now icicles. Turin’s grip was as firm as her daughters as she caught a hold of Rylett’s arm. “We put a camera in the corner of the room. We saw everything.”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Including what you said about your family.” Turin’s jaw was set firm. “I’m sorry for your loss, and any further trauma we’ve caused you. Had we known… well, none of this would have happened. But none of that gives you the right to blame my daughter!” Turin pulled her close. “If you tell anyone, they will come and kill her,” she said bluntly. “They will come for us too, and we will be arrested and probably deemed insane. Imdi will lose everything he has ever known, and everyone he has ever loved. He will be put up for adoption, but we both know no one would adopt him, they’d think him as mad as his parents. Too contaminated. We will die before we see that happen.”

“I think I understand that,” Rylett said, letting a little fire into her voice.

“Good,” Turin said sweetly, some sunshine returning to her eyes.

The door swung open, and Ki-yu strode out into the open with a bound brown book in her paw. It was strange to see her outside the room, see the late light shimmering across her scales.

“I almost forgot! I… um… finished my homework,” she said awkwardly, Braq joining his partner outside. “Would you like to read it?”

“Homework? Oh…” Rylett carefully took the book from her, the pyq stepping back again.

“I hope I wrote enough. You’ll have to let me know in our next lesson.”

“Next lesson…” Rylett let out a breathy laugh, rapping her claws against the cover.

“You do realise that you’re giving me evidence of your presence, right? I could use this to expose you all.” Braq and Turin shared a glance, but the girl just smiled a shy smile.

“Call it an act of faith,” Ki-yu said simply.

~*~

It was something of a joke between the staff that, should any child ask, they insisted they lived in the school. This was something of an easy gambit to pull off, as children are naïve and that during the school weeks, they did in fact sleep there. But during the off weeks and the holidays the school was mostly abandoned. The halls seemed empty and dim without the children; no laughter rang here, no squeals or arguments echoed in the yard, no voices raised in song and prayer. The wooden edifice was shadowy and quiet in the long hall, Rylett only lighting two small candles before Her. She knelt before the altar and whispered her prayer.

“Kay-ut, All-Mother, hear me your meek advocate as I ask for your sage council, your humble wisdom, and your steadfast guidance. Come to me, O great and boundless, rend out my burdens, and lessen my weary head. Present to me the path, most virtuous, most just, most gentle, and to those of the greatest need. Hu-zain!” Rylett opened her eyes and looked down at Ki-yu’s book.

I should not look… they are dark words, from a dark thing…

Rylett opened the book, turning to the marked page, and read aloud.

“A man sits beside me. He is talking, although I don’t know the words. There is a light in the sky, so bright it must be the sun, but the rest of the world is grey. He whispers my name. I come to know him as Baba.

“My Mama is wise and beautiful, her kindness as total as sunshine. I adore the smell of her cooking in the kitchen, the delight she takes in her food. A delight I cannot share.

”My brother came into the world in blood. We all hurt that day, no one more so than Mama. I was scared, but I saw how desperately they fought. Mama, Baba, even little Imdi. And so, I fought too, even if I hurt.

“I hate that I hurt, but I can’t not hurt. It would be like telling a tree not to grow, or water not to fall as rain. But they tell me, my family, that some hurts are worth it.

“They are a part of me, as is my name and its promise. They will never leave me.”

Rylett slowly shut the cover. Above her Kay-ut’s onyx face peered down curiously.

“Is this a test?” she asked Her quietly. “To shake me from ennui? To see if I recognise the face of my enemy?” Rylett stood from her prayer, venting as she paced. “I have never been the most faithful of the clergy, but I have done my duty. I have been challenged more than most, you know that. And I’ve accepted it, my loss, and my part in it. But…” She ran her claws against her scalp, forcing herself to confess. “She’s… just a child!” The admission echoed through the hall, through the confines of her mind.

… just a child.

“A predator who collects leaves? Who makes toys? Who has a family?! This is not the monster that hurts us, so why should we be monstrous to her?” Kay-ut’s inky black face towered above her, the flickering lights mobile pinpricks in the night that seemed to follow her as she moved.

“Why so silent? Is this not when I need you most? Please, make me understand!” She reached out to the other deities.

“Ki-ra!” she appealed. “The scholar, ever wise! What should I do?! Should I kill a predator child to avenge my own?! Or does your scripture not accept predator children as children?” The woman in blue silk remained silent. Rylett advanced on the statue of The Protector, proud and beautiful. “And you! If she’s done no harm, then should we do no harm to her? And what of Imdi, or the rest of that family for that matter?! Should we damn them all for the sin of loving a child?! If your protection destroys families, then what are you for?!”

… what are you for?! Her shout caused the light in the dark face to shudder.

“What would your son say?!” she asked Kay-ut, All-Mother, prancing up to the altar. “Ki-yu! The taker! The trickster! The wicked one! He who speaks with no voice! Would he of all people understand? Does he leave every perigee, or do you send him away?!” Tumbling into darkness.

The Priestess paused to catch her breath, finding she stood at the pulpit as if to give sermon. She leaned heavily against the podium, putting her head in her paws.

“Do you miss him?” she asked the Goddess, the voice echoing back at her.

Do you miss him?

“Yes,” Rylett whispered. “I miss them both, terribly. We give so much to those we love, don’t we? And when they’re gone, do we really lose that part of ourselves as well? I suppose a mother always misses her child.”

… her child.

“I see… thank you.”

Rylett smothered the flame, and the Goddess shut Her eyes.

~*~

She drove past the extermination officer’s headquarters, heading for the northern side of the city. Someone would be there on the return trip; the phones were manned every hour of the day. It did not take Rylett long to find the house. She had known the address for years, but never wanted to visit. It was dark as she approached the house, but everything else was the same; the small rickety old fence and gate, the cream-coloured stone of the walls, the flowerpots with their pink and white buds growing in the windowsill.

It took four knocks before the door swung open. The wizened old radji was once a tall woman, but now stooped with age. Her long fur was drab and mottled, raggedly cut around her legs to prevent her from tripping. Her eyes were as grey as her fur and saw nothing.

“Who’s there?” the frail old woman wailed, brandishing a black wooden cane. “Keeping a dying woman awake, shame on you kids! I’ll have your spines for this!”

“Mum,” Rylett whispered.

“Rylett?” her mother wheezed, the stick sliding through her paw so she might rest upon it. Her trembling paw reached forward, her cane probing for the step at the doors edge. The old woman’s stiff digits found Rylett shoulder and alighted on her cheek. She probed at her face, a light gasp escaping her as she felt her features. “It is you! Oh…” Suddenly she slapped her. It was not hard, the woman was too old, but the blow still stung. “Nine years,” she grunted, stomping her walking stick against the ground. “Not a word. After everything that happened, not a word. What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Took your time,” the hag grunted, turning back into the house. “Don’t let a draft in!”

The home was much as she remembered it, all musty carpets and painted walls. But with just a blind old woman to maintain it the house was slowly falling apart. There was a smell of mildew, the paint chipping in places. Her mother followed the wall, turning right into the living room.

“Be a good girl and boil the kettle. If you’re keeping me up, you might as well make some tea.” The kitchen was as much a mess as the rest of the house. The tap was dirty, and most of the mugs are chipped.

“How often do you get help around here?” Rylett called through. “Surely Dad left you with something?”

“Hard to find help one can trust,” she replied, falling like a sack of bones into her soft armchair, resting the cane at her right hand. ”Why, it’s very easy to rob someone blind, when…” She chuckled wryly, gesturing to her face. Rylett sighed, miserable that her mother was living like this, furious that she had been so detached as to let her.

“I’ll call around, get you some help.”

“My, my. This must be my lucky night,” she said dryly. “One of us must be dying.” Rylett finished brewing the tea and brought it through on a tray.

“Don’t talk like that, Mum.”

Rylett brought the cup to her mother’s thin paws. The woman sniffed, then made a satisfied sound as she took a swig.

“I hear… you’re a Priestess now, hm?” she probed. “I’m sure your father would be as surprised as I was to learn you’d followed in his footsteps after all.”

“I’m a teacher, and a Champion,” Rylett said. “The priesthood was merely necessary.”

“’Necessary’… huh.” Her mother took another mouthful of tea. “Even after how you left? You’re as righteous as you ever where, daughter.”

“I’m a priest, mother. I never said I was a saint.”

“Always the last word. Always a witty comeback. Rylett, what do you want? Why show up in the middle of the night?” Rylett put her mug down, wondering that herself. What do I want? Am I here for advice, or am I avoiding my dilemma?

“I’m… at a kind of crossroads. My faith demands one thing, my duty another.”

“Well, what is this crossroads?”

“I… uh… can’t say. Child secrecy and all that. Besides, I guess… it got me thinking about family. I wanted to ask you something about our family.”

“Our family…?” the wizened woman said softly, her head rocking in a sorrowful nod. “We don’t have much family left, not with your father gone. I daresay we’re–“ She stopped herself short.

“You can say it,” Rylett said, the crone trying to hide in her tea. “I know my family died a long time ago.”

“Praitor… and little Carcos… so far from home…” The old woman found tears somewhere, beating her cane against the carpet. “You didn’t say a word to us at the funeral, not one.”

“I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You didn’t want to face us,” her mother said sharply. “My eyes were going, but I could see that. So, we let you go, even though it hurt us. But I’d bet my ears you might be ready to now. C’mon dear, spit it out.“

“Before the end… did Dad ever… did he say…?” Her mother raised a brow above her blind eyes. “Did he forgive me? Even after all those things I said?” The old woman smiled to herself, her cane wobbling as she forced herself up.

“I won’t pretend to be an expert in faith. I was always the agnostic in the family, you know that. I still am, I guess.” She hobbled over to her, her ranging paw feeling its way along the splintering mantlepiece. “At the end, your father prayed for days. He prayed for many things. Hope, salvation, an end to his suffering. He never mentioned you, not once.” The stab in her heart was lessened as her mother’s paw graced her chest, spreading across her breast. “He didn’t need to,” her mother whispered; dead eyes filled with life. “He forgave you the moment you stepped from the room. His faith in you was of a different kind than his one in the church. It didn’t need words. There was no goddess save you. His temple was here,” her paw patting against her. “Always right here.” Emotion welled up in her chest, the full brunt of her ordeal crashing down around her.

“I… th-thought y-you’d blame me! I-if I hadn’t in-sisted on moving away, th-then…”

“Shhh…” Mum pulled her close. “Don’t you ever think that, think any of it. You did what you thought was right,” the old woman crooned as she stroked her daughter. “I don’t know what kind of crisis you’re in, my dear, that would drive you back to me. You are as stubborn as your father in many ways. I’m sure you want him to recite you some passage, tell you some little word to make it all make sense. But he’s not here anymore, so let me give you some advice. Forget your faith, forget your duty. Do what you think is right, and let the Goddess make her own judgements.”

---

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this?

And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

– Ilya Kaminsky. In, A city like a guillotine shivers on its way to the neck.