29th Century – Temple of the Angel of the Universe

Enid sat disguised as a red scaled sauroid. She was supposed to have left for the past six days ago but her wife had found yet another excuse to delay it. So instead she was sent here to ensure the peace was being maintained. She had taken the form of this female sauroid to travel to the Light Side settlements and the Dark Side settlements and ensure the agreements were being maintained and monitor sentiment. While the translators were working quite well only herself and Eyre new the changing power and Eyre was far too busy with Aurelius corp to make the trip.

The watcher had clocked her the minute she showed up in the shadow dweller village but didn’t ruin her ruse. She had completed her investigations here and was going to lose the red scales soon and go to the flying, then the water and finally the ice tribes in disguise to see what the prevailing sentiment towards the System Alliance and humans was. So far she was encouraged the sauroid saw them as valued trading partners and allies now. She was stopping by the temple to say good bye to the watcher but was now sitting and waiting as she spoke to a group of human missionaries from the Dark Mother’s church.

That had been the one thing that Enid was not pleased about. Just how far and how quickly the stories of the Dark Mother had spread. It seemed like this people were craving a beacon of hope and they had made it the Dark Mother. She wanted to stop it, stem the tide but she did not know how.

She had determined the leader of the group was named Tabitha Monk. Tabitha, by her robes that she had donned for the visit to this holy site, was a high-ranking member of the church. In fact, Enid had heard the title Archpriestess. And also, the term, Order of Miracle Investigations. The topic of conversation was bothering her even more then than the fact even the Watcher was speaking of the Dark Mother as a revered figure. They were discussing her visit and if the Watcher believed Enid to be the Dark Mother. The Watcher had beat around the bush and would only say that Enid was Seraph, the Archangel of the Universe. The woman it seemed would not give a straight answer to anyone.

Enid had spent her time in the 29th century avoiding letting the Church of the Dark Mother know who she really was. She was counting on the misinformation that had spread during the dark ages and the Grey to keep her from becoming widely accepted as the Dark Mother. But her fat mouth and drunkenness had thrown a giant wrench into that mess. She was also hoping they would be like the Christians in so far that if Jesus came back to them they’d laugh and lock him up. It seemed like the Church’s hierarchy had taken a keen interest in her visit to the sauroid home world. The Watcher glanced at Enid and motioned for the missionaries to sit down. Enid felt like what she was about to say was meant more for her then the missionaries.

“I cannot tell you the answer you seek, Children of the Earth Sphere, but I can tell you the history you have lost if you hand me that book.”

She motioned to a golden box one of the missionaries carried.

“That is a holy relic, the book of the Prophet Spring Washington and Prophetess Emily of the Samsonites. We brought it so the faithful could touch the box and pray for blessings.”

“And it holds all that which you seek young one.”

Enid saw the Archpriestess’s wrinkled forehead compress slightly. The woman had to be in her sixties. Apparently she didn’t appreciate being called young, but Enid knew the watcher to be at least two centuries old and the conversation amused her. Her form being what it was her tail started gently slapping the stone of the temple. The Archpriestess despite her frustration at being called young one motioned to the priestess to open the box. The priestess, with shaking hands pulled a key from around her neck and unlocked the ornate box. She gingerly pulled the clouded plastic bag out of the box and pulled the rattiest, faded soft cover book from it and offered it to the Watcher. Who took it and gingerly in her hands, seeming to pay it all the respect it was due. She closed her eyes and nodded she offered it back to the priestess who with great reverence put it back in the bag and sealed it in the statis box once again. The watcher offered her wizened taloned hands up.

“Everyone link hands and I will show you the truth of which you seek”

The missionaries seeming to respect the old blind crone started to join hands and the Watcher’s hollow sockets turned to Enid.

“You too, my lurking friend.”

Enid’s tail twitched but she had an abundance of respect for the crotchety old hag of a sauroid so she joined the ring of women.

“I will show you what Seraph, Angel of the Universe meant to those who came before.”

January 11th, 2029 – Bull, Texas

Spring held the knife against her wrist as she looked at the video of her stumbling around a party naked after someone spiked her drink. It was everywhere. Her mother and father had even seen it. Most other places there would have been charges but not Bull, Texas, not when it was the Sheriff’s son who posted it. She remembered the conversation her parents had with the Sheriff. Boys will be boys. Spring’s father had agreed. Bull was a town of Baptist’s. If you weren’t part of the churches, you weren’t the right people for the town.

Spring slammed her laptop shut. And she slide the knife along her wrist again she couldn’t make herself go deeper. She wanted to end it. It’s not like she could show her face in the town again. Her parents had told her they had to feed her and clothe her but once she was eighteen, she was out. They had no time for godless sluts in their house. Spring had never been proper as far as her fellow high school students were concerned. She liked wearing black. She liked reading Wicca books. She didn’t hate church, but she didn’t love it either. She looked at the pocketknife she’d stolen from her father and folded it. Maybe it was going to be too slow, maybe it was going to hurt. The bridge of the hydro dam…she’d drown so fast. No one would find her for days. She wasn’t trying to make a statement or get attention. She just wanted to not have to deal with her life.

She pulled her black hoodie on and slipped her surplus combat boots over her black stockings. She scooped her skateboard and hopped out of the window and climbed down the tree. She pulled her hood up and kicked forward. It was two am on a school night. The streets of Bull were dead. She rode her skateboard down to the Hydro dam. She tossed her skateboard under she bushes and scaled the fence. She sat clutched the fence, her boot heels barely finding purchase on the concrete at the base. The roar of the water was deafening. She leaned forward, her fingers barely keeping purchase on the rusting, and wet wire fence. It would be so easy to let go. She had second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t worth dying over. She tried to pull herself back and her fingers slipped. Her screams were lost in roar of the artificial waterfall.

Spring woke coughing up water. She looked around. She had seemed to wash up in one of the overflow tunnels. She felt like someone was watching her.

“Hello?”

A shadow pulled away from the wall and a hunched and twisted form shifted forward. Spring tried to move away from it but coughed up more water. Its mishappen face held a pair of yellow eyes, and brownish yellow twisted fangs. It leaned forward towards her and she was paralyzed with fear of this monster. He pointed one of its twisted and gnarled fingers, Spring followed his arm to his hand, to its green and curled nail. She followed the direction it was pointing. A flash of light revealed a thirty-foot-tall painting of a woman with red hair, green eyes a pair of angelic wings out of her back. She didn’t have long to appreciate the beauty of the work the light faded quickly. She looked at her side and saw the footprints of club feet of different sizes and noticed the monster had the same feet. She blinked. She hadn’t washed up, this thing…had saved her. It pointed at the painting again. She could still make it but not as clearly. Spring pushed herself up and moved closer to the painting. Another flash of light illuminated the runoff tunnel. She saw writing at the bottom. She sacrificed herself so we may live.

The monster limped his way over to Spring and pounded the painting with his hand. He poked Spring in the shoulder. She saw the monster’s mouth open; His breath was frightful his misshapen mouth had difficulties forming words he sounded angry at her.

“She sacrificed herself so we could live. Why do you cast her gift away so freely?”

Another flash of light illuminated the pair and the painting. Spring’s hood fell away as she stared up at the kind face and green eyes of the painting. Tears dripped down her face. Such beauty in such a dark place. She looked at her savior who she once thought was a monster. This twisted thing valued her life. What did it have to live for? How could she have been so selfish?

“Who is she?”

The slurred words flowed from the monster’s twisted mouth.

“The Dark Mother. She whispered to come to her.”

He tapped his pointed ear. He put his hand on the top of Spring’s heart.

“It still beats. Feel her love in you. Do not forsake her gift again.”

The monster turned from her and shuffled towards the darkness of a side tunnel.

“What is your name?”

He stopped glancing back his silhouette shifted as another set of head lights illuminated the tunnel.

“I have no name. All that I am is for her.”

He pointed to the painting one last time and shuffled towards the tunnel vanishing into the shadows. Spring shivered as she looked up at the painting again. She felt a sense of peace come over her as she looked into those emerald, green eyes.

“Thank you, Dark Mother.”

Spring made her way back up to her skateboard and road it home. She climbed up the tree. She didn’t go to school the next day, she spent it trying to find out who the Dark Mother was. She found little to no reference to her, so she posted a video describing her experience on social media. A helpful commenter directed her to a video, she’d heard about the vampires through the news, but she had never seen the video of this red-haired woman who looked very much like the woman from the painting shooting purple lightning from her fingers and eventually vanishing into a white light. The rabbit hole went deeper, she saw the video of her shattering the windows and drawing the sword in St Peters.

As she grew older, she never forgot the night the Dark Mother saved her. She would go on to start a church, many would say cult, others called her a prophetess of the Dark Mother. Spring Washington would go on to write the first version of the Book of Shadows, Bible of the Dark Mother. A sequel to the bible as she called it.

*****

April 16, 2287

Emily sat huddled by the fire in her family’s mud hovel. She looked over the day’s finds. The Earth that was had many strange treasures to be found. She’d found a faded square with different colors mixed on the sides. A metal disk with strange symbols on it. She’d found a book as well. A treasure to be sure. It was wrapped in a clear film and had strange silver adhesive wrapped around it. She heard her father approaching and quickly hid her salvaged bundle of synthetic fibers that served as a bed for her. Her father was a wiry man. He put his lantern down and looked over the pile of junk, specifically the multicolored cube and shook his head at Emily.

“Why do you collect this junk?”

Emily clutched the metal disk to herself her fingers the stylized H a its center.

“This one has runes on it. I thought it might mean something.”

Her father tugged hard on the metal disk and flicked it with his finger.

“It means we can trade this solid metal for more food from the Warlord Samson.”

Emily tried to tug it back her father shoved her away.

“No father, it could teach us something! The Earth that was had enough food for everyone. That could be the secret to it.”

Her father laughed.

“Silly child. The only secret is where our next meal is coming from. You want to survive put your faith in the warlord not the people who did this to us.”

Her father picked up the multi-colored cube.

“This is useless.”

“I thought, I thought it might be a puzzle with something…something secret inside, maybe a secret of the old world.”

Her father threw it at her.

“I send you salvaging to find things of use, things we can trade. Stop wasting your time and your energy on this trash.”

Emily gingerly picked up the cube that now had several pieces popped off. Her father had been right there was no secret at its center. She sat down on the bed in defeat, tugging her threadbare salvaged blanket over the lump that would reveal the book she had secreted away. If her father found that it would be fuel for the fire. Her father shook the metal disk.

“Go to sleep girl, I want more of this tomorrow.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Her father pulled off his harness from which many tools and weapons dangled and hung it on a hook the wall and laid in his own bed. Emily waited until she could his snores and she pulled the book out from under the mattress. She delicately pulled the silver adhesive off the clear coating and pulled the book out of the plastic. The surface was faded in a way she had never seen before. What could cause it to bleach so? She could see two words, what they said were meaningless to her, reading was a lost art. What caught her attention was the faded picture of a red-haired woman with angelic wings. She traced the wings. She opened the book. It was larger than most she had seen. The inside of the book was well preserved. There were many words, how she wished she could make sense of them. What secrets did this book hold? Could it save them from this cold, empty life? She scooted closer to the fire tugging her blanket around herself. She heard the wind howling across the nearby glacier and through the walled compound of their warlord.

She turned the page and saw another picture of the woman. She had a halo of light around her head and held a blackened sword pointing it to the sky. Emily began to turn the pages more rapidly seeking out more pictures. As she paged through the book she realized that water had seeped in and many of the words were missing letters. She found another picture of three women this time. One had long flowing black hair and was pale as death, one was the red-haired woman with the halo, the sword, and the wings. One was another older with red hair looked sad. Purple lightning arched from the angelic woman’s hands and struck many shadows. Behind the three was a little girl. It was if the three were fighting off the darkness to save her. Emily traced the little girls form and wished someone would save her. She leafed through more and then saw the final picture. The angelic woman holding hands with the largest shadow and the pair were walking into a doorway of light. She had several pages to go but her father shifted in his sleep, and she jumped. She quickly stuffed the book into the clear protective bag and wrapped it tightly. She froze as her father shifted again. Once he settled, she stood on her bed and put the book on board on the rafters with the rest of her treasures that she had hidden from her father.

She crouched on the bed as her father coughed in his sleep. He sat up and glanced around. He grunted and tugged his blanket around himself tighter and rolled away from her. Emily spread her once pretty unicorn blanket over her makeshift bed and tugged the old grey woolen blanket over that and snuggled into her pillow laying on her side. She wondered who the red-haired angel might be what darkness was she saving that girl from. She’d heard the local priest speaking of angels when he talked of the prophesy that had doomed them all. Was she an angel? Perhaps if Emily prayed to her like the priest prayed to the angry God who froze them all, perhaps she would make the world warm again. She wondered who the sad lady and the pale lady that stood beside her were. She had so many questions and the book held the answers, but the words were meaningless. She knew who could tell her what they said but the warlord, and more importantly her father had told her never to visit the old hag again. She looked up to where the book lay hidden.

Her father woke before her and she could smell the greasy sludge that passed for food. It was all she knew so she never questioned the flavor. Her father poured her a bowl and passed it to her. She cupped her hands around the chipped ceramic bowl, one of her many salvaging triumphs. She sipped it and her father patted her cheek.

“I am sorry for breaking your treasure last night. Yesterday was a hard day. But please more of this today.”

He lifted the metal disk. Emily felt the warmth of their greasy porridge start to make its way through her. She let the blanket slip off her shoulders. Her father smiled at her.

“Dress warm today, there is a strong wind coming off the glacier.”

“I will father.”

“Are you going to the crevice again?”

Emily nodded.

“You be careful, slavers from another warlord have been seen in the area.”

Emily nodded again she took a last gulp of their meager breakfast. Her father was already getting his utility belt on. He grabbed the metal disk, Emily looked at it wistfully. Her father noticed.

“This is food on our table girl. I let you have your fantasies about the Earth that Was, but they won’t put food in our bellies, fuel in our fire, or protect us from slavers. The warlord does, the salvage you gather does.”

“I understand father.”

“Good. I love you, be careful. Remember bundle up. Glacial winds like this will give you frostbite in minutes.”

Her father opened the door and Emily shivered as a blast of the glacial wind ripped through their hovel. She put more fuel on the fire, one of the rules her people lived by, never let the fire go out. That would mean freezing to death if the night or day turned colder. She pulled on her layers of clothes that would protect her from the glacial wind.

Days with north or south winds were bad days, mostly the winds mixed with the warmer air of their little slice of airable land making it at least tolerable. But Emily had never known true warmth. The sun was a myth to her people. Long forgotten were its lifegiving light and blue skies. She reached up and took the book down stuffing it into her pack and headed out onto the glacier. Her only companions on her lonely journey were her thoughts, the howling wind across the glacier and the sound of the spikes on her thick boots biting into the ice. She decided to go to the crevice first. The hag always wanted trade for her wisdom and Emily was loath to give up any of her hoarded treasures of the Earth that Was. She hoped she would find something to bargain with.

She could feel the frost building up on the thick bundle of fabric over her mouth. The wind was particularly bad today. She was blinded by a gust that kicked up the light snow that often coated the glacier’s surface. She was nearly knocked off her feet. The crevice was an hours walk from the Warlord Samson’s compound. Difficult to get to, difficult to navigate, but a fire burned on strange black things. She knew the material to be rubber they used a lot of it to seal their homes from the winds, how they still burned, or what purpose they once served was a mystery to her. The crevice was thick with the black smoke, she always had to keep her mask on when down there, but the challenge meant that only a rare few braved it. This meant the best salvage and treasures. On the path to the crevice lay another salvage sight. They called it JamJam. Strange ruins jutted out from the glacier here open buildings from the Earth that was with no windows and no manner of heat source. She couldn’t imagine how they survived in such places.

Lava flowed from cracks and steam vents constantly melted the snow and ice. If the ground shifted new finds were plentiful but it was always swiftly scavenged for the most valuable finds because it was easy to get too. There were already many of the women from her compound here. The ground must have shifted because they look quite pleased. She cursed her late rising. What treasures had she missed. She waved to them. One of them an older woman, Betty, motioned furiously to Emily. Emily glanced in the direction of her objective then deciding to be polite walked toward Betty.

“Child, you can’t go to the crevice today, the ground shifted, the Glacier’s cracked.”

Emily thought of the book she’d found in the half-collapsed building and wondered what other treasures lay there. She had to leave because it was getting late. She wanted to continue the search today before someone else found the door she’d managed to open.

“I must.”

Betty shook her head and the pair were alerted to something amiss when a scream rose up from the other side of the site. Betty shoved Emily into one of the buildings without a word Emily being all of thirteen wasn’t a big and was off balance from the heavy bundle of clothes she constantly had to wear on the glacier fell down. Her pack fell on the ground and spilling the book that she found out. She grabbed it and clutched it to herself. She heard the telltale whine of the slaver’s sleds. She could hear screams. She peaked out of one of the decaying windows and saw them gathering up the women. These weren’t slavers though, they were men from the meat market. They had the bloody symbol on their sleds. She crouched down and closed her eyes clutching the book to her chest. The men didn’t care if they took people alive, they only wanted their meat for cooking. Dead was better it fought less. She rocked in her spot she heard Betty yell run in her direction. Emily silently begged for the angel in her book and her dreams last night to save her from this horror. She moved on all fours to get to the exit and run but it was too late one of the butchers had found her. He pulled down his scarf and grinned at her licking his black teeth and lips. He shouted.

“Looks like we’re having veal tonight boys!”

He was reaching for her when she saw a blade piece his chest. The look of shock of horror on his face would never leave Emily’s memory. When he fell off the blade she saw the person wielding it. A woman, pale as death, with long flowing black hair. Who held up her blood soaked hand as if to tell Emily to wait where she was.

“Stay here and out of sight child, I’ll come and get you when its safe.”

Emily watched her leave, she looked down at the soon to be dead man. He was reaching for her. She saw fear in his eyes.

“Help.”

Emily turned away as he coughed up blood and expired. She heard more fighting. She peaked out of the window and saw a tall red-haired woman who sported a silver streak from one of her bangs and the pale woman dispatching the butchers with easy. It was like they were collecting a grim harvest of blood. The pale woman fought like no one she’d ever seen fight before. She owned the battlefield. In Emily’s compound women salvaged, wove clothing and did the planting. Fighting was for the men but here she watched this pale girl dance across the grounds of JamJam slaying any who dared get in her path. She sat there and watched as they checked the necks of the women. The sad looking one with the silver streak in her red hair nodded and reached down. She spoke in words Emily could not understand but Betty who appeared to be dead gasped for breath and sat bolt upright.

“The rest are gone.”

“Another one is still alive.”

The pale girl pointed to where Emily was peaking out of the window. Book clutched to her chest. Three women from her compound dead. She shivered at the loss, she knew all of them. Sometimes competition for salvage but always friends. Emily slid down the wall her back to it. The pair of women still dripping with the blood of their foes appeared in the doorway and looked down at her. The one with the silver streak whose eyes had a deep sadness in them kneeled beside Emily.

“Child are you hurt?”

Emily clutched the book to her chest and shook her head. The woman was the most beautiful person Emily had ever seen. What caught her attention were the emerald, green eyes that reminded her of the pictures in her book. Emily reached out to touch the woman with the silver streak. When she felt solid Emily snapped her hand back.

“Are you angels?”

The owner of the emerald, green eyes quirked her head to the side.

“What would make you think that child?”

Emily looked at the plastic wrapped book in her arms and gently pulled it out and opened it. She tapped the picture of the red-haired angel. The red-haired woman wiped her hands along her black coat to remove the blood and held out her hand.

“May I?”

Emily hesitated again but offered the woman the book. The woman smiled and glanced at the pale faced one behind her. The woman shook her head.

“No child, that is my mother. Where is your mother?”

Emily shook her head. The red-haired woman paged through the book and found a picture of herself, her companion and her mother. She pointed to the red-haired woman with a streak. The one Emily had dubbed the lady of sorrow, and to the pale as death girl.

“This is me, and this one, with the black hair is my Aunt. Where did you find this?”

The woman held up the book. Emily pointed in the direction of the crevice.

“Brave girl going into that hell hole. You should never go in there, it is dangerous. It will make you sick.”

The pale one shook her head.

“What choice do they have?”

The red-haired one nodded. She reached into her pack and pulled out a strange looking mask that could cover a whole face. She offered it to Emily.

“If you feel you must go back wear this please.”

The woman closed the book and offered it back to Emily. Emily reached out as the woman started to stand.

“What does it say?”

“The front says Book of Shadows, Bible of the Dark Mother. Do you not read child?”

Emily shook her head, the woman reached into her pack again. As far as Emily could tell it was too small for the mask and now she was pulling something else out. It was a set of three books. She pulled out another plastic bag and offered it to the Emily.

“If you use these, you’ll be able to read it yourself one day.”

Emily took the books with bright colors and pictures on them. And looked up at the pair. The pale one touched her ear.

“She’s at the main compound waiting for us, give the girl some food and let’s go.”

The red-haired woman reached into her pack again and pulled out another plastic bag that looks like it should not have fit in the pack either. Inside were thirty silver pouches. The woman offered the bag to Emily.

“Boil water on a fire and put a pouch in, it will feed you and your family for a day.”

The woman stood up. Emily watched her.

“Where are you going?”

“To close down the Meat Market for good.”

Emily watched the pair leave through the window. When they were out of sight she rushed to help Betty up who was touching the spot on her chest where she’d been stabbed. She looked down at Emily and then crouched and checked the young teenager over for injuries.

“Thank God you’re unharmed.”

Emily pointed at Betty’s wound.

“It’s a miracle, I thought I was dead then I woke up.”

Emily was still clutching the book to her chest, her fingers wrapped around the corners of it she looked up at Betty.

“The Dark Mother saved you.”

“What was that?”

Emily opened the book and pointed at the picture of the angel and the two women. She pointed at the angel.

“I held the book tight when I saw them… I asked for help and then the lady of sorrow and the pale lady showed up and killed them all. Then one reached down and touched you and I saw you come back to life.”

Emily touched the picture of the angel.

“The Dark Mother sent them to kill the Butchers.”

Betty hugged Emily close.

“We should go tell the Warlord about the sleds and the salvage here…after we take our share.”

Later that evening after her father went to sleep, Emily opened the first book and it had a big letter A and a picture of an Apple. The hag had told her what one of those was. Many years later Emily had spread the word of the miracles performed by the Pale Lady, and the Lady of Sorrows far and wide. The warlords despised the budding cult in their midst but the harder they tried to stomp it out, the further it spread. Emily used what she could piece together from the faded and water damaged holy book and started an oral tradition, one of hope, hope that springs eternal. One brought to them by person named Spring Washington. The first prophet of the Dark Mother. Emily would become the second prophet of the Dark Mother. The watcher shared many visions after Emily’s with the missionaries and Enid, all had one thing in common. A woman in her darkest hour calling to the Dark Mother while clutching the book. They had one other thing in common: The hope the belief in the Dark Mother gave them. The strength she instilled in them to overcome the challenges before them.

*****

As the spell of the Watcher’s shared vision broke there were many tears among the missionaries. The crossed themselves whispering prayers to thanks to the Dark Mother for the holy vision that was shared with them. Enid felt…conflicted. She despised the whole thought that people have built a religion about her but she saw the hope that she had spread. Amee, Maria and Eyre had provided the means, but the hope that belief in her had strengthened humanity enough to allow them to be pulled out of the dark ages and into a brighter future. She understood that even if she were found out, if it was confirmed… that it wouldn’t matter. The gift she had given them when she tried to sacrifice herself wasn’t love, it was hope. She turned away from the missionaries many of which had fallen to their knees and were praying to the painted carving at her in the center of the staff room. The Watcher motioned to the Archpriestess.

“You see only a book, a relic with your senses, I see a wellspring of faith and hope. Hope that has been rewarded for the return your flock has sought for these many long centuries of hardship.”

She motioned to the empty alter where the staff once floated.

“Seraph the Archangel of the Universe, the Body of Creation, has returned and reclaimed her staff in the form of your Dark Mother.”

She pointed to the carving of Enid pulling the staff from it’s housing.

“And the Dark Mother is closer than you think. She takes many forms to hide herself from you sight so she doesn’t let your flock down with the reality of who she thinks she is.”

Her stitched eyes turned to Enid.

“If you see with your hearts, you will know when she is in your presence. I say she should not be afraid.”

All eyes turned to Enid’s sauroid form. Enid sighed and let it fall away revealing her true form. The missionaries fell to the knees. Enid reached her hand out to the old Archpriestess.

“Get up, please. I do not need people to bow before me.”

The Archpriestess gingerly took Enid’s hand tears in her eyes.

“It was you all along Dark Mother. Pulling us to the stars, bringing peace.”

Enid looked up to the older woman and to the other missionaries. She glared at the Watcher.

“Jesus once told me that faith is more powerful then knowing. That is why I have avoided showing my true nature. I did not want to rob the flock of their faith and hope.”

The archpriestess looked to her subordinates then back to Enid her face creased with the weight of her goddess’s words.

“We will consider your words and tell the High Priestess of this vision. She will guide us by your will as she always has.”

Enid nodded and shifted into a winged sauroid, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and left the missionaries staring in her wake.