They say in darkness, the world reveals its most profound truths, shedding the illusions that light often conceals. It is in the absence of light that we confront the raw, unvarnished essence of existence.
Perhaps that is why I now found myself immersed in such an abyss, where the universe seemed to have folded in on itself, erasing every trace of light and sound. This wasn't merely an absence of light, but a boundless darkness.
What led me here, to this dark expanse, I was not sure. I had no recollection of how or why I was here. I wasn’t even entirely sure I knew who ‘I’ was.
There was no way to measure how long I had drifted—minutes, hours, days? How long had I been in this place? Time seemed to flow yet, I had no means to measure its passing. It felt as if my entire existence had been reduced to a series of echoes drifting through an endless silence.
One would think I’d be panicked, or perhaps even a little concerned to find myself in a place such as this, but oddly enough, I was at peace. That is until a searing pain engulfed me, spreading like wildfire through my body. It was a burning torment that pierced my very soul.
I could hear myself scream, could comprehend that I was screaming, that there was pain, but little else. All I knew was pain, all I heard were my own screams, my existence narrowed down to nothing but the agony. My entire being was an inferno. I tried to focus, tried to remember something, anything that would help, but all that existed was the fire. I felt as if I was being burned alive.
And then, it was gone. The fire. The pain. All of it. Gone.
“You are strong, Kadia. Do not let the darkness consume you. You must hold on to yourself, even when all seems lost. Remember who you are.”
What was that? A voice? A feeling? Something I couldn’t quite describe. A sensation. It was a warmth, a glow, a soft, soothing embrace that caressed my skin. It was an awareness that had not been present before, one that seemed to fill the void around me, suffusing my senses with an indescribable energy.
Who was Kadia? Was it me? Was this person trying to talk to me, to help me? Was I Kadia? And if I was, how could I tell them I was lost and needed their help? How could I do any of this if I couldn't even remember who I was? How did any of this work?
"The mind is a fragile thing, and your mind is in turmoil. You must seek out the core of yourself, Kadia, before it is lost forever."
It was a man's voice. A familiar voice, but I couldn't place it. It was as if my mind refused to connect the dots. Yet somehow, I felt safe, comforted by his words, though I couldn't understand them. It was as if someone were standing over my shoulder, whispering instructions into my ear.
"I can help you, Kadia." His words reverberated in my skull, filling the space with their power, their meaning, their truth. They were a balm, washing over me, soothing my aches, pains, and fear. They were a promise of hope, a reassurance that all was not lost and I was not alone.
"I will not alter or violate your will or your sense of self, Kadia. I will only provide a source of comfort, a guide to help you navigate these unknown waters. If you wish me to leave, I will. It is your choice to accept what I offer or not."
I did not know what to do or what to think. I didn't know anything. Everything was a muddled jumble in my mind, a mess of half-formed thoughts and broken fragments of memories. I was lost, adrift in a sea of confusion and doubt, and he was my life raft. He was a lifeline.
"I will not hurt you or deceive you, Kadia. I offer only solace and succor. There is no reason for you to fear or mistrust me. I am your ally, not your adversary. I have no reason to wish you harm and every reason to aid you. If I intended you ill, I would not bother offering you my assistance. I would simply take what I desired. I will not do so because it is not my way. I offer you the chance to choose, to accept what I give, or decline it. That is your right, and no one may deprive you of it. Not even me. I cannot compel you, Kadia. No one can, not truly."
His words echoed in my mind, a constant presence that never faltered, never wavered. His conviction that I had a choice, that I had a right to choose, was a pillar of strength, a foundation that helped me find my way. I focused on his words, let them wash over me, let their meaning settle within me, and suddenly, everything seemed clearer, more defined.
"Good. You are learning, Kadia. Keep going. Trust your instincts. They will not lead you astray. Do not fear the darkness. It is only an illusion. This place, it is as real as you make it. Your mind shapes your reality. Your fears, your desires, your beliefs, your doubts. They shape your world. You are in control, Kadia. All you must do is take the reins."
His words resonated with me, touched something deep inside, stirring something I had forgotten, a spark of recognition, of understanding, of realization.
Memories surged forth, they poured over me like a relentless tide, each one carrying its own wave of emotion. The brilliance of laughter, the depth of grief, and the subtle hues of fleeting moments intermingled, creating a swirling kaleidoscope of experiences. And in the midst of it all, I found myself.
Kadia.
I am Kadia.
And I am... Where exactly?
Doing my best not to let thoughts of what could be hiding in the dark take hold, I strained my eyes trying to pierce the darkness, searching for any sign of life. But I couldn’t even see my own hands, let alone anything else.
Deep breaths, Kadia, in and out. In and out. Don’t freak out… You’re not scared of the dark. The dark should be scared of you! Oh Gods, that was lame... I’ve been spending too much time around Pia.
"Tris? I'd like to come out of the dark now..." I called out, then cringed at how tentative I sounded. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to speak with more confidence. "Oh, great Trismegistus! I would really appreciate it if you could give me some enlightenment, or you know, just some light." Light would be good.
Silence.
"Trismegistus, the thrice-great, lord of the almighty art, master of the sciences, philosopher of philosophers, please grant me your wisdom and show me the path out of here."
Nothing.
"Oh, come on, that one was a classic! How could you not answer?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and fighting the urge to stomp my foot like a child. "Alright, fine. You want me to get creative? How about this one- 'Oh, Great Trismegistus, bringer of wisdom and knowledge, guide me out of the darkness and back to the light. For it is you who illuminates the mysteries of the universe and inspires us to seek truth.'”
More silence. "Well, fine. Be that way." Asshole.
Dropping down to sit on the ground, which felt oddly smooth and a little too perfect, I rested my chin on my knees. "Please, Tris," I whispered one last time. "I know you're there, I heard your voice. If this is a test, then consider me a failure, because I want out of this dark.”
Oh, but that hurt to admit. Just the thought of it made me want to retch. I wasn’t a failure, but I did want out of this accursed darkness. Because I was scared damnit!
Just as the tears I’d been fighting back began to fall, a tiny, glowing ember appeared in the darkness. It spluttered weakly, like a dying star, but it was enough.
I scrambled forward, clambering hurriedly to my feet, desperate to reach it, but each time I reached for it, it danced away from my grasp, drifting further and further away.
After several failed attempts, I stopped moving and simply glared at the feeble light. “I’m done chasing you.” I snapped, my arms crossed over my chest. “Either come here, or bugger off. I’m not playing these stupid games!”
In response, the ember began to drift toward me, its light growing steadily brighter. It moved with a deliberate slowness, almost like it was mocking me.
I watched as it got closer, its glow becoming brighter and brighter as it did so. I wasn’t impressed. I’d seen this kind of light show before. What started as a mere glimmer transformed into a dazzling sphere of light, pulsating with life. The glow intensified, and from its core emerged a crow, rising from the heart of the ember's light. As darkness cloaked it like a shroud, the crow unfurled its wings, its feathers absorbing the remaining light from which it formed, creating a stark contrast against the dark backdrop, its form becoming clearer with each passing second.
"Zosimos?" I whispered, recognizing that distinctive and piercing gaze. The crow tilted its head, cawing softly.
"Caw."
I blinked, staring at him. I had always, in some small way, been able to communicate with Zosimos, and over time our ability to communicate had grown. However, our conversations were usually a lot of back and forth, and while we managed to convey complex ideas, the exchange was still very limited. It was more that he had a series of caws, gestures, and noises that he had trained me to interpret. So when he "spoke," it wasn't actually a language per se. Rather, it was an approximation, a way to convey meaning through a series of caws and gestures. However, now it was like a barrier had lifted, and the true depth of understanding came through. I knew what he meant. His cawing was not something I had to struggle to decipher. I understood.
I didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as the bird flew directly at me. He circled me, pecking at me every few seconds, as if making sure I understood how annoyed he was.
“Caw-aah!” The crow's caws, sharp and demanding, rang in my ears, demanding an explanation as to why he had been pulled from his slumber, and why I’d brought him to this place. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both.
"Zos," I choked out, tears streaming down my face as he landed on my shoulder. I reached up, pulling the bird off of my shoulder, and hugged him to my chest. He squawked and wriggled, clearly not pleased with the situation, but I was beyond caring.
I held him tightly, letting the tears flow freely. There were so many questions running through my mind. So many things I wanted to ask. But for the moment, I was content to hold him and bask in the knowledge that he was here, alive and well. I didn't care how or why, and right then, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I had something, someone, to cling to in the darkness. Someone to anchor me and keep me sane. That was all that mattered.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, with me clutching Zosimos to my chest, hugging him tightly, but I finally managed to get myself under control. Taking a deep breath, I gently set Zosimos back on my shoulder. I ran a finger down his sleek feathers, smoothing them back into place. "I'm sorry, Zos, I know you don't like being held like that." I took another deep breath, steadying myself.
The bird nuzzled me gently, crooning softly. I smiled and wiped my eyes, then looked around again.
I stared back at him, a slow realization dawning on me. "Zosimos, why are you a crow again? Didn't you turn into a swan? And how can I see you? Or see myself for that matter?” I hadn’t even been able to see my hands before, but now I could see Zosimos, and feel him perched on my shoulder.
"Caw, ca-w," he responded, bobbing his head.
"So, you don't know either," I sighed. He was a great help, wasn't he?
He hopped up and down on my shoulder, flapping his wings, cawing loudly in my ear.
"Alright, alright. Let's figure this out," I said, stroking his soft feathers.
The crow tilted his head considering my words, then hopped slightly on my shoulder. I took this as a sign of agreement and began to think through our situation more methodically.
"Let’s start with what we know," I said, addressing the crow as I paced back and forth. Muttering to myself under my breath, I continued pacing through the darkness, feeling a strange mixture of frustration and resignation. We had no way to escape, and there was no sign of a way out.
“Ca-ah.”
"Right, sorry, Zos, I got a bit mentally side tracked there," I sighed. "Let's review our options. We're in an unknown place that is completely dark, with no apparent landmarks or natural light source."
Zosimos gave a soft, contemplative caw, and I paused, then nodded slowly.
“You’re right…” It wasn’t completely dark. The fact I could see him proved that.
“Caw.”
“What do mean why haven’t I conjured a-” Oh for fox sake… I wanted to smack myself. I had been so consumed by the overwhelming nature of the dark expanse I’d found myself in, that I’d forgotten my own abilities. I was a kitsune! An elemental fox. My very essence was tied to the manipulation of elements, in particular fire.
I closed my eyes, turning my focus inward and drawing upon my inner fire, I visualized the flames igniting, then building and growing in intensity, using every ounce of my willpower to manifest the fire into corporeal form. Feeling the familiar surge of heat and power, I opened my eyes to see a flicker of flame floating above my hand. It was a small, wavering flame, but its presence was a welcome sight amidst the suffocating darkness.
“Well, that didn't get far,” I muttered, sending the little flame flying into the void, trying to see how far it could travel. Its light quickly faded away, swallowed by the gloom. “So we aren’t just in a normal dark room, or underground. We could be anywhere... And Tris..." I tried to recall what the god had said, but his words were eluding me. Why couldn’t I remember? I knew he'd been talking to me, that he'd given me instructions. So why couldn't I remember what they were?
I grimaced, shaking my head and glancing over at Zosimos, who was staring back at me with unnerving intensity. I asked, “Do you have any ideas?”
He cocked his head, blinking once.
"Well, if this is a dream," I said with a sigh, "then hopefully I will wake up soon."
He cawed in response, agreeing with me that this was not somewhere he wished to be.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I prefer the dreams where I am in my lab or exploring a vast library filled with every book known to man,” I continued as I walked aimlessly through the void.
“You know,” I said, trying to fill the silence and forcing a light tone despite the gloom of our surroundings, “when I was younger, I used to dream about a magical library. I’d wander through endless corridors lined with shelves that stretched up to the heavens. The books would flutter their pages like wings, and re-sort themselves on the shelves once I was done reading them. And no, it wasn't the Library of Babel. Borges' book was interesting, but the library in my dreams was better organized than the one he depicted." I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "Now that I think about it, I guess the whole thing was a little childish."
As I spoke, I could almost see the library in my mind’s eye; the ornate shelves adorned with gilded carvings, and the soft, warm light that seemed to emanate from the very books themselves.
“The books all had their own unique personalities too. They’d talk, debate and discuss various topics, not only with me, but also with the other books about their subject matter.” I glanced over at him, my lips twitching into a smile, “The books on Philosophy and Theoretical Physics were always fighting. The Philosophy books would bicker with the Theoretical Physics books over the nature of reality and existence. It was like an epic clash of ideals—each side trying to outdo the other with arguments and counterarguments. I remember one particularly heated debate where a book on Quantum Mechanics challenged a treatise on Metaphysics to a duel of wits.” I chuckled softly at the memory of that particular debate.
The debates could get quite animated, with some of the more excitable books practically leaping off the shelves to make their points. It was a chaotic, yet thrilling, symphony of ideas. And amidst all the commotion, I would simply wander through the aisles, absorbing their insights and arguments, sometimes adding my own opinion.
“And in the middle of it all was this immense, majestic tree—I called it the Tree of Knowledge. It was the heart of the library, where all the debates would take place. It was the keeper of all knowledge, the overseer of all the intellectual exchanges. Its branches represented the major fields of knowledge—Philosophy, Science, History, and so on—each one spreading out with its own intricate network of branches and twigs, which were the sub-genres and topics within each field. Each leaf on the tree represented either a book, research paper or academic journal—depending on how much information it contained. And every night when I visited that library in my dreams, new leaves would bloom on the branches, reflecting the latest book or journal that I had read."
“Caw?”
I snorted and shook my head. “No, Zos, I wasn’t thinking of Vannevar Bush’s ‘As We May Think’ when I imagined the Tree of Knowledge. I was actually inspired by Camillo’s Theater of Memory.” I glanced at him, half-expecting to see some semblance of recognition in his bird eyes, but he merely tilted his head, blinking with that same inscrutable intensity.
“Camillo’s Theater was a mnemonic device devised by Giulio Camillo Delminio, a Italian Renaissance polymath,” I elaborated, “it was designed to help organize and recall vast amounts of information. Imagine a grand architectural space—rooms, corridors, and halls, each dedicated to different subjects and pieces of knowledge. Each area was meticulously organized to help the mind visualize and retrieve information as if walking through a physical space.”
Reaching up, I stroked a hand over Zosimos' feathers. His presence was comforting, a grounding anchor in the midst of the memories. “The library was a manifestation of that idea, or rather, my own version of it. Sometimes I'd even dream that there was another version of me there, who lived in the library and spent her days caring for the books and the tree, making sure everything was in its proper place.”
A wistful smile spread across my lips. It had been a long time since I had thought of those dreams. A part of me wondered if I was still capable of dreaming like that. Perhaps not... I couldn't even remember the last time I'd dreamed.
Zosimos cawed, nudging me with his beak.
"I was just thinking,” I murmured softly, “that I can't recall when I last dreamed of her, of the library. I think," I paused, struggling to remember, "It was when I first arrived in Kaledon. In fact, I can't recall dreaming at all in Kaledon. Well, aside from that dream with Tris..." I pondered that, my brows furrowing.
Is that what this was? I looked around at the darkness. In the dream with Trismegistus, he'd shown me a vision of the temple being consumed by shadows. After which he took me on a stroll through the night sky, ending above the city of Rivera where he told me of the dangers that our temple would face from them.
The days following that little out of body experience was a whirlwind of revelations and strategic meetings. I met with Darius and Noctus, the co-leaders of Eternia—my former guild, which was now under Trismegistus's protection—as well as Van, the leader of the Whisper's Guild, which sought to gain Trismegistus's patronage.
In our discussions, Darius, Noctus and Van had laid out several plans that combined both diplomacy and subterfuge. Van's role was to gather intelligence and identify weaknesses within the city’s corrupt regime. Darius and Noctus on the other hand would be sending some of the guild, disguised as traders, merchants and entertainers, to infiltrate the city and prepare for a possible attack, should it come to that.
What had happened after that? I was not entirely sure, as all I could recall was a blur of preparations, strategies, and meetings.
My last memory before ending up in this place was of standing on the outer wall of the temple, gazing up at the starlit sky. That night, the constellations had been particularly active, and as I had watched them, Trismegistus had appeared in his fox form, not as the towering nine-tailed celestial fox he’d used when we’d forsaken Airus, but as the smaller, normal looking fox he used when he popped in for a discreet visit—though, in fairness, a golden furred fox was hardly what one would call normal.
Neither of us had spoken, we merely stood side by side, gazing up at the stars. It was not the first time we had shared such a moment, it was actually becoming something of a routine. Though, admittedly, usually the visits were accompanied by a debate, discussion, or lecture, depending on the nature of the visit. I would never admit it to anyone, but I had grown fond of our discussions. He had an endless supply of knowledge and wisdom to impart, and he was not afraid to push my mind to explore ideas and concepts beyond what was comfortable or conventional. It was exciting, challenging, and at times infuriating, but always fulfilling. And I loved it. I loved the debates, the challenges, the frustrations, and the discoveries. And more than anything, I loved learning. But that night, he hadn't said a word, we'd merely stood side by side, in silent contemplation.
Then as the moon reached its zenith, he'd turned to look at me, his golden eyes boring into mine. “Birth is not the beginning of life - only of an individual awareness. Change into another state is not death - only the ending of this awareness.” Following that ominous statement there were no other memories before I found myself in this dark, endless void.
Damn Tris and his stupid Corpus Hermeticum quotes. This was all his fault. How dare he do this to me? He had some nerve! First, he makes me do the whole conquering Rivera thing, and now he sends me into this strange place?
I sighed. There was no use in getting worked up over it. Whatever this place was, it was clearly meant as some sort of test. And like it or not, I was going to have to complete it.
"Okay, so assuming this is a test, the next logical step is to figure out what I'm supposed to do," I muttered, more to myself than to Zosimos. I paused and looked around the empty space, my ears straining for any hint of a sound. Nothing. Only a deafening silence.
Grumbling under my breath about all the ways I would get back at Tris for this- whatever this was. I spun on my heel, intending to walk back in the other direction, but what I found as I turned was not what I had expected.
In the midst of a sea of darkness, a large, ancient building sat—a structure I recognized immediately. It was the library from my dreams, but it was far from the vivid, magical realm I had once visited. Instead, it stood in a state of decay and disrepair. The grand edifice, once a beacon of light and knowledge, looked decrepit and forlorn, its majestic facade marred by time and neglect.
I hesitated, my heart aching at the sight. With a deep breath, I approached the library’s entrance, my steps echoing ominously in what had previously been silence. I reached out with trembling fingers and pushed open the heavy, ornate door. It creaked on its hinges, a mournful sound that reverberated through the desolate corridors.
As I stepped inside, my footsteps felt hollow, devoid of the magical resonance I remembered from my dreams. The shelves, which once held books taking part in animated discussions, were now lined with worn and tattered books. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, a stark contrast to the enchanting aroma of aged parchment and ink I had once known.
My eyes wandered over the vast expanse of the library, taking in the scene of desolation. The grand corridors, once filled with the rustling of magical pages and the whispers of knowledge, seemed eerily silent. The library was a shadow of its former self, its grandeur diminished and its splendor faded.
I ventured further into the library until I came upon the central tree that had once been the heart of this dream world. Once a symbol of life and knowledge, the tree was now withering and dying. Its branches drooped limply, and its leaves had become brittle flakes, falling to the ground. The vibrant roots that had once reached deep into the earth now appeared dry and lifeless, mirroring the library’s desolate condition.
I approached the tree with tentative steps, my hand reaching out to touch the gnarled bark. I could feel the faint pulse of life within it, but it was weak and fading. The tree’s vitality, much like the library itself, seemed to be slipping away.
“What happened here?” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. I turned my head to look at Zosimos, who was still perched on my shoulder. His dark eyes mirrored my sadness, and his feathers ruffled in sympathy.
The silence of the library was interrupted by the distant echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. My vulpine ears twitched, swiveling towards the sound, and I turned sharply towards where I thought it was coming from, but saw only empty aisles.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice reverberating off the dust-covered shelves.
The footsteps grew louder, their rhythm distinct and hurried. My eyes scanned the dimly lit aisles, searching for the source. Then I saw it: a fleeting flash of red hair darting around a corner at the far end of the corridor.
Zosimos cawed and took flight as I sprinted after the fleeting glimpse, my footsteps pounding on the dusty floor.
The red hair disappeared around another corner, and I rounded it with a frantic urgency. My breaths came in quick, ragged bursts, my mind a whirlwind of hope and anxiety. As I turned the corner, the corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, but then I glimpsed another flash of red farther down the hall.
The library, vast and labyrinthine, seemed to contract and expand with each step, reacting to my pursuit. Shelves blurred past, their contents too indistinct to make out clearly. Ahead, the figure's red hair glowed like a beacon, pushing me to keep following. I could hear the faintest rustle of fabric and the echo of hurried footsteps, and with renewed energy, I quickened my pace, my desperation to reach the figure intensifying.
I rounded a corner and came to a skidding halt, finding myself back at the central tree. I scanned the area urgently, but the red-haired figure had vanished. The library's silence, now even more intense than before, enveloped me once again.
Yet, something had changed. Amidst the tree's decaying roots, I spotted a single, solitary bloom—a Lycoris radiata, a red spider lily. Its petals were a vivid, glowing red, a stark contrast to the grim surroundings.
As I drew closer, the flower pulsed with a faint light, as if it were responding to my presence.
Driven by an inexplicable urge, I knelt before the flower and reached out to touch its delicate petals. As my fingers brushed over a petal, a warm sensation spread from within me, radiating outward like ripples on water. It was a profound feeling of peace and comfort, like a glimpse of a past life, a forgotten dream, or a long-lost memory.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and though I couldn’t pinpoint the reason, I felt an aching sense of loss deep inside. As I stared at the Lycoris, a soft whisper reached my ears—a gentle melody carried on the breeze.
Ὅσον ζῇς φαίνου
μηδὲν ὅλως σὺ λυποῦ
πρὸς ὀλίγον ἐστὶ τὸ ζῆν
τὸ τέλος ὁ χρόνος ἀπαιτεῖ."
'While you live, shine bright,
Don't let sorrow you benight,
We don't have life long, my friend,
To everything, time demands an end.'
Seikilos Epitaph. That song was Seikilos Epitaph... The last time I had heard that melody was at my mother’s funeral. It was the oldest known complete musical composition, dating back to ancient Greece, a haunting echo from a distant past.
Was it a message, or a warning? I wasn't sure, but as the words echoed through the library, a sense of urgency rose within me. There was something important to this moment, a significance, something I knew that I was missing.
The library around me began to dissolve, as if reality itself were slipping through my fingers. The grand corridors crumbled into dust, shelves disintegrated into nothingness, and the world around me shattered into fragments. The image of the library was being torn apart, piece by piece, leaving me in a swirling void of boundless darkness.
When the remnants of the library had vanished completely. I was left alone in an empty void. Only the Lycoris radiata remained, clutched tightly in my hand, its vibrant petals softly glowing with crimson light.
"Caaaw."
A low mournful cry echoed through the air, and I turned to see Zosimos flying towards me, his dark feathers almost blending into the darkness around us.
"Well," I said, forcing a laugh, trying to dispel the aching sense of loss that sat heavy in my chest. "Tris certainly outdid himself with this dream, didn't he?"
Zosimos alighted on my shoulder, tilting his head in question.
"That's right," I said with a firm nod. "I am dreaming. This is all just a figment of my imagination." I twirled the spider lily in my fingers, its silky petals tickling my skin. "This is just a dream."
As the words left my lips, I solidified their truth within myself. The void, the library, the red-haired figure—it was all just a product of Tris' trickery, a test of sorts, no doubt. A lesson, meant to teach me some unknown truth, but the meaning eluded me. I wasn't sure what I had learned, or why Tris had wanted to teach me it, but the sense of loss lingered, and I had the nagging feeling that I was missing something crucial.
Perhaps that meant I hadn't truly grasped the meaning behind the lesson, or perhaps the lesson itself had never been about the library. Maybe it had been the flower, or the red-haired figure, or even the melody. Or maybe it was a combination of all those things.
"I hope you know I hate you." I said to the god who I was certain was listening in on my thoughts, "I'll get my revenge, just wait." It was an idle threat, and we both knew it, but it was satisfying nonetheless.
Zosimos chirped softly, his feathers ruffling in amusement. He nudged my cheek with his beak, a playful gesture that brought a smile to my lips. "Well, Zos, let's see what else that old bastard has in store for us, shall we?"
I waited for a moment, expecting some form of reaction from the darkness around me, but there was nothing. No shift in the shadows, no change in the pressure, no sound—nothing. Just the same unending expanse of darkness, stretching out before me. Not even a reprimand for the way I had spoken of the god.
Shooting Zosimos a look from the corner of my eye, I asked, "Do you think he'll react if we insult him again?" I grinned, my tone playful, "How about this one—Trismegistus is a pompous, arrogant, egotistical, self-serving, narcissistic, selfish, greedy ass!" I paused, waiting for a response, but none came. "Huh, I guess not."
“Caw.”
“Yes, Zos. I am aware that selfish and self-serving are basically the same thing,” I said with a scowl, “If you think you can do better, go ahead.”
"Caw, ca-ah, aw!"
"Zosimos!" I gasped, all but throwing him off my shoulder so I didn't get caught up in the godly wrath that was about to fall upon him. "You featherbrained fool! What were you thinking?! It's one thing to say what I did, but that-" I shook my head, my ears flattening against my head. "That kind of thing will get us excommunicated!"
Zosimos, unconcerned by my antics, flapped his wings and took flight, circling around me once before landing back on my shoulder. He was laughing at me, I was sure of it. The damned crow was cackling as if it was the funniest thing in the world.
"Aw," he crooned, bobbing his head as if pleased with himself. The little jerk. "Awk."
"I take no responsibility for this bird!" I cried out, trying to shake him off my shoulder again. "His words are his own, not mine!" It was a flimsy excuse, but it was all I had. "Besides, I'm not the one who made him! You did that Tris! Anything he does or says is on you. He’s your creation!”
"Caw-awk," Zosimos retorted, biting my ear and I stopped my attempts to throw him off.
"You're right... he would have reacted by now, wouldn't he?" I straightened and glanced at our surroundings, not really knowing what I expected to find. "So why hasn't he? Surely we must have insulted him enough for him to show his divine rage." It wasn't like him to ignore an insult, especially when he could have punished me for it. So why hadn't he? It wasn't like him at all.
"I guess he isn't listening to me." I snorted, shaking my head. "That is the only logical explanation for his silence." I wasn't sure I liked that. He didn't often ignore me. Even when he didn't respond to my prayers right away, I could always prod him until he did. And if he had no desire to talk, he would just tell me. He had never outright ignored me. If I truly needed him, he was always there.
"Well, since the 'great and mighty' Trismegistus doesn't deign to talk to me, I suppose we're on our own. Unless there is something out there which would like to make itself known?" I glared at the void around us, daring it to answer. "No? Well, keep it that way. I'm not interested in fighting anything here, thank you very much." The void didn't reply, and I nodded once, satisfied that we were alone for the time being. "Right, let's see if we can't get ourselves out of this mess." I had no clue how to do that, but I had to try something. There was no point in standing around waiting for an answer.
So the only option was to pick a direction and start walking.
"Which way do you think we should go, Zos?" I asked, looking at the crow perched on my shoulder.
"Caw."
"Left, huh?" I pursed my lips, contemplating the decision. "Any particular reason?"
"Cawah."
"Your gut says so, does it? Well, alright... Right it is," I said, getting a sharp squawk in return. "You know, your insults are getting a little dull," I laughed, then shook my head. "Oh, who am I kidding? You're brilliant, and I dare you to repeat what you said when Tris is actually listening."
The crow cackled and I smirked, "Yeah, you do that." With a shake of my head, I started forward, striding into the darkness with a confidence I didn't truly feel. I didn't even know if the direction I was heading in was the correct one, or if there was a direction to be moving in at all, but it was the best plan we had, so I went with it. And if we got nowhere, well, we could just go the other way, right?