So be like fat, return with food. Be like teeth, regrow with time. Be like bone, mend with rest. And learn how to maintain your edge.
-From Vocationals: 2:5-8
Boom!
It echoed throughout the temple and the Neonate’s eyes snapped open. Louder than the flowing water. Loud enough to make her wonder if those on the surface had heard it. Deep enough to rumble in her chest, her broken ribs stinging with it.
Boom!
Again, it resonated. The symbols around the dais were lighting up, coming out from under the horrible corpse and traveling around the edge of the platform.
She watched, determined to see this one last thing. The glow bright and richly yellow and a bright green like sun through the leaves, wavering back and forth between the two.
The joyous light that lit the runes in the stones spread to the corners of the octagon, shifting into contentment and back again faster and faster.
Boom!
Back away. Her Instinct hissed deliberately from the souls of her feet, yanking her up and making her take a step backwards. The lights of the runes moved more quickly now.
Boom!
The neonate turned, staggering up the stairs now, clambering on all fours and gasping in pain, her blood spattering onto the ground. Light lit the runes under her feet as it spiraled upwards, faster and faster. Clenching her jaw with stubborn determination, the Greenscale made it out in front of them!
Why? She was going to die anyway. Maybe that would be quicker?
No! Move!
Boom!
She was sloshing through the water now, trying to get to the exit. Instinct driving her like prey in front of a hunting pack.
Boom!
She slipped and fell, sprawled painfully on the stones. The light shot past her and filled the chamber.
Boom!
She looked back. She had to know. To see. Eyes wide. Ready for whatever came next.
Boom! Shhhhhhaaaow!
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A pillar of light!
Octagonal.
Precise.
Unyielding.
It shot up to the ceiling!
Blinding in the gloom.
And yet somehow,
As if in spite,
The neonate saw,
With eyes screwed tight,
The corpse did fall,
Into the dais,
Now opened wide,
To nothingness,
A gaping void of black.
And down did it rain,
A glimmering skein,
Earthblood and bone,
The treasures blown,
Into the air,
The path clear for her twice foe,
Doubly slain.
The offer taken,
The dais then closed,
Neonate shaken,
Void no more exposed,
Gentle as a hymn,
Free of sin,
The light pushed forth its golden glow.
She sat in that din,
Doubtful in,
What would happen down here below,
As it washed over her.
Within the tide,
She could not hide,
From the grandeur of unknowable things,
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No sense of dread,
Her fear had fled,
Replaced by the neonates’ heartstrings,
Humming in sympathy with the tune.
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The light faded. She panted, shaking, the water washing against her as she stared at where the pillar of light had been.
Did… did I just… Please the gods? Or was it just the inherent magic of the dead creature being absorbed by the place? How could she know?
Can’t. It’s called belief. I live for now.
Her Instinct was right.
So many questions, and no ready answers. She knew that Tok worshipped, but she was more dubious after this whole experience. From what he had explained of magic, it could also come across as deific.
But what if it was real?
She wasn’t sure.
Provider is devout.
She grunted in the sudden comparative quiet of the temple. The rainwater flowing the only sound once more.
It was his duty to guide them to the proper path and not allow them to stray from it. Would he have taught them about the Gods if it wasn’t important? That was the real question.
Better safe than sorry I suppose. Even if the Gods hadn’t done this, thanking them wouldn’t hurt.
Her Instinct grunted in agreement as the neonate pulled herself to her feet, pushing with both arms to stand. She blinked, looking down to realize her arm wasn’t swollen, the throbbing stinging pain gone.
What? She blinked, looking at it.
It was like she hadn’t been stung at all.
She flexed her fingers in wonder and started to take note of her body. It wasn’t just her arm! All of her wounds were healed to one degree or another, her punctured intestine sealed, her broken bones knit, the multitude of lacerations and bruises soothed and smoothed away.
Some remained, she would still have to spend time recovering. But she no longer had to worry being taken by Ravo in the night. Almost she could believe without suspicion, only the faintest remnant of that remained. She couldn’t help it, it was a part of her very soul.
Always a price. Her Instinct snarled darkly with flitting eyes.
I will acknowledge this gift. She remembered what to do for this, memories of Tok’s teachings about religion floating to the surface of her mind.
She limped down into the octagon. She dug around the scattered trinkets, none organized anymore. Pushing some aside with her foot the little predator found her ax. Amazingly enough it was still in one piece. She took it in her healed hand, still holding the knife in the other.
The neonate stepped up onto the dais. The runes still glowed, bright as daylight, steady and golden.
There was a sense of held breath.
A moment of decision.
The neonate spread her arms wide above her head, weapons in hand. She fought through the pain of her remaining wounds as she lifted knife and ax high. She included all eight idols by swinging her arms back, before bringing them back in crossing her forearms.
Embracing the gift of her life and weapons before them, embracing their grace and their mercy. She accepted the gift and favor of the gods. Bowing over her crossed arms, holding weapons to show her reverence.
Her Instinct joined her, filling her body, her shadow within herself.
I will pay more attention to my prayer, the ritual washing. It was a promise to the pantheon, but also one to herself. Never again would she skimp on such things so long as she had the space and safety to do so.
No time like the present.
She left her bag on a pile of the earthbone disks, planning to come back for both it and the rope after she was done with cleansing her body. She did take her weapons though, as both needed to be ritually cleaned with her. They were a part of her now, the same as tooth and claw. Up the stairs she went, into the water of the flooded space on the pathway.
With the runes lit she could see that the flooded space below was even larger than she had first thought. A positive labyrinth. Stairs, platforms, massive statues and strange spaces, and ones even further down that became obscure with the distance.
The strangeness of the water was more visible than ever, as if there was a second layer that was rippling and flowing something like thirty or maybe forty feet down.
Distraction. Ritual.
She took both tools and placed them on the walkway, under the flowing rainwater, letting it wash the reeking fluids off. Then, slowly and meticulously, she washed herself. The blood and ichor were sucked downward, washed into whatever depths the second corpse of One-eye had been taken to.
The cool water soothed her hot wounds and aching joints. She noticed that she was starting to shed again. She took the time to peel what she could off of herself here, not leaving any aspect of her grooming undone in this holy place.
She was glad she had wrapped the majority of the giant bat’s meat in the wing leather. It had protected it from the taint of the abomination and its ichor, so it would still be good to eat. The neonate tied that to the outside of the bag as well.
She planned to come back later, to make sure there was nothing else in this holy site. The little predator didn’t think there was with it being so lit up now, but she wanted to be totally sure. Especially if she was going to use it to travel, and so she wouldn’t worry in the night about something like that abomination coming for her.
Her hands shook slightly, and she placed them flat against the path to still them.
Freshly washed, she gathered her things, grabbing the bag and coiling her ropes back into neat bundles. It was when she looked up after tying the netting to the bag that she saw that the sting of the abomination was still there.
Harvest! Compete! Her Instinct hissed, tugging at her hand, though she managed to resist it for a moment so she could think that through.
It was offered with the rest, right? Or did it fall off the pile?
She wasn’t sure as she picked it up.
The Greenscale looked at the dais.
She placed it up there, waiting to see.
The platform didn’t even budge.
Is it okay to take the thing? It was a mark of One-eyes curse, and she was not sure she wanted to trust such a thing.
A weapon. A tooth in my mouth I refuse to bite with. Her Instinct grumbled.
Hissing thoughtfully she took it back and lifted it high before bowing over it as she had her weapons. Hoping she wasn’t doing something foolish, she put the sting point down in her bag. And finally, from the top of the octagon, she checked one last time for any strange movements.
Don’t need another one of the cursed hatchlings coming for me in my sleep.
Her Instinct grunted from her eyes, helping her focus.
She saw nothing. Had she earned the use of this temple as well?
Too many questions. Rest now.
Satisfied for the moment, she finally made her way back to her camp. She didn’t look forward to needing more of the herb. She did like the sound of some sleep though.
When the neonate got back to the surface, it took her a moment to get used to the returning gloom. The runes of the stairs got dim near the surface, winking out entirely when she could see outside. She hoped that the other entrances would remain secret from the others.
She took her time walking to her shelter. For once the cool rain was soothing to her, further washing her wounds. And it was more than that. It took her mind to a place of quiet, a place she needed more than anything in that moment.
Soft pattering. The tapping of droplets on the shell of her egg. Soothing. Floating in the warmth of-
Leaves! Like the snapping jaws of a crocodile her Instinct shattered the quiet moment in her mind from the throbbing of her cuts.
She hissed in frustration and snapped her own jaw loudly. Tomorrow.
Lea-
Tomorrow! She did not want to deal with the side effects after that. Not in the night anyway. She just wanted to enjoy the sound of the rain. But now she was chilled.
Snarling to herself she walked under the roof of reeds, getting out of the rain, shaking to get the droplets off. She hissed, wincing as it yanked at her injuries.
Leaves. Her Instinct hissed.
She snapped her jaw again.
The first thing she did, making a point to herself, was offer one last simple prayer to her wooden idol of Haan-Kezk. She found a roughly circular stone, and placed the idol on top of that after sinking the stone in a central location under her shelter.
I’ll make something more elaborate later. For now, she was too exhausted to do more than that.
Her Instinct grunted begrudgingly.
That done she walked past her supply of drying herbs, with difficulty it was true, to settle in near the fire. It had burnt low, almost to ashes, starting to starve with no Provider or readily available fuel within reach. She reached for the bottle of firehoney, pouring a little bit into the coals, expecting it to perk back up immediately.
At first, the fire was so weak that at first it didn’t drink the viscus liquid. It couldn’t.
Odd. It had burned well enough as a torch. The neonate thought about using one to get the fire going again, but that seemed a waste.
Taking a stick and her knife, she shaved off curling slivers of wood into the coals. She waited until she could see a little smoke, making a moderate pile of the tinder. Bending down, she breathed on it, getting smoke, then eventually flame. After a moment or two of more coaxing, and with a little flame back, the fire began to guzzle up the firehoney greedily. Growing expansively rather quickly.
She quickly gathered some wood to feed the revived blaze. Piling the wood high, getting more warmth back into her body. She took the time to prepare and dry the bat meat, roasting and eating her fill and preserving the rest with smoke.
Full, partially healed, and with a new way to travel the island, she felt hope kindle to light in her chest. She would try the other pathways as well. See where they came out. She would run, sprint, lose herself in the speed and dexterity of it down below. But that was for tomorrow. Right then, she wanted sleep.
She curled into her nest, wonderfully dry and warm. She let her eyes drift closed, her weapons close to hand.