"Ugh..."
His entire body throbbed with pain, as if each muscle had been stretched to its limit and beyond. His head was pounding, and even his teeth seemed to ache with each breath he took. He tried to move, but his body felt as weak as a newborn kitten, barely able to support his weight. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, his groans the only sound breaking the prolonged silence.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked away the fog that had clouded his mind. The world came into focus, and he looked around, taking in his surroundings. The room was dark and foreboding, with shadows dancing on the walls like macabre specters. A musty smell hung heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe.
"Where am I?" His voice was barely a whisper, but even the softest sound seemed deafening in the silence.
With great effort, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling each muscle scream in protest. He glanced down at his body and gasped in horror. He was completely naked, and his skin clung to his bones like a second layer. His ribs stood out in stark relief, and his limbs were nothing more than sticks with paper-thin skin stretched over them. He looked like a skeleton, and for a moment, he wondered if he was already dead.
"What... what is happening?" His throat was dry, and he struggled to form the words. He felt tremors wrack his body, threatening to send him back into the abyss of pain.
As he looked around, he realized he was not alone. The room was filled with statues of all shapes and sizes. Some were tiny, no bigger than his pinky, while others towered over him, their features shrouded in shadow. They were made of stone, metal, and even wood, and they seemed to stare back at him with lifeless eyes. The statues were of animals, men, and women, but there were also bizarre, otherworldly creatures that defied description.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and agitated mind. He could feel a mental breakdown coming, but he fought it with every fiber of his being. He had to figure out what was going on first.
"My good man?"
At first, the words sounded foreign and harsh, but as his mind cleared, he realized that he could understand them.
The voice echoed hauntingly down the seemingly endless corridor of statues in the darkness, sending shivers down his spine. Small, scattered candles flickered and danced on the floor, illuminating patches of blackness and casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to move and writhe of their own accord.
Upon turning toward the sound, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his neck from the sudden movement, making him wince in agony. Unconsciously massaging his neck to alleviate the pain, he squinted his eyes, trying to pierce the darkness and locate the source of the voice.
A few meters away, he saw an elderly man looking at him uncertainly, his face etched with lines of worry and fear. The man took a hesitant step towards him, his gnarled hand outstretched, then stopped abruptly, as if unsure of what to do.
"Are you alright, my good man?" the old man asked with apparent uneasiness, his voice trembling slightly.
He wet his lips, trying to gather as much moisture as he could before speaking, his heart racing with fear and confusion.
"No," he managed to utter, shaking his head, his voice barely above a whisper. But before he could say anything else, his body betrayed him and he crumpled to the floor, his limbs trembling and weak.
He heard the old man's hurried footsteps, and after what felt like an eternity, a warm hand gently grabbed his shoulder, pulling him into a sitting position. He gasped, feeling a surge of pain shoot through his body like a bolt of lightning, making him grit his teeth in agony.
He groaned, feeling his body burn with fever, his mind clouded with confusion and disorientation. It was as if he had no more energy left stored inside him, and his body had decided to cannibalize itself in an effort to keep going.
"Young man, drink this," the old man said, offering him a small bottle. He felt something touch his dry lips, and then euphoria flooded his exhausted body, making him gasp in surprise. He could feel his ravenous cells absorbing the nutrients hungrily, slowly bringing him back to life.
For long moments, he lay there unmoving, with the old man holding him up, his eyes closed in deep concentration as he fought to regain his strength. The intense burst of energy faded away, but he still felt invigorated, as if he had just taken a long, refreshing nap after a full meal.
He opened his eyes and, with some effort, managed to stand up on his own, his legs wobbling like jelly. The old man followed him, arms open, as if waiting for him to fall again, which was highly probable given his current state.
He smiled weakly and nodded at his benefactor, his heart filled with gratitude and admiration for the stranger who had saved his life. "Thank you, sir, for your kindness. If it weren't for you, I can't imagine what would have happened."
The old man looked surprised by his quick recovery but smiled in return, his eyes shining with warmth and compassion. He unclasped his grey robes and handed them over to him, his hands shaking. "Here, take this. You must be cold."
He took the robes uncertainly and draped them over his shoulders, feeling their soft, warm fabric envelop him like a cocoon. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of warmth and comfort, his mind buzzing with questions and doubts.
"What is your name, young man?" the old man inquired, his voice gentle and soothing.
He opened his mouth to answer, then frowned, his mind blank and empty. His name... What was his name?
As he stood there, his mind felt like a dense fog had enveloped it, shrouding his memories and identity in a thick mist. He felt a sense of panic rising inside him as he struggled to remember anything about himself, but it was like trying to grasp at a fleeting dream.
The old man's concerned face came into focus, his wrinkled features etched with worry as he peered into the young man's bewildered gaze.
A sudden wave of vertigo washed over him, and he stumbled, grasping for something to hold onto. The old man reached out to steady him, his hands firm and reassuring on his shoulders.
"Easy now, young man," he said in a calm voice. "Take a deep breath and try to relax. It will come back to you, I'm sure of it."
He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind, but it was like wading through a swamp of murky thoughts. He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember something, anything, about his past, but all he could see was a blank canvas of emptiness.
“Young man, are you ok?” The old man's voice was colored with concern as he tried to shake him out of his daze, his face was etched with worry as he looked at his pale and clammy skin.
“Look at me, let's get you out of here. You need to eat something. Come.” The old man gently guided him, his worn but steady hands on his shoulders as they started to walk down the aisle of the grand cathedral. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of incense and the soft glow of candlelight illuminated their path.
The young man let the old man steer him, while his mind tried to come out of its frenzied state. The statues towered over him, each one a masterpiece of craftsmanship, and he felt like he was walking among giants. The marble statues glimmered in the candlelight, their expressions stern and unmoving, while the bronze figures gleamed like gold, radiating an aura of power and majesty.
As they walked, he occasionally heard whispers, but he didn’t see another person. The silence was only broken by the soft sound of their footsteps echoing through the vast hall. The young man felt a sense of isolation, as if he was the only one left in the world.
Gradually, the darkness lifted, and he realized that he was inside an immense building with a domed ceiling that rose several dozens of meters into the air. The light from the candles created an ethereal glow, making it feel as if he was walking among the stars. With a start, he realized that the part of the building they were in, housed the smallest of the statues while in the center he saw statues that rose to the ceiling making it impossible to make out their faces.
“Where are we?” A hint of awe had entered his voice, with each step the statues became more detailed and imposing. The old man looked at him, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and he replied, “We are in the Grand Cathedral of the Gods, it's the most famous temple in Altia.”
He looked around in wonder, amazed at the sheer scale and magnificence of the place. The statues were made of various materials, from bronze and marble to gold and crystal, each one more intricate and beautiful than the last. He even saw one sculpted out of blue crystal, making him turn his head in wonder.
The passage became wider and wider as they approached the center of the temple with more extravagant statues, the candles became more numerous and he observed various offerings at the base of some of the statues, from coins and jewelry to letters. He also spotted various people deep in prayer in front of some statues, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the candles.
He saw a woman on her knees deep in prayer in front of a statue, depicting a well-muscled man with a long beard riding a fish with gold fins. Other people passed them by, following the path and turning to different passages.
“Are all the statues depictions of Gods?” he asked, turning to the old man. For some reason the idea of so many Gods seemed baffling to him.
The old man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where are you from, boy?” he asked. “Be careful, because the Gods can be kind, but they can also be vengeful if offended.”
He nodded gravely, feeling a sense of unease.
As they finally arrived at the entrance of the temple, the young man's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. A sea of people stretched out in front of him, their energy and excitement palpable. Like tides they ebbed and flowed, entering and exiting the great double doors of the cathedral, which were adorned with intricate carvings and embellishments.
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As he made his way through the throngs of people, he couldn't help but be awestruck by the sheer number of worshippers who had gathered there. Streams of people flowed past him, their movements like the ebb and flow of the tides. Some wore identical robes to his, embroidered with shimmering gold threads and intricate symbols, while others wore weathered tunics, patched trousers, and dresses that bore the marks of a life of hardship. The scent of incense and unwashed bodies hung thick in the air, mixing with the sounds of chanting and prayers.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to take it all in, but before he could make sense of it, a heavy weight fell on him from above. All sounds vanished, and the air grew still as everyone looked up at the ceiling of the temple with fear and awe.
A power that felt like it could snap him out of existence at a whim went through his body, and he knew without a doubt that whatever it was that possessed that much power was dangerous and should be feared. His whole being wanted to kneel and express his subservience, but something inside him rebelled at the idea of giving in to a so-called God.
With difficulty, he managed to remain still, feeling his legs tremble from the effort, but not everyone was able to defy the all-encompassing power. Most worshipers fell on their knees, with their heads touching the floor in a show of reverence.
As the God's power continued to radiate through the room, something unknown welled up inside him, a fierce resistance that burned like a flame. He gritted his teeth and felt his legs tremble from the effort of trying to defy the God's power.
The old man at his side, already kneeling with his head bowed, tugged urgently on his sleeve, muttering something under his breath. But he was completely focused on trying to stay still, to stand up against the tyranny of the God.
Despite his best efforts, the God's power couldn't be denied. He felt his weak body betray him, and he was about to keel over when something inside him cracked. A beat of power rang from somewhere deep within him, like a drum, that sent a ripple of hungry energy through him.
The power surged out of him, like a warm blanket that protected him from the overbearing dominance of the God. He felt his senses sharpen and his vision cleared as the two powers clashed, trying to overwhelm one another.
Cold sweat ran down his face, even though he no longer felt the influence of the God's power. The effort to stay still was overwhelming, but he refused to give in. In an effort to stay focused, he attempted to find the source of the power that protected him. The hollow beat thumped every few seconds, and with it came a sense of voracity and ancient longing. He followed the beat, and his senses converged on a single point...
“KNEEL!” The thunderous voice cracked like a whip, shattering the oppressive silence that had descended upon the arrival of the God.
He jolted in surprise, and his eyes focused back on the present, forgetting all about the mysterious power. A shiver ran down his spine as his head kept going up and up until he saw the being before him that looked ready to tear him apart. His brain needed a couple of seconds to register the tyrannical presence that stood with his hands folded, impatiently waiting for his command to be followed.
The God was twice the size of a human, yet his presence seemed larger than the body he currently inhabited could contain. It was as if the God had put on a pair of trousers a size too small, unable to contain his full might.
To the human, the God looked otherworldly and resplendent, with eyes that shone with golden radiance, like twin suns. His hair looked like intricate strands of metal that gleamed even in the soft light of the cavernous cathedral, and he wore clothes of exquisite materials and elaborate patterns. What was most arresting about the God, however, were his hands. They were not of flesh and blood like those of the mortals that kneeled all around him, but they were made of pure gold, chiseled to the finest detail. The human stood with his mouth gaping open in wonder as he saw the faintest of movements in the metallic hands as the God stepped forward.
The sudden movement made him realize he was in deep trouble. The God seemed enraged by his disobedience, and angry lines marred his otherworldly beauty. He considered kneeling, as was prudent and what any other sane person would have done. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a part of him flared up in protest, refusing to listen to someone who demanded his obedience, even if that someone was a God.
He was confused by his violent response, but the sense of freedom and the right to choose his own actions resonated with something deep inside him on a level he couldn't even understand. He may not remember who he was, where he was from, or even his name, but he was absolutely sure that he wouldn't bow to anyone.
With courage he didn't know he possessed, he looked the God straight in him luminous eyes. The simple action enraged the God anew, and the space around them seemed to crack with power. Humans fell to the floor unconscious, left and right, by the God's show of power.
Still, he stood unaffected. His own strange power protected him, like a defensive shell, against the God's wrath.
"I SAID KNEEL, MORTAL." The cathedral shook with each word, and his heart was like a wild rabbit inside his chest, wanting to run away as fast as it could. But he remained stoic, never letting his eyes drift and show the fear that had drowned his mind.
The God raised his hand, and he was ready to meet his end. He knew it with a certainty that couldn't be disputed. "I must be crazy," he thought. "Who picks a fight with a God? It would be so simple to just kneel, to show respect for just a moment so that I could live another day. Surely my pride isn't worth dying for."
Still, he remained standing. He didn't know what drove him to act so irrationally, but he couldn't ignore his instincts. He couldn't ignore who he was.
He saw the golden hand descending, shining brilliantly and illuminating the countless faceless statues that surrounded the central area, and he became as motionless as the statues, waiting for his end.
The hand never reached him.
The human looked at the God. The God's face had tilted to the side, looking at him quizzically, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"WHO IS YOUR PATRON, IMPUDENT BUG?" The God demanded. It was the human's turn to look confused, but before he could respond, a new presence popped into existence.
A new god showered the cathedral with power, knocking out the few conscious mortals who had managed to resist the first god's influence. His weird power started beating furiously to combat the new presence. The sense of antiquity and craving magnified tenfold, making him lose his train of thought, absorbed by the intensity of the foreign feelings.
"Who is that, Kadmus?" The new presence asked with a distinctive feminine voice. He looked at the new God, but he couldn't decipher whether the figure before him was male or female.
The Goddess wore a robe of deep crimson that looked as if she had just dipped it into a pool of fresh blood, with the hood up, obscuring her features. The mask she wore made identifying her features even more futile. Dainty chains crisscrossed her face, creating an intricate net decorated with enormous rubies the size of his fist.
"A MERE PEST THAT REFUSES TO SHOW PROPER RESPECT," the golden God boomed. The red Goddess looked at him for several seconds before she exclaimed.
"I can't analyze him," her words were tinged with surprise.
" I KNOW, HE IS QUITE AN IRQSOME MORTAL. I SHOULD TURN HIM INTO GOLD AND LEAVE HIM HERE AS A REMINDER FOR THOSE WHO DARE DISREGARD THE GODS," the God said, raising his arm once more, ready to rain down punishment. However, the red goddess intervened and touched his arm gently with her gloved hand.
"Now, now, Kadmus. Let us not be hasty. I am sure you can see the merit of forgiving a stray lamb in need of guidance so that, in time, he can find his path," the red Goddess murmured. The golden god went to object, but the red goddess continued. "Besides, he hasn't told us yet who his patron is."
At the mention of a patron, the furious God seemed to calm down and consider her words. Begrudgingly, he lowered his hand and looked at the shaken human.
He didn't really know the meaning of a patron, but seeing the reluctance of the two gods to harm him in case they offended some imaginary patron had him thinking that maybe he should play along and hint that he was protected by someone.
"I apologize if I have offended you. Please don't read too much into my actions. I find myself dazed and disoriented, with much of my memories muddled. Someone must have brought me here without my knowledge. Who would have the power to act in such a way is beyond my understanding. So once again, I am deeply regretful if my actions have caused offense," he inclined his head just a fraction in a show of deference, the only action he was willing to perform in order to placate the two Gods.
The golden God didn't seem mollified, and he narrowed his eyes, his posture threatening, ready to unleash vengeance on the impudent mortal. The red goddess, however, seemed intrigued by his words and took a step closer. Her aura flared around her like bloodthirsty whips that buffeted his shell of protection as if she was searching for a vulnerable spot to latch on.
He was sure that if his power hadn't been activated earlier, his body would have been riddled with narrow whip-like wounds that would even affect his mind. The golden God's power was brutal and overbearing, but his female counterpart seemed much more insidious, like a cold dagger ready to pierce straight into his heart the moment he let his guard down.
"That is fascinating, mortal. You must have a very powerful patron to be able to resist our analyzing skills,” the red Goddess purred, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she circled him like a predator stalking its prey. The air around her seemed to hum with a strange, otherworldly energy, and her long, flowing robe billowed around her like crimson flames.
He shook his head and replied, "I have no idea how I am doing that."
“Hmm, interesting.” She purred getting closer.
The God interrupted them with an impatient voice. "NO, IT IS NOT," he bellowed. "IF YOU WANT THIS MORTAL ALIVE, SO BE IT. I HAVE OTHER THINGS TO ATTEND TO." And with that, he vanished into thin air, leaving only the red Goddess and him still awake and aware in the vast cathedral.
"So little human," the Goddess said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Color me intrigued." She leaned in closer. "Although, I get the sense that you know as much as me at the moment."
The human felt a chill run down his spine as the Goddess spoke. There was something about her that was both alluring and terrifying at the same time. He sensed that she held great power, one that he could not hope to comprehend.
"I will leave you be as well, for now." He thought it sounded more like a threat than a reassurance, but he remained silent.
The Goddess added a small piece of advice before disappearing, "When a God tells you to kneel, you KNEEL!" His body reacted without any conscious thought falling on his knees. He found himself looking down at the dusty floor, his knees aching from the impact.
After he felt her power vanish, he stood up, feeling outraged at being manipulated. He searched for the old man who had helped him and found him on the ground, still unconscious. He gently slapped the old man, and the man groaned in protest.
Suddenly, he felt something heavy on his head, and something burst with power inside of him, from the same place he had felt his power awaken. The old man exclaimed and pointed at his head. Before he could respond, he heard a voice dripping with grace and blood that made his whole body shiver.
"A small gift from me, so that you do not forget me," the red Goddess's voice whispered in his ear. The power of her presence vanished the moment she spoke, and hundreds of faces turned towards him, looking at him with envy and admiration.
The weight from his head vanished, and he helped the old man stand. The human muttered, "Please, let's leave this place." The old man looked bewildered and troubled, but he nodded.
They walked towards the towering double doors, and before they could leave the cathedral, another divine presence manifested, and people cried in ecstasy.
He whipped around, and in the process, his frail body cracked in multiple places, fearing the golden God had returned to exact his vengeance after all. All he saw, however, was a man kneeling and crying in elation with a golden wreath on his head. As soon as the divine presence vanished, so did the wreath.
His fellow worshippers crowded around him, offering him praise and congratulations for his good fortune.
“I don’t know whether you’re lucky or ill-fated,” the old man said, shaking his head. “So many Gods in attendance in a single day..."
He didn’t know how to respond, but a question popped up in his mind, remembering his own wreath.
“So, the Gods bless their worshippers?” The man went to respond but stopped. He seemed to think for a moment before he answered.
“When a God is pleased by someone’s actions or offerings, they may bestow a blessing on their followers. They may offer a curse too, though, if they are displeased. You are lucky the capricious Kadmus didn’t curse or even kill you for your arrogance.” The man’s words held judgment, but he didn’t contradict him since he was right. If the red Goddess hadn’t come to his rescue, he would have likely been killed.
Another question came to his mind, and he asked the old man.
“What is a patron?” The old man looked at him before responding.
“A God may choose to become someone’s patron, if they deem them worthy of course, gifting them incredible boons.”
“Like what?” He couldn’t help but ask. The man looked at him for a long moment.
“Let us not speak more of it under the Gods’ house. Come on.”
They walked through the massive double doors, bumping into people who tried to get into the temple as fast as they could after feeling a god’s presence and walked out into the sun.
For a moment, he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision after being so long in the temple’s low lighting with only the candles’ light for illumination.
He looked around once his vision was restored, and when he focused on the scene around him, he gasped.
“What the...”