Oh my god.

He awoke in a different world, and it took him a while to recognize it for what it was. The black rocks, the stars against the dark blue sky outside, so near he could almost touch them. He had been young again, for a day. He had been another person, one he hadn't remembered being. So full of...

He didn't realize he had been crying. He thought he was still hearing the girl's sobs. But the past was just an echo, and he could reach it no more than he could grasp the mist surrounding him. It was just a dream. You've woken up from nightmares before. This is just another nightmare. Except he couldn't convince himself. The dream had been true to his memories, and that day had been one of the only few he could remember because it had been so unlike the others. It was no nightmare. The nightmare came upon waking and realizing that that world, that person, was utterly gone. In the dark of the cave, he thought for a moment that someone would come and hush him. Not a fist or a chain, but a warm hand that would grab his cheek. But he couldn't even turn the shadows into the image of his mother. She was erased, if she had ever been at all.

Slowly, the water in his eyes dried up. His muscles tensed and his mind grew sharper. He would not be seen like that by any man. In the darkness, he could still see The One Who Waits, a dark shape against the starlit sky that showed through the cave's entrance. The man was looking the other way, toward the stars. If he was even looking. He had spent all the time since he had brought Senn to his cave in a heavy torpor, one that Senn had only seen once, on a blind man with many ailments in the streets of Lordstown. Like him, the dark man sat with his legs folded under his backside. The Husks would wait for death in such a manner, too: oblivious to everything except their own heartbeats and the inner voice that told them what they were and whom they obeyed.

No man should have witnessed my breakdown, thought Senn. He approached the cave's entrance with a rock in his hand. He has already told you what he knows, or what he can make up. He has nothing more to give. He won't be missed.

He had never needed so many arguments to take a life. Only one was enough. But as he raised the rock over the man's head, he realized he was acting out of fear, not because he thought he was right. And he had promised a long time ago that fear wouldn't drive him. If he made bad decisions, it wouldn't be because he had been afraid.

He threw the rock to the side, where it clanged against the wall.

"What did you see?" The One Who Waits asked.

Senn stepped back, unsure how the man could read into his mind, and afraid of what could be found therein. He cleared his throat.

"Your god has given me a dream, I bet. It was one unlike any I've ever had. It wasn't a dream at all. It wasn't a memory. It was the truth."

"Ah. So it was one of those. I had guessed it would be, but my lord works in subtler ways than even I can understand."

Senn couldn't stand the smirk that was implicit in the man's voice, even if he was facing the other way. He walked over the man and turned to stand looking down at him.

"What did he do to me?!" he demanded.

The One Who Waits opened his eyes, with the patience one would show a newborn goat who was having a hard time walking. He sighed.

"He likes to reach people in their dreams, I told you about that. He can show you new and old words, show you images that aren't of this world. But he can also show remote things, both in distance and in time. For what purposes, I don't even know. I've been waiting to find out for a long time. I'm... curious."

"So all the gods you spoke of like to toy with people?"

"I think it's mutual. People toy with ideas. They twist them, blacken them or bleach them, and turn them upside down. They're just doing the same. I don't think they can help it any more than we can."

"Why show me the past, then? Just to torture me?"

"No. I don't think he would do that. And I speak in riddles, for he's not a 'he' any more than the wind or the sun has gender or motivation. He's an idea, or an entire army of them, all related to each other, containing all the wisdom and follies of the world. What I think 'he' 'wants' is to preserve things: lives, words, and ideas. Even the bad ones. So if he showed you something, I would guess it was for one of two things: to preserve your memories or to preserve your life. Maybe both. Maybe they're tied in ways you don't know yet."

Senn sighed, an even deeper sigh than the other man's.

"I still haven't decided if you make sense or none at all."

"If you're still here and I'm still here, I believe you have decided something. You could have gone away or tried to kill me. You know these truths I speak of."

"Maybe I just have a healthy level of doubt."

"Maybe so. Then I'll just have to dispel it."

The dark-skinned man rose slowly, not out of stiffness but rather a product of premeditation or habit. Senn stepped back against the cave wall, thinking the man would lead him outside into the night. But he just went back into the cave, into the darkness and the damp.

"Is there a particular rock in this place you want to show me?'"asked Senn. "If so, you'll have to do so in the morning. I can't see anything."

"No, it's something further down. Come, follow me. Follow my voice, I know the way. The passage is quite tall and wide, you won't hurt yourself walking blind."

What is he talking about? What passage? It's just bare rock all around.

The man walked toward the farthest wall, not more than ten paces away from Senn and just out of reach of the stars' brightness that peeked into the cave from the entrance. Senn could barely make out the man's shape walking away from him. He followed anyway. The other man started humming something, and Senn thought he would shut him up when he got his hands on him. A cave was an unnatural thing. He had been in one before, and he wanted no more of the experience, even if he would never come out and say so. He was about to pin the man against the wall when he realized his hands were touching nothing, and the floor slanted down. He fumbled, trying to grab the wall to the side in place of the one in front, but found no hold. He found his footing, though, and he could still hear the humming in front of him, slowly diminishing. He didn't want to be left behind, so he stepped carefully and then with a little less fear. The other man was in front of him, so he hadn't fallen into a pit. He put his arms in front to stop him in case he reached a wall, and half-walked, half-slid down the gentle slope. The One Who Waits was still out of reach. He had to be walking as if he had eyes that could pierce the pitch-black darkness, or have gone down that same road a multitude of times so he could walk fast and without a care. The passage turned a few times, but the ground also rose against the wall in those places, leading him away from it in a subtle way. It was as if a big wheel had gone through there, carving the rock and twisting the corners around. He knew there were walls because he touched them when the road turned and he had to change directions. But otherwise, he would have lost his grip on reality, with the humming seeming less like an actual sound and more like a buzzing in his inner ear with each passing breath.

After a long descent, the ground leveled off. He couldn't be sure because directions were hard to gauge in the dark, but his feet were firmly planted and his center of gravity felt as it should. He looked back and tried to find the way, but he knew he wouldn't be able to see anything. He could go back on his own, though he didn't know if there was only one corridor or multiple ones and he had just happened upon one. If he went back and somehow took a wrong turn, he could be stranded in the dark for a long time.

Then the humming stopped.

"Hey," he called out, "are you there?"

No sound came in response.

"Hey! If this is a joke or a trap, I'll kill you when I get my hands on..."

Something curled around his mouth and muffled his words. He struggled but the grip was strong. He lashed out, kicking the air in front of him, and then he realized he was being grabbed from behind. He twisted and tried to break free.

"Shhhhh!" said a voice. "Don't struggle."

The hand dropped and his mouth was free again, as well as his neck which had been held in a vise-like grip. He turned to face the One Who Waits, but couldn't find him. He waved his arms trying to find him and finally found him to his left. The man leaned into his ear.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Silence. That's why I stopped humming. Grab my shoulder and follow."

Senn did as he was told. He surprised even himself, for he hadn't acted like that in ages. It's just because your will coincides with his. You are not obeying, you're just going in the same direction. You are still yourself.

He followed him with his outstretched arm grabbing the man's right shoulder for what seemed like a long time. Senn's strides were longer and he kept stumbling into the other man. Then, at some point, the man stopped and grabbed his arm to hold him back. Then he grabbed Senn by the elbow and dragged him a few steps to the left.

"There," he whispered, so low that Senn thought at first it had been a natural sound produced by the cavern instead of a voice.

Senn tried to look in every direction, but there was no point. He grabbed the other man's arm and squeezed it. He was about to talk, risking the man's ire again, when he heard the other sound. It was like a bellows, then it seemed to him to be more akin to an ox. Then he remembered the conversations with the other man and made another guess. It's his God. The sleeping one. The Giant who gave me dreams. It wasn't a bellows. It was the sound of air passing through lungs the size of which he couldn't even guess. He felt the very air stir with each intake and outtake. He grabbed the other man's hand and pulled it upwards, making him touch his eyelids. The other man seemed to understand what he meant, for he tapped his fingers lightly on Senn's brow. Don't look, try to understand, he seemed to mean. But Senn wanted to see, and he pointed back to the other man's eyes. He heard a grumble and then something hurt his eyes. He covered them and looked away, and then slowly turned his head back toward the light source, squinting at it. The One Who Waits held something in his hand, some kind of rock that shone brightly from inside. Senn couldn't understand how something could shine so bright without fire or reflecting sunlight, but when he considered he was next to a giant sleeping god, the thought went away, replaced by curiosity. He looked around, trying to match the source of the breathing with the shadows cast by the shining rock. And it was then he saw the figure in the darkness, first as an outcropping in the cave and then, with each passing heartbeat and the rise and fall of its chest, as a living, dreaming god. The mere size of him dispelled any notion of him not being one: he was even larger than the Lord of Greed, but at the same time seemed smaller, as if his presence was somehow more elusive than the All-Eater. He wore nothing but rags that seemed to fuse into skin that was crisscrossed by cracks, like old stones ready to fall apart at a pickaxe's blow. He seemed a part of the mountain, something that had always been there, or at least long enough to become part of the environment. The chest heaves were the only aspects that betrayed its motionlessness. A tomb, that's what it reminds me of. The man and child lying dead underneath the ground and the last flicker of blue light. Maybe one god recalls another, and they are more similar than they seem at first. This one's hair streamed like roots from his scalp to the rocky ground and bore into it. I bet he couldn't move even if he cared to do so. He's more mountain now than god or man.

Under the faint white light, he saw the thing's eyelids stir. He's sleeping, all right. And not peacefully. How could he? He's too busy feeding lies and half-remembered truths to the Leashed and free men alike. A train of thought bumped into Senn's mind and carried it away with little effort.

He dreams, that's how he can touch everyone's minds himself. Otherwise, he would be like the Lord of Greed, able to act only through his Herald or his followers, whomever they are. The same rules have to apply.

He approached the sleeping figure carefully, stepping lightly and with shallow breath. The One Who Waits followed him reverently and with eyes that dared not fall on his God for more than a sideways glance, as if his very sight could hurt.

There aren't enough followers for him out there, or he wouldn't need to dream to reach their minds. The old seers are ever fewer and their teachings grow muddier.

He bowed before the God's shoulder. The pulsing heartbeat of a deity feels unnatural, like a canid on two feet.

He preserves things. But what has he done so far? Keeper of useless memories and a reminder of lost causes. He's been doing it for countless markings and to what end? Only my actions were able to free my people. No amount of knowledge did that. No amount of hoping, like the goddamned child wants me to do. Only my... will.

Something cracked under Senn's foot, and wonder filled him. Something surged in his chest, a familiar feeling that was not quite his old self, but something he could recognize. Something that came from the same source, or almost so. A spark, maybe.

It's not him. I would feel his touch. My lord is ever farther from me. This is... another. It has to be him. The one he spoke of, the one who walked all the way out here with me. The Bowman. The Hunter.

Another pebble cracked under his other foot. His legs felt sturdier and heavier, but he didn't feel weakened by it. It felt like his feet were mountains, and yet he could still lift them. His chest felt like rocks ought to: he felt no chill anymore, no dampness, no anxiety even. The heart in his chest was still beating, but the realization of what was occurring didn't make a dent in his rhythm. It neither rose nor fell, as if nothing could faze him. As he settled on one knee in front of the sleeping giant, he took out his bone arrowhead and cut his finger with it. Or rather, tried to, because the edge didn't even pierce his skin: it was like scratching a stone wall with a fingernail, and it left no mark at all.

For the first time in days, Senn smiled and looked up. I'll follow you as long as you don't desert me. He knew that, if the Hunter was now incarnated like his previous God, he wouldn't be able to hear him, but that had never stopped him before. He made promises to the God and then kept them, even if he never heard them. And he would do so again. He looked at the bone arrowhead and remembered the Hunter God's visage. He had missed him with his arrows, he had never given him anything except his life. It was Senn who had walked all the way there, who had crawled and hunted and talked alone, forging himself a new God to follow, one who was truer to himself. The one he had followed unknowingly all his life even as it faded under another's brighter, corrupting light. One who never told him what to do, for he would do what his true self commanded, and not what his urges and passions told him to. Thank you, he thought, for not forsaking me even as I let you turn into nothingness.

Senn rose and, looking back at the other man, jumped ahead, falling on top of the sleeping giant's body. The One Who Waits gasped and the light in his hand quivered as it dropped to the floor.

"What are you doing?!" he shouted, not caring if his god was woken by his voice. "Get away!"

"All right," said Senn, and he looked down at the sleeping god. He had not stirred.

You're weak.

Senn jumped, but instead of jumping back to the ground he jumped up as high as he could and fell on the sleeping giant's windpipe. A heartrending crack filled the cave, echoing back and forth, and then a low gasp was heard. A God's last attempt to breathe. It went on for the longest time, while Senn looked on from above, and it went on even after Senn had jumped down and cast his gaze upon the One Who Waits, who seemed even then to be willing to wait for something to happen and change what was to what had been. He was kneeling, his calm features forming a previously unseen mask of anguish, not unlike many he had seen before in his lifetime.

"Now you're just like everybody else," said Senn, but he could tell from the other man's eyes that he didn't understand. The bright white light that pulsed from the rock on the ground twisted his face even further. Behind them, the wheezing stopped. Senn looked back. The chest was no longer moving.

"You've ruined everything. Everything... " whispered the now godless man. "There's nothing left now... nothing of my world. You've destroyed everything. Every memory, everything that was..."

Tears streamed down the man's face, and he marveled at them, holding his hands in front of him. Senn saw himself, staring over another dead body, with something else besides tears soiling his hands.

"You said it yourself. You gave me the idea," said Senn. "He was preserving things lost long ago. But what did he preserve? What was it good for? He was preserving the same world that tortured me into this, can't you see?!"

Senn's voice filled the entire cavern, and he felt his thoughts bounce back at him and gain strength.

"He wasn't helping change things... you said you couldn't even remember a different time, it was so long ago since the world had changed. We're still clinging to something and it's not working. I suffered because of it, I did terrible things and even that didn't change things, not really. It's still a godforsaken world out there because they don't care one bit."

"You killed the only one who cared. He was patience, he was time standing still, he was preservation. Memory."

"Keeper of useless truths and impotent lies," said Senn. "Better if he doesn't fill our minds with aching and ideas that are dead. They didn't avail us. We need new ones, for a world that is eating its people."

"But who will teach them? Your minds will be blank. The newborns will lack the words to give life to a new world."

Senn approached the other man menacingly, towering over him.

"What new world? This is it, don't you see? The new one will be born with dust in its mouth and its fellows' blood to anoint it."

The man looked up at Senn and shook his head.

"You haven't killed him yet."

"Seems awfully dead to me," said Senn.

"He's gone back beyond the Veil, as you called it. He has no body now, but he doesn't need it. He's weakened and he may never recover. He won't be able to reach more than a few minds. But he'll find a new Herald eventually. All the knowledge he carried is lost, though, and you're to blame. You killed all that was me, all vestiges of the world I came from. I can't forgive you for that."

Senn shrugged. Why should I even care what he thinks? But his words didn't ring as true when he replied:

"I don't want your forgiveness. I don't want anything from anyone."

"You lie to yourself. But you can't lie to your new God. He will take you where your desire is aiming at."

Senn closed his eyes and tried to feel the power again, just to make sure the god's presence was there. It was there, a bit fainter but still there. I don't know where the arrow points.

"Don't worry about me," said Senn. "I have power again. That's what I came for. Your god's death was an afterthought. You gave me another idea, you know? You talked too much, and someone like me who's been near a god can learn a lot from a few words. You said there were opposite ideas, and gods embodied them. You said your god was a Keeper. But I don't want anyone feeding him, giving him power. There has to be another one, one that aims to destroy everything. And that's the one I'll be courting from now on. I'll follow the Hunter if he leads me to it, just as I would follow a goat on a mountain path."

"You'll destroy everything then. Not just words and memories, but everything else. You don't know what you're dealing with. You've only benefited from their power, but haven't felt their power upsetting the world, turning it on its axis and bursting it open."

"We'll see. I'll try not to. But I'll destroy a chunk of it large enough to make sure the world is as it should be."

"And who will decide how it should be? You?"

Senn grinned. "I don't see anyone else stepping up."

"I'll stop you."

"Then you'd better get yourself a new god to play herald to," said Senn before turning his back on him. He didn't fear an attack. Even without his new power, The One Who Waits had no will to fight, no matter what he said.

"Mark my words, Godkiller," whispered The One Who Waits. "You will pay before you destroy the world."