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"I am very disappointed in you, young lady."
Lidya cringed against the counter, abdomen muscles seizing against the dread she felt as her mother hacked into a lean hindquarter with a cleaver. Blood streamlined across the cutting board, smelling just as foul as the blood that fell from the sky一but there was no risk of infection, no dangerous side effects that came with ingestion.
Her mother rarely had to say anything but that: that she was disappointed in her. Lidya hated disappointing anyone, and to know she disappointed her mother was a hard pill to swallow. But she knew why, at least; staying out until noon and toeing dusk would make any mother an anxious mess when you had only promised to be gone an hour.
Her father had much the same opinion as her mother, except he made her want to throw up in shame rather than clam up like a scolded child. He had left for his new shift at the Vile Church just minutes before, and left the berating to her mother. She was always better at it than him because she wasn't a soft hearted person when it came to the beasts and their dangers.
"I know," Lidya admitted quietly. "But there was this godling dying in the cemetary, and I couldn't just leave him there to die alone..."
"Godlings die alone all the time, Lidya," her mother said sternly. "There's nothing special to warrant you risking your life like that, especially when the rotting bodies can attract beasts."
That explained the beast's presence, at least. It probably smelled the godling's blood, or near death, and came running. She had conveniently left that part out, just telling her mother that she had kept him company and dug his grave.
The journal sat in her room, under her pillow, waiting patiently to be read. She was curious to know what Fenharrow had done in his long life as a godling, but decided that it could wait for the night, when everyone was resting. She had glimpsed the cover page, though, while she was walking home, and found a simple dedication in elegant handwriting. 297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTvDrIvzrMJ
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To Fenharrow, it had read. Good wishes to you on your 126th year.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDPln1puphZ
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There was no name telling who had wrote the dedication, but just by the handwriting alone, she could assume the writer was female. However, there were some men who had very feminine handwriting, like her father, so she couldn't just make an assumption based on gender like that. Good handwriting was praised, if you could afford the lessons, and most of the teachers had you copy their lettering until it was yours一her father was the same in that regard, but Lidya had learned from her mother, so hers looked more like calligraphy than her father's simple cursive.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl8UjbWk6R5
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"I know." She toed the foot of a stool and glanced down at the boghog meat on the chopping board. "Mother?"297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzSHpBuG3np
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"Hm?" She hummed. Her anger had completely dissipated at the start of a new task, but the younger woman could still clearly see the sharp pull of her mouth, suggesting she was still a bit miffed.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfr81IgCz8c
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"Why do you think we can eat the boghog meat, but not the meat of the other beasts?" It was a question that was starting to bother her. They didn't have sciences like they did on the other side of the Vile Mother's mourning body; they had the Vile Church to answer their curious questions with religious babble and nothing concrete to give her an answer why. "It's all the same, isn't it?"297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVOInors0PP
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Her mother frowned for a moment, setting aside the cleaver. "Well, I'll tell you what my mentor told me before she passed一just don't tell your father. If he knew I was directly ignoring the Vile Church's beliefs..."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNrki8rS3sr
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"I promise."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBOClCXbfuw
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"Good." The older woman smiled. "Now, my mentor explained it in a very simple way: the blood may look the same, but it is very different on a molecular level. Gods are all different, so it would make sense that their creations are, too; so you have the Vile Mother, Abretas, Naicar, and Molterr一the five creators of the beasts, correct?"297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoGvb732ZyD
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"Right."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZZhBSPgPfO
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"Well, each of those gods are different. Their intentions are different, their blood is different. One may not be as benevolent as the other. Or, one may be indifferent to it all, and let things play out as they will, like the Vile Mother. Gods, beings like Abretas and Molterr, are not so benevolent and sympathetic as Naicar would be."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfAHmxtawCg
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"So... Naicar created the boghog?"297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI5BaVG5cw6
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"I'm unsure." She went back to cutting up strips of meat, as if the question had reminded her of what she was doing. "Beasts are an amalgamation of humans and godsblood, as you know. You can't tell on a surface level, but I'm sure it was either him, or perhaps the Vile Mother."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡse02ER4Oo9
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Lidya had read the lore on the many, many gods and their different beliefs and powers. Most of them were small and insignificant, but the most powerful ones were the beings who created the beasts一the Vile Mother, Abretas, Naicar, Molterr一through human bodies and their own blood. Or, in the Vile Mother's case, tear open the Veil and produce any kind of monster you could think of, benevolent or malicious.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYRMb1Q5XuE
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The Vile Mother was physical proof of the gods, even if you didn't believe in them. From sunrise to sunset, she existed in the same place as she had when she first lost Paolgo, the first godling, and was not easy to miss. Her large, black wings spanned ten kingdoms or more, and it was rumored that her feathers could be used to give a normal person magic power. But no one had ever seen her face, for she kept it bowed, covered beneath a long curtain of shining, silver silk studded with jewels. She did, however, cry tears that turned into rivers or lakes or crystals, depending on the time of day.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBf7LIIegyv
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Abretas was not as physical as the Vile Mother, but her books had said that he kept very close to the physical realm for his own amusement. He had fathered many illegitimate children in his time, before the godlings, and all of them had either been slain or gone mad from the godsblood in their veins. Her studies had taught her that Abretas was a man made of gold and the god of warfare and imagination一two deadly combinations that could mean the end of the world.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOxhQRasV8I
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Naicar and Molterr, despite being vastly different, were born twins, and appeared alike to anyone who managed to see them, which was rare. The texts spoke of them having long hair, sharp ears, and cat eyes, but no one who told them these things could be trusted, because their beauty made the witnesses go insane, or so the rumors went.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSkRQmhWF5o
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Lidya had a feeling that her textbooks weren't telling her everything there was to know about the gods, but it was enough for her to make generalizations about who was evil or good enough to make beasts readily available to eat, should they need it. Naicar. God of Healing and Bloodlust.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEGFqyVNtH5
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"I guess he's the only... sane choice," Lidya admitted quietly. "Seeing as all the other gods are either of ill intent or aloof in nature, I would have to bet that it was him."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB0xYI3ro71
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"Perhaps." Her mother shoved a bloody cutting board aside, towards her, and put a foul smelling piece of meat on it afterwards. Then, she gave her a knife. "Here. You can help out for me telling you my rebellious thoughts. Start cutting."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDO7rh1HA8W
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Lidya's strips, unlike her mother's perfect ones, ended up jagged and inconsistent in size. Instead of cleaning them up, like she had expected, her mother laughed in her face and dumped them into an iron pan over the furnace, where she fried them in the blood from the beast and a flour-egg mixture.297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI0lwumoyxk
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"They aren't that bad," her mother snickered. "They're just... rough. Are you sure I didn't teach you how to cut them?"297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCvsyMroCYH
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"Completely." Lidya's voice was dry. "If you had, I'm certain they wouldn't have turned out like they did."297Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD1fms4fsTT
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"Fair point, I suppose. But food is food, and we can't waste it, now can we?"
"Of course not. But... I may visit the graves today. Yesterday was the blood storm, so I didn't get to say all that I wanted because of it." Lidya gently dipped her piece of meat into the batter. She didn't dare look at her mother. "And Mr. Willem's grave is looking worn, so I might take some flowers for him today, too..."
Her mother's long, blonde hair came into view before her hand did, long fingers reaching for her daughter's flour covered hand. "Just because I'm... not the happiest with you for yesterday doesn't mean I won't make you stop visiting the graves. I'm not sure why you have such an obsession for talking to the dead, but... Well. It makes you happy, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does." Lidya looked up at her mother, then, and into her green eyes. "Thank you."
"I'm your mother," she chuckled. "It's my job to make sure you're happy. Now, how are those pieces coming along?"
When the food was finished, and her mother otherwise occupied by making tea, Lidya fled up to her room to retrieve the journal. She couldn't make herself wait until nightfall to read it; the curiosity was killing her. So before she went to the graveyard, she decided, she would read at least two or three pages of the journal, just to see what Fenharrow had begun with.
The pages were thick, luxurious, like the fine parchment that the Vile Church used, but also as waxy as the cheap, brittle paper they used to store meat in. It was probably to keep the ink from smearing if it got wet, which she could understand, but the leather was impractical. It wasn't waterproofed, but made of a smooth, soft hide that felt suspiciously like the skin of a zinni一a cow-like creature that was worth more than a castle and had a bulbous, iridescent brain that you could see through its skull. The hide darkened after it was skinned, but the multiple colors were still there, shining like a rainbow under her candle light.
"I guess godlings could afford expensive things," she hummed, flipping past the dedication page and to the first entry. "They probably are paid quite a lot."
The first entry was short一and so were the ones after it. Each paragraph was written beneath the other, the dates crammed to the side, and it seemed like Fenharrow was not the best at putting words to paper. A peek at the end of the journal showed the very same thing.
Lidya tied her hair up and made herself comfortable in her chair. Wood wasn't much better than concrete, but it would do, since she didn't intend to do much reading before she left.
"Day of the Vile Mother, XV017.
A journal. She must have thought I was a sentimental fool to get me this on the most ominous of birthdays, the silly woman. What am I supposed to do with this? "
She had to admit that Fenharrow had horrible penmanship一but at least it was legible. His 'g's looked a lot like jagged 'j's.
The next entry was longer, but not by much. It was, however, significantly more interesting.
"Day of Abretas, XV017.
The Vile Church speaks of old prophecies once again. I once thought it was just a steaming pile of religious doctrine made to control the masses, but I can see that something is brewing, and it involves that prophecy. Or perhaps it is nothing at all, and I am just growing older and delusional. Igni has nothing to offer on the subject, for familiars are removed from this world and the gods above.
Maybe this journal will prove useful, after all."
Lidya traced the paragraph with a tiny frown. She didn't know of any prophecies in the Vile Church, and her father was rooted in it as thoroughly as one could be. She wouldn't ask him about it, though, because like everything else she asked him in relation to her doubt about the Vile Church, he would accuse her of blasphemy.
She kept reading.
"Day of Karee, XV017.
They are getting stronger, the beasts. Once, even at this age, I could tear through the toughest of skin without a thought. Now, I cannot even pierce it with my scythe, and Igni with her claws. I worry that the stronger they become, the worse it will be for the humans一but I do not think this is the Vile Mother's doing, no. It must be Abretas, or even Naicar. I am not fooled by his faux persona of goodwill. His twin can be proof of that.
I do not think I will write here for some time."
The last passage she would read, and she would be on her way to the graveyard. Fenharrow's journal was too interesting, and she may end up spending the entire day reading through his experiences alone.
His next entry was almost three years later, to the day, and had her gut sinking to the floor.
"Day of Abretas, XV020.
Paolgo is a lost cause. No one can find the stolen godling, and I'm beginning to believe that this was all just a means to an end. The Vile Mother still weeps and the other gods reap the rewards of their Queen's despair. If I was to admit, this all reeks of some greater scheme, and it smells just as foul.
It truly makes you wonder..."
She shut the journal. She couldn't read anymore. It was... impossible, wasn't it? The gods wouldn't toy with something like that, would they? It was notoriously difficult for gods to sire their own young with other gods, she knew that, and for Abretas, it was a breeze... But could he be right?
"No. No, Lidya," she told herself. "Just ignore it. We have to go to the graveyard, first. Then we can read some more, later."
After making a quick hiding place out of her pillow, she put the broken pocketwatch into her pocket and bid her mother farewell.
"Be careful!" Her mother called before she shut the door. "And stop by Derga's to pick up a sack of flaxseed, will you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Lidya said back. "Large or medium?"
"Medium!"
Mentally putting the sack of seed in her mind for later, Lidya pulled up her dress to keep from dragging it in the bloody mud, and cringed with every step she took. Schlop, schlop, schlop. It was like the ground was sucking her feet down and wouldn't let her go.
"Good morning, Lidya." Derga was outside, conveniently, and checking the barrels of wine to make sure they weren't contaminated after the storm. Her long, black hair was braided into three strands on the side of her head, unlike her own一it meant that she was over the age of marriage, available, and wealthy. She wore her swamp boots and puffy shirt, an odd choice for the mud and wine. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she replied. Derga nodded and slammed a cork back into the barrel. "Mother wants a medium sack of flaxseed today... Do you have any in stock?"
Derga crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her left hip. "Sure. If not, you can just take three of the small bags. Add it to the tab, right?"
Lidya felt horrible about that tab. Her mother continually racked up her purchases, until they owed around nine-hundred silver, silver that they didn't have. Derga never seemed to mind, but it never let her feel less guilty about it for taking advantage of her. "Yes... Ah, is there any way I can pay it off?"
"Doubtful." At Lidya's shocked look, Derga amended,"I know what your father makes at the church, Lids. Fifty silver a day, right? That's to feed all of you and clothe all of you, nothing more. You can't pay off nine hundred silver without shorting yourselves. I get enough payment from alcoholics alone, so don't fret."
"But... Why? It's just like we're leeching off of your kindness." The shorter girl sighed. "I don't like that, Derga."
The older woman seemed to consider her for a moment. "You're going to the graveyard, right?"
"Yes. I go every day. Why?"
"Say hello to my Ma for me, and for every day you do, I'll take fifty silver off of your tab. That sound fair?"
Lidya gaped like a fish. This woman was ridiculous! "You're not... serious, are you?"
"As a heart attack," Derga snickered. "Look, if you don't want to, that's fine. You're still not paying the tab."
It really rubbed her the wrong way, not paying for the tab, but she sighed. When Derga wanted to do something, she usually did, no questions asked.
"I... suppose. Your mother's name was Gwendel, right?"
"Yep. Gwendel Feal. Her stone's a little to the back, near Mr. Connell's. Has a weird black spot on it from some charcoal accident. You can't miss it."
"Alright." Lidya nodded and made her way down the path towards the graveyard, then stopped. "I'll pick up the flaxseed on my way back, okay?"
"You got it."
The farther away she got from the village, the quieter it got towards the graveyard. Normally, the village was quiet anyways, but the graveyard was always filled with some sort of noise, be it the birds or the frogs. She didn't really know how the animals could tolerate the smell of dead bodies.
She spoke to her grandfather and Mr. Willem first, careful to toe around the giant mount of shroud wrapped bodies left lazily in the middle, and began to search out Derga's mother's, when she glanced up to the fenharrow tree just a few hundred feet away.
Lidya's heart stopped.
Standing beside Fenharrow's unmarked grave was a figure, but even she could tell that it was a godling. The silence surrounding the area was deafening, her ears ringing, and all life had fled upon the godling's arrival. The long black cloak, weapon clipped to her side, and a braid that went down to her knees gave her away; no normal commoner wore their hair that long, not even a royal.
Lidya mumbled a quick prayer and hello to Gwendel's grave, wherever it was, and made her way to Fenharrow's grave. She made certain to make her presence known with loud footsteps, but the godling didn't budge.
"Hello...?" She kept a safe distance away, out of what she assumed was striking distance. "I'm Lidya. Were you a friend of... Mr. Fenharrow's?"
"No." The godling's voice was as cold as an icy tundra. When she looked up, Lidya was shocked to see that her eyes were lemon yellow and as slitted as a cat's eye一inhuman. Beastly. "But I was once his pupil."
"Oh." Lidya frowned. "What's your name?"
"I'm not important," the woman sighed. She then turned to face her fully, and unsheathed her blade, holding the sharp end towards Lidya's unmarked throat. "Now tell me: where is his journal?"
Lidya froze.
Oh, no.
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