Pretender Gods by Artwell Sain

Author:Artwell, Sain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

18

Deep within a secure corner of the city within the Framework, Rulu soaked in a pool of stale sea-water, recuperating her parched body, gathering her sun-scrambled wits. What she was about to attempt with William would, without a doubt, be the most perilous exercise of psychics Rulu had performed in her lifetime. To complicate the matters, she did not yet know how she was to accomplish it, only that she had to — that she would, regardless of cost. She would bend the Dreaming and twist her own soul to keep William alive, if that was what it took to make the Currents of Fate abide by her will.

Ha, as if. Unfortunately, lies told to oneself seldom have the power to bend reality.

Murmurs. A conversation spoken above the surface broke the silence of water. With a strike of her tail, Rulu leapt out of the pool, landing onto a circular statue garden.

Mukuhaa had covered the sea-green marble sculptures in bloody body-paintings, scrawled entwining spirals on the floor tiles, and spread over the ritual painting a collection of miniature bone-shrines in which burned so called ‘Wisdom Vapors’. Rulu remained sceptical of their potency, but could not afford to reject a single advantage.

Next to the seer stood Illuphael and Ember, their conversation breaking as they gazed to Rulu.

“Will this be enough, Rulu? It’s all I could salvage. There’s a little bit more in one of my experiment jars, but it’s all mixed up with the cursed soil.”

With a sniffle in her voice, Ember presented a stained glass jar three-quarters filled with cloudy oneiroi vapors. Her forcefully hopeful smile was at odds with reddened cheeks, puffy eyes, and downcast ears.

Rulu accepted the jar, regarding it with disappointment. It was less than she’d hoped for. “It will have to do. You have my condolences, Ember.”

“Huh?” One of the floppy ears flicked up.

“The new tears, I presume they were for your pets perishing from starvation?”

“Oh.” Ember wiped her eyes on her scarf. “Nu-uh. No, I don’t think they’ll learn to eat cursed soil after all. I do have one jar left. Oh well, it was a nifty idea. I was crying for… Nevermind, I was just thinking about dumb things. Can I be of more help?”

“Not quite yet. We shall wait for the seer to finish his preparations.” Rulu decided not to inquire further into Ember’s grief.

She set the oneiroi jar next to William, who lay unconscious at the center of tribal drawings. His muscular chest gleamed with sweat. An occasional nightmare twitched his body, drawing a pained murmur from his lips. He was dying.

Will my might truly be enough to aid his path to divinity? The very thought reeked of hubris on par with Rulu’s previous arrogant ambitions to challenge the R’lyeh by herself. Doubt shuddered past her like a sudden chilling current. Fears fell upon the bottom silt of her soul, playing out the uncertain future as a series of tragedies, each worse than the last. Ungrath devour my fears, I will succeed. I must succeed.

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