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My screams were not enough to stop them. She begged me to run, and so I did. Sometimes, I feel like I never stopped running.
I should have done more.
Tears flow down from my eyes, slowly at first. I begin to sob, remembering Mother’s hugs and how she’d comfort me when I didn’t know what to do.
I wonder how badly she’d scold me, knowing how much water I’ve wasted with my tears. Looking back at the cavern entrance, I see her smiling at me, welcoming me to sleep a little longer.
I shake my head, wiping my cheeks with the back of my arm.
Today, I need to try to survive. This cavern will be my tomb if I don’t.
2
PELIEL
"Bless the believers, who live their lives in fear of my wrath. All who see me know to live free of my light, clinging close to the shadows."
"Punish those who tread against me. Their invasion against me is a vile repugnance. How dare they think themselves worthy of my presence," I continue, my voice a fiery, roaring beacon. “They should all bow.”
Rocks stretch out before me, pouring blood and water because I command them to.
Steep, sloping rock walls line the large chasm around me. Down a rocky slope, which I have pulled upward from the ground and made into a chute, the blood and water pour forward from them at incredible speed, arriving at my feet where I stand in a pool.
I do not know from whence the blood and water arrive. Certainly, the blood is coming from living beings somewhere in the world. The water is from the salt of the ocean.
Their nourishing nectar satisfies me as it swirls upward from my feet, twisting into two vortexes that arrive in my mouth. One stream of water, one stream of blood, neither mixing at any point. The salty taste of blood flecks across my tongue.
I can see the skulls that float among the cavern, engulfed in flame. They dance forward and backward along the barren tunnels, leaving streaks of blue and white light in their wake.
They exist because it amuses me. At one point in the distant past, they were the skulls of my enemies. Now, I’ve come to consider them friends.
They do not encroach upon my territory without permission. They do not speak out of turn or ask inane questions of me. They do not waste my time with their petty squabbles.
They all simply exist in my domain.
But my eyes are everywhere.
They’re fourfold on my face, perceiving the bleak darkness in front of them, where rocks provide moisture for me.
They’re on my white, feathery wings, seeing behind me and gazing back at the cavern entrance. There, the water drips so heavily that it drenches the ground below it like a river.
Many dying creatures in the desert would kill each other to drink the flow of water that pours through my cavern. From the soil and the elements, I pull miracles and tragedies alike.
And my eyes are in the desert, where orcs and elves have each formed caravans that amble cautiously forward. I can see their trepidation, even from the distance above, as they dare to encroach on my territory. They have not prepared for me.
Their fear only confirms their guilt. They know their trespass.
My vision descends, honing in on the slow-moving caravans.
The elves push relics and riches, guiding their wagons forward by legions of equu. All manners of gold and jewels adorn their caravans, along with several silver masks made in the images of beasts.
Their greed disgusts me. Through the desert, they haul human servants who look disheveled and malnourished, not even fit for one of my meals. It really is a pathetic sight.
None of them speak as the wheels roll forward and the dry, barely present wind pushes sand forward into dunes.
The orcs propel lumber on caravans of worgs and batlaz. Each of their wagons is designated with a single metal spike, meant for ramming and sieging settlements. They bring with them wagons and wagons of cooked meat, decorated with salt for preservation.
Their hubris astounds me. They expect to build fortresses of iron and wood within the desert.
