“You’ve come to me at last, Raelynn Lawson.”
My mind couldn’t comprehend what my eyes were seeing. Despite not having my glasses, somehow what lay before me was perfectly clear. The being that had arisen from the black pool was both incomprehensibly large, and only as tall as a man. It was constantly morphing, growing and shrinking, an amalgamation of color, light, and absolute darkness. It should have been impossible; no Earthly being should have been able to take that form. When It spoke, it was with a voice that was as ancient and cold as bleached bones.
It was the voice that haunted my dreams. The voice of God.
And God was both painfully beautiful and horrifying beyond words.
The sound of Its feet padding slowly across the damp stones toward me made me shudder, and I had to cover my eyes because I couldn’t bear to look at It. I wanted to run, to hide. I would have flung myself into a pit if it meant being able to get away. But I couldn’t move. Even raising my hands to cover my eyes felt life an enormous effort, and keeping them covered was even worse. I couldn’t bear it. My hands fell back trembling to my sides, and my burning eyes wouldn’t close even when tears flooded down my face.
It stood before me, enormous, all-encompassing. The cavern around us had expanded indefinitely, the walls hazy, unable to contain the true mass of the being within. Its nearness made me sick, but It also flooded me with so much pleasure that I could hardly breathe.
Within the rapidly changing, unnamable colors that made up Its being, I could see something like a human face, as pale as mist, with numerous eyes that slowly winked open and closed as It spoke.
“A mere century ago, I spared three of your kind to go back into the world, to prepare it for me, to spread the word of awakening. Three lives spared, must one day be returned. The work is done. The oath is fulfilled. Look at me, mortal.”
The longer I looked, weeping, my chest aching as if I was drowning, the more Its misty face solidified. It could have been carved in marble, It could have been painted by Michelangelo, or created by some computer algorithm with unwavering perfection. So beautiful It was terrifying, so overwhelming that I thought I would melt away and become nothing just from having Its gaze on me.
“I’ve waited for you, Raelynn Lawson. I have called to you, even when you wandered so far from your home. But you returned to me, as you were meant to.”
I tried to shake my head, but my movements felts so slow. “No,” I whispered. “I’m not yours. I’m not.”
There was a glitch in Its perfection. Beyond the beauty, I could see gray, slimy skin. I could see a massive form, with coiling tentacles, covered in dozens of blinking pale white eyes. I could smell rotting fish. I could smell the ocean.
God smiled, with perfect white teeth. Like static cutting through a television screen, for a moment those teeth were jagged, curved and sharp, like some predator from the deepest parts of the ocean. Then it was gone, and it was as if a switch was flipped in my brain and I forgot how to be afraid.
“Do not fear your fate.” Its voice reverberated around the cavern, rumbling deep in my bones. “Always, you were meant for me. Always, you were meant to return. This place called you back, and you answered willingly.” There was another rumbling sound, deeper and darker that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. God was laughing. “You came to me. You left your family behind. You followed my voice in your dreams. Even as you wandered in the darkness of this deep place, you chose the path that would lead you to me.”
I wasn’t here willingly, I wasn’t. But as It spoke, my protests died with barely any fight. It reached for me, and I wanted so badly to cringe away, to scream and fight but I just…couldn’t. It touched my face, but Its fingers didn’t feel like flesh and blood at all. They were cold, thick, and slimy, and wherever It touched me my skin was left numb.
Then It pressed Its palm against my forehead, and it was as if my skull was being split open, cracked like an egg. Memories, as bright and vivid as if I was reliving them, flashed before my eyes. I was a child, running through the trees with bare feet, climbing over fallen logs and hauling myself up onto mossy stumps. I’d heard a voice calling me, and I thought it was my fairies. I ran and ran, like it was a game and they were hiding from me. Then I paused, knelt, and pressed my ear against the dirt. The voice was down there. I dug my tiny fingers into the earth, as if I could dig my way down to it.
Then the memory was gone, and I was in another time, another place.
The California sunset was pale pink and bloody red over the ocean. My feet dangled over the edge of the pier, swinging above the water. I stared down at the swirling foam, at the waves crashing against the pillars of the pier, and imagined sinking into those dark depths. I imagined that if I went deep enough, everything would be silent. In the back of my mind was the constant feeling that I had forgotten something, that there was something incredibly important I was meant to do and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t know what. I was restless, so restless. Maybe if I sunk beneath the waves, maybe if I went deep enough, the restlessness would stop.
My head split wider. It was unbearable, overwhelming. I knew my body was violently twitching, and I was screaming, then seizing, but I couldn’t stop.
My parents were talking about Spain again. They wanted to move, they wanted to buy a house and retire by the coast. My dad looked at me and asked, “So what’s the plan, sweet-pea?”
I knew, right then, that I wanted to go home. Home, to Abelaum. Home, to the trees and the rain, to my childhood ghosts. Home, to the place that had never stopped calling me. Maybe if I went back, the restlessness would stop. Maybe I’d remember what I was meant to do.
I’d fallen to my knees. The stones were so cold, and I was sobbing, my tears mingling with the puddles of water at God’s feet. It was agonizing but it was joyous. It was the deepest, truest terror I could imagine, so awful I wanted to die.
It all made sense. I was meant to be here. I was meant to come. Every step I’d taken, every choice, had led me here. Even when I’d been fighting so desperately to get away, I’d run back into danger.
My sense of self-preservation hadn’t just been bad — it had actively driven me to this place, to this cold cave deep underground, to fall at the feet of my God.
“You see, my child? Your soul is mine, to be bound into an eternity of exquisite suffering among all those who have come before. Marcus Kynes, Victoria Hadleigh, and now you, Raelynn Lawson. The sacrifice is complete. As I escape this place, and the world changes beneath my hand, you will see it all. You will feel the agony, the pain, the righteous fear of humankind. Such is the fate of my chosen ones, to be blessed to suffer for me forever. To feel such pain is beauty. It is the final, ultimate purpose of your soul.”
I looked up, into the face of God, through the watery haze of tears. “Am I going to die?”
“Never,” It said. “Your flesh will rot, consumed by my servants. But you will go on, with me, forever. There will be no end. There will be no rest. There will be no respite nor comfort. Only perfect, holy suffering.”
In the shadows beyond God, I could see the Eld waiting, I could smell the deathly stench of them. They watched me hungrily, thick saliva dripping from their jagged teeth. I wouldn’t even be dead yet when they tore into me. I’d die slowly, ripped apart until my soul abandoned this body.
God grasped my jaw, forcing my gaze back to Its beautiful, awful face. “You are mine. Forever awaits you. The time has come.”
The sensation of my head being split again made me scream. It was as if cruel, cold fingers were pressing into the cracks of my skull, pulling it apart. But it wasn’t memories that I was forced into this time. The swirling colors that made up the God’s being had surrounded me. I didn’t know if I was falling or floating, if I was being pulled into pieces or compressed so tightly that I would soon cease to exist. It hurt to look, it hurt but I couldn’t close my eyes. Within the myriad of colors, I could see shapes, structures made of iridescent light. It was so blindingly bright and so cold.
Then came the screaming.
Not mine, but the screams of dozens, if not hundreds, thousands of voices. Screams of true agony, the kind of sound that made me sick just to hear it. My screams melted among them, and I realized that it would never end. This raw feeling in my throat would go on, this pain would go on, this ripping feeling wouldn’t stop. This was the endless, holy suffering God spoke of. This was the fate of my soul.
But no matter how much It ripped at me, no matter how shattered my mind became in Its grip, I was tethered and my soul wouldn’t let go. God couldn’t take me, because I’d bound myself to another.
To Leon.
And when I realized that, the colors around me suddenly vanished and I was struggling, thrashing, then tearing away from God’s hold, screaming, “No! No, no, no! I’m not yours!”
I scrambled back against the stone wall of the cavern, gasping, my vision sliding in and out of focus. God’s perfect face was twitching, morphing rapidly between beautiful and vile. The illusion was breaking, and it was as if I could see both at once: the horrifying reality of Its massive tentacled form, and the too-perfect mask of a beautiful being.
“You can’t take me!” The louder I shouted, the more I could breathe, the more I could move. The control it had over me could be fought back, and I fought it viciously. “You will never be free from this place because you’ll never have your last sacrifice!” I laughed hysterically as I laid my hand over Leon’s mark on my thigh, the cuts still tender but no longer bleeding. Somewhere, Leon was still alive. He’d survived. When God had tried to take me, tried to separate my body and soul, I’d felt my tether to him pull taut and hold me back, refusing to let go.
Every path I’d taken, every seemingly inconsequential decision, had led to this moment. The choice between two eternities, a choice that was mine alone. I’d chosen. I knew to whom my soul belonged, and it wasn’t to a merciless God.
It belonged to another monster, a monster who had found me and protected me despite his darkness. It belonged to a demon who, even now, I knew was trying to reach me. To protect me, to save me. I stood up a little taller against the wall, even though I had never been so afraid.
Maybe this would be the day I died. Maybe this really was my fate. But in the end, the choice had still been mine. I’d found the deepest depths of this darkness and looked upon true horror. I’d fought every step of the way.
If I was going to die, then I would die still fighting.
