“We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed, their hungry, thirsty roots?”
― Christina Rossetti
The first boat came at dawn, a dark figure on the misty horizon, like Lucifer himself: an omen, bringing the foul stench of death and decay with the morning dew. A curse swept its way through Arlor, a festering blight that plagued anything it touched. Mothers held their sons in their arms and quietly carried hooded darkness home. What hath God wrought?
Family after family the venomous contagion slithered and crept ‘til worlds fell. Those of us left alive wandered aimlessly scattered, abandoned by the Gods. I do not pray anymore. No prayer shall leave my lips lest I abandon myself too. I could not betray my fallen brothers and sisters to do something as that to Gods I can only assume do not care.
At least, that’s what I told myself, but the world is cruel and life is long; in times of hardship I can not say the temptation to ask for a blessing does not cross my mind. In a moment of weakness, nearly dead of starvation, I called upon Rendtail.
“I invoke thee, old God of death, you have taken many from me. Grant me mercy.”
I was found after a moon and carried off by a stranger to a settlement, to salvation. I couldn’t believe my weary eyes: children, laughing, playing. They began to fill with tears and my lips began to quiver. I looked up at the stranger above me, his silhouette illuminated by the morning sun like some holy being. “God? Have you looked down on me in mercy? Have you spared me life, and given me sanctuary in your arms?”
“You are alive, child”
I sobbed for three suns and three moons overcome with emotion. I thought I had abandoned myself when I called out for Rendtail, but in truth, i had abandoned myself long ago. When death came for my family I had left myself behind, I could no longer be a child, and I grieved for that girl. I grieved for my mother, and brothers, and sisters. I cried out of sheer happiness: to be alive. My chest felt so full one minute, and completely void the next… I grieved for the Heaven I thought I had known.
Every day they would feed me fruit and nuts, not a feast to a King but a feast to me. They had oranges, and apples, and strawberries, and bread, beautiful, amazing bread. I had not known bliss until then. When I felt better I began to explore more, and I watched as the men harvested the field and the children played, and the women worked. Winter was coming fast and rations became smaller and smaller.
One night I shared a portion of my rations to a little boy I had favored, but no good deed goes unpunished. I was still starving, and I thought surely they wouldn’t miss a potato or two? I tiptoed out of bed and made my way to the field, digging at the dirt with my bare hands. I found no potatoes, only an elbow. I dug around me in a panic, revealing limbs and faces. They build their farm on a graveyard. They fertilized their crops with people. I felt so sick to my stomach.
It was my foolishness that led me to believe that the Gods had answered my prayer, that the blight had been malicious, and that Gods could be benevolent. The only Gods watching Arlor now are indifferent. I don’t know what to do. I could not survive the harrowing winter out there. If I had died, surely I am in Hell for my choice to stay is truly demonic.
Originally Posted by Java
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