When they gazed upon him with wonder and gratitude, he’d offered a conspiratorial murmur, “Dedicate yourself to me, and I’ll teach you how to ascend beyond life and death, again and again.Follow me, and you’ll become as gods—like me.”
He spoke just loud enough for those nearest to hear.Where a spark of pride existed in each human heart, hetugged.
Of course they could become gods.Why should they disbelieve him when he’d just worked a miracle in front of their eyes?
Whispers spread, just as he planned.
The next council meeting doubled in size.
One elderly villager stood at the end of the hearings, wringing her feeble hands with eyes downcast.Saer allowed the display long enough for the audience to grow restless before raising his voice, “What is it you wish to say?”
The crone’s throat bobbed with her swallow.She lifted her focus to Saer.“Last meeting, you said…when you healed that couple, you…”
Holding back his smirk, Saer sought the tiniest thread of pride in the old woman’s body and plucked it.
Her eyes dilated and she lifted her chin.“You said they could become gods.”
Saer paused as though caught off guard.“I did.”
He stoked that burning coal of pride, allowed the first tongue of flame to catch in the old woman’s heart.She ceased fidgeting, balled hands set at her sides.“Is it true?”
It’s not.“It is.”Another draw on the crone’s pride, and Saer spread that tug to the audience at large.As a whole, they sat straighter.
All but one.
Saer would have missed him had the rest of the humans not fallen so willingly to his thrall.Yet, because of the absence of reaction, the man at the center of the seated attendees caught his attention.
He wore a light hood to cover the majority of his face—not unusual in the heat of the desert.A clean-shaven and dimpled chin with a strong jawline and lips pulled straight with distaste declared his quiet stoicism.Saer gleaned little else.
His attention snagged on the man long enough for a spark of irritation to light in his chest, then jutted back to the crone.“Do you wish to become a god yourself?”
He yanked on her pride.
The old woman drew her shoulders back.“I do.”
The hooded man’s head canted a fraction to the side.
Saer ignored him.
“I offer you the same as anyone in this village.Declare yourself to me, and I’ll see it come to fruition.”Embracing the opening, Saer lifted his voice and collectively wrenched on all their pride.“The more who dedicate, the greater the chances of success.Tell your loved ones before our next gathering.”
A clamoring of voices rose in agreement.
The hooded man stood amidst the commotion and left, dragging Saer’s sense of accomplishment at his dusty heels.
The interaction—or lack thereof—needled at him the rest of the week.Saer sought out the hooded man, but never located him.In fact, no one seemed to recall anyone else having been there on that day.
Perhaps Saer made him up.
The next council meeting came to order, this one attended by almost the entire settlement.All held at least a sliver of warm, delectable pride in their hearts.
This would be his day; Saer would collect dedications.He’d prepare this feast for Lucifer, larger than any previously retrieved by anyDaemoenic.He’d prove himself as best, first, and favored.
A man came forward, bound at the wrists and flanked by soldiers.Sweltering pride poured from him in waves as the pair of guards presented him to Saer, listing his crimes.
“Theft of our fish and fruit stores.When confronted, he attacked with a knife.One of our own was stabbed in the leg and stomach before we subdued this one.”
Saer listened with steepled fingers, his gaze severe while he analyzed the man.“Do you regret what you’ve done?”
