And certainly this one bobbing, uncertain lantern light climbing my mountain at such an hour is no army.
I let out another deep rumble from my chest—a sound of power that could shatter stone, yet somehow I find myself hoping it sounds more like a warning than a threat. The lantern bearer is close enough now that I can sense their delicate trembling.
Turn back,I will them silently.Save yourself the pain of meeting me.
But after only a moment’s pause, the light continues its steady approach.
I exhale heavily, something almost like regret stirring in my chest.
Very well. I have not had sustenance in some time. This doomed wanderer will sustain me, and then perhaps I can finally rest.
Still, I let out low growls to give them every chance to flee. It is not their hearing that fails, for the little lantern wavers each time I do. But still, inevitably, they come straight toward me.
I don’t bother hiding my massive form when they reach the small ledge before my cave’s entrance.
It does not smell pleasant here. The cave housed bears before I claimed it, and I saw no point in cleaning. Why maintain pretenses when the world sees me as nothing more than a beast? If it’s what they expect, why exhaust myself with their human conventions like cleanliness? Especially since such things were Creator-Father’s obsession, and I have rejected everything he valued.
At first, all I can see is the harsh glare of their light. A flashlight, I suppose, since the beam is so focused and piercing. My eyes recoil from the artificial brightness.
Since my creation was surrounded by divine radiance, I find all these human-made lights as grating as profanity in a sacred space. Give me honest darkness over their false illumination.
I pull back deeper into the shadow as the creature does the most unexpected thing yet.
They have come before with their weapons and nets and equipment to capture proof of my existence, to bring hordes more of their kind?—
But this one—a female, I can tell by her silhouette as she casts aside what appear to be mobility aids—collapses forward to the ground.
Her light rolls away, no longer blinding me but illuminating her instead.
She is...exquisite.
Long raven hair caught in a simple tie, the rest flowing down her back like liquid silk under starlight. Despite her obvious struggle, there’s something achingly beautiful about her determination. She lifts her face toward my cave, unseeing but unafraid.
“Please,” she calls, and her voice carries something I haven’t heard in centuries—genuine supplication. “God of darkness, I beg your mercy. I come alone. And I know you could send me away, or worse. But I still beg your help.”
Ah.So she seeks something. As they all do.
She extends her arms and crawls forward with obvious difficulty. Only then do I notice her withered legs and the curve to her spine. Unlike the other humans who have sought me, though, she approaches on her knees in true submission, and something about her graceful surrender makes my chest constrict with an emotion I can’t name. I shift closer, drawn despite myself, needing to see her better.
“God of the mountain, what offering might please you? Heal me, and I will give you anything you ask!”
I go completely still.
Curious.
I haven’t felt curiosity in so long that it seems foreign, this unfamiliar stirring in my chest. To feel anything beyond rage and emptiness is... remarkable.
I tilt my head and step from my cave. Swift as striking lightning, I kick her fallen light away so she cannot see the face of the one she petitions.
Not yet.
Something in me wants to savor this moment. This strange, fragile hope she’s brought to my mountain.
“Anything?” My voice emerges as a low rumble that seems to caress the darkness between us. “You would give anything for such a miracle?”
She raises her head, but I know without the light, she sees only my shadow—if that.
No one has ever offered tribute, only demanded. Humans once knew how to approach the divine properly, but they have forgotten. All except this one.
