I thrash against the bonds my enemies have placed on me. My twisted, half-human wreck of a mind understands what these servants of the serpent plan to do. One of them has a voice that liberates the minds of those who hear it, undoing psychic grips like the one the Cosmic Starfish has had over me for the past six years. Its wielder intends to drag my mind back to the version of myself that had never seen the true shining glory of the five-fold divine.
The mind-clearing mage stoops to look me in the eye. There’s such awful pity in his eyes, like I am a slave he means to free.
Perhaps I am a slave, but my slavery to the Starfish God is the truest freedom that ever was. There is no greater beauty than its pentagonal form.
The mage speaks. He speaks to me of my old self, of the free will I once had. Once treasured. Of another kind of freedom, devoid of the Starfish’s glory, but also of the strings by which his dance has pulled me. Feelings I had forgotten. A sense of independence. A desire to follow my own will. A terror of things that controlled me as the Starfish does.
As he speaks, the five-barred crystal cage around my soul shakes, then cracks, then snaps, then breaks, then shatters, and I am free.
All at once, I see the last six years with a clear mind. The song of slavery and slaughter to which I had been dancing. The horrors to which I was subject, and which I committed.
My rescuer moves on to another Fifthist, but one of his comrades stays behind to comfort me. He undoes my bonds. Sobbing, I pull him into a hug. This is clearly awkward for him, but he returns the gesture, reassuring me that I’m free now, that my mind will never be enslaved again.
I make my way through the cool night, on my way home from a late class at my university. I’ve been studying life. Not supernatural life. Just ordinary zoology. The countless amazing forms even ‘mundane’ life can take, infinitely varied and beautiful.
The unending light of the dense Californian cityscape blocks out the stars. The ocean is right next to me, at the bottom of a long, sheer drop into brackish water.
From that water, far below me, I hear a noise. Some kind of squealing? I step over to the guardrail that runs along the rocky cliff and look down into the water.
What the fuck is that?
It looks like a manatee, except it’s far, far too large. Around forty feet long. Larger than any living sirenian. Hell, larger than the giant ones that existed in prehistoric times. Its body is plump, and its tail is two-pronged, like that of a dolphin.
Its light grey hide gives off an ethereal glow.
There are gaps in its flesh. Patches of it that are exposed or rotting. There’s a huge hole on the left side of its back that reveals several ribs and a few pulsing organs. One of its fins is half-gone, displaying the five-fingered structure that hides inside every marine mammal’s front flippers.
I could mistake it for a rotting corpse, except it’s moving, floating gently atop the water, looking up at me with a strange curiosity in its eyes.
I can’t help but look back. Even though it’s enormous, even though it’s half-dead, it somehow looks completely harmless. Its movement is gentle. Its stare is soft and wise. It's beautiful. Just seeing it, I feel an urge to go down and get a closer look. Deep in my soul, there’s a reassurance that it would never harm me.
There’s only one other voice I’ve heard echo so deep in my soul.
I run. I sprint down the sidewalk as far as I can go, and then farther. Brakes squeak and horns honk as I dash into the street. I come within an inch of being hit.
I hurry the rest of the way home. Only when my front door is closed behind me do I catch my breath. There’s an agonizing stitch in my side.
I force myself into the present moment. I’m in my apartment, hundreds of feet from the nearest drop of salt water.
What was that thing? Something paranormal, obviously. Undead? Was it a ghost, a zombie, or both?
For the most part, I’m grateful that the Serpent’s Hand were the ones who rescued me, instead of the Jailors or Bookburners. Either of them would’ve wiped all knowledge of the supernatural from my memory.
A small part of me wants that. It would be a relief to forget my time as a Fifthist. The things that were done to me. The things I did. But forgetting things doesn’t make them go away. It would only leave me unaware of the danger, more likely to be claimed again.
Still, I keep my distance from the paranormal. I don’t come to the Wanderer’s Library often, and when I do, I don’t check anything out. I’ve been warned that the strange creatures that serve as this place’s “librarians” were once people. As punishment for breaking the library’s rules—which could mean anything from attacking other patrons to failing to return a book—they were remade and put to work.
I’m never going to risk that happening to me. I don’t check anything out. I don’t bring anything in here that could possibly damage one of the Library’s documents. I don’t come here at all, if I can help it, but today, there’s something I need to know that the mundane world can’t help me with.
I’m still in contact with Paul, the Serpent’s Hand agent who comforted me the day I was freed.
“The thing reminded me of Steller’s Sea Cow,” I say as he sits next to me, “but it was too big, not to mention that Stellers have been extinct for hundreds of years.”
Steller’s Sea Cow was a relative of the dugong, hence the more dolphin-like tail. They got to be around thirty feet long. They were widespread in the Pleistocene. The changing environment at the end of the ice age was not kind to them, but that isn’t what wiped them out. A small group of them survived until the eighteenth century, when what remained of their population was discovered around a few north Asian islands by European explorers.
Within a generation, they had been hunted to extinction for their meat, hide, and blubber.
“I think I have a theory as to what you might’ve seen,” Paul says. “Hold on, let me get a specific book.”
He stands. I stay in my small chair as he approaches an Archivist to enquire about this volume. I look away. I don’t understand how a freedom fighter like him can so casually use the services of a slave. Paul disappears for a moment, and returns with a single large volume, The Gods of Ancient Beasts.
“Gods?” I ask.
“Yes,” Paul says. “There’s a god embodying the concept of just about every animal. When the animal they correspond to goes extinct, they die, but they can come back to life, both because members of their species can magically reappear, and because human knowledge of them can keep their concept alive.”
“That thing didn’t look alive. It didn’t smell alive either.”
“If I’m right, they weren’t exactly alive or dead. They’re somewhere in between. They’re sustained purely by human awareness of their species’ sad story. That’s not nothing, but it’s also not enough.”
I look at the tome. I’m able to summon the courage to open it. There’s an introduction explaining more or less what Paul just said, and chapters on the gods corresponding to a variety of animals. Most of them are prehistoric, but a few died off more recently. There’s a chapter about a god of thylacines.
“You look nervous,” Paul says as I read the book. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “So, you think this is what I saw? An actual god?”
“It’s my best guess.”
“What was it doing there?” I ask. “It was out in the open, where the Jailors could’ve easily spotted it.”
“If the god just awoke, they might not have known about the Jailors. That said, I doubt it’s random chance that they appeared to you first. Gods usually put thought into decisions like that.”
I do my best to hide my trembling. “What does it want with me?” I ask.
“Probably, your help coming back to life.”
Visions of the creature flash through my mind. Its beauty. Its grandeur and grace. My desire to get closer. To commune with it.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asks.
“Why would it choose me?” I ask.
“Hard to say. For whatever reason, they thought you’d help them.”
“I won’t,” I say.
That startles Paul. “Why not?” he asks. “A lot of people would be honored by this.”
I pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words. “The thing I saw, it was beautiful,” I say.
“That would typically be considered a good thing,” Paul says.
“But it shouldn’t have been beautiful. It was a half-rotten corpse. A giant, glowing monster. Why would I see beauty in it? How can I know it wasn’t making me see it that way?”
Only then does Paul suddenly recall how the Hand originally found me. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he says. “Barring a few rumors spread by the Jailors, there’s no record of these gods warping people’s minds.”
“So they have been accused of that?”
“Not credibly. Like I said, these are rumors from the Jailors, the secret society dedicated to deceiving the entire human race.”
“But don’t they also deal with supernatural dangers more than anyone else? Wouldn’t they be the ones best equipped to tell if this thing could control minds?”
“A lot of other people have interacted with these beings. There’s no way the Jailors would be the only ones to notice a power like that.”
“I don’t think I want to take the risk,” I say.
“That’s your choice. You don’t owe this god anything. Still, you should at least check out the book and read it, so you can make the most informed decision you can.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have a library card, remember?”
I lay in bed that night.
For all I know, just thinking about this thing could give it power over me.
I can’t help myself, though. The creature was so majestic, so enormous, yet so harmless. The Cosmic Starfish made me feel a lot of things, but never, for a single second, did it feel harmless. Even when I was deep in its thrall, I always smelled the blood on it.
This thing, this Sea-Cow god, was pure and gentle.
I close my eyes and try to drift to sleep. As my consciousness fades, my bed seems almost to vanish from below me, replaced by the gentle embrace of the ocean, as if I were floating atop it.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting in a small ocean cave.
I’ve been to this cave before. It’s within swimming distance of the closest beach, and not that far from where I first encountered the god.
The creature is in the water in front of me, just a few feet away. Its glow is the only thing that illuminates the cave. It moves through the water with such gentle grace. It looks so vulnerable. In it, I see the innocent majesty of the creature that was once driven to extinction by human. In its eyes, I see a sadness that tells me it’s more than an animal, that it knows its own story, and perhaps holds wisdom deeper than that of any human.
I should just tell it to go away.
But if this creature is what I fear it is, why would it respect that request?
I look down. It meets my eyes with a kind, soft gaze.
“What do you want?” I ask.
Come to me.
The words echo though my mind. If I didn’t know this creature were here, I would think they were my own thoughts.
“I’m not going to serve you,” I say.
Come to me.
“Why do you want me? Out of everybody in the world, why me?”
Come to me.
And I want to. I want to go to it. Nothing about that desire feels fake or strange. Its beauty feels just as it would if I truly had discovered something wondrous.
The call of this thing, it doesn’t feel like a compulsion. It doesn’t feel like a puppet string being yanked to pull me closer. It feels like a calling. I feel like I could refuse it.
But if I do, I will never see this creature again.
I swim against gentle waves as I enter the cave from my dreams.
I’ve come here at night, mostly to ensure there’s no one else around. Being seen talking with a god is just about the surest way imaginable to gain the Jailors’ attention.
I swim to the far end of the cave and pull myself up onto some rocks.
Why am I here? Why am I doing this? This is insane.
Suddenly, there’s a glow deep below the surface of the water. It rises. Soon, it’s no longer just a light in the depths. Soon I can see its shape, its glowing form, then its size, and just a moment after that, it breaches the surface.
Its stench makes me gag, a horrible, dead rot mixed with the briny smell of the sea cave.
Seeing it up close gives me a new appreciation for how huge it is.
It’s poking its nose out of the surface. It’s looking right at me. I stare at it, fighting for enough control over my nerves to say anything, anything at all, to this creature.
“I came,” I say. “What do you want?”
It squeals and swims forward, nuzzling my ankle. I pull my foot back. I need to remember that this thing is dead. It’s probably not safe to touch it. Just because it’s a god doesn’t mean it can’t carry the same diseases any other dead body could.
Or does it? I don’t think I actually know. Maybe its sheer aura of harmlessness will protect me. On the other hand, maybe it carries supercharged, divine diseases, and I’ve already gotten too close to it.
Maybe I should’ve checked out that book.
Despite this concern, I find myself slowly reaching out. With a swish of its tail, it shifts toward me. I lay my hand on its snout. Once again, I get an affirming squeal.
“You like that?” I ask.
It squeals.
“You’re… you’re sure you’re a god, right?”
It doesn’t answer.
“Can you even understand me?” I ask. “Spin around if you know what I’m saying.”
It shifts back a bit, then it rolls around, going upside down and then right side up again, exposing the rot that dominates its stomach. Somehow, the stench gets even worse. I cover my mouth. As soon as it’s done, it comes in, hoping to be touched some more.
At least now I know that it’s a female Sea Cow god.
I also know that this thing understands me. Is that a good thing?
It swims back up to me, presenting its head for more affection.
Maybe it isn’t all that strange that it behaves this way. Steller’s Sea Cow was a highly social animal. They lived in large family groups, and had little—far too little, in the end—fear of humans. Maybe it’s not strange for their embodiment to appreciate this kind of affection.
I find myself wanting to give it what it wants.
“You’re not controlling my mind or anything, right?” I ask.
It moves a bit closer to me. I think it’s trying to be reassuring, though I’m not sure that puts my worry to bed.
I scoot forward. “Listen,” I say, “I don’t know what made you approach me, of all people. I think you might have made a mistake. I’m really not looking for a new god right now. Probably not ever. I’ve had some bad experiences with gods. That’s not your fault, but it still means I’m not really looking to be anybody’s disciple. It’s actually kind of important to me that I’m no one’s disciple.”
It looks up at me sadly. Its gaze flits downward, as if to say, “should I go?”
The thought of it leaving makes me sad. “You can stay,” I say. “I mean, I guess I ultimately wanted to meet you. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise. I just… this is a lot for me, okay? I don’t really know what to do. You’re beautiful. You’re graceful. You’re alluring, but I know a lot of horrible things are beautiful, graceful, and alluring. I’m scared you’re one of those. I don’t know how I’d even tell.”
The creature nuzzles me again.
Am I being ridiculous? Is all of this fine?
“I read a bit about you in the Wanderer’s Library,” I say. “You know what that is, right?”
An affirming chirp.
“I learned what you are. You’re a god, right? A god that used to be dead? You still kind of are, but you’re starting to come back to life?”
An affirming chirp.
“I can’t blame you. If I were dead, I’d probably want to be alive again, too. I just don’t know that I’m the best person to help you with that. I mean, it’ll be really dangerous. Do you even know who the Jailors are? How much I’d have to risk in order to help you?”
It doesn’t respond to that.
“Helping you come back would mean risking my life,” I say. “I feel sorry for you. I really do, but I don’t know that I’m willing to do that.”
Its eyes go sad. Once again, I’m afraid it’s going to go away, so I reach out to pet it more. It likes that. My eyes water. I tell myself it’s the stench.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t think I’m willing to dedicate my life to your cause. I have my own dreams. My own ambitions—”
The creature squeals softly. It’s so big. The biggest living thing I’ve ever seen in person, by far. I can’t help but feel the urge to commune with it. Despite how it smells, despite everything about it I should find disgusting…
“Mind if I get in the water with you?”
A squeal of approval.
I take a moment to gather my nerves, then I scoot forward and lower myself in.
The creature drifts toward me, as if encouraging me to embrace it. I do. Fortunately, up here, by its head, there’s plenty of intact flesh for me to hold onto.
It’s so huge. Not just because it’s forty feet long. It’s older than humanity. It represents an entire species, once spread across thousands of miles of coastline, one that existed before humanity itself, that could’ve outlasted us, had our own greed and short-sightedness not driven it to extinction.
Do I have an obligation to atone for that crime by helping bring it back? Do I have the right to stand back and refuse to undo that wrong?
I shouldn’t let guilt influence my decision. Steller’s Sea Cow was exterminated before I was born. If this species had gone extinct naturally, everything that matters about the situation would be the same. It would still be beautiful and worthy of life. I would still be the one with the opportunity to help it.
Maybe I shouldn’t let that opportunity go to waste.
It leans toward me. Its shifting bulk almost pushes me beneath the water. “Hey, hey, careful,” I say. It goes still. “I don’t know how on earth I could help you,” I say, “but I guess I can try to think of something.”
The creature nuzzles me. I lay my hand on it. “Is it okay if I ask… why me?”
All it does is nuzzle me again.
“You really think I’m the one you want?” I ask. “Out of all the people in the world, I’m the one you think can help you the best?”
It squeals.
Maybe the god knows better than me.
I find myself in the Library the next day.
I take a deep breath. If I’m going to do this, if I’m going to try to help this god come back to life, I need to know everything I can about her. Considering that she doesn’t seem to be able to talk, getting information here is probably my only option.
As I approach the desk, and the strange creature trapped behind it, I can’t help but wonder who this particular Archivist might have once been. Were they a human, or one of the many stranger types of person sometimes found in the Library? Did they break the Library’s zero-tolerance policy on violence, or did they simply fail to return a book?
When I was in high school, I once had to pay a library fine because I accidentally got some soy sauce on a copy of Frankenstein. Could it have been as simple as that?
It’s okay. I just have to be careful. I approach the desk. Archivists have no eyes, which makes it eerily difficult to tell if I even have its attention. “Hey,” I say. “I’m looking for The Gods of Ancient Beasts.”
The Archivist reaches down into a drawer. For a moment, I expect it to give me a card with the book’s location on it, or something, but, instead, it pulls out the book itself.
I guess it hadn’t been reshelved yet.
“Thanks,” I say. I pick the book up.
I should check it out. It’s quite long, and quite large. I glance up at the Archivist. All I have to do is be careful. Just be careful, and I won’t end up like this thing.
I look down at the book, and up at the archivist.
No need to borrow it. I can just read it here.
The book is very informative.
The most important piece of information in it, for me, is what can be done to bring these creatures back to life.
These gods are sustained by the existence of the concepts they represent, both in the physical world and in human minds. To restore them, one must either physically bring the species back to life or spread human awareness of it.
I can do the latter. I could write a book about Steller’s Sea Cow. Raise awareness of their story.
Then again, maybe physically bringing them back to life isn’t totally out of the question. The technology to do so doesn’t exist in mainstream society, but for someone who knows about the paranormal world, there are some options.
It’d be a long-term project. It’d be difficult, and probably expensive, but not impossible.
I’m not the first one to find myself in this situation. Far from it. Many of the other gods the book mentions already have groups trying to raise them. Some of those groups have even worked with the Serpent’s Hand.
The next time I happen to encounter Paul in the Library, I approach him.
He looks up from the book he’s reading and greets me. I sit down next to him. “What do you need?” he asks.
“I’ve been looking into what I can do for that manatee god,” I say.
“So, you are going to help them after all?”
“Yeah. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do for it, but I’m trying to figure that out. I read the book you showed me. It mentioned that groups dedicated to similar gods have worked with the Serpent’s Hand before. I was hoping maybe you’d have some more information about them.”
“Sure thing,” Paul says. “I’ve actually worked directly with a group that reveres the god of Mammoths. I should put you into contact with them.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“It might take a bit for me to reach them,” he says. “They’re really skittish. Not without reason. The Jailors have been cracking down on them recently.”
“Cracking down?” I ask. “How badly?”
“The groups are starting to have enough success to make the Jailors nervous,” Paul says. “Knowledge of these gods is spreading in the anomalous world. They’re too well-documented here in the Library for the Jailors to suppress it. There are enough of them that amnesticizing them doesn’t do much. Their allies will just reinform them. That’s forcing the Jailors to resort to deadlier ways of dealing with them.”
My mind flashes back to one of my few in-person encounters with the Jailors.
Almost as clearly as if I were still there, I hear the crackling echo of machine gun fire, loud enough to drown out my pounding heart as I ran through the pouring rain.
Without that rain hiding us from their snipers, I wouldn’t have gotten away.
My expression isn’t hard for Paul to read. “Don’t let that stop you from helping,” he says. “That’s exactly what they want. They only have to resort to such drastic measures because these ancient gods are winning, and that means you can win too. If you put your mind to it, you have a real chance of seeing your god straight-up alive one day.”
I take a deep breath. “I know,” I say. “Thank you for telling me. You should definitely put me into contact with that leader. I’m sure she’ll have a lot of useful advice for me.”
Maybe even life-saving.
I find myself back in that cave.
I’ve been coming back here as many nights as I’ve been able to, and a big part of me wishes I could’ve come here more.
Maybe I shouldn’t need to come here to feel in contact with her, but I do. I’ve tried to pray or meditate, but each time, my mind pulls back at the last moment. I just can’t quite bear to open myself like that.
Still, I’m happy to see her again. I stroke her back as I float next to her. She squeals. I’m starting to get used to the smell. “I really should be trying to treat you more like a god, shouldn’t I?” I say. “I mean, I should be praying to you or something, right? That is how this works?”
She doesn’t respond.
“I’ve been trying to learn more about how to help you,” I say. “About other humans who have tried to do the same thing for… would they be your brothers and sisters? The gods of other animals in the same situation as you.”
A joyful squeal.
“Yeah, I guess that is good news, isn’t it?” I say.
There’s a long pause.
“I think I’m starting to understand why you might have chosen me,” I say. “It was because I have less to lose, wasn’t it? My parents… didn’t survive my time as a Fifthist. Some of my friends did, but I can’t exactly get back into contact with them. Best case scenario, they don’t remember those years at all. Worst case… they remember a lot. You needed someone who could put everything on the line, didn’t you? You figured that was me?”
The creature rolls over, exposing its belly, and nuzzles me some more.
I chuckle. “Are you even listening to me?”
It squeals.
“Sure you are,” I say.
I close my eyes. I try to pray.
It has no right to be this hard. It’s not like I’ve never done it before. It’s been a while, granted, but it’s not exactly something you can forget how to do.
I open my eyes. “It’s getting late,” I say. “I might need to get going.”
The creature rolls back over. I climb out of the water. It whimpers. “Don’t worry,” I say. “It’s just getting late, is all. I’ll see you again soon.”
As I make my way to class the following morning, I happen to notice a group of uniformed people on the beach. One of them approaches me. My first reaction to this is irritation. I don’t have time for whoever these people are. I need to get to class, and from there I need to meet the leader of the mammoth cult in the Library. Paul finally managed to arrange something.
I start walking a bit faster, but it’s too late. They’ve noticed me. Before they reach me, I stop. I take a deep breath. As one of them comes close, I see an emblem on her chest identifying the non-profit they work for.
They’re the ‘So-cal Coast Protectors.’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How much do they know?
I have to act natural. I can’t let on that I’m nervous. “Excuse me, sir,” the woman says, as she reaches me, “may I have a minute of your time?”
“Not really,” I say. “I kind of need to get to class.”
“Please, just one question, if you could. Have you seen any strange wildlife recently?”
“No.”
“We’re investigating some potential sightings of an endangered species in this area. A large manatee.”
Everything. They know everything.
No. That’s not true. They don’t know what I have to do with it, or they’d have already detained me. Hopefully, they don’t know about the cave. Maybe they haven’t searched it. Maybe they have, but they found nothing because the god only appears for me.
“We’d really appreciate it if you could provide any information you have,” the woman says. “There’s an oil drilling project set to begin here soon. It’s going to be devastating to the local environment. If we can prove this endangered species is present, we might be able to stop it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I can’t think of any time I’ve seen a manatee around here, let alone a giant one.”
She studies me for a moment. I can feel my heart thumping.
“Okay,” she says. “Thank you for your time.”
I don’t go to my meeting with the mammoth cult that night.
Instead, I head back to the cave.
It’s stupid to go there now, but I have no choice. I need guidance. I need to consider things, and I can’t bring myself to do that on my own.
The god is up on the surface as soon as I arrive. She lets out an excited squeal. “Shhh!” I hiss. “Quiet down. And try to glow less.”
She’s able to dim her light, though not completely extinguish it. I make my way to the other side of the cave.
Once I’m near the creature’s head, it nuzzles me.
I close my eyes. “Last time I asked you if you knew who the Jailors were, you didn’t really respond,” I say. “Do you know who they are? Do you know anything about them?”
Once again, no response.
“They more or less rule the world,” I say. “They don’t want anyone to know about creatures like you. It is extremely important, perhaps more important than anything else, that they never, ever find you, or find out I’m helping you.”
A squeal. Quieter, but still positive. Perhaps reassuring? As if to say ‘I’m sure we can handle it.’
“I’m not sure we can, though,” I say.
It looks at me, confused.
“Handle this, I mean,” I say. “I think I made a mistake. I promised you way too much, way too quickly. I thought I’d considered how risky it was, but I hadn’t. Not really. To help you like you need, I’d have to risk everything. If the wrong people learn that you exist, and that I’m helping you, I could die, or worse.”
The god nuzzles me tenderly. I pat her on the head. “I’ve told you a bit about the years I spent under another god’s control. About how it took my entire life from me. Made my every waking moment revolve around it. Took away everything that made me more than its puppet.”
The god whimpers.
“I know you would never do that to someone,” I say. “I know you could never hurt anyone.” I close my eyes. “But they can. If they find out about you, they’ll do horrible things to me, and they can make your situation even worse than it already is.”
She whimpers. I embrace her. “The Cosmic Starfish stole everything from me. Everything I was. Every relationship. Every moral, I lost them all. The fact that I ever got them back, that I got another chance, it was as much a miracle as if I’d come back from the dead. Maybe more. Most people who need a second chance like that never get one, and… and I’m sorry, but I can’t throw mine away. I’m sorry. If helping you could be a side project, just a small part of my larger life, I could do it. I want to help you. I really do, but… I don’t think I can risk what you need me to risk. I’m sorry. I really am.”
Once again, my eyes water.
I pull myself onto the rocky platform. The god looks up at me with pleading eyes. I reach down to pet it. “I won’t tell anyone anything that would hurt you, I promise. I can even direct you toward some other people who can help you. I’ve started to get into contact with some people like that. But, after I’ve set that up, I don’t think we should see each other again. Being seen with you… well, I’ve already said how it’d end up for me.”
It was never controlling my mind. I know that for sure, now. If it had been, there’s no way I could turn it away like this.
That doesn’t matter, though. Serving it is still just as much of a life-consuming, possibly even life-ending, calling.
“I’m glad I met you,” I say. “I’m honored that you chose me, out of everyone in the world. I wish I could’ve lived up to your hopes for me, but I can’t.”
It looks up at me. I want to believe it understands, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. After one final nuzzle, it tilts down and retreats back into the depths. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again, but I don’t think it can hear me.
The next day, I go to the Library. The things I said to the god, they needed to be said, but I still owe Paul an explanation for not showing up to that meeting he arranged.
I don’t have any trouble finding him. As soon as he sees me, he walks right up to me. “There you are,” he says. “Where the heck were you?” He takes a closer look at me. “God, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry for not showing up last night,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “That wasn’t an easy meeting to set up. People that deep in hiding are hard to get into contact with.”
“I told her to go away.”
“What?”
“The god. I changed my mind about helping her. I told her to go away. To choose someone else.”
“Oh.” His face softens. “Do you mind telling me why?”
“I’m not a freedom fighter like you. I can’t risk everything for this. I just can’t.”
Paul takes a deep breath. “That’s your right,” he says.
“I know,” I say.
“You should’ve called me, though. You left us waiting there for you, for hours.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I should’ve. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of it. It was a… very emotional night.”
“So you really wanted this thing?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I wanted it. But I had to say no.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I mean, you made the opposite decision.”
“When? I’ve never been chosen by a god, that I’m aware of.”
“You joined the Serpent’s Hand. You chose to put your whole life on the line, risk getting killed or locked up.”
“I guess.”
“I wish I were that brave, but I’m not.”
“Don’t think of yourself as a coward,” he says. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
I don’t respond.
We stand there for a moment.
“I will say,” Paul says, “that I can’t help but sense some lingering doubt about this decision.”
“Not doubt,” I say. “Sadness, but not doubt. The Jailors are already hunting for the creature. I saw one of their stupid front organizations down at the beach.”
“What? You saw them?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so, no offense, but that’s another thing you really should’ve called me about. Immediately.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“While we were waiting for you, the woman you were supposed to meet with mentioned that the Jailors have found a method for containing these gods.”
“I know,” I say. “The book talked about it. They buy up all the land around them and keep people away.”
“No,” Paul says. “That’s how it was until a few months ago, but since then, they’ve found a way to properly restrain them. If they get a hold of your god, they can and will put her in a cage, probably forever. You say they’re already searching for the god. Do you know where they’d find her?”
“I’ve been meeting her in an ocean cave. I don’t think she’s always there. I think maybe I’m the only one she appears for, but I suppose I could direct you toward it.”
“I would appreciate that.” He pulls out his phone. He pulls up a map app and hands it to me. I search for the cave. It’s a bit harder than it should be to find it, but I do. I point to where it is.
“Listen,” he says, “you have the right to stay out of this. It’s not your job to fight for this god unless you choose to. However, if you are the only one she’ll appear for, we might not be able to rescue her without your help.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t risk throwing away my whole life like that.”
“Even if you’re the only one who can save her?”
I hesitate. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had the chance to live for a god instead of myself,” I say. “I can’t do that again.”
“Is that what she seemed to want?” Paul asks. “Your whole life?”
“It doesn’t matter what she thought she was asking for. Either I take the risk or I don’t.”
“That’s not always true. Look, a good relationship with a god is like any other good relationship. It shouldn’t be something that absorbs your entire life. It can just be something that compliments it, you know? Putting everything else aside, every preconceived notion you have about divinity, what did this one being seem to want?”
I hesitate. “I guess it just wanted to be friends.”
“And you wanted that too?”
“Yeah. I did. I do, but…”
“She needs your help. I’m not trying to guilt trip you, but this decision may turn out to be the most important one you ever made. Are you absolutely sure you won’t regret it?”
Am I?
Yes, I am. I know exactly how I feel.
I already regret it. I think I regretted it even as I was doing it. I just pushed that voice down.
There’s still time to listen to it.
Paul’s able to get a couple of his colleagues together, just enough to make a serious attempt at a rescue mission. He’s able to identify a safe house with aquatic facilities just large enough to house the god. That just leaves one problem. Given that the Jailors seem to be watching this area like hawks, how do we smuggle her out of that cave unseen?
Paul reckons the Jailors’ force here is likely to be relatively small. “They might not even be sure the god is still here,” he says. “They’ve probably identified the cave as a potential hiding spot. They might have already checked it.”
“Then shouldn’t they have the god already?” one of the other agents asks.
“No,” I say. “So far, every time I’ve gone to the cave, it’s been empty to start with, only for the god to manifest for me. I can’t have been the only one to visit that cave in the past few weeks, but if any of those other people had seen here, we’d know. I think she only appears for me.”
“Does that mean she’s already safe?” asks the final agent.
“No. It just means the god’s presence there is usually hidden. Once the Jailors don’t find any sign of her on their first pass, they’ll search more carefully, and they will eventually find her. We need to transport her to a safer location before that can happen. I think I have an idea of how we can.”
In the end, it’s just me and Paul who head to the actual cave.
Of course, to retain the element of surprise, we have to get there without the Jailors noticing.
There’s a boat out on the water. We’re pretty sure it’s theirs, and they’re watching us. Right now, that’s not the end of the world, because there’s no way they can tell us from any other pair of beachgoers.
We can’t make our move until we’ve done something about the fact that they’re watching us, so, for now, we have to wait.
The wait is agonizing. I force myself to take long, deep breaths. To focus on what I’m fighting for. On the beautiful creature I nearly turned my back on.
“First pre-engagement nerves?” Paul asks.
“I guess.”
“It’ll work out. Our plan is solid.”
I watch the boat. We don’t know whether the Jailors suspect that this cave is where the god is hiding, but unless they already have the god in containment, any suspicion they have regarding the cave is no more than that, a suspicion, which wouldn’t take priority over hard evidence that the Hand is at work elsewhere.
That’s exactly what the other agents are giving them.
It’s not as simple as setting off a magical explosion. It needs to seem like something the Hand might really try to do, so those other agents have gotten together to perform a locator ritual. After all, the Jailors don’t know the Serpent’s Hand has learned the god’s location from me. As far as they’re concerned, if the Hand is involved, they should be searching, and once they detect that the Hand is searching for their quarry, they’ll have no choice but to answer that with force.
That’s exactly what they do.
They leave a small craft with two agents behind, but their main vessel, and hopefully the majority of their fighters, speed toward the far end of the bay, where the agents are executing their distraction.
We rush into the water. It only takes us a second to get out into the ocean and beneath the surface. Once we’re there, the water’s poor visibility hides us.
We arrive at the cave. This is the most sensitive point in the mission. There’s no way to avoid being above water as we enter, and the cave’s mouth is pretty clearly visible from their boat.
Fortunately, we have another distraction planned.
This one is cruder. An explosion spell cast at a distance, which causes a plume of water to gush upward near their boat.
Paul has more than enough magical ability to score a direct hit on the boat, but that would give away that he’s nearby. We want them to think we swung and missed, because that will make them think whoever’s responsible is much further away.
We have no way of verifying that our distraction worked. We have to take it on faith, and scramble into the cave as quickly as possible. Once we’re in, Paul takes cover behind the cave entrance, while I swim into the pool I’d been using to commune with the god.
“Hey, can you come? It’s kind of urgent. I need you to be quick.”
For just a split second, nothing happens, but then I see a familiar glow deep below the water. She rockets up toward me, more excited than usual, and once she breaches the surface, she licks me in the face.
Her breath is revolting, but I reciprocate the affection with a few pats on the head. “Listen,” I say, “I’m happy to see you too, but we need to be quick. The Jailors are hunting for you. They’re not far outside the cave. Me and some friends have a safe place to take you. Paul here can direct you to it, but we need to get moving.”
The Sea Cow gives me an affirming squeal, then raises her back out of the water. It takes me a moment to realize what she wants. “I think she’s asking us to ride her,” I say.
I pull myself onto the creature’s back, near the front of its body. I lean down and grab her with everything I have.
Paul is less squeamish than me. He gets onto a rottener part further back, grabbing onto an exposed rib to keep himself stable. “Alright, then,” I say, “let’s go.”
She turns around and, with a shocking amount of force, rockets out of the entrance of the cave, jumping over its entrance and back into the water on the other side.
The Jailors definitely noticed that, but I don’t get to see their reaction, because I’m back under water in an instant.
As she swims, she stays far below the surface. At first, I think she’s wise to prioritize making distance over bringing us up to breathe, but soon, I can’t help but find it uncomfortable. Not long after that, it’s more than uncomfortable. Not long after that, my lungs are burning.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she breaches the surface. She stays above water only for a moment, but when we plunge back into the depths, a small bubble of air surrounds her.
It’s small, just an inch or two around her, not even enough to keep most of me dry. I have to press my face against her rotten flesh to keep my nose and mouth inside it, but, though the air is rancid, it’s enough that I can breathe.
“Follow the coast,” Paul says.
The god shifts direction. Hopefully, she knows where she’s going.
She’s fast. Faster than any car I can remember being in. I shouldn’t be able to maintain my grip, but I’m able to do so with eerie effortlessness.
The safe house is a few hundred miles north, accessible from the ocean. We reach it after only a few hours. Paul directs the goddess through the passage that leads into the building, and both of us paddle over to a ladder and climb out.
I stand, soaking wet, bare feet on the metal floor off the safehouse.
We actually fucking did it.
Unfortunately, I’m not able to stay much longer.
The drive back down to where I live is several hours long, and I need to get back before anyone realizes I’m gone, or else the Jailors might notice my disappearance, and get curious about how closely it coincided with this rescue.
Fortunately, another member of the Hand is already at the safehouse, waiting to drive me back home.
It’s almost morning when I arrive, but the sun is still down. I allow myself to collapse into bed.
The next thing I know, I’m on an island. I’m sitting on the edge of a deep body of water. The god is swimming in the water in front of me. The sun is warm, and the coolness of the water is refreshing.
I push myself into the water and embrace her. She squeals. “Yeah, I know. I’m happy to see you too,” I say. “I guess this means you forgive me?”
She squeals. I don’t think she was ever even mad.
“I’m still not sure exactly what our relationship is going to be like,” I say as I stroke the back of her head. “The truth is, I don’t really know how you work. I think that might be a good thing, though. It’s probably best for everyone that I don’t bring any of my previous models for god-mortal relationships into whatever we have going.”
She nuzzles my hand.
“I’m glad you agree,” I say. “Thank you for choosing me for… whatever this is. I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to do. It’ll probably be a while before I can bring any members of your species back to life. In the meantime, would it help for me to just… share your story? The story of your species, I mean. How beautiful they were. I’ve thought about writing a book. Would you like that?”
She squeals.
“Good,” I say. “The rest, maybe we can just feel out together?”
She squeals.