God's Bed

As soon as Bobo smashed through the immediate horde blocking the path, the outer lands beyond the barrier opened up before them. The High Priestess had disembarked from the wagon moments before they passed through, her feet now touching the frozen ground beyond the wall. The mages still holding the shield around her kept her safe, escorting her toward the God's Bed. Jordan, riding the massive direwolf, made another decision that would haunt him forever.

"Storm around the temple!" he shouted at his remaining men. "Distract the enemy! Keep them occupied while the High Priestess completes the ritual! If you die like the archers, you die in the name of the World Mother, and we shall meet again in her warm embrace! Now go!"

One of the men stepped forward, placing a fist on his chest.

"As you wish, Lord Commander. It has been an honor."

Jordan nodded.

The men charged toward the temple, engaging the bulk of the enemy forces, pulling their attention away from the structure.

"Okay, bud, I need you to go help them," Jordan said to the direwolf as he disembarked at the steps. Elena had also just arrived with her imperial guards—only six of them remained from the initial ten.

"If you see Hoppleite, tell her I need her," he told the wolf. The beast bounded off without a sound.

"Commander, I must proceed alone to perform the ritual," Elena said, her tone firm.

"What? Why?"

Hoppleite padded up beside him, limping. One of her legs appeared broken.

"The process is delicate and requires no external disturbance." Her gaze fixed on him with intense fury. Almost immediately, Hoppleite began growling at her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm coming with." He walked up the rest of the steps, past her, moving inside.

"Then your beast must remain."

"Hoppleite, come." He ignored her wishes. The giant dog limped over, following him into the building.

He had never trusted her, even if the king did. He wouldn't start now.

The interior was old and cold, featuring no furniture—nearly empty. Only a single object sat in the room: a large tomb-like structure standing in the center, roughly ten feet long.

As he slowly approached, he noticed an inscription carved into the top. He reached out to wipe away the dust that had collected there.

"Here lies the World Mother in slumber," the commander read aloud. She who is the wind, the soil, the river, and life itself. She is everything, and that includes the enemy. Dear reader, do not, under any circumstance, awake this Mother from her slumber. She will not help you. She will end you.

Jordan blinked in confusion. Do not trust the World Mother? What blasphemer wrote this?

It was at that moment Elena stormed into the room, her six imperial guards nowhere to be seen.

Jordan stomped toward her, reaching for the hilt of his sword. "What is this madness? Who wrote this?" He pulled out his blade and aimed it at her throat. "Is this why you didn't want anyone to come in here?"

Elena remained smug, showing no fear despite the blade inches from her neck.

"Foolish man." She pushed the sword away with the back of her hand. "You just had to follow me inside, didn't you?"

She walked over to a nearby wall and pulled a lever. With a grinding sound, the top of the tombstone slid open, revealing the person—or creature—inside.

With hesitant steps, Jordan stood beside Elena as they both gazed down at the form of the World Mother. He instantly fell back, crawling away in terror at what he saw.

"Lord Commander, there is something you should know about your legends." She pulled a piece of white chalk from her dress pocket. "I forged them. At least part of it, anyway."

She began tracing a circle around the tombstone.

Elena and the World Mother sleeping were one and the same. The face, the hair, the eyes, the lips—identical in ways that went beyond coincidence.

"About a thousand years ago, Hero Linen stepped through those doors. He begged me to save humanity from the horde of monsters."

As she spoke, strange shivering shadows began moving across the center of the room like a memory taking shape. On one side stood a young warrior—Hero Linen. On the other, a visage of the World Mother.

"Of course, I refused. Humanity needed to die. Your species was a failed experiment. You do nothing but fight amongst yourselves. Time and time again, I have watched you crawl out of the stone age, reach advancement, only to burn yourselves to cinders, restarting the cycle of violence."

As she spoke, she continued drawing symbols on the ground while the shimmering shadows displayed other things—objects flying through the sky, carrying people like cargo. Then those carriers began shooting at each other. Eventually, a single ball of light exploded in all directions, erasing everything around it.

Still lying on the ground, Jordan heard weeping. He thought it was coming from Elena, but she was still drawing, her expression stern.

The sobbing instead came from the shadow World Mother, on her knees over the ashes.

"What have you done?" she cried. "Why do you always do this to yourselves?"

Even her voice resembled that of the high priestess.

"I give you compassion, yet you never use it. I give you peace, yet you never keep it. You only destroy. Why are you like this? Was Father right? Are you a lost cause?"

Jordan was still struggling to wrap his head around all of it. If Elena was truly the World Mother, it would certainly explain why she had been able to perform those incredible feats of miracles in the kingdom all those years ago.

No.

What was he even thinking?

The shimmering shadows soon dissolved and faded away as Elena resumed talking.

"I couldn't directly harm humanity—they were still my creation. So I engineered your extinction in another way."

"The abominations," Jordan whispered. "You made them?"

The high priestess glanced at him once before continuing to prepare the ritual.

"When the hero discovered my true intentions, he used my own powers to turn me mortal and track me down here with a curse. If I ever escaped, my own monsters would devour me. If I tried to create a proxy, like the one you see before you, while my original body slept, I could never reach the God's Bed without being torn apart. He created both a sanctuary for humanity and a prison for me."

The realization finally dawned on Jordan.

"That's why you wanted a bigger army."

Elena just looked at him.

Something in his head snapped. He rushed forward, slamming her against the wall, his forearm pressed against her throat.

"Enough with your lies!"

She struggled for breath.

"Men are dying out there!" he shouted. "Bobo is still out there! And now you're saying everything we've been fighting for—our religion, our beliefs—has been nothing but fabrication?!"

Elena remained quiet.

He raised his sword. "I should end you. For blasphemy. For your heresy and sacrilege to the World Mother."

"Do so, and the ritual is never completed. Do so, and I will never save your Kingdom when I wake, if I deem you worthy."

"You still spit your lies!"

Jordan let go and stepped back, repulsed by her madness.

"Let me complete the ritual. Let me channel my powers from the heavens and return them to my body, and become whole again. When I wake, you may try to appeal your case for humanity."

Jordan turned to look at the body in the tomb. Was that really her? Was that the World Mother? Or some kind of evil locked up here by the Hero?

Yes.

That was it.

The high priestess was evil, and this thing here was her master.

They weren't the World Mother.

The World Mother would never harm her creations.

That's when he noticed Elena crawling over to crouch in front of the tomb, beginning to pray. Instantly, the chalk began to glow.

"No!" he shouted. "Hoppleite!"

At the sound of her name, the wolf lunged and landed on Elena, pinning her to the ground.

"Ugh, get this thing off me!"

Ignoring her whelps, Jordan rushed over and stared down at the thing he now knew was not the Savior he thought it was. He knew the truth. This was the monster at the heart of everything.

The reason for the endless cycle of bloodshed.

The reason for all of the suffering.

The reason for all of the deaths.

His jaw tightened.

The thing appeared to be sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling with every breath. Its eyes were closed, and it wore a simple white dress.

Jordan unsheathed a smaller blade from his waist.

"Commander!" Elena groaned from underneath the wolf. "Do not be stupid! Do not harm my physical body! You will bring doom upon us all!"

More lies.

Outside the temple, men and wolves were dying under the relentless force of the monster horde. The World Mother was their entire goal. And this thing—this abomination—was the reason they had to suffer.

Slowly, he raised the blade above his head.

"Commander, I'm warning you!" she growled. "Do that, and you will end existence itself!"

His hand shook under the strain. He could already hear the monsters trying to break into the temple hall. Even if he died here, his family could live on. He had already lost so much. He couldn't lose anyone else.

The World Mother would protect them.

With a sudden, violent thrust, he brought the knife down deeply into the heart of the sleeping thing.

Its eyes instantly flew open with a glowing shock. A silent scream escaped its lips.

Elena, still pinned underneath the direwolf, immediately screamed in agonizing pain—louder than any human had ever screamed before.

"Stupid creature." Tears rolled down the side of her face. "What have you done?"

Almost immediately, all sound stopped. The world went mute. He turned to look at Hoppleite and found her barking, yet he could not hear a thing. The walls began to ripple, bending and twisting like reflections on disturbed water.

Suddenly, Jordan felt weightless, as if his body no longer belonged to him. The world shimmered and blurred. Slowly, he dropped to his knees. Hoppleite rushed over and sat beside him, barking at his face, but still he heard nothing.

What was... happening?

Before he could utter another thought, he fell toward the ground, breathless. He could no longer pull air into his lungs. Elena lay in front of him, eyes closed, not breathing.

Hoppleite joined him, her legs suddenly giving out from underneath her as she fell.

Slowly, the edges of the commander's eyes turned black.

She who is the wind, the soil, the river, and life itself.

The words echoed in his fading mind, and he wasn't quite sure why.

The World Mother was no more.

And now, so were her creations.