Chapter Twenty

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Gina stormed toward the door, furiously pounding her feet against the dingy, dusty carpet that she’d spent the entire afternoon vacuuming. These pricks had another thing coming if they thought they were getting away with it this time. She flung open the door, fully expecting to see that gangly motherfucker slumping around like a depressed giraffe, only to witness the face of true horror.

Nine feet tall, the beast burst into the living room, only vaguely resembling anything human. Yes, it had two arms and two legs, but half of its torso kept slipping into dimensions unseen, revealing blood vessels and pulsing, alien organs beneath—its wooden body, covered in drooping twigs and leaves, had an uncannily fleshy texture, rippling and throbbing with each breath. And its face—it must have been wearing a mask, but its carved, yellow eyes moved with the familiar tugs of muscles and sinew, warping the planks below. The red, painted pattern of its mask was incomprehensibly complex, yet disturbingly simple; the hairs sticking up from the back of its head were black as night, braided into countless strands of seemingly living hair, which billowed in a nonexistent breeze.

It strode forward, the top of its head scraping the ceiling as it walked—but where its head touched it, the plaster simply disappeared, as if nothing had been there from the start. Just staring at this thing, Gina’s heart—or whatever vaguely heart-adjacent thing Callana had left her with—stopped. She fell to the ground, regarding this thing before her. This thing that could only be a god. All her senses strained to comprehend it, but when she glanced to Von and Clenard, who were stuck, stiff-legged at the other end of the room, she watched them weep tears of blood, then fall to their knees in prostration. She herself began to weep, though her tears were clear. Still, this being seemed to demand worship; just existing in its presence was enough to make her want to cry senseless sermons into the night, praising eternity and the endless void.

“I would know your name,” the thing spoke to Callana, its gravelly voice shaking the foundations of the earth. Callana sat before it, squinting and cocking her head.

“I’m Callana…” she said. “Uh, what is your name?”

The thing shook its head. “Nothing I will allow you to know. Now, ‘Callana,’ named one, I shall avenge the spirits of the damned whom you have swallowed, and I shall quell the haunted spirit that lies within you. For The Hierophant comes, and the corners of the Three Spheres shall tremble in his name; and justice shall be served to the fools of the earth who refuse to see the glory of the Eternal Rebirth. Thus say I, The One Who Follows.”

“Huh?” Callana said.

The One stood before Callana, dwarfing her diminutive frame. And he bent his arm at the elbow and, from it, reached within his flesh and grasped a bone, drawing it out and expanding it to the length of his own body. Blood poured onto the carpet as his wound healed, and he hefted the bone-crafted blade to the side.

Von and Clenard fell on their faces, muttering idly to themselves, while Gina was left to simply stare at the impossible figure in her living room. She shakily got to her feet, hyperventilating at the mere sight of The One, but she took a step forward.

“G-get away f-f-from her,” Gina said. “Get away from her!”

The One turned to regard Gina, those wooden eyes scanning her as though he was looking at an insect. And as far as Gina was concerned, he was probably right. But Callana was no ant. She was precious, and Gina had to protect her. And so, she took another step forward.

“You heard me! Leave her alone!”

“Ah,” The One said. “Corruption. Elevation.” He turned back to Callana. “You would craft an empire; you would aggrandize yourself, become a god in the eyes of mortals, and you have already begun to foster your angels. But that birthright was lost long, long ago. Don’t you realize? Your glory shan’t return, dead one. No matter how hard you try. One of your own saw to that.”

“I... don’t know what you’re talking about,” Callana said, her voice quivering.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I—I don’t…”

“But enough,” The One said. “I shan’t dally any longer. Defend yourself if you wish; death shall come regardless.”

He lunged.

Gina got there first, shoving herself in front of The One’s blade. It pierced her flesh, and agony roiled through her body. Callana shrieked her name, but Gina didn’t acknowledge her. The earth shook, the stars quivered, the universe held its breath, but Gina planted her feet and shifted her weight, twisting the blade out of The One’s hand.

He stared at her.

“Quaint,” he said. Holding out his hand, he summoned the blade back. It slipped out of Gina’s body, returning to him once more, and Gina collapsed. Sensation abandoned her. Pain became a distant memory; only fatigue remained. Even as she desperately tried to fight it, tried to stand at Callana’s side once more, she stood no chance.

Darkness took her.

Oh, crap.

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