Remi’s eyes opened like slow petals at dawn, and the room pressed in like unfamiliar fog; roots of a wooden chair curled around her like a cage, and beside her Flan lay still as a sleeping snowdrop.
Relief washed over her first, cool as twilight rain, then she checked her body; apart from the raw soles cut by running, she was whole, and the thought fluttered in like a sparrow—so we didn’t die?
The door sighed open like an old tree splitting, and a humanoid creature stepped in on quiet feet; its voice came like a pebble dropped in a pond. “You’re awake?”
Remi’s guard rose like a drawn blade. “Who are you?”
The creature stroked its chin, gaze drifting like smoke as it weighed its words. “How to say it… ummm… we’re probably what you’d call gods.”
Scorn sparked hot in Remi’s chest, a coal under ash; a god wouldn’t be something that storms in like a locust swarm—gods have sheltered us for thousands of winters.
The creature saw the disbelief flicker in her eyes like frost, then let out a sigh that fell heavy as rain. “Yeah… I knew you wouldn’t buy it, which is why I stalled. In your eyes, gods are shields, not knives; protectors don’t turn and cut their own, right?”
Her thoughts churned, but she held her face still, a pond under wind.
“Mm. Not bad,” it said, voice smooth as polished stone. “Both sisters have talent. Four, five years old, yet you think wide-angle and mask your feelings. If you were my students, that’d be great.”
“No way. Why would I study under a jerk?”
“So, a refusal…”
“Anyone normal would refuse.”
“Fair,” it said, words clipped like twigs. “Let’s drop the apprentice talk. Another topic—where’s Ska Village?”
Remi’s eyes widened like lanterns; Ska Village was their home, the hearth under the mountain, and the thought of giving it away felt like handing over a map to wolves. No way.
Her alert stare flared too bright, a fire in the dark, and the creature caught it at once. “So you know. Talk. My people are short on patience—unlike me, they won’t sit here and chat.”
Its eyes slid toward Flan, a quick glance like a blade’s glint, and the nearness made Remi catch it.
“What are you planning to do to Flan?”
“That child’s called Flan?” It smiled, light and cold as moonlight. “Surprisingly pretty name. Picture such a cute girl with such a cute name—if those creeps who obsess over little girls heard, what would they do?”
The word didn’t land, but a chill crept up Remi’s spine like winter water. “What will it take for you to leave us alone?”
“I said it up front,” it replied, boredom dust-dry. “Just lead us to Ska Village.”
Remi clicked her tongue, distrust spilling like ink. “Why should I believe you?”
It shook its head, weary as a tired horse. “We’re gods, remember? We don’t lie.”
“Gods aren’t the kind who—”
“Who invade humans, right?” It cut in, voice flat as iron. “We’ve heard that line a lot. No need to repeat.”
Remi cooled her pulse with effort, thoughts stacking like stones; they’d invaded plenty already, and she was just one mark among many—her bargaining chips were thin as paper.
The creature kept going, words steady as footsteps. “The protectors you met were only part of us, a mask carved for humans, meant to harvest faith and refill the Godrealm’s mana. Our type only showed up recently, tasked with invading third-rate villages outside any empire. The God-King said a world-ending artifact surfaced in some village. We must find it. So we got tossed here like dice. Your place is number seventy-three. Fifty-nine still to comb. Time’s short, sand slipping fast.”
So that’s it. The so-called gods were scaffolds and stage smoke; their aim was to choke the world in a net, and her village might hold a tool that could crack the sky. What a twisted turn—like some idiot throwing thunder where kids sleep.
“Stop pretending to be a stone,” it said, impatience pricking like nettles. “Talk. I’ve got around ten minutes left to chat. After that, they’ll come in and use rough methods—memory extraction, soul rewiring, nasty tricks. You might not die, but you’ll shatter. Your little sister too.”
Flan’s name lit Remi’s anger like a torch; she stared into its eyes, heat rippling like mirage. “I can agree—but let Flan go.”
It shook its head, playful as a cat with a bird. “Nope~ If you back out, we’ll waste time catching her again. But if you’re uneasy, we can sign a pact. It’s the God-King’s contract, binding like iron chains. Don’t doubt me on that—you’re the weaker side.”
It drew out a piece of parchment, edges rough as bark, and ink spread across it like night.
Agreement:
If Party A successfully guides Party B to Ska Village, Party B shall fulfill the following:
1. Grant Party A freedom.
2. Ensure Party A’s life and safety.
If Party A leads Party B to the wrong place, Party B shall execute Party A. If Party B violates the above and kills Party A, Party B’s collective shall be executed in full.
Party A signature:
Party B signature: Representative of the Gods — Alpha
Remi read the terms, eyes scanning like swallows over fields, and found no cracks to wedge into; then she signed five letters that felt like a promise carved in wood—Remi and Flan.
