Book 2: Chapter 50: The Belly of the Beast

Book 2: Chapter 50: The Belly of the Beast

Our ancestors came from the sky to make their home in the stone.

- Excerpt from the Lavella Tablets unearthed from the old ruins in the Beacon Mountains.

“Mortal priest of the whore, abase yourself before me and know your place. You would dare bring the light of another here, in my temple, and still defy me?” the voice answered in turn, with another question. Demand had turned into nonplussed incredulity.

“You will make no demands of me,” I said flatly in response, standing tall and straightening my shoulders.

“Haha. You amuse us. Die then, as a sacrifice to us here in my temple. I will even grace you with my presence. as a parting gift for entertaining me so. I had forgotten how droll you mortals could be. How long has it been, I wonder?” the voice almost preened.

A naked female figure, the voice given shape, floated out of antiquity from an intricately-detailed mosaic on the ceiling, the tiles turning blank as she formed in the real. Long black hair trailed behind her, as if caught in some unseen current. Her skin was darker than the blackest night, and she looked down at me with golden-slitted eyes. A smile that would have shamed the best of artists played about her face. I noted that she stayed out of the radius of my aura.The inaugural upload of this chapter took place via N0v3l-B1n.

“I am Iasis, sacrifice, and know this is one of the highest of honors,” stated the goddess. I knew it to be a goddess, for she had a presence, if not appearance, that was almost a mirror to Avaria’s. Unlike Avaria, I did not feel a sense of forced adulation, rather a traitorous stirring in my loins. Seconds later, I felt repulsed in equal measure as her mouth split into four parts revealing a fanged maw that undulated as she spoke.

“I am no sacrifice, godling. But yours is the first presence that has a tongue to speak. Tell me, what is this place? Was it you who placed those traps?” I demanded.

Delicate laughter was my only answer for a while, before the goddess answered.

“Flawed, even for a mortal. Your Ma'at is almost pitiful. Still, you have some of the qualities that would allow you to survive my favor. It would be most amusing, do you not think, for a fallen priest of Vari to bear one of the marks of the Mother? I think it would be fair Justice,” she continued, airing her ideas to the world at large. For an audience of one.

She clapped her hands together with a smile, “Yes! I will have you take the Test! Fail and you will be another honored sacrifice... but succeed and you will receive my favor, and I will unleash you on the world to spread the joy of my creation,” she announced, her light tone at odds with the ominous echo that followed it.

“And if I refuse to take this Test?” I said, none too gently.

“Oh, how you test me so,” she chimed, pleased at her own pathetic attempt at witticism. “Then, I am afraid your little spark will be snuffed here. Gilgamesh.”

I gulped, a cold sweat forming about my body at the mention of my name. Perhaps the gods knew more than I thought they did. Though I hated myself for the next words I was forced to utter, I uttered them nonetheless.

“Then I accept,” I croaked into the darkness.

“Then know this, unbeliever. I am the Truth of Life, of the endless struggle against the nothingness of empty existence. Of boundless change and infinite possibilities. To overcome my trial, you must overcome Life in its many aspects,” the Divine declared, her voice now heavy with the authority of the years.

“This is not going to be easy, is it?” I spat bitterly.

She danced close to me, cupping my face with her hands, her skin smoking slightly at the touch of the light. The goddess looked at me with black orbs of deep ebon and answered in a stern voice, “Life ever was meant to be a struggle. A favor given and not earned has no meaning. Has no value. Without struggle, there can be no change. Without change, there can be no growth.”

Still dizzy from the sudden nearness of Iasis, I barely had time to register the ominous rumbling, let alone her mindless platitudes. A great, straining creak resounded as stone began to crack and splinter. Turning towards the noise, I found myself rooted to the spot in sheer disbelief. Defying all logic and reason, a statue to my left was coming to life before my disbelieving eyes.

Fragments of stone tumbled off the figure like shedding scales, revealing a creature of flesh and blood beneath. Eyes that had once been nothing more than lifeless stone sparked a vibrant copper. A lion's head shook free of its remaining stony shroud, its mane glorious. Bat wings, encased for countless centuries, unfurled in a grand gesture of newfound freedom. Instead of a tail, a second head, a serpent’s head, emerged, its forked tongue flickering in the air to taste its surroundings.

It was a creature from myth and legend. It was a Manticore.