They rose in a bath of black water, lit by the faintest crack in the ceiling.
Water was a loose term, actually, for the substance that slid off their skin like oil. It was thicker, darker, and stained their otherwise warm flesh in bruised splotches. Inky runes were carved below each shoulder, with two more on their neck and the rest belted around their waist. They were muscular, more muscular than they ever remembered being. But they couldn't remember much at all.
Even so, they could tell that something was wrong. Off.
Deep within their subconscious, they knew that this skin wasn't touched by the sun, that it was painted shades too bright. They knew that this hair had been threaded, that their bones and limbs had been replaced. They trusted their mind over the form, or what little bits remained of either.
A light emerged from a rectangle in the wall, growing sideways until two figures filed through. One wore a curtain over their whole form, the other robed only below his abdomen. The latter one's face lifted, baring teeth coated in black and gold. The language felt foreign. But they understood the message.
"His gift to us has arrived."
YOU ARE READING
Trial by Flame
FantasyWoE [3/4] -- first 12 chapters can serve as recap for book 4 Time is running low. While Quinn and the main group chase leads on the other god artifacts, Trelisti has his own goal: to destroy the predatory pulse industry and collect the fa'ih feather...
