《How not to make friends》 Chapter 1: It looks tasty Novem crouched in the tall grass with his belly flat to the ground, completely still except for the tiny inconspicuous twitch of his nose. The soft content smell of his prey wafted towards him on the warm humid breeze. He had been watching this god for several months now, it was so small, so fuzzy, and so very very cute. He licked his lips. It was going to be delicious. He had been waiting so long, not because he was a bad hunter, the opposite, really. He had been waiting because killing it too quickly would be boring, and that was something he refused to indulge. Being bored was an awful hobby. And living forever required at least one hobby. The soft little rabbit god munched contentedly, its second more alert head sniffed the breeze, perhaps scenting him. Novem tensed, the pads of his paws pressing a bit more firmly against the ground, and claws flexing out to bury slightly in the mossy soil. He wasn¡¯t ready for a confrontation. Novem had hoped for a more dramatic encounter, something with a little thrill and flair. Maybe something utilizing his godly, astral body. He hadn¡¯t quite worked out the details yet. Inspiration had yet to strike, and he was loath to engage prematurely. When the second head looked the other way Novem retreated, for now. It wasn''t usually necessary for gods to eat, but this god seemed to enjoy it. Novem could relate. It wasn¡¯t often that he reverted back to his own origins and hunted as a cat, but he was feeling a bit nostalgic after his last failed capture. He had taken a full decade slowly pursuing a song god that took the form of water reeds, playing quiet windy reed songs to her patch of pond when the wind swept by her just right. He had played the part of a fishing cat for the hunt. He would pretend to hunt ordinary boring fish and the occasional frog from the underbrush nearby in order to observe her covertly. It took him several years to realize that he was drawing out the hunt because he had liked her delicate voice rather than for any god snaring reason. As such, instead of devouring her as was his custom, he had made a deal. Well, an extortion. He had generously given her his own voice in exchange. It was frustrating at first, realizing that trading his voice for hers ment that he had to talk in order to hear it. And it was even more annoying to him that it meant others could enjoy the dulcet tones of his objectively exquisite voice. But he had come to optimistically appreciate how it would contribute to future hunts by putting his marks at ease, when he should choose a more subterfuge style hunt. And after getting back to his roots with the rabbit god at hand, he resolved to put his voice to use and find something more¡­ ambitious. Novem ambled leisurely through the forest, enjoying the smattering of sunlight that made its way through the old eucalyptus canopy and the rich musky mint bouquet. This forest was quite old, with plenty of black peppermint, blue gum, dawn redwood, and sequoia, which meant plenty of felled trees covered in moss. Quite good for surreptitiously stalking prey but more acrobatic for the regular casual pedestrian. Which was Novem¡¯s preferred mode, casual, unaffected, cool. The difficulty of navigating such a range of heights was compounded by Novem¡¯s lack of depth perception. He had lost an eye some centuries ago in a rather high stakes game of cards. Though primarily solitary beings, many gods enjoyed the occasional get together to catch up, exchange news of their particular domains, and above all, party. It was not infrequent that one would wake up missing something, whether just memories, or, in Novem¡¯s case, a whole eye. He was sure the news of his abysmal loss had spread quite far by now. Gods were above all else, terrible gossips. He frowned as he was forced by the terrain to either leap over a felled tree or wriggle underneath in the narrow and herbaceous space beneath. Very undignified. He elected to make the jump, and getting his weight firmly beneath him with shimmy, he lept. He had been playing cards with that absolute clown of a god, Noctua, the self proclaimed god of dreams. Who he was just sure had cheated. Noctua was notorious, even among gods, beyond even Novem¡¯s own notoriety as a god eater. And really, it made sense. Novem¡¯s proclivity for notoriety would be something he inherited from his father. Where Novem simply ate gods, Noctua ate dreams, which was far more cruel and destructive in Novem¡¯s opinion. Which never stopped Novem from partaking in the spoils when Noctua debuted his dream wine creations at their godly get togethers. But still. Morals. Or something. Their familial feud spanned several centuries preceding the eye enucleation issue, when Noctua had tried to feed Novem wine fermented from his own dead dreams from before his godhood. Novem hadn¡¯t held it against him when Noctua had forced him into existence, but feeding him his own decaying dreams was just rubbing his ill received godhood in his face. It wasn¡¯t that he hated being a god, exactly, it was more that he had been perfectly happy not being one. And that Noctua¡¯s transformation of him was exceedingly traumatic. He had done his best to block out the whole experience. But back to the cards. And the eye losing. Sikac had been playing as well, the fool, which had probably influenced his decision to bet something so capriciously. Sikac always managed to bring out his innate sense of superiority and arrogance. That, and the delicious flask of dream wine that Noctua had brought, brewed from the dreams of a morning glory with notes of moon beam, he said. That skeezy bastard. Zsa Zsa had been there too, the terrifying and crotchety old piebald deer witch-god, which really limited the likelihood that Noctua had cheated. No one liked to get on her bad side. But still one could never be too sure, with gods. They were a fickle and temperamental bunch, himself included. The slight path he had worn through the trees became easier after a point as he had deemed it far enough from the rabbit god¡¯s haunt that he could be less careful and mark a more prominent trail. The moss path gave way to more compacted dirt, with ferns and anise and wild flowers framing his path. The occasional whirl of bird wings and the warble of bird song drifted overhead. Novem found Sikac where he had left her some days ago, rooting around happily in the brush beneath a behemoth of a rainbow eucalyptus for truffles. Sikac had achieved godhood by eating a mushroom contaminated with god seed and came to the somewhat understandable conclusion that eating mushrooms was the key to her longevity. The misconception had amused Novem so much that he had done absolutely nothing to dissuade Sikac of the idea, and in fact frequently came to observe Sikac¡¯s daily search with much hilarity. Sikac, of course thought that Novem¡¯s visits were an indication of friendship which Novem had also neglected to dissuade her of. She had been rooting around by this particular tree for almost a century. Novem himself was fond of this tree as well, having made a very comfortable perch in it. It obviously had nothing to do with Sikac¡¯s presence there. The small painted wood pig grunted happily, presumably finding a treat and smacking her lips contentedly. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Novem quietly ascended a slim blue gum nearby that was doing its best to shoot upwards in the meager sunlight filtering down from the canopy, before leaping with a flourish to the tree Sikac was huffing beneath. ¡®How are the mushrooms today?¡¯ Novem called down to Sikac. A happy shiver ran down his spine hearing the beautiful lilting vibrato of what was now his own voice. He didn¡¯t mind sharing his voice with Sikac, for whatever reason. With a very undignified squealing grunt of surprise, Sikac tilted her head back, eyes squinting with the strain of bending her short neck in a direction unfavorable to her anatomy. ¡®Hmpf! They¡¯re truffles, not mushrooms. They¡¯re different, special.¡¯ She grumbled huffily. ¡®Of course, of course¡¯ Novem soothed, ¡®they¡¯re different, special, magical mushrooms.¡¯ Sikac eyed him beadily. Squinting as if to ascertain his sincerity. Of course Novem couldn''t leave her thinking for too long. She might hurt herself. ¡®I¡¯ve been scouting the new target.¡¯ He offered quickly. ¡®Oh? The rabbit? You¡¯re not going to change your mind halfway through and do another trade are you? You wouldn¡¯t stop whining about it for months after that last one. What was her name, Leuret?¡¯ Sikac inquired half-heartedly, going back to nosing around in the detritus, what might the faint tinges have been jealousy in her tone. ¡®Her name was Lauliet, not that it matters, and no. I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡¯ He was quickly regretting this line of conversion. His sense of superiority and cool unaffected manner were quickly collapsing. His tail flicked agitatedly. ¡®And I don¡¯t whine. Rude. I was going to share with you, consider yourself uninvited.¡¯ He was hardly going to share with her. He had coaxed her into trying one of his captures a couple decades ago, a savory bluefin god that had been particularly difficult to wrangle, as he had to wait for it to transform into a sort of waddling fish and venture ashore. She had been exceptionally skeptical and only taken the tiniest bite before promptly spitting it out with theatrical disgust. It was objectively delicious. She had asked him with great distaste how he could stand to eat the flesh of other gods - it was practically cannibalism. He had snarkily countered that he was an obligate carnivore and that hunting was therefore in his nature. And it was. Or at least, it once was. Before he was a god. Perhaps he liked being reminded of his life before, when he had purpose. Maybe it was nostalgia that made the meat taste so good. And it would be good. Rabbit meat was delectable. He had been having trouble coming up with an approach for the rabbit god, mostly because it kept darting in and out of what appeared to be wormholes. Well, rabbit holes, given there was a rabbit moving through them. At any rate, rabbits and holes and inexplicable distortions of spacetime were involved in some way. From his observations he had so far picked up from the conversations between the heads that the two were a mother-daughter pair, Yanus and Yuno, though which was which was unclear to him. He wondered idly if it came up a lot for them, needing to distinguish which was which, or if they preferred to be collectively referred to by one name or the other. It seemed like a challenging condition, to be two entities within one form. Though, he supposed, he had experienced something similar, at his own god-conception. It had been centuries ago and despite repressing it as best as he could, the details were still in painfully sharp definition. He had been quite happily dead, haunting his favorite tree perch as a half sentient ghost, when he had been violently thrust back into his own mostly decayed corpse and stitched inside with a god bone needle by none other than Noctua. He had the sneaking suspicion that it was not all his own ghost inhabiting his body, that Noctua had forced several other cats ghosts into his sad, battered remains, and what he thought of as himself was some sort of patch work, emergent consciousness. It was an uncomfortable, disconcerting feeling, not knowing who or what were the parts that made you up, let alone the nasty sticky feeling of being forced into meat. Rotting, decaying meat. With the last stitch and a final triple knot to hold the ghosts in and cinched his fate, he had felt it. The surge of life. The agonizing searing electric burn of undead synapses, forced to bear unexpected signal. He still was unsure what exactly had prompted Noctua to create him, though there was a high chance that it was just to see if he could. Becoming a god was a gorey, cannibalistic procedure. It usually took god seed - flesh from another god, and kin sacrifice to make a new god, but his conception demonstrated just how flexible those conditions could be. He could only assume that the number of deceased cats had fulfilled the kin condition, and the bone needle Noctua had sadistically left inside him, piercing his heart, fulfilled the requirement for god seed. It twinged sometimes, like a weakly magnetized compass needle, pointing him endlessly towards Noctua, lest he ever forget his origins. He wondered if the bone needle was one of Noctua¡¯s own bones. He viciously hoped it hurt when he removed it. It was unlikely though, on both counts. Noctua orbited the planet as the second smaller blue moon, though he frequently took a human form, as homage to his favorite dream subjects. His entire moon being was god seed, from some ancient galactic god. Novem suspected that it might even have been the cannibalization of this god by Noctua that had led to Noctua''s own independent godhood. He seemed the type. It was difficult to die, as a god, but consumption by another god seemed to do the trick. He hoped to some day eat Noctua. ¡®Come down, I have something for you for your rabbit hunt.¡¯ Sikac called up to him, drawing his attention back to her. Curious, he gingerly made his way down, claws catching unpleasantly on the ribbon like fibers of the bark. Sikac had never shown a great deal of interest in his hobby before. He jumped the last couple feet, landing directly in front of her. He looked to her, checking to see if she was adequately impressed. She looked very focused, and not on him. His tail twitched, mildly miffed. With a deep guttural sound, she coughed and spit something out. She looked at him, proudly. ¡®I made it for you!¡¯ She went on, apparently not noticing his appalled expression. She nosed out from the bile what looked like a large bead that glittered prettily, if one ignored the mostly digested fungus encasing it. It really was pretty, a large dark opal with lizard-skin-like iridescence flickering in a mesmerizing lattice of color. It was so pretty that Novem briefly forgot his disgust. ¡®It¡¯s an eye!¡¯ Novem¡¯s disgust resurfaced. ¡®You need one, and I, there is so much soil on my truffles, and so much silica, and it''s just, well, I kept it clenched in my stomach until it was the right size!¡¯ He was surprised she knew what silica was, but when one¡¯s hobby was soil and its inhabitants, it seemed reasonable that one might. ¡®How¡­thoughtful. Why don''t you hold onto it for me?¡¯ He managed. She didn¡¯t seem to hear him, approaching quickly with the eye held delicately between her teeth. Before he could escape back up the tree, she had managed to push the eye up against his empty socket, carefully avoiding grazing him with her short tusks. He could feel it take root, burning away the skin and tissue and sizzling as it affixed with his optic nerve, sending an overwhelming cascade of connectivity back into his brain. And suddenly everything was different. It was disconcerting, how disparate it was from his natural eye. How much more. So many more shades of green and mosaic shadows of indigo, brilliant purple patterns on silky flower petals, trees vibrating subtly with textured bark in exquisite definition, and the rich gold of the sun beams bearing down from the canopy filled with tiny leisurely drifting dust motes. And strange bizarre apparitions, like faint ribbons of opaque silk suspended in the air, pulsating softly. ¡®My truffles effect time, I¡¯m not really sure how it will work with your eye, but it should do, um something?¡¯ Her uncertainty did not inspire confidence. But the eye. It was beyond anything he could imagine. It was beautiful, fracturing time and projecting it into space. He could see the random walks of Sikac¡¯s past forages in the loam, he could see the swooping trajectories of various birds, even the slow steady growth of moss up the trunks of trees, and the furling and unfurling of fern fiddleheads. Incredible. ¡®This is the best gift I¡¯ve ever received.¡¯ He murmured, before remembering himself, and adjusting his tone to the self-assured drawl he usually used in his conversations with Sikac. ¡®It will be very helpful in hunting Yanus.¡¯ He said primly. Sikac looked annoyingly pleased with herself. Chapter 2: The world through new eyes It had been several weeks now since his eye transplant. Weeks of experiencing a brand new world, and the initial elation had subsided. When he had first lost his eye it had been challenging. Hunting had needed to account for a blind spot, and his balance had been thrown off, but he had managed. The bigger problem was how self-conscious he had been about its absence. He had completely self-isolated at first, unable to stomach the thought of others looking at his empty socket. That they would see it and think him pitiful, a victim to Noctua¡¯s schemes. He didn¡¯t want to be a victim. He was the one that made other gods victims. He didn¡¯t want them to look at him and remember how he was with both eyes and find him somehow lacking, less than. The downward spiral of dysphoria and self-doubt kept him alone with his thoughts for far too long. He had only hesitantly visited Sikac, and it was her complete disregard for the change that had set him at ease. But having a new eye was no less challenging, it now felt as if his normal eye was the blinded one. At first the new eye had been a little irritated, like feeling a piece of sand stuck under his eyelid, but now the inflammation and dryness had more or less receded and the itch had become just a subtle awareness of the difference in the back of his mind. He had been observing a cluster of dainty actinodium flowers for a little over an hour, watching as they delicately bloomed into fully fledged flowers, the ruffle of their petals unfurling then rewinding back into their bud over and over, faint trajectories of their motion trailing like gossamer. In his other eye, the petals remained stable, the whole plant still. When he had lost his eye, he had found himself inordinately grateful for his remaining eye. But now it seemed lacking. It made him feel¡­ complicated. He almost wished he had not received this new eye, that highlighted the limitations he had been unknowingly restricted by. A little coil of resentment towards Sikac for forcing the eye on him curdled in the bottom of his belly. It upset him to think that he had thought Sikac was accepting him, missing eye and all, while she had just been quietly making him a prosthetic. It felt like she had been lying all this time. And underneath that anger, was shame. And though it was mesmerizing, seeing the world in this whole new way, with a whole new lense. It felt almost disrespectful, being so enthralled, as if he was somehow ungrateful to the eye that had been with him throughout. He sighed. The blossoms folded shut again. It was a bit pedantic of him to be so particular about what was him and what was not him. Not when he wasn¡¯t even sure whom Noctua had sewed up inside him. He could almost sense them sometimes, the ghosts of cats ensconced within him. Could almost feel them writhing in his veins when he called up his godly ichor, churning to escape the prison that was his flesh. He shivered, unnerved. In preparation he had hunted several frogs, before releasing them again. He had never had any interest in non-god flesh. First of all, it was not as sweet. God ichor was, well, heavenly. He had started hunting other gods because of Noctua, if he was being honest. It was cathartic. And it made him feel powerful. That despite his origins, those great, powerful, immortal beings were still vulnerable to him and he had the ability to decide their fate. To take from them what had been taken from him. His choice. His life. Losing his eye had been too reminiscent of the vulnerability of his birth at Noctua¡¯s hands. And now he had power again. Beyond what he had before. And that rabbit was going to be the perfect catch to investigate the extent of his new abilities. Too excited by the prospect of using his new eye to come up with a more theatrical plan for the hunt, he set out to locate Yanus and Yuno once again. They appeared to be having some sort of argument. He was able to determine that Yanus was the mother and Yuno the daughter, but their aggressive interruptions of the other made it impossible to determine which head was which. Their argument dissolved into a tussle. From what Novem could make out, it appeared to be a dispute over lucerne. The flowering plant was a preference of Yuno, and she ate with such gusto that their joint stomach was completely filled without room for more nutritious foliage. It seemed difficult to balance the nutrition for a being that was simultaneously and perpetually experiencing two different stages of adulthood. ¡®I reabsorbed your siblings and I can reabsorb you too! Ungrateful!¡¯ This was apparently Yanus. A little harsh. Parental relationships from Novem¡¯s experience were difficult enough without having your parent constantly watching over your shoulder, literally in Yuno¡¯s case. He empathized with the experience. But not enough to abandon his hunt. He was an obligate carnivore, after all. He had somewhat hazy memories from his pre-ghost life. Memories of hunger driving a constant course to kill. And sometimes not driving him to kill but doing it anyway, opportunistically. Anything that was smaller than himself would do, he had enjoyed variety but had never dared to chance an adult rabbit then. The fear of injury from their sharp teeth and rib bruising kicks had kept him at bay. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. But now he would indulge. He also had a massive astral form to fall back on. His soul merge from the however many cats had been involved in his god birth had manifested in a quite respectably large astral cat form that he could project and manipulate his surroundings with, given enough concentration, though it was fairly draining to maintain for any significant time. It gave him an edge when his prey revealed godly abilities of their own. The heads appeared to have reached some sort of resolution, or perhaps had just become tired of the scuffle. They were strange, viewed through the lens of his new eye. Or rather, everything was strange and they pushed this new status quo even further. Unlike everything else, which had a sort of soft after effect blur of motion following and preceding, Yanus and Yuno were self-contained. However, their anatomy appeared to be tesseracting inward and outward simultaneously, hypersurfaces cantellating and truncating, apparently without causing damage or destruction to the rabbit¡¯s mortal form. He could clearly see the steady thump of their heart beat, pulsing softly, the occasional refraction of surfaces allowing an inward glimpse of the undulation of arteries driving blood down capillaries and into glossy sinew and muscle. It seemed that rather than just following a single temporal trajectory, as they eye perceived most objects, the rabbit was a superposition of all possible states at a given moment. Independent, disconnected from its surroundings. And quite nearly incomprehensible. Novem wondered idly what it must be like as a flea living in Yanus¡¯ and Yuno¡¯s fur. If they were so unlucky as to have fleas. He himself had never had the displeasure. He was fastidiously groomed. He licked at his chest to reassure himself of his tidiness. Would the flea tesselate through the rabbit¡¯s body? Was it only his eye that was able to perceive this anomaly? Would other three dimensional beings interact with it only superficially? Suddenly the rabbit shifted. Not physically, exactly, but its every surface seemed to align perpendicular with the fabric of space itself. As if suddenly gravity had warped and a strange new force was being imposed, non-euclidean, irregular, and the rabbit was squeezed inward, its inwards warping outward, for a moment he could see exposed meat and bone and¡­ pop! As the displaced air surged to fill the vacuum. It appeared a short distance away with another almost simultaneous pop, in the middle of a cluster of fluffy white clover. This seemed the best time to strike, Novem decided, right as the rabbit was warping. Its inversion seemed to require a degree of focus and concentration that distracted it from its environment, and its soft tender core was exposed, perfectly defenseless. He had yet to see any major movement of Yanus using three dimensional space. He looked forward to the fine marbling of unused muscle. It seemed quite content with the clover patch for now. Novem crept closer, easing his way along in the shadows. He was a bit concerned about being caught in the warp. He was unsure about how his body would fare, if he would go along for the ride, or be torn apart. But even if he was torn apart, he felt fairly confident he could sew himself back together. He¡¯d done it before. And the near simultaneous spatial distortions seemed to indicate that it wasn''t spending significant time in some interim space. Yanus had been staying in this general vicinity for the entirety of the time he had been observing them. He wasn¡¯t sure if there was a limitation on the distance they could warp across, but given the distances he had seen so far, he felt confident that he would be able to keep up if it came to a chase. He had decided that his usual stalking approach would be best. He had experimented with other methods before. He had briefly led a group of feral cats in the early stages of his godhood, and in another instance he had teamed up with a particularly vicious spirit called ?ndil?s that had taken issue with a wind god who had cursed him with bad breath. And when one was a spirit they were mostly breath. With the cats they had cooperated to take down larger prey with tracking, stalking, and driving techniques. They would pick a trail before stealthily approaching under thicket cover before bursting towards their prey, driving them into the clutches of their accomplices that had circled behind. He had left them behind when he had decided to pick up god hunting. With the spirit, because they had a single particular target, the preparation had involved a different approach. They had tracked it down and then set up a blind from which to observe the god as it ignorantly gusted by. It had been miserable, sitting up with a spirit with terrible breath. It had truly reeked. The blatant use of ?ndil?s¡¯ breath had driven the spirit into such a frenzy that he had broken cover brashly and confronted the wind god inopportunly which had exacerbated Novem. He had reverted to singular methods since. Many of his previous kills had started with tracking before moving on to still hunting, easing through the forest after a target in camouflaged pursuit. Of course the song god Lauliet had required almost no technique, given that she was literally rooted to her location. Yanus required more finesse. He decided on calling. He would lure Yanus into pouncing range mimicking rabbit calls. He had to be careful. Scent was only a component. He didn''t want Yanus to circle downwind in approach to his call, he needed to take advantage of the terrain to prevent that from happening while still leaving the path open for his ambush. He could employ the use of thermals at different heights to keep his scent undetected. The trick was sounding like something worth investigating. There were several rabbit vocalizations he could use, but he wanted one loud enough for detection and non-threatening enough to keep from putting Yanus onguard. The humming of an amorous buck seemed like his best option. Getting into position, he hummed, committing to the sound completely. Yanus and Yuno¡¯s ears perked in his direction, he quickly climbed up the trunk onto a low branch of a lemon eucalyptus tree, using its strong scent to mask his own. Yanus popped underneath. He pounced. Chapter 3: Catch and release His teeth sunk into Yanus¡¯ neck, and he chittered, positioning his teeth between the cervical spine and skull on one of the heads. His teeth sunk in further breaking the flesh, he could feel downy rabbit fur against his tongue, and hot coppery blood overflowed between his teeth. The other head screamed, the sound of it was ear splitting, sending a piercing, ringing pain deep in his ears. Novem flattened his ears against his skull as a guttural growl worked its way out past clenched teeth. He could feel the rabbit¡¯s jaw clenching and teeth grinding on the head he was grasping, and its whole body shuddered as he bit even deeper, blood gushing past his teeth down his throat, filling his mouth and his nose. He blinked, trying to clear it from his eyes, the hot viscous feeling of it scalding in his sinuses, metallic and bitter. He shook his head rapidly back and forth, using the momentum to bite down even harder and shear through the meat, his canines tearing through muscles, ligands, and tendons, all the way down until he could feel the clack of bone. He felt something twang, the taut spinal cord snapping as he severed between the facets of the first two vertebrae behind the skull. His heart beat rapidly, adrenalin surging as elation over a successful capture flushed through him. And then, pop! Suddenly they were no longer in the forest. They weren¡¯t anywhere. Rushing glimpses of greens and blues and grays and browns. Flickering in and out as they rapidly shifted locations over and over, faster and faster. Until everything bled together, finally still. Still like twilight, like the stillness of the darkest forest under a new moon. Like the deep dark alien stillness of space. Like the ultimate and complete stillness of death. But he felt very much alive. He remembered when he had become a ghost so so long ago. Death had been more of a deep bone wracking pain and the excruciating torture of organ failure, followed by an airy sort of lightness and the slow steady swirl of consciousness as he manifested as a ghost. This was different. Intense pressure was the first thing he noted, as he took inventory of his body. But also a simultaneous weightlessness. Like being submerged in a deep endless body of water. An awful penetrating pain in the back of his skull. The tinny ring of tinnitus in his ears. It¡­hurt. A type of pain he had never encountered before, atomic. It felt as if his every atom was rearranging, writhing in agonizing contortions as the nausea boiled in his stomach. His skin tingled, like his entire epidermis was burning, crawling with vicious fire ants. And his body like it was not solely his own, it was merged, somehow, interlocking, twisting with the rabbit god¡¯s and yet somehow still intact. It felt vile, corrupted. He writhed, trying to dislodge the other being to no effect. Someone was laughing, a loud shrieking terrifying laugh. A head lolled bonelessly on one of his shoulders. He chanced a glance. The dead rabbit¡¯s mouth gaped blood trickling from its mouth, its eyes had turned milky and vacant. He looked away, trying to focus on his breath. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Breathe in. Don¡¯t think about the lifeless head emerging like a tumor from your shoulder. Breathe out. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡®Finally!¡¯ A voice to his other shoulder said, cackling. ¡®I¡¯ve been waiting for her to die for years, the voice said. Novem was still focused on keeping his increasing panic at bay and his breathing steady. This had not been a situation he had accounted for. ¡®I can finally reabsorb her! I¡¯ve been saddled with that vile cyst of a daughter for a millenia, I had managed to reabsorb her siblings when they died in my womb, but that stubborn little bulbous pimple refused to die!¡¯ ¡®I should thank you. No, wait! I should punish you. You were hunting me, weren¡¯t you!¡¯ She cackled maddly. Novem was failing at getting his breathing under control. His heart was beating so frantically it felt like it might fracture his chest, spill out right through his ribs. His throat felt tight and his tongue was swollen and dry in his mouth, he desperately wanted a drink of water, anything to soothe the rawness. ¡®I know, I¡¯ll take your pretty eye as punishment.¡¯ Novem felt his opal eye sink back beneath his eyelid, creating a hollow crater in the socket once again. It sunk down, squeezing through his sinus, he felt a slick, congested choked feeling as it slid down the back of his throat. ¡®Oh! How lovely!¡¯ He could see the pretty twinkle of his eye taking residence in the rabbit¡¯s socket. He was unsure where her old eye had gotten to. She was looking around now, apparently enjoying the dimensional perception the eye imparted. ¡®What a lovely gift, thank you! I should reciprocate.¡¯ He felt a trickle of blood trail down his tear line from his empty socket. And then it wasn¡¯t empty. And he could see. Not like he could with his opal eye, but like before. Back before he lost his eye. He licked his lips nervously. The rabbit seemed to be waiting for something. ¡®Thank you?¡¯ He managed to rasp, his throat raw. ¡®I¡¯m not done yet.¡¯ The rabbit god shot back ominously. An agonizing pressure seemed to be building behind his other eye. Building and straining and¡­ it popped out, slopping heavily down his face and at his feet, writhing like a fish on land, trailing the optic nerve behind it messily. He stilled, stunned and uncomprehending. Horror and disgust wriggled in his stomach. He vomited, bile spewing up and out of his already tender throat. Gagging again and again until there was nothing left. He looked down at the mess. It blinked out of existence, presumably whisked away from whatever non-space they were currently in to something more tangible. But he could see it all clearly, because another eye had taken its place. He blinked. ¡®One eye from me and one from her.¡¯ The rabbit said. She seemed delighted by the symmetry. This eye seemed to see through a milky veil. Perhaps a vestige from the dead. ¡®One for the future and one for the past. One from Yanus and one from Yuno!¡¯ He blinked heavily, there seemed to be some sort of film beneath his eyelids. Another eyelid. He blinked with it, experimentally. A sheer membrane flexed out, covering his corneas. And through it, he watched his eye pop out again on the milky eye¡¯s side, and a whirl of plants come into focus on the other side. The rabbit watched him. ¡®One for the future and one for the past!¡¯ She cackled, again. He felt an unfamiliar strain on his side. Something was emerging from his shoulder, a bulbous mass, heavy and awkward as it detached from his body. One rabbit with one head stared back at him. And as suddenly as before. They popped back into the glade. The ferns wafted gently in the breeze. Aligning perfectly with the apparition he had just seen through his new eye moments ago. ¡®I knew I¡¯d be free of her one day. I could see it. She could only see the past, but I knew. I knew she wouldn¡¯t be around forever, I just had to wait.¡¯ Yanus seemed content, she flopped down on her side with a happy sigh. ¡®The future will always come. It¡¯s as assured as the past.¡¯ She winked her new eye. It sparkled, as if waving him goodbye. And then Yanus winked out of existence. Chapter 4: More than he could chew It had been taking a while for him to process the whole experience. Immediately after Yanus had disappeared he bolted off to find a place to hide and recuperate, tail brushed. He had cowered, trembling in an abandoned burrow for several days. Or maybe weeks. He wasn¡¯t actually sure how long he had been in there. He had been dissociated and numb, as if he were watching some other cat from behind his eyes. He noticed detachedly that he was shivering. He couldn¡¯t feel his paws. His fur had stayed upright and on edge for days, coated in sticky drying blood, both his and hers. He had remained like that, inattentive to his surroundings, caught in his own head, his own trauma to the point of apathy to the rest of the world. As he slowly came out of it, the pain had set in. His entire body ached from being tessellated and his every atom rearranged in space. His muscles were stiff from remaining huddled in his crouched position for so long afterwards. And his eye sockets felt raw. Like they had been scraped out. Which he supposed was an apt description for what they had endured. They were so tender he hadn¡¯t tried out the past and future sight again. He mostly kept them closed, trying to preserve what little moisture he could and resist straining the tightly wound surrounding muscles. Even in his dark shelter, the little light that worked its way in strained his eyes, like looking in the sun. He had finally groomed himself, at least. Going over every bit of himself he could reach several times, almost to the point of excess. But it was meditative, grooming as he went over the whole encounter. As if he was self-soothing and dispelling the distress with each stroke of his tongue. Fixating on the act of grooming kept him focused enough that he could cope with just a trickle of the anxiety at a time without getting too overwhelmed. When he stopped, it would creep in again, flooding him with energy so panicked he would be completely mentally detached just to escape it, leaving his body paralyzed, every muscle stretched taut with fright. And out of body he would just, drift. So when he wasn¡¯t grooming, he slept. He slept for far longer than he ever had before, curled tightly around himself with his tail tucked snugly around his toes and over his eyes. He didn¡¯t remember feeling this awful after his god birth. But perhaps it was just that - he didn¡¯t remember much of it at all. He felt a bit grateful that his mind had done such a good job of protecting him, but it was an unnerving sensation, losing time. He resigned himself to the likelihood he would lose more. Eventually he had started to ease out of his hole, inching toward the entrance as he peered out from blurry watery eyes. He tried not to rub them. The milky one hadn¡¯t cleared up at all, it was like looking through frosted glass, hazy. The eye of the dead. That he had killed. In his skull. Degrading. What in another circumstance could have been an indication of his triumph, the spoils of a successful hunt, was now a constant, implanted reminder of his timidity in the face of adversity. His embarrassment at the hands of a stronger force. Just like Noctua, as if he had learned nothing from his failures. A neverending reminder of his deficiencies. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The sun was shining warmly down through the branches. It felt illusory. Mocking. Everything was the same in the forest, the sun and the trees and the warm humid breeze, while his whole world was completely different. He hated it, a bit. Everything went on as usual while his world fell apart. It felt unfair. He wanted the world to reflect even a little of what he felt, for his pain to be acknowledged, in some way. He had thought about revisiting the grove. For some sort of self-flagellating closure, or maybe just to see if the rabbit god was still there, that the whole thing wasn¡¯t some horrific nightmare he had dreamed up. But the thought of seeing her again terrified him. He wanted to do something though. Something to prove to himself that he was strong and could overcome, that could do more than just survive. That this was just a minor snag in the epic story of his life. Past. It was likely too soon to pretend he could move on. But not moving on left him here. Low. Beaten down and exhausted. If he didn¡¯t do something it felt like the self-loathing would swallow him up and he would drown in it forever. It was frustrating, having to get used to yet another set of eyes. Another set of eyes forced into his body. Violated. Again. He hated that he had been compliant, that he had submitted to Yanus, rather than fighting back. He felt complicit in his own assault. He had even thanked her. He felt sick, dirty. More angry at himself than at Yanus. It felt hopeless, too. Futile, like they could be taken again at any time. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t get attached. There was a tiny part of him that was glad the opal eye was gone. It had been too overwhelming. Made him feel too small. He had felt unworthy. Unworthy of Sikac¡¯s friendship, when he had done nothing except laugh at her and her mushrooms. Truffles, he corrected himself, his heart aching. He felt a bit like he deserved it, that he was being punished for hunting gods, for not valuing Sikac. That this was his retribution. Despite his feelings, once they had healed more completely, these eyes seemed to fit in a way the opal eye had never. Perhaps it was just that despite all its advantages, at its core it was still a rock. Not these eyes though. He suspected they were older than he was. There were a lot of floaters in his vision. Though they looked somewhat different than what he remembered from his original eyes. They seemed almost¡­ ghostly. And though both allowed him insights into time, the requirement of his eyelids in the process of scrying gave him a stronger sense of control. Which, he sorely needed. He began visiting Lauliet¡¯s pond surreptitiously. He wished he hadn¡¯t forced her to give him her voice. He would have liked to listen to her songs now. It was selfish, but he was too miserable to care. She still sang, but they were sad songs now. Good. It suited his mood. He started to enjoy hearing his own voice, after a time. It was therapeutic hearing his old voice sing songs about loss. About things stolen and the emptiness left in their absence. The irony was not lost on him. Really though, he was stalling. He didn¡¯t know how to face Sikac, now that he had lost the eye she had gifted him. He gathered his resolve. Chapter 5: Can鈥檛 change the future She was under her tree. He smiled at her predictability, it was comforting. He quietly ascended into the rainbow eucalyptus¡¯ branches, finding a notched branch that he could sit in comfortably, content to watch her. He still wasn¡¯t sure what to say. He decided to test out his new eyes. It required a whole new muscle that he wasn¡¯t aware that he had. Perhaps it had come with the eyes. Flex out, flex in. He stimulated the muscle without paying much attention to the apparitions that came into focus. It flexed out laterally from outer to inner, unlike his nictitating membrane, and rested beneath both his third eyelid and his outermost ones. It felt a bit like he was crossing his eyes. He wondered how it worked. If the eyelids would work with another set of eyes. Though it was mostly translucent, he could see tiny capillaries lacing across the surface. They appeared to be pumping the gold hued fluid of his godly ichor rather than blood, giving a soft hazy aura to the phantoms beyond. When he finally focused he could make out many soft spectral-like forms of Sikac, happily rooting around from his milky eye. They overlapped well with the floaters he saw without the eyelid, as if the eyelid was only bringing the images into focus. He closed his other eye, satisfied to watch her for a while. He was a bit apprehensive about looking into the future. The past seemed a bit more stable, safer. If the two eyes were mirrors of each other, he could expect to see overlapping apparitions of different times in his future eye as well. The older after images looked to be somewhat more faded. He wondered if there was a time limit on the distances he could scry into. Yanus seemed to imply that she knew from the beginning that Yuno wouldn¡¯t last. He wondered if his ability with the eyes would improve over time, if he would become more proficient. He wondered what would happen if he refused to act upon the future the eyes showed him. He hesitantly opened his other eye. He could see spectral versions of himself and Sikac on the forest floor below. His illusory form looked agitated, its tail lashing and ears back. Sikac looked tense. He wished he knew what they were saying. She made a sort of aborted, lunging motion, then turned and left. He tried to flicker ahead. No Sikac. Maybe he was using it wrong. He concentrated harder, ichor thrumming in his blood, to no avail. He could only watch the confrontation again. There was nothing afterwards. She was gone. He tried to stymie the rising panic. A single tear of blood dripped from his over-strained eye, trailing down his cheek before falling down below, to land on Sikac¡¯s snout. She looked up. ¡®How long have you been there?¡¯ This wasn¡¯t the first time he hadn¡¯t announced his presence. She hadn¡¯t been foraging, just relaxing underneath the tree, content. Novem didn¡¯t know how to avoid the coming confrontation. He didn¡¯t even know what he had done, what he had said, how he could change the future when he didn¡¯t even know what he had to change. The eye. It had to be the eye, what else could it be? Something to distract her. Too late. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡®Did the eye help with your hunt?¡¯ ¡®Yes, it was perfect!¡¯ No, that was too complimentary, he had never been so polite to her before. He had to tone it back, keep her from suspicion. And divert away from the eye. ¡®No mushrooms today?¡¯ Shit. Truffles. But if he corrected himself now she would know something was wrong. She scoffed, ¡®I know you do that on purpose, I¡¯m not stupid.¡¯ He felt wronged. The one time he didn¡¯t actually do it on purpose. And guilty. He did think she was stupid. Only a little bit. Well. More than that. But that was why he loved her. Wait. He loved her? ¡®I went to so much trouble to make a perfect gift for you and you can¡¯t even be bothered to remember the one thing that is important to me!¡¯ She seemed to be truly upset. He needed to apologize. Probably. He had never done so before and he wasn¡¯t sure of the proper procedure. ¡®I¡¯m sorry!¡¯ It slipped out, a little shrill. ¡®You are?¡¯ She seemed a bit stumped. ¡®Then come down and apologize properly.¡¯ She harrumphed, getting back her bearings. He definitely did not want to do that. She would notice the missing eye right away. ¡®I said I¡¯m sorry! I don¡¯t even know why you¡¯re so particular about them, it¡¯s not like they¡¯re actually special.¡¯ That came out way more irritable than he intended. And too close to the truth. He needed to remain calm, to not become the irate cat he had seen in his vision. ¡®What are you talking about, you told me they are the thing that made me indestructible!¡¯ ¡®Yes, but that doesn¡¯t mean you have to keep eating them.¡¯ He froze. ¡®You mean you¡¯ve been watching me all this time, knowing that I thought I needed to continuously eat them to remain immortal, just, just laughing at me?!¡¯ Her volume increased with each word until she was shouting. ¡®What is wrong with you!?¡¯ He had considered what might happen when she found out, but he had never considered that he would care about their friendship. Care about her. He had no idea how to fix this. He needed to lie. ¡®I thought you just liked them!¡¯ That sounded good, it sounded reasonable. Hopefully she would buy it. ¡®You liar. You knew.¡¯ She turned away. He had to stop her from leaving. He knew she wouldn¡¯t come back. He lept down. ¡®Wait,¡¯ He trailed after her. ¡®Please.¡¯ The word sounded strange on his tongue. Awkward. She turned around. And looked him in the eyes. They both froze, the moment felt heavy. As if every blade of grass, and leaf, and flower, every mote of dust was suspended. ¡®Where is your eye.¡¯ She said it like a statement. Like an accusation. As if she already knew the answer. As if no answer of his would matter except for the fact that it was missing. He wasn¡¯t sure how to answer. Or rather he didn¡¯t want to answer. He just wanted to go back, to, to maybe the moment when he was in the tree. Not far enough. Before when he still had the eye. He would be grateful for it. He would appreciate it. Appreciate her. His heart felt like it was twisting in his chest and he felt the stinging wet pressure of tears rising. What to say¡­ ¡®I traded it.¡¯ He tried. He couldn¡¯t tell her that it was stolen. It was too shameful. Too raw. He never wanted anyone to know. But especially not her. He didn¡¯t want to be weak in her eyes. But being ungrateful, careless wasn¡¯t much better. There were no right answers. ¡®I really appreciated that you made it for me, but it was too much.¡¯ That sounded alright, close enough to the truth. ¡®So you gave it away.¡¯ She said it flatly, softly. But it wasn¡¯t as cold as before. Maybe he could turn this around. ¡®You did force it into my socket. It hurt, you know. More than when Noctua took it.¡¯ Maybe he could make her see that this was better. ¡®I thought you accepted me, but then you went behind my back and made a prosthetic. You didn¡¯t even ask if I wanted one.¡¯ He hadn¡¯t exactly meant to say that, but it was how he felt, the resentment slipping out from where he had buried it. ¡®So instead of telling me, you just went out and gave it away. After lying to me for the entire time we¡¯ve known each other about the truffles. Did you ever even care about our friendship? Or was this just another game to you?¡¯ She seemed to be struggling with herself. She gave that aborted sort of lunge that he had been dreading. Caught herself. And left. Chapter 6: She鈥檚 gone Novem watched her leave, knowing she would never come back. It hurt to see her back, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to stop her, not when he knew it would be futile. The argument had taken everything out of him. He was so, so tired. He sunk to the ground. He missed her already. He lay cradled in the roots of the tree, their tree, staring at the spot Sikac had disappeared for hours. As the twilight crept in he startled. Even if she didn¡¯t come back to him, there was a way to see her again. He contracted his new eyelid, the freshly constructed muscle contracting to mount the translucent sheath over his milky eye. He watched fondly as the spectral forms of her wandered around in the loam. He lay back, comforted to have even this little bit of her close by. It would have to be enough. He let the rising prickle of tears fall. He kept the eye in effect for a long time. Until his eyes ached with the strain and bloody tears followed the dried tear tracks, dripping down his cheeks and off his chin. The images were getting blurry. His heart throbbed, he couldn¡¯t stand to lose this illusory version of her too. He pulled on his astral form, the collective force of his intrinsic ghostly core, seeking to heal his eye and retain the apparition of Sikac. A pulse of cloudy ghost flesh emerged from him, wrapping around him like an opaque capsule. He felt the ichor channel through him, burning through his arteries and filling him with a flush of euphoria. He directed the surge towards his eyes. It flooded in, warm and soothing. And suddenly, the surge of power flowed outward, expanding into a ghostly frame outlining his material body, pushing the boundaries out out out, then exploding the hull of a massive feline form, larger than he had ever created before, bursting in incorporeal fireworks of celestial light. Unfettered, the lights whirled and spiraled wildly, leaving sparkling after images behind. One by one they appeared to slam into some sort of invisible impediments, imbuing the impalpable structures with their phantasmal light. Animal shapes took form, with long pert tails and pointed ears, cats, of all shapes and sizes, walking towards him on illusory legs. This was new. They gathered around him, sitting, facing him, looking expectant. Stolen novel; please report. He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of them, they were eerie, and set him on edge. ¡®Don¡¯t you recognize us?¡¯ A phantom cloud leopard said after a pause. ¡®Are you¡­ the ghosts that are sewn up inside me?¡¯ Novem asked, hesitant. ¡®Sort of.¡¯ Another replied, a tiny fluffy kitten. ¡®Some of us are.¡¯ A grisly striped cat, missing an ear and most of his tail corrected. ¡®And some of us are new.¡¯ A massive saber toothed tiger said. ¡®You¡¯re magnetic. We can¡¯t help but be drawn in to you. You¡¯re our god, even if you don¡¯t know we exist.¡¯ The grisly cat said. ¡®But now you know we exist!¡¯ The little kitten said excitedly. A rustle of excitement moved through the group. ¡®Are you me? Aren''t I made up of all of you?¡¯ Novem felt a flicker of panic, he had always assumed that his personality, his self, was some sort of amalgamation of cat ghosts that Noctua had stitched together, an emergent consciousness from their collective psyche. That they were only composites of his own consciousness. He had never expected for them to retain their own form or sentiance. But here in front of him were the ghosts, still intact, still present in this plane. The existentiality of it overwhelmed him, if they were here, how could he exist? ¡®You were us, but now you are something more than us, something beautiful,¡¯ soothed the cloud leopard that had first spoken. ¡®And we¡¯re grateful, now that you have become self aware, you can set us free.¡¯ The grisly cat said. ¡®I¡¯ve been with you the longest. I¡¯m old and I¡¯m tired and I am ready to rest.¡¯ He walked up to Novem and kissed his cheek. Novem watched, quieted as the old cat faded away. Several others followed suit. ¡®I¡¯m staying, I like being with you, there are more things I want to see through your eyes, I want to be your curiosity.¡¯ said the fluffy kitten, her tiny body disappearing in a burst of fairylight, sparkling playfully as it rushed back to be resumed into Novem¡¯s astral frame, fractionally bigger now. ¡®I want to stay as well, I want to give you my power and my strength so you won¡¯t have to be afraid again.¡¯ Said the saber tooth, his body dissolved with a celestial flash, zipping back to Novem, sheathing him in an ethereal shroud as his light settled. One by one, the ghosts elected to either rejoin Novem, their soul-light sinking back into his godly ichor to be called upon again, or to find their forever peace with Novem¡¯s blessing. With each ghostly absorption a warm flush suffused over him, enlarging his astral form infinitesimally with each incorporation. He could feel them settle in the back of his mind, comforting, making him feel that much more whole. Finally, they were all gone. And though the glade was empty again, though Sikac was still gone, he didn¡¯t feel quite as alone. Chapter 7: Daddy issues He considered the bird god. She appeared to have forgotten that she was a god at all and was flitting around the ruins of her god body as a soul shard. Though she had once been magnificent and mighty, she was now in shambles. He could relate. He thought that hunting a weakened god would be a good initial step back into hunting after Yanus, but so far he had only managed to empathize to the point of compassion with his mark. He wondered how she had gotten to this state. If whatever happened to her was traumatic as his own experience. She didn¡¯t seem unhappy, though. But that could just be the lack of memory. Was that the trick to happiness? Simply forgetting the things that made you unhappy. It seemed like a cheap trick. He didn¡¯t want to forget. He wanted¡­ to be stronger, maybe? To come out gaining something from the experience, despite its dismal failure as a hunt. It felt like everything he did was at some sort of loss. This wasn¡¯t working. He turned from the bird god. He didn¡¯t want to hunt. He wasn¡¯t sure he ever would again. He felt ashamed now, of how casually he had wreaked havoc on other gods. With how little regard he had treated their lives. A hobby. He had treated their deaths as a hobby. His stomach churned. He felt sick. He returned to the cave he had found in his flight from Yanus. It reeked of blood and death and fear. He slunk in. He deserved this. He deserved to drown in guilt forever. He curled up tightly, his head tucked under his tail, closing his eyes, trying to close out the world. He slept and slept and slept. The bone needle in his heart ticked. He dreamed. In his dream he was watching Noctua making dream wine. ¡®Do you know why I made you?¡¯ Noctua asked. He worked as he spoke, sterilizing his glassware carefully. ¡®I¡¯d assumed it was some sort of experimentation with the rules around godhood¡¯ Novem replied sarcastically after a beat. ¡®Hm. Well, you¡¯re not entirely wrong. A good part of it was loneliness though. Loneliness and vanity. I wanted to make someone who could share my experience. The world feels awfully big to mortals, but as a god it can be even bigger. We have the additional dimension of time, stretching infinitely in both directions, and sometimes even more than that.¡¯ He was looking through a wicker basket holding the beads of Novem¡¯s dreams now, carefully selecting dream fruit before washing them with a frothy, milky soap. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Novem recognized his own dreams, from when he had been alive. He dreamed mostly about his hunts then, and sometimes about being hunted. He had forgotten that part. Being hunted. That was how he had died. He¡¯d forgotten. The unnerving sensation of hungry eyes on his back, glinting when he turned around. The subtle off beat of footsteps overlapping with his own, just out of sight. The heart stopping terror when he realized they had circle around infront, flanking him. The waiting. The seconds that felt like minutes and the minutes that felt like hours. The helpless surrender when it finally attacked, the certainty of death. The hot sensation where teeth punctured him, his life blood seeping out. A prickle of fear went through him. ¡®I didn¡¯t make your dreams into wine to threaten you.¡¯ Noctua eyed him knowingly, a small smile playing on his lips. Novem hated that smile. It must have shown on his face. ¡®You¡¯ve always been so difficult. Everything is a confrontation.¡¯ He sighed, ¡®being a parent is so hard.¡¯ He turned back to his work, crushing the fruit with his hands, staining them a deep indigo. ¡®You stole my eye!¡¯ Novem said astounded. ¡®You were being reckless.¡¯ Noctua countered disapprovingly. ¡®And not just at that party.¡¯ He poured the pureed fruit into the sterilized cask, it swirled mesmerizingly. He opened an ornate pot on his work bench, measuring out a portion of starry cosmic yeast carefully. ¡®It¡¯s easy as gods to get trapped in our own heads, wrapped up in our own fixations. Most of us are primarily solitary, and it can be disheartening to form bonds with the non-endless. Their lives are so short and filled with meaning, it¡¯s hard to relate. But with dreams we can. I had hoped you would at least be able to relate to your mortal self.¡¯ He was adding honey now, thick and sticky, checking to measure the relative density of the confection as he did so. Novem pouted, a little abashed. Noctua studied him. ¡®I¡¯ll give you back your eye. I didn¡¯t take it to hurt you.¡¯ Novem was silent. Considering. ¡®It did hurt¡¯ he emphasized, ¡®but more than the physical pain, it was humiliating.¡¯ He needed Noctua to know how truly awful it was, the agony and degradation of it. Truely, Noctua should understand the severity of the injury he had caused. Pain to a god was different from pain to a mortal. Mortals had a unique quirk of evolution allowing them to forget painful experiences rather quickly, sheltering their psyche. Gods and their given affiliates and acolytes did not have the same mental composition, undergoing a drastic mental shift during their conception. Many endless creatures, Novem included, tended to live as much as possible in the present, completely absorbing themselves in it. The alternative was often being mentally crushed and driven mad under the weight of eternity, some driven to the point of forgetting themselves entirely, setting themselves adrift in a sea of ignorant bliss. For those that chose to stay cognizant, therefore, any painful experience, no matter how small, was amplified. It lived with them forever, sharp as the day it was cut into their anima. Noctua lowered his eyes. Novem wasn¡¯t sure he would get more acknowledgement than that. But that was already more than he expected. ¡®I don¡¯t want it.¡¯ He said decisively. And he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t bear to have them taken out again. And it felt good to choose. He decided he liked his new eyes. Even the milky one. He liked being able to choose to see the future, or the past. And it didn¡¯t feel like a step backward to choose them. Noctua smiled, and Novem found he hated it a little less. Chapter 8: Atonement He was watching Lauliet again. Only this time he had a much different intention. He wasn¡¯t here to stalk her as prey, or to indulge himself in her misery as a proxy for his own. He was here to rectify his transgressions. He had decided after some consideration that he needed to return her voice. His stripping her of it had a parallel with his own eye loss that made him decidedly uncomfortable. Restoring it felt a bit like a substitute for restoring himself. It felt right. Not that he was one to put too much stock in right and wrong, such reductive concepts were the realm of the non-endless, those with societies that needed such constructs to maintain their social hierarchical integrity. Such a thing was virtually meaningless for him, he reassured himself. But nonetheless. And it wasn¡¯t that he thought hunting itself was inherently wrong, but the manner in which he had been casually and remorselessly causing suffering no longer sat well with him. And Lauliet was a flagrant example. He had been reflecting on hunting as a concept, and was still conflicted on his stance. He didn¡¯t necessarily need to eat, he was a god after all. But he was still a cat, he refused to deprive himself of his identity, the last vestige of his existence before godhood. He didn¡¯t want to forget it again, despite Noctua¡¯s standing offer of his previous life¡¯s dreams whenever he needed them. And cats needed to hunt, they were obligate carnivores, after all. But he was uncertain if his awareness of the pain he was causing made him immoral or hypocritical. Should he make rules around his selection of prey? Should he only hunt those that were near the grave already, or those that were too young to have a rich experience that he would be taking away? The non-endless or gods exclusively? Gods may be a more worthy prey, and it felt like they had a fighting chance to evade him, but the non-endless he would likely be able to kill quickly and therefore more painlessly. It was too much to resolve right now. He needed to focus on Lauliet. He wasn¡¯t sure how to approach her. She was humming quietly to herself in his old voice, the breeze a hot lull over the surface of her pond, causing only the faintest of ripples. He sat in a cluster of lemon balm, the minty smell comforting. It reminded him of Sikac and their tree. He breathed in deeply, trying to gain courage and resolve from the scent. He thought about looking into the future again, to see how he was supposed to do it. But trying to prevent an awful future hadn¡¯t worked out well for him last time, and he wanted to focus on doing things right, here in the present, not be overwhelmed by the weight of his impending fate. And if felt a bit like cheating, like he would only be acting out a path set in front of him, like the sincerity of his actions would be compromised or lost. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. And there wasn¡¯t going to be a right way to approach her anyway. He stood up, his legs a little weak. ¡®Hello,¡¯ he said tentatively as he approached her. Better not to accidentally sneak up and startle her. She went silent. Presumably alarmed at his return. That was fair. If Yanus suddenly showed up in front of him, he would probably be alarmed at the very least. ¡®I came to return your voice. And apologize.¡¯ He cleared his throat, feeling her voice reverberate as he swallowed, stalling. He wasn¡¯t sure what happened next, in apologies. His experience apologizing had been just Sikac, and that was not exactly a success. He wished there was a sort of protocol, or maybe some sort of checklist. Maybe he¡¯d better do it again, just to be safe. ¡®I¡¯m sorry I took your voice.¡¯ He thought about how he would have liked Noctua to apologize, as considering Yanus apologizing was too outlandish. ¡®I hurt you. For no reason except that I could. Taking your voice was a violation. And I regret that it took me this long to return it to you.¡¯ He waited, unsure. He wondered what it was like to hear your own voice speak without your control, to apologize to you. At the uncanniness, the eeriness of it. If it made her feel alienated from the world, like her body, her experience was out of her control. If she felt like him. His heart twinged. ¡®Return it then.¡¯ It came out a bit more timid than she likely intended. He breathed deeply, preparing, his heartbeat accelerating in his chest in anticipation, readying himself for the pain. He coughed, a hacking, grating cough, constricting his throat and dislodging her larynx with no small effort. He placed it on a patch of moss at the bank, like a tribute, stepping back to give her space to reclaim it. The reeds shook, and a small catfish dislodged itself from their silty base. It swam over and with a wet heave, hoisted itself just far enough onto the bank to push the organ into the water, mouth gaping, gasping for breath, all shimmery wet scales, before wriggling back into the pond to retrieve it with a quick flurry. He turned to leave. He didn¡¯t have a voice anymore, but it felt fitting, a little, like penance. ¡®Wait!¡¯ Lauliet called, in her own voice once again, lilting and beautiful. ¡®I¡­I don¡¯t forgive you.¡¯ Novem nodded, accepting her decision solemnly. He felt somewhat relieved. He wanted to be punished, he realized, and her refusal felt like a much more deserved punishment than his own self-flagellation. ¡®But,¡¯ she continued. ¡®I liked it when you visited before,¡¯ her voice gained some strength. ¡®You should visit me again. And we can sing together.¡¯ The same catfish pushed a short pretty reed onto the bank, covered in delicate spindly text, then disappeared back into the sediment of the pond. Novem stepped forward, nosing the reed into position, then swallowed it. ¡®I¡¯d like that.¡¯ His new reed voice was not like his old, nor like Lauliets. It was something different entirely. He looked forward to using it. Resources Apologizing https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-apologize Being hunted https://studyres.com/doc/11232374/being-prey-by-val-plumwood Cats https://icatcare.org/understanding-the-hunting-behaviour-of-pet-cats-an-introduction/ https://basepaws.com/blogs/news/how-do-cats-hunt https://www.petmd.com/cat/care/9-interesting-facts-about-cat-teeth https://www.petmd.com/cat/conditions/behavioral/c_ct_fear_phobia_anxiety https://pets.thenest.com/eye-disorders-cats-9459.html https://www.rd.com/article/what-do-cats-dream-about/ https://moderncat.com/articles/12-sounds-cats-make-and-what-they-mean/ Colors https://www.popsci.com/article/science/woman-sees-100-times-more-colors-average-person/ Dimensions https://science.howstuffworks.com/science-vs-myth/everyday-myths/see-the-fourth-dimension.htm Eating disorder https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/eating-disorders/symptoms-causes/syc-20353603 Eucalyptus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eucalyptus Eye surgery https://northsouthblonde.com/lasik-md-review-my-experience-lasik-eye-surgery/ https://www.henshaws.org.uk/experience-eye-surgery/ https://www.nia.nih.gov/health/aging-and-your-eyes Fathers https://www.verywellmind.com/what-are-daddy-issues-5190911 Hunting https://www.britannica.com/sports/hunting-sport/Hunting-codes https://www.howitworksdaily.com/how-do-tigers-hunt/ https://www.themeateater.com/hunt/big-game/still-hunting-techniques If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. https://www.balisafarimarinepark.com/how-lions-hunt-their-prey/ https://naturesportcentral.com/what-is-stalking-hunting/ Janus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janus Juliana pig https://petpigworld.com/juliana-pigs-the-complete-guide-everything-you-need-to-know/ https://americanminipigassociation.com/educational/mini-pig-communications-and-behaviors/ Meat marbling https://www.masterclass.com/articles/what-is-marbling-in-meat-learn-about-the-different-types-of-marbling-and-what-factors-impact-marbling Opal formation https://sciencing.com/opals-made-6637870.html One eye https://lifewithoneeye.com/ https://www.visioncenter.org/eye-anatomy/ Prosthetic http://www.livingonehanded.com/my-thoughts-on-using-a-prosthesis/ https://www.prevention.com/health/a20484180/living-with-a-prosthetic-leg/ Rabbits https://rabbitpros.com/rabbit-lifecycle/ https://www.answers.com/Q/What_does_it_mean_for_a_rabbit_to_reabsorb_her_litter https://www.thesprucepets.com/sounds-that-rabbits-make-1835745 Scuba diving https://www.weheartdiving.com/how-does-scuba-diving-make-you-feel/ https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/what-are-scientists-learning-about-the-deepest-diving-creatures-in-the-ocean-180980190/ Spine https://spinehealth.org/spine-anatomy/ https://www.arthritis.org/health-wellness/about-arthritis/where-it-hurts/anatomy-of-the-spine-back-neck Surgeon¡¯s knots https://surgmedia.com/surgical-knot-types-knot-tying-techniques/ Truffles https://mushroomgrab.com/growing-truffles-at-home/ Two headed https://www.abc.net.au/news/science/2018-10-05/two-headed-animals-causes-and-how-common-are-they/10337640 Tessellation https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesseract https://study.com/learn/lesson/fourth-dimension-overview-examples.html https://www.allthescience.org/what-is-the-fourth-dimension.htm https://astrogeekzco.com/2018/12/10/how-would-our-universe-look-like-from-the-fourth-dimension/ Trauma https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/articles/200111/recovering-trauma https://traumatherapistnetwork.com/what-are-trauma-responses-effects-trauma-on-body/ https://traumatherapistnetwork.com/understanding-the-diagnostic-criteria-for-ptsd-and-why-it-matters/ https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/in-the-body/201910/when-trauma-gets-stuck-in-the-body Vasculature https://www.healthline.com/health/artery-vs-vein#types-of-arteries https://www.differencebetween.com/difference-between-capillaries-and-vs-veins/ Wine https://www.wikihow.com/Make-Homemade-Wine https://www.allrecipes.com/article/how-to-make-wine-at-home/ Wormhole https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wormhole https://www.livescience.com/what-are-wormholes