A new emotion took root in Zogrusz as he wended his way through the streets, his gaze fixed on the great dome swelling over the city like a second moon bubbling up from under the world’s crust. He thought of his followers, the ones whose devotion had sustained him for so long, and how they were now forced to huddle in crumbling darkness for fear of retribution. He thought of the lines of suffering carved into the face of the old woman leading the ragged remnants of the People. He thought of the laughter and good cheer that had filled Xochintl when he had walked its streets, before the armies of this city had come.

Anger. It burned in his breast, bright and hot. The People had saved him. They were his People, and they still – even after all this time – believed he would make right the wrongs done to them. He remembered the laughter of the crowd when the red bird had befouled his puppet. The citizens of Amotla had reveled in his humiliation, just as they no doubt enjoyed their dominance over everyone they had made slaves. Lives of ease made possible through the toil of the conquered.

Well, they had made a terrible mistake. He was awake now, and they would experience the vengeance of something born in the cold darkness beyond the stars. They thought they were the masters of everything on this world? He was a creature of the cosmos and had trod the dusty surface of a hundred dead planets. The shadows around him trembled, agitated by his wrath.

Lost in his dark mood, he hadn’t realized that he’d gotten so close to the great citadel until its mighty outer wall loomed over him. Zogrusz sneered as he stared up at the distant crenellations. The arrogance of these humans, to believe they deserved to rule all that they saw. He could burst forth from within his man-cloak right now and grow to the limit of his true form and the walls would barely reach past his knees. He imagined these fortifications toppling over, the rush of delicious fear that would erupt from the people of Amotla as they scurried before him like terrified ants.

Zogrusz’s gaze returned to the tower-fringed dome of the priest-king. That was where this Cozotl ruled from, the one who would destroy any of the People caught worshipping their true god. In his mind Zogrusz saw the palace exploding as he erupted from within, great chunks of stone raining down on the city as he bellowed into the night. Yes, that was how his revenge should begin – with the utter destruction of the palace-temple dedicated to their ridiculous bird-god. He would lay waste to the city’s heart and these people by the sea would learn the folly of daring to humiliate an Eldritch Horror. It would also be best, he reasoned, to wreak his devastation as far away as possible from his few remaining cultists. If they happened to be crushed in the chaos he wasn’t sure he would survive, since Rhas had claimed that feeding on constantly escalating panic was only possible for so long.

Zogrusz followed the wall until he arrived at an open gate. Guards flanked this entrance, but he wrapped himself in shadows and passed them unseen. Beyond was a path cutting sword-straight through the garden that filled the space between the outer walls and the palace proper. At night it was a shadowy tangle speckled with motes of light – some were insects, flickering as they drifted lazily, but there was also pale blue radiance seeping from flowers clinging to trellises of wrought copper.

Zogrusz let his cloak of shadows dissipate as he strode the path, his feet ringing on the metal bricks sunk into the earth. He did not care who heard him – soon this whole edifice would come crashing down, torn apart by his rage. What could these puny humans do to him, a creature of the void? Perhaps he would make this priest-king kneel before him and beg for mercy.

“Pardon.”

Zogrusz halted abruptly, surprised by this voice. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had not felt the intrusion of another consciousness.

“Can you help me?”

Zogrusz turned. A small girl stood just off the path, staring up at him. She was dressed in robes so white they almost glowed in the darkness, and her fair hair was intricately plaited and fell nearly to her waist. Zogrusz was not very experienced in guessing the age of humans, but he thought she was not yet halfway to adulthood. He peered past her, looking for some older guardian, but saw no one else.

“Hello,” he muttered, not sure what else he should say.

“Oh!” the girl-child exclaimed, dropping into a curtsy than nearly caused the circlet resting on her brow to slip from her head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you.” She paused for a moment after she straightened, clearly gathering herself. “Hello,” she said, her tone more formal than before. “Can you help me, good sir?”

Zogrusz’s eyes flicked from her to the great dome and then back to her. What was he doing? He had a city to destroy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very busy.”

The girl’s face fell. “But . . . but . . . it’s Lord Whiskers. He’s . . . he’s . . .” She sniffled, then wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. The sadness flowing from her had a purity unlike anything Zogrusz had experienced before. He’d never peered into the mind of a child, and the innocence was disconcerting.

“What is wrong?” Zogrusz asked, shaking his head to try and clear it.

The girl raised her arm, pointing deeper into the garden. “My kitten is lost. I think he’s somewhere in there.” An image formed in Zogrusz’s mind of a tiny white cat with black paws. It looked like it was wearing shoes. “I know I wasn’t supposed to take him outside,” she continued, her words coming so fast now they were tumbling over each other. “But he’s been so bored in our chambers and he just stays at my window watching the birds and I thought maybe I could let him just have a chance to run in the grass a bit and chase the chipmunks and he’d enjoy it so much but I think something scared him and –”

Zogrusz held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He was growing exhausted just listening to her.

“I will find her,” he promised, and the girl-child gave what might have been a squeak of thanks.

If he could. The cat Rhas had somehow closed its mind to him . . . but perhaps not all of those creatures had such abilities, as he felt a glimmer of consciousness recessed in the garden not far from here. Fear was rolling off it in waves, and it did not seem nearly as advanced a mind as the moon-colored cat had boasted, but that might be because it was very young. Zogrusz concentrated, willing the darkness it crouched in to harden. It gave a startled chirp, and the girl-child beside him made a similar sound, clapping her hands to her mouth.

“That’s him!” she cried. “He’s so scared!”

Zogrusz lifted the cocoon of shadows swaddling the kitten with a thought. It drifted from the garden and settled in his hand, then melted away to reveal a tiny shivering shape. Before it could flee he made a cage with his fingers, and it yowled miserably.

“Oh, it can’t be all that bad,” Zogrusz muttered sternly, too quiet for the girl to hear. “I’ve seen into her soul – it must be absolutely delicious. You should be quite grateful to have this one as your pet.”

The cat did not seem to agree, scratching at his palm with its little claws. He wondered if it understood him – apparently, the power of speech developed late in these creatures.

“How did you do that?” the girl whispered, and he turned from the cat to find her staring at him wide-eyed. “I thought you were the gardener. Are you a wizard?”

“Hm?” Zogrusz said, holding out the squirming kitten for her to take. “Oh, no. I’m an Eldritch Horror from beyond the stars. I’ve come to destroy your city as punishment for the crimes of your people.”

The girl blinked up at him for a long moment, as if trying to parse what he’d just said. “That’s too bad,” she finally murmured, gingerly accepting her cat. “I like the city. You can get roast sweet corn in the market on festival days. You should try it.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m very angry.”

“Why’s that?” the girl asked. She’d managed to calm the kitten and was running her fingers down its back, eliciting a pleased-sounding vibration. Fracturing her soul for later feeding, Zogrusz knew. Such clever creatures. He wondered if this entire escapade had been planned for this very purpose.

“Because your people took away something I cared about,” he told her.

“Maybe we could just give it back?”

“No, no, I’m afraid that’s impossible. This happened a long time ago. Many hundreds of years, I think.”

The girl’s face crumpled in confusion. “Huh. Then I suppose the people in this city aren’t really to blame.”

Zogrusz opened his mouth to dispute this, and then closed it with a click. Surprisingly, she did have a point.

He grimaced, rubbing at the back of his neck. Things were more complicated than he’d first thought.

“You should go talk to my father,” the girl suggested. “He’s the king and very wise.”

This roused Zogrusz from his ruminations. “Your father is Cozotl?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! He’s probably in his study right now working. Just please don’t tell him I went into the garden on my own.”

“I won’t,” Zogrusz promised, returning his attention to the dome.