“There you go folks,” the reverend says as he swings the church door open. “I’ll be in the rectory if anyone needs me. Come get me when you’re done and I’ll lock up.”

He claps Abbey on the back and totters off drunkenly down the road. The spectators still capable of walking have endeavoured to keep the party going and fumble over some beer barrels that they’d stolen from the inn. I would wonder why the innkeeper was allowing this to happen, but he’s already gone and dunked his head in a barrel of ale. He comes up for air and the crowd cheers. I’m getting a headache just watching them.

The church doors crack open and the dark interior yawns before me. I sway backwards, the void drawing me in like a bottomless cliff. It all feels very melodramatic, but I can almost see the slitted eyes of The Mother hanging from the rafters, like a cat waiting for a mouse to cross the threshold.

“Then we synch up our breathing and focus on Lucien.” I zone back into the conversation as Emmet finishes explaining his guided meditation thing. Abbey nods uncertainly, visibly trying to push through her scepticism. Evelyn has had more practice at accepting magic bullshit – her words, not mine – and goes along with it easily.

Emmet asks if we’re ready and offers his hands. He’s gone pale and looks slightly sick as he shifts about in agitation. I probably look similar, though not because I’m excited to final see a god – the opposite really. The four of us join hands in a ring and Emmet starts pulsing his golden glow. While he’s muttering, Evelyn pinches my hand and knocks her foot against my shin.

“You alright Lucien? Your hands are clammier than usual.”

I manage to unlock my jaw long enough to stick my tongue out at her, and she squeezes my hand. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing my body to unclench itself, and getting a swift response in the negative. My sinuses buzz faintly and those slitted eyes prickle the back of my neck.

Emmet’s magic trickles down my arm and the muscles uncoil like a corpse’s fingers. I crack my eyes open and he gives me a reassuring smile, like I’m a shy schoolboy, nervous about meeting the school principal. Way off the mark, but it somehow helps.

“We ready?” Evelyn asks, and I close my eyes and focus on Emmet’s breathing.

The pins and needles of Emmet’s magic plays up my arms and the world around us grows dim. The villager’s raucous celebrations fade away and the sound of our breathing grows to fill the empty void. I step backwards and pass through the church threshold.

Lights play across my eyelids and my heartbeat joins the rhythm of my lungs. In my hands, Evelyn and Emmet’s pulse beats against me and my body stretches. Our hearts beat as one and it feels like blood flows steadily between our joined hands. My mind buzzes and my limbs stretch forever. I suck a last breath between clenched teeth and our heart slows to a stop.

O – O – O – O – O

I sink into a downy mattress, a thick duvet pulled up to my chin. The ceiling above me twinkles with softly glowing stars – lightly enchanted stickers that I had never been bothered to replace with something more dignified. I rip the blanket off and fall off the bed. That’s a far too familiar ceiling.

The other three lie sprawled on the carpet, clutching their heads and groaning. I stumble to my feet and look around the room that we’d been dumped in. The bookcase stands in front of me, filled to bursting with magic theory books – only because they’re covering a layer behind them, comprised entirely of adventure novels. My collection of rocks from back when I wanted to be a geomancer sit on the mantlepiece, right next to my more in-theme collection of pickled body parts that my grandmother kept gifting me for my birthday.

I had hoped that we’d be brought right into an audience with The Mother, or maybe we’d end up in that clearing. Worst case, Evelyn gets to root through the library and read way too much into it. Stupidly, I hadn’t for a moment considered that the celestial shrew would miss the mark and dump us somewhere else inside my head.

“Where are we?” Evelyn groans and squints around the dimly lit room. Emmet and Abbey follow her up, groping around like newborn lambs. I briefly consider leaving it dark and herding them out, but Evelyn bangs her knee against my bedpost and I flick a firebolt at the fireplace with a sigh.

The cheery flame casts spooky shadows around the room as the light threads around the pickled griffon claw that my grandma gave me when I was six. The three of them start at the sudden illumination and immediately begin poking around curiously. I’ve got to admit that I panic a bit when Emmet picks up a tome on arcane spectrometry and uncovers a trashy paperback behind it.

“We’re not where we’re meant to be, that’s where,” I quickly reply, sidling up to the door and swinging it open. “We should go look for the goddess.”

“Hang on Lulu,” Evelyn says, glancing around. “Is this a bedroom? I was expecting outer space, or somewhere with a throne.”

“Is this what happened for you last time?” Emmet asks, thankfully putting the book back without any further snooping. I grimace as I realise that it’s a lost cause trying to get them to leave easily.

“I appeared in this house – my old house – and wandered until I found the goddess,” I say. “Though, I appeared in a different room last time.” Evelyn points at the skull patterned duvet with a cocked eyebrow and I sigh. “Yes, this is my room. I think we’re in my head right now.”

Abbey leans in to Emmet with a whispered: ‘how does that work?’ to which he begins trying his best to bullshit an answer. Evelyn glances around the room with newfound glee and that stupid smirk of hers. She takes a single look around and somehow zeroes in on the glow-in-the-dark star stickers still stuck to the ceiling. She points at them and mouths, ‘cute’.

“They’re for memorising the constellations,” I snap indignantly as her smirk widens. “Can we please just get going?”

Abbey puts down a set of pickled eyeballs and Emmet slides another book back into the shelves. Evelyn thankfully capitulates and I harry the three of them out the door. It clicks shut behind us and I breathe in a sigh of relief. They hadn’t looked under the bed.

I start off down the shadowy hallway, tracing my way through the brutally familiar corridor. We pass a window that spills pale light onto the carpet. An inky void hangs like a curtain behind it, the manicured grounds and gardens outside are lost to the darkness. It brings to mind the question of how much of this is on my end. I liked those gardens.

“So, this is your house?” Evelyn asks, breaking the silence.

“Unfortunately.”

“I just can’t believe that you used to unironically live in a spooky mansion.”

“There’s usually more lights on,” I grouse and keep walking. Emmet glances around, almost vibrating with nerves or excitement, maybe both.

“This is incredible,” he says. “I’ve never seen anything like this – not even when we meditated with the high priests.”

“Yep, she’s definitely got a flair for the dramatic,” I say in response. His gushing excitement is understandable, but also very annoying.

“By The Mother, She’s actually here, isn’t She?” Emmet says, tripping over the realisation that I’m not completely full of shit.

We pass the library and come to a stop in front of father’s study. Cold air billows out from beneath the door and tickles my ankles. That would usually be a sign that something dangerous is behind this door, but father used to make it do that just to freak out business partners.

That pressure builds against my skull and my hand stills over the doorknob. I chicken out and turn back to the others.

“Right, so,” I begin coherently. “She’s on the other side of this door.” Emmet manages to go even paler and Evelyn gives him a slightly concerned look. “I probably should have asked this before, but what’s our exit strategy?” Emmet takes a breath and tries to calm down.

“This time, I’m anchoring us,” he says. “Once we’re done, I can cut the connection.”

I nod, having suspected as much anyway. Last time, I was basically kidnapped. This time we came here of our own, incredibly stupid, volition.

My celestial headache buzzes behind my eyes and I twist the door knob. Like before, the manor falls away and the forest clearing replaces it. The other three flinch behind me and stare wide eyed at the spooky woods around us.

There’s a certain power to familiarity. I feel it buoying my step as I stride into the clearing and approach the big apple tree. The others trail after me, doing an impressive impression of myself the first time around.

The crows line the trees around us and glare with glinting red eyes. I try to ignore them since they didn’t bother me last time, but I still have to stifle a flinch every time one of them shifts or flaps their wings. They’re probably only doing that to mess with me.

The little girl looks up and waves as we approach. That stupid snake wiggles in delight and slithers towards me. I briefly consider kicking it across the clearing, but its puppy dog eyes get the better of me and I let it wrap around my ankle.

“I’m getting the weirdest déjà vu,” Evelyn says, as she and the girl lock eyes. The centipede scuttles over to Emmet and he flails backwards, knocking into Abbey.

“I know right?” I say, scooping up the dream centipede and trapping it in our money jar. It presses itself against the glass, snapping its pincers piteously towards Emmet. I toss the jar to Emmet, and watch him cringe away from his arthropodous paramour.

Evelyn scrunches her face up, trawling through her grey matter for whatever memory is eluding her. All of this clearing tickles my hippocampus too, but I push it aside, turning towards the girl.

“Is The Mother in there?” I ask, gesturing vaguely to her stomach. She frowns and crosses her arms.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” she says, her squeaky voice laced with infuriating condescension. I bite back a retort and opt for something more age appropriate.

“Whatever, we’re here to meet The Mother. Can you lead us to her again?”

The girl cocks her head to the side and falls silent. The snake shivers against my ankle and squeezes a bit harder. I back away slightly and bump into Emmet as the four of us press into one another.

The air comes alive with a thundering beat as every crow takes flight and rushes towards the girl. The tress groan as the weight leaves them and the flapping of wings and rush of air fills the clearing. The girl is enveloped in hundreds of crows, forming a giant feathered cloak, dark as midnight.

There’s a beat of silence as the last crow joins the mass and stillness falls over the mound. Then, a pale hand snakes out from the centre and grips a handful of feathers. With a flourish, the hand rips outwards and the black feathers peel away like a cloak.

The Mother steps out from beneath the black fabric and throws the cloak aside. Her features flicker and shift between a thousand perfect faces and her blindingly white form illuminates the clearing. The buzzing in my mind bubbles up to the surface and my eyes water, a myriad of echoed emotions bombarding my mind.

Emmet falls to his knees, his face torn between reverence and pain. Evelyn and Abbey take another step back, the whites of their eyes plain to see. I struggle to look at the brilliant monster and grit my teeth.

“Greetings, my children,” the god says, her voice tinkling like chimes in a hurricane. Whatever I was going to say gets lost in the wind and I barely manage a nod in return. “You have my gratitude for returning to me so quickly.”

The line of her smile wiggles like a worm through a thousand expressions. Regardless, gratitude sears across my mind and her face resolves into maternal affection. My lungs burn and I realise that I haven’t been breathing for the past thirty seconds. The Mother notices our distress in a collage of concern and raises her pale arms.

“My children, please accept my humble apologies.” A glow emanates from her and suffuses the surrounding air. The light catches the floating motes of dust and freeze them in place, leaving drapes twinkling stars throughout the clearing. Her awful, crushing, weight lifts and I suck in a deep lungful of air. I smother a glare and bite my tongue. No need to immediately antagonise the being that can accidentally kill us by speaking.

With her benevolent gift of motor control, I glance back at the others to find them in a similar state of oxygen deprivation recovery. Emmet especially is still catatonic at being directly spoken to by his boss.

“Your worshipfulness,” Evelyn takes the initiative with her typical over compensatory ostentatiousness. “We have heeded your portent and have returned from rescuing the one that you have chosen.” She manages a decent flow to her speech, but it meanders as she clearly flips through a thesaurus every second word. She reaches the end of her spiel early than she thought she would and lets a beat of silence hang, before gesturing triumphantly at Abbey.

The goddess nods graciously. Her eyes shift through dozens of shapes, and for an instant, that I could easily have imagined, they flicker through slitted cat eyes and drill into Abbey. The next second, and perhaps the same second, they once more resolve into a mask of perfect beauty.

“So, what was the point of us doing that?” I ask as Evelyn shoots me a look and even Emmet snaps out of his stupor to be horrified at me. It could be wishful thinking, but a dozen of her thousand faces flicker with annoyance before being quickly smothered.

“After going to such efforts, I do suppose that you are more than worthy of insight,” The Mother says. “There are certain forces allied against me,” she simpers, which is an incredible thing for a god to be doing.

“The cult?” I ask and half turn to the others. “Wasn’t Sable going on about how he’s The Mother’s chosen?”

“Speak not his name!” A full two-thirds of her faces scream, streaked through by casual giggles and calm nods. Then everything falls into an unblemished mask. “His goal is to steal my power and present it to another minor god.” The word ‘minor’ leaves her mouth, shaking with echoed epithets. Worthless, pathetic, or flecked with unformed venom.

I stand there, flummoxed, as her words tickle my brain unpleasantly. I have no idea how stealing a god’s power is meant to work, but it’s a mite bit more significant an undertaking than bombing the royal palace, or whatever I’d pegged Sable as crazy enough to do. What does that even mean?

“What does he get out of that?” Evelyn asks, bewildered and suddenly okay with rudely questioning the goddess.

“It matters not,” The Mother says dismissively, having worked herself up. You’d think that celestial beings would have a firmer lid on themselves, but here we are. “Having served your purpose, you have inextricably delayed his plans.” Her eyes lock onto Abbey and her pupils thin.

“What do I have to do with this?” Abbey asks, standing straight and bristling under the goddess’ gaze. Her tone finally catches The Mother and a flash of anger cuts through her maternal countenance like a slug oozing through the cracks of a porcelain mask.

“Silence.” The word snatches itself away as the air in the clearing disappears. Blood pulses thickly in my ears for a single beat, then I drag in a breath as oxygen returns with a flick of The Mother’s hand. She lets the moment hang as the four of us wheeze for breath, then a kind smile resurfaces.

“Your grace,” Emmet starts uncertainly, but she cuts him off.

“Now my children, be silent,” she smiles and I feel my joints instinctively lock. “You have done well, and that must be rewarded.” She gracefully waves a hand and reality curls open. “I know your hearts, and I will give you what you desire.”

The air wobbles like the surface of a pond disturbed by a dropped stone. The hole in reality slowly calms, the ripples trailing away until in stills. It stabilises and forms a perfectly formed image of a brightly lit, tiled room. Evelyn and Abbey suck in a breath and lean forward, staring into the portal that The Mother had formed.

The brightly lit white room glows blindingly in the gloomy clearing. Metal racks hold a plethora of multicoloured packages, garishly presented in an afront to the senses. Is it some kind of store? Whatever it is, those two seem to recognise it.

“Is that Easy Al’s?” Evelyn asks, the words catching in her throat. The Mother nods.

“This will return you to the place from which you were so cruelly taken.” She floats aside and gestures for Evelyn and Abbey to approach the portal. “You need only to step through.”

“Right now?” Evelyn shuffles on the spot, looking between the portal and Emmet and I. “Can we have a little time?”

The Mother shakes her head with a gentle smile, not even a whisper of irritation among her thousand layered eyes. “My apologies. My powers are limited here, you must go through the portal now.”

My throat starts to tighten and a distant nausea pulls at my stomach. It shouldn’t be a surprise that we’re being given exactly what we came here to get, it’s just happening so quickly. Evelyn turns around, a similarly nauseated haste to her body language. She spins, glancing between The Mother, the portal, and the rest of us. Abbey fidgets, leaning towards the portal magnetically, but stuck to our group.

“God damn,” Evelyn whispers. “Um, bye, I guess?” She gives a helpless smile and turns to Emmet, wrapping him in a hug. “Is this alright?”

Emmet looks lost for a second, before he returns the hug and nods. “It’s probably best this way. I’m glad we’ve made it, Evelyn.”

She draws back, elegantly snorting back a runny nose, and turns to me. My stomach turns unhelpfully and I give her a little wave. She scoffs and wraps me up in a hug too.

“I’ll mention you guys in therapy, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I press her lightly back. “Have a good one.” I stubbornly blink through some blurry vision, feeling a little caught up in the emotionality of the moment.

Abbey hovers awkwardly, then gets fed up and slaps us on the back a few times. I like her style.

“Please step through the portal now.” The Mother’s voice cuts through our dawdling and sets my hair on end. She smiles sweetly and the portal pulses.

Abbey eyes the gossamer tear with trepidation. Evelyn steps past and draws in a deep breath. She gives us one last wave and tentatively approaches the portal. My stomach rolls and I look distractedly at the goddess. Her attention is fixed, watching the two of them hover at the portals edge. Every trace of emotion has vanished, her features have stilled. My core grows warm and I shiver in causeless anticipation.

Evelyn reaches out a hand and brings her fingers to ghost over the slowly undulating void of the portal. She stills, then draws her hand back.

“Warm,” she says. Air trickles through the portal, playing with the tips of her fringe, and her brow knits together. “Why does it feel warm?”

Abbey steps forward and feels the air. The same frown finds its way onto her face and she glances at the floating goddess.

“Is there a problem?” The Mother asks guilelessly. The portal pulses again, as if beckoning the forward.

“The air should be cold. Al could never stand setting the aircon above twelve.” Evelyn stares The Mother down and I’ve already taken a step towards them. Emmet stays still, desperation writ across his face as he turns to look pleadingly at the goddess.

Her face shows confusion, benevolence, and kindness. It shows a maternal exasperation, understanding, and put-upon humour. Crucially, it also shows a black spot of disdain, and like an ugly worm in a loaf of bread, it ruins everything.

“Evelyn,” I start to say, but she’s already turned away from the portal. Abbey, having never quite dropped her guard, follows.

“What’s actually through there?” Evelyn demands, fists clenched and spine straight. The Mother regards them, her face trembling on some higher plane.

“It leads to your home.” Evelyn doesn’t budge, eyes locked to the goddess’. “My child, can you not place your trust in me?”

Evelyn crosses her arms and stands defiant. Meanwhile, Emmet sways on his feet, lost as what should be, slips through his fingers.

“Very well,” The Mother says, clapping her hands and the portal bursts into flames, cauterising the wound in reality. Her mask shatters and roils with a thousand ugly emotions. “I was offering you a painless escape, safe in the belief that you had achieved your goals.” She sighs and we stumble backwards as the pressure grows. “You are simply too dangerous to me,” she says, regarding Abbey with cruel eyes. “And hardly worth the power to send you back. You simply have to die.”

She raises an arm and energy crackles around her fingers. The tranquillity of the clearing disappears and my breath is ripped from my lungs. My eyes ache and my heart beats loudly in my ears. Emmet gasps and stumbles forward, arms outstretched.

“No, my grace, what are you saying?” His voice, thick enough to choke him, is almost lost amidst the crackle of ozone. His goddess doesn’t even bother looking at him, busy as she is staring at Abbey with predatory eyes. He takes another step forward, clothes buffeted by a swirling maelstrom.

“Please!” He yells, “how can you do this?”

The Mother deigns to let her eyes fall on him. Amidst a thousand overlapping faces, none had a shred of emotion for her follower.

“My child,” the words slither out. “There is nothing else that can be done. I ask you to stand still and embrace your fate.”

Emmet stares, open mouthed and eyes wide at the goddess. His shoulders curl inwards and he falls to his knees. I strain against the winds and ethereal pressure to take a step towards him as he sits, defenceless against this monster.

The Mother glows white and all thought of survival evaporates. The concept of defiance flits away from me, action all but impossible under her stare. I stumble to a halt and fall forward, limbs spasming as they simultaneously try to move forward and flee. Emmet sits, in front of this storm and looks up, his hands aglow with that same power.

He might have simply said ‘no’. Maybe he was clever and quoted some ironic scripture. Whatever he said, tears, snot and howling winds drown it out. His hands flash and my vision goes white. The last thing I see is that monster’s face, cruelty and anger writ large.

Still the worst god that I’ve met.

O – O – O – O – O

I stumble back, tripping over the step behind me and tumble out the church door. The other three follow suit and we land in a pile on the soft grass. My ears ring with a phantom roaring in the still night air, my skin raw from the howling winds, now replaced by a gentle warm breeze.

The last sparkle of light dims from Emmet’s fingers and my mind snaps back into place, pins and needles scuttling down my legs as reality reasserts itself. I push myself to my knees and massage my temple. The ringing in my ears doesn’t stop though, if anything it keeps getting louder.

“Do you guys hear anything?”

Like thundering hooves, the ringing comes to a roaring crescendo and crystallizes into a scream of unfiltered rage. The bluestone bricks of the church vibrate as the noise emanates from inside the gloomy chapel. I cringe away from the doors, hands pressed to my ears.

At the moment that I feel my mind giving way, there’s a sharp crack, and every window in the church blows outwards. The next instant, the scream vanishes, leaving only the soft tinkle of broken glass in its wake.

I tentatively pry my hands off my ears, like a badger tasting the air for spring. I glance towards the others and see bloodshot eyes and fatigue. Evelyn slumps back, massaging her eyes with the heels of her palms. Abbey stares blankly at the church, her face drained of all emotion.

My own body aches all over, even though all of that was supposedly in my head. I guess it was feeling left out – maybe it’s hurting in solidarity.

Emmet jerks to his feet, teeth grit against his protesting body, and begins walking away.

“Emmet?” Evelyn rolls over and calls out towards him.

His head cocks, just far enough to see the glistening of tears, streaking across his face, then he runs into the village. I follow him with my eyes for another moment, then he vanishes into the crowd.