Derzina followed the high priest deeper beneath the surface, passing buildings and down stairways carved into the stone. The sound of rushing water echoed through the tunnels around them, growing louder the further they went. Along with the sound, the ever-present coppery tang of blood that tainted the air grew stronger. Derzina had almost gotten used to the smell, but now she was forced to safeguard her nose within her robe to avoid gagging.

“Where does this second choosing take place?” Derzina asked.

“At the King’s River,” the high priest said.

“Why a river?” It seemed to have little in common with the tent where they’d held the first stage of this bizarre rite.

“Because it is the King’s River that both grants Mortisflor her great power and spreads her influence. It is the bringer of all life within Merstaneon. If Mortisflor is our mother, then the river is our father.”

“Were you all truly born from Mortisflor?” Derzina asked.

She’d never heard of gods giving birth to humans, let alone demons. Though up to this point, her previous experience with the world had done little to prepare her for Merstaneon.

“No, of course not,” the high priest said, sound exasperated. “I was merely speaking figuratively. How would we be born from the union between a river and a god? Do you even listen to yourself?”

“Forget I asked.” Derzina felt a fool for even trying to converse with the madwoman.

“What, did you think Mortisflor would waste her time giving birth to worthless creatures like us?” the priest asked, ignoring Derzina’s words. “If we had truly been born from her, then we wouldn’t be such a sorry mess now, would we?”

“Right, and I apologise; it was an ill-considered question.”

“That seems to be all you have to offer,” the high priest said, her voice dripping scorn. “Why did you even come to Mesataneon? Was it simply for the sake for annoying Mortisflor’s children? And that’s children in the figurative sense, by the way.”

“I came here with no such intentions; I didn’t even know your people existed until I ran into them by chance. I’m seeking the source of Meztraxia’s power. He’s a Demon Lord on the surface who destroyed my city.”

“Destroyed? However did your god allow that to happen?”

“Meztraxia is able to negate magic, even that of a god. Hence why I have gone so far as to travel here that I might discover how he acquired this ability.”

“I’m not sure what led you to believe you might find any answers here,” the high priest said, “but you’ll find no shortage of magic here.”

“Then you’ve never heard of Meztraxia?”

“Never.”

Derzina was disappointed, but she hadn’t expected to learn much from the high priest or any of the city’s other inhabitants. It was becoming increasingly clear that they had little to offer anyone, and that only Mortisflor had the answers she sought.

She felt no closer to earning another audience with Mortisflor, but the choosing seemed like the best opportunity Derzina was likely to get. Even if the goddess herself didn’t attend, presumably she or those in her favour would be watching.

As they continued their approach, the noise of the river reached the point where conversation was all but impossible. If they were planning on singing during this part of the choosing, the location seemed ill-considered though she’d expect no less of Mortisflor’s demented children.

Derzina left the wide streets that had brought her most of the way here and entered a sprawling cavern, the limits of which extended beyond what she could see through the bright light that surrounded them. The cavern was split in two by a wide chasm, filled with a raging river of glowing red liquid.

“Is that blood?” Derzina asked. It certainly looked and smelt like it, but that made no sense.

“It’s blood, or something close to it.” Atasimon said, the only one able to hear her.

“How could there possibly be this much blood? Let alone in the form of a river.”

“I suspect it was originally water that has since been ensorcelled.”

“Why would someone possibly want to do that?” Derzina asked.

“I haven’t the faintest idea, I suspect it must be unintentional. Perhaps the accumulated power within the Great Rift is leaking into the river.”

“There must be a considerable concentration of magic here then, would this be a good place to plant the seed we were given?”

“If you wish,” Atasimon said, disinterested. “I mislike the idea of letting anything grow in this place, but if you insist on following through then this seems as good a place as any.”

While everyone was distracted by the ceremony taking place, Derzina took the seed from her pocket and tucked into a rack in the wall near the river. Here it would have access to water and magic in abundance though hopefully what she’d been told about it was accurate and it had no need for sunlight. After making sure it was secure and concealed, Derzina refocused on the matter at hand.

On a cliff not far from where Derzine entered, stood four other figures cloaked in red, each with a corpse beside them. More priests, she assumed. A motley collection of demons and humans was assembled behind them, who watched the proceedings with the same apathy that the people here seemed to hold for most things.

The high priest grabbed Loztet’s body, while the human who’d brought him this far drifted over toward the rest of the crowd. Preferring to keep her distance from the rite itself, Derzina went with him.

A few of the high priest’s fellows turned toward her and they seemed to hold a short conversation before returning to their positions. It appeared they were still waiting for something, and Derzina had little choice but to wait with them for the coming ritual.

“Do you think there’s any point to us being here?” Derzina asked, within her own head. “Will Mortisflor ever agree to help us?”

“I can’t imagine she’ll do it out of the goodness of her heart,” Atasimon said, “but perhaps her fickle nature will work in our favour. Her followers don’t seem capable of offering much in the way of interesting conversation, so that alone may prompt her to seek us out again.”

Mulling over the idea, Derzina decided it made for a rather dismal hope.

“Is there no other way we can convince her? She clearly cares nothing for our plight, but is there anything we could offer her?”

“What could we possibly offer her?” Atasimon asked. “All we have to offer is our service, and I doubt that would earn us any more consideration. She seems quite content with her city, what else could she want?”

“What do gods want in the first place?”

“I can hardly speak with confidence on the behalf of my fellows,” Atasimon said, “particularly after having met Mortisflor, but I believe they want much the same as any living creature capable of reason. I believe their foremost desire to be safety for themselves and those under their protection, though that clearly doesn’t apply to Mortisflor.”

Derzina watched as another priest approached, while Atasimon continued her explanation. “Each of us also wishes for glory; whether it be from battle, the veneration of our followers or from our great works. The choosing appears to be some twisted reflection of that desire for glory.”

The newcomer reached the rest of their group with a corpse in tow, apparently the last of those they’d been waiting for as the other priests dragged the bodies with them toward the cliff’s edge. Derzina wondered if they were simply going to toss them into the river after all that waiting, but they left them just beside its banks.

Free of the bodies they bore, the priests joined hands in a line of red cloth before the cliff. Derzina could just barely make out them singing something at the top of their lungs over the river’s roar. They went on and on, until the fast-flowing river before them froze in place and silence prevailed.

Derzina stared in wonder at the vast quantity of now motionless blood that lay within the chasm before her.

“Rise!” shouted the priests in unison.

A great spout of crimson liquid surged upward from the river and hung motionless in the air. The red column towered high above all those gathered and Derzina flinched, feeling that it must surely fall at any moment. But whatever magic the priests commanded kept it steady as they continued their ritual.

“Come forth,” the priests chanted, “herald of the King and choose the mortal who would rule in the stead of his fallen majesty.”

The suspended pillar of red moved to the river’s edge and from it stepped a hunched creature formed entirely of blood. It shuffled forward, sanguine fluid leaking from the gaping hole in its chest with every step.

Without so much as lifting its head toward the priests, it contorted its body until it was just above one of the corpses. Its hand split off, moving independently of the main body as it pressed itself into what remained of the dead man’s head.

The body shuddered as the construct of blood disappeared within it, then it clambered to its feet as the priests rushed forward to assist it. Moving closer for a better look, Derzina saw that the man’s eyes were pure red as were the formerly missing portions of his head. The king’s herald repeated the process with another of the bodies, raising another man from the dead.

“Mortisflor,” the priests cried out, “behold the new kings of Merstaneon.”

With both its hands gone, the herald returned to the suspended column of blood from which it had sprung and they both sunk back into the river. The empty eyes of the kings it had created stared straight ahead, while the rest of their bodies grew redder by the moment.

As the priests gathered around the kings they’d helped create, there was a blinding flash of red light and Mortisflor herself appeared. She stepped out from nothingness and every one of her subjects threw themselves to the ground in abject supplication, leaving only Derzina still standing.

“Your representatives have been chosen,” Mortisflor said, raising her hands in triumph, “and I shall deliver unto them their just reward. The rest of you worthless creatures, beings utterly below pity, shall have to wait until next the next choosing for an opportunity to elevate yourselves.”

The kings shuffled over toward Mortisflor and she drew them into an almost tender embrace. Before whatever was happening could go any further, Derzina stepped forward.

“I think we’ve seen enough of your city already,” she said. “Are you willing to assist us or not?”

Mortisflor scowled at her and seemed on the verge of a retort when her features softened. Still holding onto the kings, she said, “I shall grant you another audience at the palace later, after I’ve rested. Until then, you may enjoy what hospitality my city has to offer.”

The words had scarcely left her lips before Mortisflor and the kings disappeared. In the wake of their goddess’ departure, her followers got to their feet. They stared at where Mortisflor had stood, looking utterly bereft.

“Is that it?” Derzina asked aloud, of no one in particular. “Do the rest of you not get anything out of this choosing?”

“We receive more than we deserve,” one of the priests said, the same one that had brought Derzina here by the sound of her voice, “for we have glimpsed Mortisflor’s divinity. Only those few that are chosen may receive additional blessing.”

“And none of you have a problem with that?”

“We would not dream of having the slightest issue with whatever Mortisflor decides to do. We are hers, heart and soul.”

Though the high priest spoke with complete conviction, Derzina noted that no one else was so quick to the defence of their goddess. Then again, they may have just been too overwhelmed by her disappearance to manage it.

Derzina was leaving in search of more amiable company, such as her own, when the high priest hurried over and cut across her path.

“Did the goddess truly invite you to her palace?” The high priest asked. “Or do my ears deceive me?”

“No, you heard right.”

Derzina kept walking and the high priest fell into step beside her.

“Why? Does she need something from you?”

“Not that I know of. It sounded like she’s changed her mind and decided to help me in my search.”

“Help you?” the priest asked. “Help an unbeliever from beyond our borders? What could she possibly see in you?”

“Perhaps she appreciates my lack of blind faith.”

The high priest fell back a few steps before catching up. “That surely can’t be true. Why would she ever want someone to be unfaithful?”

“She may very well find it more interesting; I imagine the company of her followers gets boring rather quickly. Though all I can say for sure is that my own interest in the subject is rapidly waning.”

They left the river behind, the flow of which was slowly returning to normal. Derzina didn’t much see the point in trying to divine the will of a being as unstable as Mortisflor, but the high priest seemed very interested in the subject as far as it concerned the goddess’ intentions toward Derzina.

“Perhaps she wishes simply to guide you along the path of faith. That seems far more likely. Worthless as we may be, why would she ever value an outsider over her own children?”

“You’d probably know far more about it than I do, I don’t claim to understand Mortisflor in the slightest. Nor do I particularly wish to discuss it.”

“What did you say you came here for again?” the high priest asked, seemingly taking no notice of Derzina’s words.

“I’m trying to understand how a Demon Lord gained the power to negate magic.”

“And Mortisflor knew this Demon Lord?”

“It seems that way, though I know nothing of their relationship. She didn’t seem to have any hatred for him at least, despite him being a demon.”

“What does that matter?”

“Though it appears to have little bearing on her current state,” Derzina said, “Mortisflor was once the sworn enemy of demons. She used to protect humans from them, as the other gods still do.”

“Why would you need to be protected from demons? We’re much the same as your people.”

“Only in this foul place, where you’ve all been rendered witless servants of a corrupted god. In the outside world, demons are the vile creatures responsible for most of the world’s woes.”

Derzina’s statement sounded a little dramatic even to her own ears, but she stood by it. After all, they were the ones who’d invaded the human world and been the cause of the two worlds being so disastrously combined.

“I don’t know little of life beyond Merstaneon, but from what you’ve said it seems all the stranger that anyone would choose to live out there. How could anyone prefer such a life when instead they could be one of Mortisflor’s children; living among their equals without a glimmer of hate.”

“And do you take joy in your life here?” Derzina asked, growing tired of the priest’s endless dogma.

“Joy? Of course not. We are not worthy of joy, only Mortisflor and her chosen deserve such things.”

“Aren’t you one of her chosen? I thought you were a high priest of Mortisflor.”

“Though I am one of her high priests,” the priest said, “it grants me no special privilege, beyond that of being allowed to serve her more directly than her other children.”

“Is serving her enough for you? It does not sound like much of a reward at all.”

“Of course not. I always strive to seek further favour.”

“And how has that been working out for you?”

From what Derzina had seen, Mortisflor seemed utterly indifferent to her servants.

“Thus far I have found only abject failure, and likely that is all I shall ever know. As befits one so devoid of worth as myself.”

Seeing that the high priest wasn’t going to change her mind in the slightest, Derzina just kept walking. She felt foolish for thinking there might be anything to gain from engaging with the priest.