The salty breeze was blowing over the sands of the beach wet from morning dew. The waves were slowly drawing nearer to the small mound where the night before someone had buried themselves into the sand still dry and warm from the previous day. As the sun rose above the horizon over the bay sea and bathed the tiny cove in light, so too did Nannade rise from her sandy sleep stead. She looked around, but couldn’t see the city, yet she heard it and smelled it, she even saw the ships heading for the harbour. She got up out of the sand and immediately, a dull pain shot in her head, pushing her skull apart, weighing it down and striking her centre. She had to pause to regain her balance. She had no recollection of how she got here or what she had been doing. She knew she had drunk with Timaeus and others, that’s all she could remember for now. She inspected herself. Blood stained her clothes in some areas, in other areas it seemed to have been washed out. Other parts of her clothes were still wet with saltwater and covered in sand. It took her quite some while to get most of the sand out of all her clothes and fur, and still some remained.

Irritated and confused she staggered up the beach towards a notch in the stony crescent that formed the cove. When she finally got her head above the rocks, she saw where she was. Before her was the city and between her and therewas the sea. She was on a tiny rocky island roughly five hundred feet west of the city, out of the way of the harbour of Chsyatana. Did she swim here? How? She couldn’t swim!

Nannade's irritation and confusion grew only more. She tried asking the Serpent, but she again refused to answer, instead resting soundly, fat and content. She could only be fed by two things: pain and justice. What had happened? She hadn’t been on a contract with Teacher, so what else could she have done? She felt something sticking between her teeth and when she used her claws to pick it out, she saw with dread what it was. A strip of skin, human skin, a few hairs, possibly from an arm, and the fatty layer underneath still attached. Dread rose within her. She stumbled back down the rocks to the sandy beach, her brains felt like slime, sloshing around in her skull, the world tumbled, she fell forward on hands and knees.

Revulsion and sickness came over her, shuddered her body and finally pressed up her gullet and out her mouth with disgusting violence. Liquid and mushy chunks splattered into the sand, forming a pool of slimy black and red, forcing tears up into her eyes on their way out. Again and again, she expelled her stomach’s contents. Even when her guts were completely empty, her insides were still contracting, forcing her mouth to gape, her tongue to stick out and her eyes to roll into an abhorrent visage.

The spasms came to an end. With tears in her eyes and acid in her nose, she observed the red soup in the sand before her. Clumps of red paste, partially dissolved strips of skin, tendons, blood turned to blackened clods, even something that looked like a finger bone, partially dissolved and corroded away. As she saw it all, she wanted to heave all over again. She stood up, turned around and crawled on the other side of the rocky crescent to get that mess out of her sight. The Serpent would still not answer for the events of the previous night, no matter the urgency with which Nannade flung these questions and her disgust at the Serpent.

The tide was rising. The nearest shore was maybe two hundred feet away, from there she could walk along the beach back to the city. Maybe she had walked across on some shallow floor during the tide’s low point, but soon, this island would be almost completely swallowed by the high tide, Nannade had seen it often enough from the harbour. Maybe she could get the attention of one of the sailors. No, she didn’t want to be seen with even a few drops of blood on her clothes.

She decided to try her luck and find a shallow area. Carefully, she waded out and at the furthest spot she could still feel the ground, she launched herself forward with the waves, hoping to bridge the gap.

Wildly she flailed her arms forward and kicked her feet backward, hoping to somehow stay afloat. She held her breath, water rushed over her face with dread, salt stung her eyes with panic, waves crashed upon her with brute force.

Panting, screaming, cursing, she arrived on the beach and let herself fall in the sand. She looked back and saw the tiny island, almost mockingly close to the shore.

She dripped and shivered all the way from the beach to Master Paramonos’ house. She saw neither him nor any other students and so she was alone in her chamber. She ditched the wet clothes on the ground and thought about rolling herself into her blanket for a while, to enjoy the dry warmth, but first, she had to make sure to get rid of any further evidence.

With a spell she barely remembered she burned the wet clothes, leaving no soot, smoke or ash. A good shirt, coat and pants gone, but peace of mind restored. She was lucky she hadn’t worn her student’s garb that day, it would have been much harder to replace and explain to Master Paramonos.

She allowed herself to go to bed and warm back up, but her mind came not to rest just yet. The Serpent had awoken and slowly she regained memories, memories of screams of pain and helplessness, of men crying as they were bleeding out, of long, thick strips of flesh travelling down her throat and quickening her appetite to a voracity beyond a mere animal's. And between them all, a bright red blazing face. She heard not a single movement in the entire house. Could it be she was alone?

She would not be getting any rest either way and so, she got out of bed, put her student’s garb on and made her way to Master Paramonos’ study. The lock gave way to her fingers and tools and she entered. Nobody was here. She pulled the tapestry down and descended into the rock. The second door too opened for her. Through a tiny slit she peeked into the room but saw no one move about.

“Come in, my child, Master is not here.” The familiar voice had already spotted her.

She entered the room and closed the door behind her and approached the cage. The white-haired man smiled with his usual politeness.

“Have you been doing well? I was almost worried you’d have forgotten me.”

“How could I? You keep showing your face in my mind.” In truth, Nannade didn’t know why she had come back, other than frightened drive.

“Oh yes, that I do. I felt you needed my help.”

“What do you know? What if Master Paramonos returns?”

“I cannot let that force of voracious shapelessness walk around the house freely. It would be a disservice to our master and my children alike.”

“So, what would you do to serve those then?”

“To serve Master? I'd make sure he knows that this raw power was finally ready for him to shape into whatever tool he wished. To serve you? I’d tell you what it means to shape raw power before our master could.”

His words started to make sense. “But you wouldn’t do that for free?”

“I take no payment from you, but I would ask you for a token of your love for your godfather!”

She looked around the room, took in the sight of numerous books, scrolls and tablets containing ancient wisdom Master Paramonos consider not fit even for students of the Forbidden. “So if he already knows how to do it, it must be written down in here somewhere. Why should I risk a contract with you?”

The man made is clearly visible that he had anticipated this. “How it befits a serpent to try and squeeze through every opening She can. But not this one. You are running out of time. The Serpent is fed for now, but how long until She demands from you again?”

“I will not make the same mistake and get as drunk again. I can hold Her!”

“Oh really?” He stepped closer to the bars. “You see this mountain before you and think you can work its metal, yet you wouldn’t know ore from useless rock if you saw it.”

Nannade got used to his cryptic babble and he was right. Never could she learn all the necessary languages, read every book and every tablet and recognize the knowledge within, at least not before the writhing Serpent had completely swallowed her mind. Her best shot would be to ask this being. “Then how do I prove my 'love' to you?”

He grinned, knowing he was about to gain what he ultimately wanted. “Oh how short-sighted of you! What would you gift a shackled slave?”

“It is your freedom then?”

The man just nodded, apparently happy with her quick deduction.

“But not before I leave this place for good. Lest yo-... our master might get wind of our talks and agreements.”

“I would be a fool to think you fool enough. Of course, but you must at least accept me as your godfather, otherwise how can you accept my teachings?”

Nannade nodded. “Agreed. I accept you as my godfather. Without you, the me I am today would not exist. And when the time comes, I promise I shall free you from this cage and see you leave this room.”

The man smiled. “Well then, my child, I welcome you into my arms, as soon as these bars and chains are removed.”

Nannade felt a sharp, searing pain on her left shoulder, almost as if the brand of the sinner was applied a second time. She tried to struggle against the pain, the guilt, the shame, but she had no option but to let it in, reaching far down onto her very soul. What a wretched, disgusting being she was, how horrible she had become. The men had cried for help, for mercy, pleaded for their lives. The men had been utterly alone and afraid in the face of horrible gruesome death. And she had enjoyed it! Sick! Disgusting! She was a sinner through and through.

The sensation ebbed and she could find herself again, deep in the rock, before the cage. The Serpent was writhing against the pain still, unbridled force and will pushing against Nannade’s waking mind. “What do I have to do?”

“So listen to my first lessons to you, my child.” The man assumed a pose that would be seen uptight and comical even for a professor. “A deity released from its purpose and duty is no deity, but a wild, unrestrained demon. The Serpent has returned to rawness, to purity of power. As the priest’s words and acts reflect the glory of his deity, so does the jewellery on the priest’s vestments. This must be so, for to us beings of words, thoughts and meanings, they are as real as air, rock and water are to you. My child, you were not handed down words of your deity by any teachers and when you were handed Her vestments, you decided to destroy them. And thus, you must fashion both words and jewellery in unity to one another, completely anew. The Serpent’s power is still hot and malleable, as She has not yet found Her new preferred shape. The smith must strike the metal before it cools or else it might become a cold, shapeless, useless lump. He must strike it repeatedly, place each of his strikes with purpose and precision, for without a vision of the final creation, he will just deform one shapelessness into another shapelessness. He must prepare sockets for gems most recognized by the parish, engrave patterns most befitting the wearer, and close it all with links and seams strong enough to hold the power of that which is to fill the vessel. And only if all this is done in accordance with the words spoken by the priest, then shall the deity find Her new home in vestment and tool, shape and purpose. If it is done, all shall know the priest by garments and words.”

For a while, his words resounded in the rock-walled chamber as well as in Nannade’s mind. She had started to accept the white-haired man's way of words. She would have to dwell on those words later, ask her godfather what all of those really refer to.

“And when I follow your advice, will I be able to control the Serpent once and for all?”

The man seemed to be amused by her question. “Control? Oh dearest child, no! Even you cannot control a deity. You have entered a pact; all you can do is remind Her. But she will never again go outside Her bounds, should you succeed in your task. Show determination towards a purpose and She will follow suit. Try to enslave Her and She will escape you like you once did your old Master. If you think this will be easy, you are a fool. If you wish to remake yourself, you must be prepared to be both the red-hot glowing metal and the cold, hard hammer.”

“What is that supposed to mean again?”

“I would like to tell you more, but Master returns! Until your next lesson, I bid you farewell, my child.”

She heard steps coming down the stairs behind her, she wanted to ask the man more, but he put his index finger to his lips and smiled. She looked around in the room for some place to hide, but before she could disappear anywhere, the door opened.

Nannade froze in place.

The door opened and Master Paramonos entered the room. He looked straight at Nannade, his gaze piercing her eyes.

“Good day to you.” He said with no shred of his usually jovial demeanour.

Nannade was looking for words, but her mind failed her.

The man behind her answered. “Good day to you too, Master Paramonos.”

Master Paramonos closed the door behind him, turned towards his desk and walked past Nannade, just a nose’s length apart, without even batting an eye in her direction.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“No. All is well.”

“Good then.” Master Paramonos sat down at his desk and picked up a scroll of parchment still lying about disorderly.

Nannade realized what was happening. She reached for the door, slowly pushing the door handle down and opening the heavy wooden door carefully, hoping it would make no sound to betray her. As she threw a last glance into the room, she could see the man looking at her over his shoulder, a grin beaming on his face like she had never seen before. She closed the door behind her and hurried up the stairs as silently as she could. Only after she had left Master Paramonos’ study and returned to her own bedroom did she allow herself to relax. Her heart was about to jump from her chest, even the Serpent, though fed and content just moments before, was in fear.

The man's – her godfather's words came back to her. A smith had to strike the metal while it’s hot, and place every strike with precision and purpose. It made sense, somehow. She needed to come up with words to hammer into the serpent how they were to use their power and according to those words a garment and tool, to make shape and powers apparent to both of them. A new covenant needed to be established and for that, priest and deity needed to come together. Images of the Bearer of the Flame came back to her. His acolytes well prepared for the ritual, him holding the Flame without being burned by it, the powers of his deity were shaped and solid like granite and both of them kept their end of the contract.

Her body might be a temple to the Serpent, but worship was not practiced there very often, the deity was not at home, merely bound there, set free when needed and not tended to otherwise. Her meditation time had to make way for prayer.

But how was the Serpent prayed to? What language should she use? Nannade knew not the language of her ancestral home. Except for a few snippets her parents had said to each other. And a lullaby. Her mother’s lullaby. So sweet its words seemed to Nannade, even though she only understood tiny meanings of a few words. She sang it nonetheless.

The words came back to her, as she sighed them to herself, with just a hint of voice. A rage inside of her dimmed and her thoughts were freer than before.

She spent a while just dwelling on those words, until she felt ready like leaving her room again.

She stood up, straightened her back, inhaled and decided to head for the library, that of the House of the Unseen, not the Forbidden. They would know what makes a god. She was just about to head out the door when it opened from the outside.

A broad figure pushed inside, towering above her like a bear with raised paws, ready to drop down upon her. Her Teacher's eyes told her this would not be over as quickly as a mauling by a bear.