Me’ren invited her to a piece of history inside his head.

The knowledge swallowing her whole, drowning her senses until she felt the ground beneath her feet was unfamiliar. Sounds of squawking birds rang out in the distance as she batted an eyelid open.

Visions of birds flocking together with different shades of color. Blue. Lavender. Orange. Each bird bearing a variety of colors. Together they made a rainbow as they circle around in the sky at dawn.

No.

They weren't birds, River noticed.

Their flying took to a lower descent and she finally recognized they were tribespeople wearing robes that matched the wings on their backs. All of them carrying newborn babies in their arms. They made their journey to the wildlands with Na'reem guiding on the lead. His wings were huge bearing the resemblance to eagles, an ombre of brown to white. There were about 20 god tribespeople flying behind him with Ylia, wings of sunburst blue, at his side. And the present oracle's job was to direct them to land somewhere safe.

There.

On an apple grove, he pointed.

Immediately, they took a graceful formation in preparation to land. Colorful feathers blowing by the breeze as they alighted on the grassy knoll surrounded by sweet-smelling apple trees. Rows of them growing wildly in abundance, firm and plump ready to be picked. Each god tribespeople picked off a fruit, lifted it in the air above their heads while they cradled their baby on the other arm, sleeping peacefully like an angel.

Ylia strode forward and bent her arms, the air around her beginning to crackle with electric energy. She put up her palms facing away from her, and the unstable energy she summoned pushed outwards in a mile-high radius. Then she clapped her hands, rubbed it together and began chanting in their first ancient language. "Le bekittar."

To the apple.

The energy she put out moved in unstable masses of swirling smoke. After a few short while, she finally directed them to enter the apples held by god tribespeople in anticipation.

In a few seconds since her energy entered the fruits, they all began to decay as if moved by accelerated seasons of time. Bit by bit, turning rotten until they blackened to a wilt.

The babies cried out in protest to the horrid stink, batting away their fists on their tiny noses as if it might dispel the offensive smell of decayed apples.

Then it began.

Several trees started crashing down. Monsters of incredible sizes were marching towards the apple grove. Twenty monsters closing in from every direction, taking down trees upon their wake. Apart from the sound of breaking wood and rustled leaves, it was deathly silent. No one dared to make a sound.

The god tribespeople were robotic as if they moved merely for efficiency, otherwise they were still as a stone-cold statue. When the monsters had gathered close, River saw that they were actually lizards in blown-out proportions. Their hardened scales in varying shades of periwinkle green to lavender purple. They turned to transparent mist once they got close enough then swayed in the still air until each of them disappeared in the rotten apples, utterly lured by its stark decay.

Right on sync, as though they had practiced the movements many times before, the god tribespeople crushed the cursed fruits in their hands until it resembled black goop, oozing out between fingers of their fists. The liquid goop dripped down from their tightened fists and they positioned it above the mouths of crying babies.

Black water dropping into their wailing mouths.

"Stop! No!" River shouted, interrupting the vision. Their mental connection broken in a snap.

Me'ren's features was a mask of regret and simmering anger. "We do it every turn of a century."

River held a fist over her chest, "How could you?" searching the answer in Na'reem's face when Me'ren’s grew still as a carved statue.

It was Sul'ahvi who replied, his voice brittle and near to breaking "They hold her hostage."

Her breath hitched. "Just for that?" she asked, confused by the logic "You would do that? You would sacrifice and curse hundreds of newborn babies just for one life, one tribesperson?"

His head drooped down in defeat, forsaken "Her name is Hell'ina Marakenti. And she is no. one. tribesperson. no. one. life." he started speaking through gritted teeth. "She's my world. My great world. You wouldn't understand."

"No, I don't." she clipped. Me'ren's memories didn't cover this part of Sul'ahvi's history. She had a feeling that what the past oracle had showed her was only ever a glimpse. Not enough to understand the makings of this entire universe. "It isn't logical. Why forsake hundreds of lives for the cost of one?"

U'tu burst out in surprised laughter from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "Of course you would say that. You're a behagthi." She could see that nothing about him was amused. He was bitter, angry and his words were dripping with irony.

Lei'la gave her a wary look. "We are Brumcia's children, River. The Great World's masterful concoction of wildness and corruption. We try to do best in living our lives well and smart, but in the end we are all Brumcia's children of instinct and chaos where the strongest survive. And the weak ones are culled out."

Unbelievable. Those newborn babies barely even got a chance at living their lives. "Don't you see how insane that is? Why would an actual goddess build life to corrupt it?"

U'tu stared at the ground with indifference, answering her question. "To create enough chaos to pull her behagthi back. Her first behagthi. The one who transformed her into the Great World, into her marriage form."

"So, what? She wants to transform again? She wants more power? Is that why she's doing it?"

U'tu tilted his head before raising his green eyes to meet hers, "She wants her husband back."

An incredulous sound burst out from her throat. "That's it?!"

"No, River." Lei'la said, her gaze imploring her to understand. "That is how entire galaxies are made."

She cradled her temples with one hand, rubbing her thumb in circles at an attempt to dissuade her rising headache, "Explain."

Mumbling under his breath, U'tu quietly said. "That's a little hard to say."

But the girl walked over and stopped in front of her, eyes shining with unshed tears. "How galaxies are made?" She let out a watery chuckle, "Simple—"

Over the weaver's shoulder, River saw how U'tu stared at Lei'la's retreating form. The mask of indifference turning to a transparent face of longing and desire.

Lei'la cupped her cheek to gather her attention once more, meeting her eyes. "It's the will of a lover to return back home."