To Fight Against Fate

The words hung in the air in the inn, no one quite sure how to respond to the farmer's blunt question.

Priscilla had not been expecting the villagers of Crystal Falls to view her party as some sort of prophesized heroes — to be honest, she had half expected them to be a part of some sort of spider cult that wanted to do fucked up shit to them.

"What god do you follow?" Kavil asked, his brows slightly furrowed as he stood up.

Lossa shifted uncomfortably, readjusting her red dress as a strand of her blonde hair fell in front of her face.

"We follow Answe," Lossa said, her voice reverent as she spoke the god's name, "the god of small mercies and fresh flowers."

The combination of domains took Priscilla aback, but she held back a sarcastic comment— gods and things relating to the divine were far more up Kavil's wheelhouse than hers. Plus, she could feel Asha's irritation that the reason they were in the situation was due to a god's meddling, and Priscilla remembered how eagerly Asha had offered to kill a god before.

Down girl, Priscilla pushed into their bond, which earned her the soul equivalent of a heavy sigh from Asha. Offing the god of this village seemed like a great way to rouse an angry mob, especially when the god was seemingly acting in its worshippers' best interests.

"And how did spiders become Answe's messengers?" Kavil asked, tilting his head.

"It was spiders that first led us to our home here in the falls," Lossa said, her eyes brightening at Kavil's interest, "and when one meets a spider, they are presented with a choice — to choose mercy and let them free, or to choose violence and end their life."

Kavil hummed like that made sense. "I haven't heard of Answe before, but I admit that I don't know much outside of the gods related to Gaelea."

Lossa leaned forward with a smile, excitement crossing her face.

The farmer sighed loudly, shooting Lossa an exasperated look as he cut off whatever she was about to say.

"You can spout doctrine another time, Lossa," he said, "we need to know if they're going to help us or not — if not, there's a hell of a lot of things we need to get done before sundown."

Lossa deflated slightly, her shoulders drooping as she sighed.

"We don't know exactly what monster has us in our sights," Lossa said, her gaze sweeping over Priscilla's party, "but… it grows bolder each time it attacks, and we can't just leave the Falls easily."

Florent wrung his hands, and piped up, "Our village is mostly elders and children now, and we don't have the strength to face off the dangers on the road, even if Answe guided our path."

Priscilla wanted to say no, to leave this village behind because there was no reason that they had to dance willingly to this random god's whims to go fight a monster that had nearly succeeded in stealing away Illnyea. But when she turned to gauge her friends' feelings, Priscilla knew instantly that that selfish plan was dead in the water.

Illnyea's face had softened as sympathy stole over it, and she pulled away from Mr. Ordan to lean forward and make direct eye contact with Florent.

"Your nieces and nephews," Illnyea said, understanding dawning in her voice, "they weren't always in your care, were they?"

Florent swallowed, offering up a shaky smile.

"No," Florent said, his voice wavering. "It was only… after they lost everyone else that I took them in."

Kavil's sternness had almost completely disappeared as he listened to Florent, his furrow in his brow now driven by empathy rather than confusion or anger. Even Mr. Ordan's frosty demeanor had thawed, his gaze flicking between Illnyea, Priscilla, and Florent with a thoughtful expression.

Sulaiman's poker face was in full force, but if both Illnyea and Kavil decided that the villagers of Crystal Falls deserved help, he wouldn't let them go face without him.

Only Arnold looked unimpressed by the tale, letting out a near silent sigh as he stared up at the ceiling like he wished this conversation was over already.

Priscilla… well Priscilla knew she was selfish, that her instincts told her to put the well-being of the people she loved over strangers, no matter how sad their sob story. It would be easier if she could pretend she didn't care, could be more callous, could force herself to manipulate her friends into leaving, but…

That was a slippery slope to take a step down because she knew that next time it'd be even easier to justify to herself that it was the right thing to do, that it would be better for everyone if they gave up their instinctual need to help others so they wouldn't put themselves into unnecessary danger.

Even considering using her friends' affection for her to twist them into worse versions of themselves left Priscilla with a profound feeling of disgust. She knew that Mr. –– would be disappointed if she acted like that, giving her the stare that always made her want to curl up in shame for betraying his expectations. He had taught her to value herself, but he always emphasized that you could not go through life only acting in a way that benefited yourself because you would burn every bridge until you were left alone, stranded on an island with no one to turn to.

Asha squeezed her hand comfortingly as Priscilla resigned herself to having to risk her life once more for strangers. She could tell Asha approved of her decision, and she held onto that approval like a lifeline.

"So what do you know about this water monster?" Priscilla asked, crossing her arms unhappily. Illnyea sent a wide smile her way, as if she already knew Priscilla's decision.

Ferine cleared her throat.

"We believe that it lives near the head of the river that flows over Crystal Falls," Ferine said, "as the… victims are dragged that way, and our scouting party never returned."

"And how far away is that?"

"It's about a day's hike under normal circumstances," Ferine said with a wince.

It took every ounce of will Priscilla had to not sigh heavily. Lovely, just lovely. Of course it couldn't just be easy to get to, but she supposed if it was closer, the village might already be a ghost town.

"Do the creatures have any weaknesses?" Sulaiman asked, his tone clipped but professional.

"It stopped when I stabbed its eye," Illnyea said. Sulaiman shot Illnyea glance that implied that was information he already knew, and Illnyea shrugged, her expression suggesting that she was just trying to be helpful.

"We haven't had much luck fighting them," Ferine admitted, "but blunt weapons have worked a little better because it moves more of the water, and gives us enough time to run into our houses. The monsters favor sneak attacks when it can, like with the young miss, and attempts to drown its victims as soon as possible."

The more Ferine spoke, the graver Sulaiman's expression grew.

"And magic?" he said. "How does that affect it?"

Ferine winced, looking away, and the farmer's face went stormy.

"Took my grandson first, it did," the farmer said, his gruff voice sharp with grief, "and he was the only one of us with a lick of talent. He was going to the capital next spring, said he was going to be joining an orchestra and using his wind magic to make music."

The farmer bit off his words, like he hadn't meant to say that much.

"We don't know how effective magic is," Ferine said, sending the farmer a sympathetic look and Sulaiman an apologetic one.

Sulaiman pursed his lips, glancing at Priscilla. She could tell he didn't like this situation, not one bit, but all she could do was offer a commiserating grimace. Priscilla had her bat to swing at the water creatures, but there was a strong chance that it would do jack shit, and she had a feeling that attempting to punch it would be a quick way to drown.

"Before the attacks started, can you recall anything strange happening?" Priscilla asked, a little desperate for more information so she had something to work with. "Anything at all? Any visitors? Strange weather events? Kill any animals that were scarily smart?"

The villagers blinked at her, and then looked at each other.

"I don't think so," Florent said, hesitant, and Ferine nodded, looking unsatisfied she couldn't come up with anything.

"There was a weird bloke with our usual merchant," the farmer said, scratching his chin, "remember, Lossa? Had all sorts of metal bits in his face, and had the look of a dead fish in his eyes."

Lossa tilted her head as she thought. "I do, but that was nearly four months ago now, far before any of the attacks."

The farmer shrugged. "Got any better ideas?"

Lossa bit her lip before shaking her head.

"What made him weird besides the piercings?" Priscilla asked, pouncing the only thread they had.

"He…" Lossa struggled to find her words. "I don't think he had anything to do with this, no matter what Jerimiah thinks."

The farmer rolled his eyes. "You just say that because he kept asking you all sorts of questions about Answe and you don't think anyone who does that can be bad."

Lossa flushed but didn't deny the accusation.

"I only talked with him briefly," Ferine said slowly as she drew on old memories, "but I think he was an architect looking for inspiration."

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"That's right!" Florent snapped his fingers, looking up excitedly as he found a way to be useful. "He was from a place called the Doveport Citadel, I talked with him when he stayed the night, and he said it was where the best architects gathered."

Priscilla fought to keep her expression neutral as her blood went cold.

If she hadn't already decided to help Crystal Falls, this revelation would have forced her hand.

They had the worst fucking luck — or maybe the cult had far too many fucking schemes.

The Doveport Citadel was the relatively mundane name for the branch of the cult that was led by a woman named Henrietta Moreau who claimed the title of the Mechanical Sovereign. She built a literal death trap fortress into the side of the Arborcon Peaks, and specialized in creating magical weaponry powered by arcane sources. The citadel provided enhanced weaponry to the rest of the cult's forces, and taking it down was essential if the world wanted to stop the cult from destroying what they pleased.

Priscilla didn't recognize the description of the architect, but in TDE, Illnyea's party had only been part of the siege to bring down the fortress and dealt mainly with the Mechanical Sovereign and her top commanders. It was a harrowing fight that almost cost Frigge her life and Aronne his arm, and though Kavil had healed them both, Aronne was left with a permanent tremor in his hand and Frigge suffered from intense migraines from the bleeding that occurred in her brain.

She didn't know why someone from the citadel would even be in Kavendash, or on this continent in general. They were based in Sadul, which was near the south pole on the other half of the world.

But maybe…

Maybe this was another test run by the cult — test out the weapons and methods in a distant place before they actually deployed them at their true target. Priscilla didn't know what was happening here, but she knew that they had to stop it if only so they knew how to thwart it in the future.

The conversation had carried on as Priscilla was lost in her thoughts, with the villagers trying to recall anything strange and failing, and Arnold snarkily asking if they had anything useful to tell them besides mentioning one stranger — to which Jerimiah asked if Arnold was just a freeloader, mooching off youngster's power and strength. Mr. Ordan had stood and was staring exasperatedly at Arnold, muttering about pig-headed enchanters.

"I think we need to have a team meeting," Priscilla said, cutting through the brewing argument before it could begin in earnest, "but if you remember anything else about the architect, please let me know later."

Sulaiman's gaze sharpened on her, his sixth sense annoyingly cluing him in that she knew more than she was saying.

The villagers glanced at each other, before Lossa said, "So, you will help us?"

A brief glance at her friends confirmed their resolve, and Priscilla nodded.

"But we need a plan first," Priscilla said, "so we aren't just throwing our lives away."

Lossa looked close to tears as she whispered something to herself, and every villagers' shoulders lost tension at that answer, with even Jerimiah's face losing some of its harshness.

"Thank you," Ferine said, bowing her head.

"Don't thank them yet," Arnold muttered, "they haven't even left."

Mr. Ordan grabbed Arnold roughly by the elbow, stopping him from trying to start any more arguments.

"Will you need us?" Mr. Ordan asked.

"Later," Sulaiman said, barely sparing the former butler a glance, "but we need to discuss our own tactics first."

Mr. Ordan nodded his head in understanding. "We will be in our room when you need us."

Arnold looked like he wanted to protest, but Mr. Ordan's grip must have tightened, because he yelped.

Lossa, Ferine, and Jerimiah said their goodbyes, saying that they needed to meet back up with the rest of the villagers to let them know the good news, and if their party needed anything, that they shouldn't hesitate to ask. They didn't have much, but they would support them the best they could.

Sulaiman began to stalk up the stairs as Florent said, "I'll — ah, I'll make some food for you to take with you as you travel."

Kavil and Illnyea followed up the stairs behind Sulaiman, giving the frazzled innkeeper a smile.

"Hey," Priscilla said as she passed Florent before he went into the kitchen, "do you have a shrine in the inn?"

Florent brightened, nodding enthusiastically. "I have one in my room if you wish to pray for success in private."

Priscilla gave a noncommittal nod and followed her friends upstairs.

"So what do you know?" Sulaiman asked the moment Priscilla closed the door behind her. Illnyea and Kavil were sitting on the pushed together beds, and Sulaiman was standing like a caged panther near the foot, all coiled muscle and unspent energy.

"I don't know anything," Priscilla said carefully as she leaned against the door.

Sulaiman raised a single disbelieving eyebrow.

Kavil glanced between them, confusion marring his future.

"What are you talking about?" Kavil asked.

"Priscilla knows something," Sulaiman said insistently. "Everyone else had dismissed the architect as a suspect, thinking it to be a farmer's prejudice — yet Priscilla asked for more information about him after the conversation had already moved on."

Illnyea raised her eyebrows in realization, and they were now all looking at Priscilla with expectation.

"Like I said, I don't actually know anything," Priscilla said. "It's just… strange that an architect would come all the way out here, don't you think?"

"He wanted inspiration and nature is plenty inspiring," Kavil said, though his heart wasn't in the defense.

"Is it where he's from?" Illnyea asked. "The Doveport Citadel?"

Ah, Priscilla really wished she didn't have this stupid restriction on what she could say. She wanted to be vague and say she read about it in a book, but in the world of TDE, the citadel was an obscure location that few knew about and even fewer visited.

"I just think we should be careful," Priscilla said. "We've come across a couple strange and seemingly random incidents before this, but there's been someone pulling the strings each time."

Realization dawned within her friends' eyes one by one, with Sulaiman figuring out the fastest as he muttered a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose, and then Kavil and Illnyea exchanged a worried look.

"Do you really think the architect is associated with the cult?" Kavil asked, chewing on his lip.

Priscilla shrugged, knowing that no words would be safe.

Sulaiman muttered something else before sending a severe look about the room.

"If it's even a possibility the wretched cult is involved," Sulaiman said, "we need to act with extreme caution and to do that, we need a plan."

After the plan had been mostly hashed out, Priscilla used the excuse that she was hungry to go downstairs, leaving the others to fill in the old men.

She checked with Florent, and then walked into the innkeeper's room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

The shrine was a simple thing, barely a foot tall atop the man's dresser. It was made entirely of wood that had delicate carvings along the rounded top of spiders intertwined with flower buds.

Resting in front of the shrine was a small beaded spider plush and a braided flower crown of red flowers that seemed familiar. It took Priscilla a moment to place where she had seen them before and she let out a slow, restrained sigh as she realized those were the same type of flowers she had carelessly brushed aside before she had the dream of being watched.

That feeling was back now, had returned the moment that Priscilla had entered the room, a constant pressure upon her subconscious that had her hackles rising and made her head pound. Asha's irritation was back in full force, prickly and sharp as the artifact tried to push back against the pressure.

"What's up spider fucker?" Priscilla said softly, crossing her arms as she stared at the shrine. While she had accepted that she would be helping the people who lived here, the anger at being forced to do so hadn't subsided, a simmering rage waiting to boil over once a worthy target presented itself.

Asha was tense around her hand, spikes slowly but steadily forming at Priscilla's knuckles like the artifact wished for Priscilla to turn the shrine into splinters.

The pressure against Priscilla's mind paused for a moment, as if the being was in shock by her words, and then it returned with more intensity, like it was attempting to beat her into submission.

Priscilla grit her teeth, breathing out slowly to not give into the temptation to do as Asha wanted and destroy the shrine. Florent wouldn't appreciate it, and Priscilla didn't want to upset the man whose building they were currently residing in no matter how much it'd make her feel better.

"I know what you've done, Answe," Priscilla said slowly, as it was a struggle to keep her voice low so she wasn't overheard, "the way you've used me and my friends as if we are mere fucking pawns for you to manipulate but let's get one thing straight, okay?"

Priscilla leaned forward, putting the hand with Asha on it around the top of the shrine and curling her fingers until she had a firm grip on it.

"I will not be your plaything," Priscilla whispered, staring into the beady eyes of the spider, "and right now, I wish for nothing more than to tear down every shrine you have until your name is forgotten and your legacy is just ash on the wind.

"I know what it takes to kill a god, know the rituals one must go through to erase your divinity," she continued, tightening her fingers until the wood creaked beneath her grip and the pressure in her mind began to feel slightly panicked, "and I have a Legend Killer just itching for the excuse to tear you apart."

"I await your command, master," Asha said, a cruel pleasure filling its voice.

Priscilla smiled at the way Asha knew just what to say. She was half-surprised that she had been able to say the threat without the threat of coughing up blood, but perhaps the original had just done research into the topic of god-killing to endear herself to the cult leader.

"So, Answe," Priscilla said, staring at the spider plush that was now quivering before her, "get the fuck out of my head because I am absolutely done with your bullshit."

For a moment the pressure on her mind lingered, and then disappeared so suddenly that Priscilla was left feeling a little heady. Not that she showed it on her face, keeping a glare fixed on the spider.

The petals on the flower crown shivered and then fell off, drifting to rest upon the spider's body. It twitched violently and began to move.

Priscilla watched it warily as the plush attempted to balance on uneven legs not meant to hold its weight, but it eventually stood and turned to face her.

Slowly, ever so slowly as it wavered, the spider dipped its body until it had lowered itself into a bow.

"I am…" a voice as soft as a flower's petal whispered into Priscilla's ear. "… weak, unable to protect my shoots as the… rot spreads. They will not abandon… their home even when I urged them, and I was… forced to take drastic measures and gambled… upon the chance a chosen like you would purge the rot."

Answe's voice shook with every word and gasped for breath often, as if it took an extreme amount of energy to possess the plush and speak aloud.

"Please," Answe gasped, desperation and fear lacing the god's words, "save my shoots… and I will give you anything you desire. Even… my divinity if needed, this I promise."

Priscilla kept her face impassive though she was surprised at the offer. A god's promise was a powerful thing, as they were bound by it, and it was not easily given.

She mulled over what Answe might be able to offer her, as Priscilla wasn't really all that interested in divinity because becoming a godly being was not on her agenda. Answe had called her a chosen, but of what, Priscilla wasn't sure, though she suspected it had something to do with the god of cowards. Her lack of knowledge of things related to the divine solidified her decision.

"I want information," Priscilla said, leaning away from the shrine, "about several things pertaining to gods and your fucking shenanigans, but also about what the fuck being a chosen means."

The spider painstakingly lifted from the bow to regard Priscilla.

"I am not of a pantheon," Answe said slowly, "born of small prayers and hope, which… limits my knowledge, but… I will answer what I can. Are you sure… this is what you desire?"

Some might ask for blessings or strength, but Priscilla knew that information would be the best tool to help her survive in a world that had the Church of the Violet moon spreading its influence like an infection, twisting and corrupting everything good it came across. She nodded.

"I promise, upon your safe return," Answe said, "I shall answer… your questions the best I am able."

The weight of the god's promise settled over Priscilla's soul, a surprising sensation that was not unlike when she had become bonded to Asha. The petals suddenly shriveled up as spider plush shivered and collapsed, like Answe had lost control of it.

"Before I leave," Priscilla said, "just to make sure we're in the right direction, this rot you speak of — it's at the head of the river, right?"

It took a long moment before the faintest whisper of, "Yes," drifted through the air.

That's good, at least everything they had planned didn't end up being useless. Priscilla gave the shrine one more lingering look, unsure if she tolerated Answe now after the god had been so subservient, but decided to reserve her judgement until after Answe had answered her questions.

There were other things to do now — her friends were waiting for her so they could go kick some monster ass.