Where the False Gods Dwell

Prologue

I have shed a thousand tears, yet the silence in my head screams at me to hang on. Just hang on. One moment longer. Don’t let go.

Debris and sand fill my nostrils and lodge between my fingers and toes. My back aches, and my body feels weak. Still, I cling to the mud-soaked earth, my arms hugging a jutting piece of limestone, preventing me from falling into the abyss.

I should have expected this—sensed the danger weeks ago, even months ago. But I am stubborn and na?ve, and with a nature like mine, I don’t see what lingers in front of me—plain as day, dark as night, with a tortured gaze, sweat-drenched cheeks, and large, white teeth in a dazzling smile.

Christ. I can’t catch my breath. Do I even have breath?

Why didn’t I see it before?

Why did it elude me for so long?

What did the old woman say?

This is where the false gods dwell. Beware, or you might miss the true God when She comes calling.

A sudden peace surrounds me, quieting my raging thoughts. I pull myself up just enough to peer over the edge and, to my surprise, the old woman is wrong.

There are no false gods here.