Zulema dropped to her knees and screamed. Translucent liquid flew from her mouth as she vomited all over the glacial floors of Derleth’s chamber. The retching was followed by an intense fit of coughing as she attempted to clear her throat of the nasty remnants of fluid. From her spot on the floor, the priestess shot a glare at Derleth’s back, who was standing in front of her. “What the fuck just happened?!”
“It seems neither your body nor your mind could keep up with the liminal transition through the angles of time.”
“W-What? That doesn’t seem like an area a human body could exist…”
“It is not. We simply used one as an exit. The only real obstacle was the dilation of your body’s matter—”
“Stop. I understand— I don’t. But I don’t wish to. It’s over now and now I’m more worried about why the liquid that spewed from my mouth is nothing but water. Just how long have you kept me encased?”
“Not very long. A week and three days, four hours, twenty-two minutes and fifteen seconds. Approximately. I had thought to keep you in there longer, but I did not recruit you to be a living sculpture held within these walls.”
“Are you sure you want to admit that to me?” Zula gave him a side-long glance with narrowed eyes. “I preferred it more when you were trying to win my favor by trying to get me to warm up to you.”
“That proved to be a waste of time.”
“I told you the gestures weren’t completely meaningless. And it was still much better than the callous honesty you’re subjecting me to now.” Zulema felt a rumbling sensation in her stomach. “If we’re going to discuss important matters, can we at least do it over food? My insides are beyond empty now. I’m going to check my freezer. I trust you’ve at least left me that luxury still intact?”
“It is no concern of mine; however, I did have it moved. I had it placed in your room.”
“You moved it?! Wait—What room? It was already in my room!”
Derleth raised his arm and pointed to a newly formed aperture in the wall, now containing an intricate-looking door covered in glacial patterns. “I took note of your concerns of sleeping outside in the hollow of that tree and fashioned a living space more fitting to your standards. Consider it a form of apology… for sealing you away after your mental collapse. I pondered on it and realized I was asking much of a frail mortal without considering the toll this entire situation must have taken on her.”
“Oh… my. Well, how surprisingly considerate of you.” Zulema tried to remain stern, but grew slightly flustered after being caught off guard with this sudden surprise. She stroked her hair nervously. “I did not think your cold, alien heart had the capacity for sympathy—much less empathy—for the plight that has been living under your thumb. Now I almost regret trying to kill you earlier. Almost.”
“Then I suppose this gesture had a little more meaning than most. Gather your rations, Orphan of Macha. I will wait for you outside.” Derleth grunted then made his way to the illusory door that served as the exit to his interdimensional home, leaving the priestess all alone.
Zulema sighed heavily. “Honestly… Here I am, half-naked, deprived of the outside world. emotionally neglected, and at the beck and call of a hulking brute of a man. I never imagined my life would be this at only 23 years old... At least not for another ten years!” she cried. The dejected priestess trudged toward the unfamiliar door in the looming recess of the corner of the throne room. As she got near, a small, human-sized archway formed from the dissolving ice into the bottom of the towering door, leading into the priestess’s new room. As she crossed the threshold, Zula’s mind went blank as she attempted to register what she was seeing. Instead of the lifeless icebox she had been expecting, what appeared in front of her was her old apartment. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The walls, the structures, the layout—it was all the same as back home. With the noticeable exception that it was completely devoid of all her furnishings. Her lovely furniture, her framed pictures of family, even her scripture—all missing! She supposed he was expecting her to fill the room out herself then. Easier said than done in her current circumstance. Could he not have at least bothered? Of course, it’s not like Derleth could have simply walked into her house and teleported it into his little pocket universe… Or could he? She wouldn’t put it past him to do such a thing, but the answer to what she was seeing was probably much simpler in nature… He had somehow extracted the layout of her old home from her mind and rebuilt it. The only questions were how? And when? Back when he had been digging out her eye and rooting around in her brain to cut her Goddess’s blessing out of her life? That’s right. Don’t forget what he did. This might have been a thoughtful gesture, but it didn’t excuse the forceful extraction of her life’s calling. And how could she be sure he hadn’t been lying about her sister? That man was nothing but a demon in human flesh. Literally. A trickster sent to sow order. Well, the plan hadn’t changed. She would one day learn his weakness and then destroy him. For the time being, however, it seemed that she had to play along with his ludicrous plan to dethrone Lady Macha from her seat of madness.
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The young priestess walked around the empty living space, recalling where her old things had been relative to where they now weren’t. She rounded a wall, stepping into where her old kitchen had been, and spotted the “freezer” she had constructed—now placed in the same spot where her fridge had once been back in her real kitchen. The “freezer” in question was a simple chest made completely from ice that Zulema had constructed to store her personal belongings—of which there were painfully few. There was an old, torn book that she had found in one of the old desks inside the derelict base she had first awoken in when she arrived. The large hollow at the bottom of the tree that housed a desk and some old tables, along with very ancient looking radio equipment. She scoured most of it for anything of use to her and stored it in this freezer. Aside from the book—which she read for a pittance of entertainment—she had stowed away a pen, a broken radio that she hoped she could get working somehow, her fifth attempt at carving a crude replica of her gatin from a block of ice, and stores and stores of food. More specifically—frozen cuts of meat she had collected off the frozen carcasses scattered around the surrounding forest of Derleth’s domain. She reached for the largest piece.
But what if everything he had been saying was true? He was an all-powerful being, so what reason would he have to lie? Was there not truth in some of the things he said? Certainly, there was a blood price for those dealing with and against Macha, but was that not the cost for religious dominance? Careful. That’s a very blasphemous line of thought that’s occurring. Fine, but what of her sister? Had she really just imagined her sister’s presence? Had the loneliness been getting to her that much? She was a very social woman and it had started to feel like forever since she had anyone to talk to aside from that asocial beast. Perhaps the loneliness had started to get to her if she was now starting to consider his side of things.
Zulema’s head was spinning with thoughts that were beginning to give her a headache. As she rubbed her head, her fingers trailed to the spot where her eye had once been. Apparently, the bandages wrapped around it refreshed themselves each day, so there had been no need to redress them. She wondered how disfiguring her face must look with only a single eye. How ugly it must look under there. I bet Alma would probably think it was the coolest thing in the world, she thought. As much as she wished that was a reassuring thought, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man would want a woman with such an impairment. Trying to find herself among her lost thoughts, her gaze fell upon the frozen piece of venison still in her hands. She had been holding it the entire time, without so much as a freezing burn on her fingers. A missing eye suddenly seemed like it should be the least of her worries.
