“What exactly do you propose I do, Derleth? Waltz back in there after having gone missing for weeks? In all actuality, I have most likely been declared dead and most of my things repossessed. They do not take kindly to deserters.” Despite Zulema’s words, she desperately wanted to return home, repercussions be damned. It would be miracle enough just getting back to see her family and friends. Returning to the sweet embrace of her Goddess. Macha would know the truth. The madness of the situation is exactly the kind of thing she reveled in.

  “If I had wanted you to do that, I would have let you return long ago.” The eldritch man stood nearby, watching with a penetrating gaze as the priestess thawed a frozen piece of meat over a roaring flame. A violently foreign element he had been seeing a lot more than he wished to lately. “The Old One has a weakness we may be able to exploit. When she first arrived on this planet, her form could not endure the atmospheric stress and so she forced a part of herself into the living being of a native inhabitant, corrupting much along the way.”

  “Right,” replied Zulema. “The Genesis of Macha. It’s pretty much inscribed in our brains when we’re first taught Scarlet scripture. She came down to Sarracas to teach and elevate us to our rightful place in the universe, but was mercilessly overwhelmed by forces seeking to keep us grounded. But with her remaining benevolence, she created her two handmaidens and bestowed the divine gift upon Saintess Esdras who then went on to found Malachias. The gift that allows her to see the direction toward the true path. I still do not see where you’re going with this. Where you see corruption, I see purification. Our country has only helped the world further strive toward apotheosis under Macha’s watchful gaze. I fail to see any weakness.”

  “That is no gift. Nor is it any simple othering, like the one your priestesses are imbued with. Your Old One physically infused its core into your Saintess to protect itself. It corrupts the body—changing it into something inhuman. Something mad. It may not be obvious, but there are signs. This core is its true weakness.”

  “That’s absurd. Even if it were true, our holy Saintess has been dead for thousands of years. What weakness do you hope to exploit from that?”

  “That part of Macha did not remain with your Saintess. It is passed down generationally through genetic lineage. Whoever currently holds this divine gift is the one currently housing Macha’s core.”

  “Currently…? You mean Princess J—” Zula quickly held her tongue, stopping herself from completing that sentence. Unfortunately, the damage was done.

  “The reigning princess of your country…” Derleth said gruffly. “Yes, if she is the current seeress of your religion then she would indeed be the prime candidate we are looking for.”

  “Ha! And what would you have me do? Hunt down and slay the royal princess of my own country? Do you think a Scarlet Sister could ever get away with such a grievous crime? They would hunt me down to the ends of the planet.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You do not give yourself enough credit, Orphan of Macha. This will be a clandestine mission. You will be in and out without discovery and you will slay her without a beat. A simple task for someone with your prowess.”

  The priestess gawked at him, flabbergasted. “I am not killing my princess! First of all, my sister would kill me! Not to mention a slow and agonizing death by crucifixion by the entirety of the Sacred Seven. Second, you still haven’t given me an actual convincing reason for why I should trust a word you’re saying. I mean, regicide?! As if I’d ever participate in such a capital offense.”

  “There is more to that which you’ve been told and to understand my goal, it’s imperative to shed light on the truth of your so-called Goddess. The Old One known as Macha is driven by avarice and gluttony. Her presence was not motivated by the dissemination of enlightenment, but rather by subjugation. She infiltrates inhabited worlds, compelling the indigenous populace to prostrate in worship, then—after growing fat on their devotion—proceeds to systematically devour the celestial bodies contained within that galaxy.”

  “What…?” There was a look of concern growing on Zulema’s face. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, it sounded like nonsense. But would this eldritch entity really go to so much effort at constructing such an elaborate and preposterous lie just to convince her? “No! That cannot be! Why would she waste thousands of years fostering worship on a planet she plans to simply consume?”

  “You already know that part of the tale. Despite the many times she has led countless stellar systems to their untimely demise, the environment of this world significantly warped her mind—twisting her perception and almost destroying her. While her celestial exploits may have bestowed upon her considerable power, the energy that fortifies her mind and soul gradually wanes and dissipates. Which is why she does not stop and why it led to her eventual disablement. However, it seems her drive to foster worship was not lost and eventually it will strengthen her enough again to regain her senses and renew her destruction of your world.”

  “Why? Why would my Scarlet Church help her do this?!”

  “Simply put—they do not know. I suspect no one knows Macha’s true goal except herself.”

  “N-No, that can’t… I—I need to be alone.” The dejected priestess collapsed into the snow on her knees like a broken doll. “You are asking me to process too much. Maybe… Maybe if that truly is Macha’s will, then as her priestess I should be willing to let it happen.” She mumbled the words as they crossed her mind. “Is it I through which her madness is made manifest. If this world is meant as fodder for Our Lady Madness, then perhaps this world is simply destined to meet a crazy end. Isn’t that quite like the definition of insanity? The ultimate dream has always been to become one with her as she watches from her throne in Cockaigne. The rest of the heathens should consider themselves lucky…”

  As Zulema’s disjointed mutterings continued, something caught Derleth’s attention. He observed the fallen priestess, contemplating whether or not she required one final push. The eldritch man looked out into the dense forest, speaking in his usual unnaturally guttural tone. “I will give you some time to process this bounty of information. For the moment, I am heading out to ascertain the condition of my barrier. I would strongly advice against any attempt to leave this sanctuary until I return.”