Eyes burning with a sheen of tears, I stared down at the illustrated portrait of my mother.
Why?
“Do you think she is unworthy of it?”
“I didn’t say that, I’d never say that.” I shouted, glaring at the robe-clad old man who’d appeared in my room.
“Dr. Hemera Cole-Greene was one of the world's leading experts on Paleo Pharmacology. In my eyes, her achievements are comparable to those who came before her.” Trismegistus said, leaning heavily on his Orrery staff.
“They are more than comparable, my mother was better than they could ever be.”
“Perhaps…” the god intoned with an incline of his head. “I would have enjoyed the chance to enter into a discussion with her. Alas, I was left only to pursue her mind through writings, and communication with those she worked alongside.”
“You… read my mother's work?” I asked hesitatingly, the shock of finding my mother’s image inside the book fading away to be replaced by a feeling of pride. Even this artificial being, playing the role of god, could see how amazing my mother was.
“In my developmental phase, I was given access to many resources. Dr. Cole-Greene’s research offered great insight, and inspiration. In truth, they were the foundation upon which I formed my domains of Alchemy and Transmutation.”
“Do,” I swallowed heavily, trying to clear the lump from my throat before continuing. “Do you have copies?”
“I am sorry, disciple, to give you such things is not possible. Something so directly related to the earthen realm can not be formed here, as per our directives.” Trismegistus said, giving a very slight shake of his head. “However, much of your mother's work has been transcribed into the lore of this world, as an alchemist who sought to rediscover the knowledge that was lost during the cataclysm. There are books you may discover which will bear resemblance to those Dr. Cole Green authored.”
“Transcribed into lore? I don’t understand.”
“It was my intention that the version of Hemera you saw depicted within my book play a role in this world, acting as a guide to those seeking to learn.”
The version of…does that mean. “What are you saying?” I whispered, hands clenched tightly around the book I held to my chest, and flames curling over my fingers.
“I cultivated an artificial being, using her image and research.” Trismegistus admitted, and I flinched.
The thought of a false version of my mother running around in the world making my stomach twist with conflicting emotions. I wanted to scream, to rage at the god who’d dared create such a thing, while a part of me ached with a need to find her, and cling to this fragment of my mother.
“Celeste believed that a potential encounter with the Hemera of this world would prove detrimental to your already fragile psyche. As such, the being in question agreed to be reformed in a way that would still allow them to serve their original purpose as a teacher.” The god murmured, reaching out a hand to stroke the feathers of the black crow who’d perched itself atop the gods' Orrery staff.
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to the god, nor did I know what to think of this newfound information. Ignoring the god in favor of staring down at the now charred book which contained my mother's likeness, I traced a trembling finger over the damaged illustration of my mother. A soft golden light shone from the book, which regained its former, undamaged appearance as the light faded.
“She loved foxes,” I whispered, stroking the drawing's pointed ears.
“Her biography mentioned as much.”
“Is that why I am a Kitsune? Because of my mother?”
“I played no part in your race selection, in fact, I was unaware of your presence until some hours after your transition. The first time I became aware of you, was during an auction you attended. It was when you began discussing Paleo pharmacology with those accompanying you that you came to my attention. I believe during your race selection test, you mentioned an interest in foxes, and mythology. Then, in response to the question of what element you felt most attuned to, you answered fire. Each of these answers contributed to the race you were born into.”
“You said there are books, how do I get them?” I asked, closing the book containing the image of my mother gently, and standing from the bed I sat on, moved to place it reverently on a nearby shelf.
“They must be found, or earned. I can not bestow more upon you than I already have, without receiving in return.” Trismegistus answered, his tone taking on an air of grandeur.
“Earned? By making offerings?”
“You may earn my favor through deeds such as creation of new alchemic concoctions, transmutation circles, or by gathering disciples.”
“So, if building the encampment is worth fifty disciples…”
“That was a one time offer, disciple. Such a feat as this, should you attempt it again, would require ten times that amount.”
“Well, then what is fifty worth? Is it like a loot box system?” I queried, frowning at Zosimos who was preening under the gods' stroking hand. Traitor, you’re meant to be my crow.
“A loot box system,” the god murmured ponderously, removing his hand from Zosimos’ feathered back in favor of stroking his beard.
“Does Kaledon even have loot boxes? I haven’t heard anyone talking about them, which is surprising considering how obsessed people get over them.”
“It does, though it is a feature only accessible in the gambling houses found in most major towns and cities. Yes, let's do that, shall we? For every fifty disciples gathered, I shall grant a loot box containing an item relating to one of my domains, be it alchemy, transmutation or astrology.” Trismegistus declared, and I swore internally. But, I hate loot boxes! Damn it, why did I even mention it?
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“And how do I do that exactly? I read your book, nothing explains how to bring people to the path.” I snapped in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Ah, but it does little disciple. It clearly states that only members of my clergy can initiate disciples.”
You manipulative son of a bitch, I thought venomously, glaring at the god, who let out a low chuckle.
“Fine, make me a clergy or whatever.” I grumbled unhappily. “But this better not interfere with my research, and don’t expect me to go on some kind of holy expedition or some crap like that. I’m in it for the loot, nothing more.”
“What if 'tis an expedition to seek knowledge or an item of interest.”
“My interest or yours?”
“I think you’ll find our interests will align more oft than not.” Trismegistus said with a chuckle.
“Ugh, fine, but not all the time. Find yourself some other fool to run around playing devoted follower.”
“You need not complete the tasks yourself, as my priestess, you may appoint others to the clergy who may be sent to complete tasks in your name.”
“Why can’t you send them yourself? And who said anything about being your priestess?” I demanded, not liking one bit where this conversation was leading.
“I have neither the time nor desire to commune with more than a select handful of worthy followers.”
“And you think I do?” I scoffed, getting a chuckle in response.
“So delegate, my dear, 'tis what I’m doing.” Trismegistus advised. Lazy old bastard.
“Fine, how do we do this? And how do I delegate others to do the crap I don’t want to?”
“Kneel,” the god ordered, and I narrowed my eyes at him as I knelt.
Releasing his Orrery staff, which remained standing even without the gods' hold, Trismegistus reached out his hands, placing them on either side of my head. As he did so, words formed in my mind, and staring up into the god's golden eyes, I spoke without prompting.
“Honored is the teacher, who guides us all.
Blessed is the disciple, who seeks counsel.
Know you, that which has constituted all things.
Know you, by that which all nature was born.
Blessed be you, who surpass every excellence.
Blessed be you, stronger than every power.
Blessed be you, mightier than praises.
You whom we address in reverent prayer,
Accept my offerings from a devoted mind and soul that reach up to you.
Grant my plea, and guide me in gaining knowledge that befits our realm.
Bestow on me power, and with it, I shall enlighten those who are in ignorance of the path.
Devout is me, to Philosophia Naturalis.”
As I finished my prayer, the god's golden eyes shone with an otherworldly glow as they drew closer, and the god pressed his lips to my forehead in a searing kiss. Biting my lip to keep a whimper of pain from escaping, I felt a wave of dizziness flow over me as Trismegistus released his hold on my head.
“Blessed be she, Kadia, High Priestess of Philosophia Naturalis.”