Blooming Idolatry

Meanie

My heart beat itself against my rib cage, begging to search for Enna. I scoured the room for signs of them, and came up empty. Not even a hair from Enna's head was left behind. It was like she was never here.

My cultists were not oblivious to my panicked stare. Oliver tugged on my sleeve. I flicked my eyes to his tear streaked puffy face.

"Where's Enna?"

"I don't know." I rubbed the top of his head. His prickly short hair soothed me in a way. It was a sensation other than fear.

Taking a few steps away from Oliver, I noticed some writing on the table where Enna sat.

God of revenge, it's time.

The paper smelled of memories. A floral scent of buttercups and laughter lifted to my nose. The undertones of a woodsy musk hid beneath the too sweet flowers.

My brother was back.

And he'd taken Enna. Why would he take Enna? Where was Kane?

The flos divus was erased. There was no remnant of the bond I had with Enna. She was basically my high priestess, and I'd let her get kidnapped.

I held the paper up to my chest, hoping maybe I could feel Enna if I kept it close.
I felt the trails of tears as my mind conjured up all the ways she could be hurt by my kin.

My brother, Lucretius, drained the vis from children to increase his power, but at a cost. The children died. His sanity chipped away each time he claimed a victim. It was sadistic.

His gluttony on vis led to his madness. Before the Eclipse of Man began, Lucretius was the god of children and childbirth. He oversaw the birth of humans and the creation of new gods. He was just. I watched my brother aid entire cultures in blossoming.

His kindness knew no bounds. New gods were created to solve the over abundance of vis which came with the birth of so many humans. To keep the balance, we were all equals in power. It was the law set in place by Philomena. She was the eldest god, and therefore the wisest.

Philomena forbade the draining of a soul. It kept our supplies high enough to support the new gods, such as her daughter who she called Leta. As the surplus grew and gods were not choosing to create fast enough to counteract it, Philomena placed a ban on the ever increasing birth rate.

My brother was furious.

"Seka," he had complained to me, "she wants to keep me from using my abilities when I'm keeping us functioning as gods. Without me, there would be no gods."

"We don't need to keep this up."

"And why's that?"

"Because, the more vis is made, the more likely one god is to become more powerful. Then we'll be at their mercy and our freedom will be nonexistent."

Lucretius stormed away from me. His ego had outgrown his kindness.

I did not hear from my brother for a hundred years after our argument. My cult had morphed into a following, and my followers came from all walks of life.

Having a diverse following meant they were a family. As most families do, my people married and had children.

I felt the first flos divus fail.

Her name was Enna.

I rushed to save the life of a child, and failed. When I arrived, I was greeted with a corpse. Foggy green eyes, gray hair, she was a husk. The overly sweet scent of buttercups hung in the air of her animal skin tent.

Lucretius had crossed a line. I was numb when I reported him to Philomena. She used her many years of wisdom to apprehend my brother and force him into the deathlike sleep. It was too late however, gods began to drain the souls of humans as they pleased.

We  pushed them to extinction, an event we named the Eclipse of Man.

I fought the other gods. My powers turned their minds against themselves and laid out plans for revenge on each other. Since I could never bring myself to harm my followers, I became a weaker god for my morals. My followers were picked off until I could no longer stay conscious. My supply of vis was cut off.

So I died.

I enjoyed it too. Sleeping was peaceful because I did not have to face reality. My cult was gone. I was a failure of a god, and a weak one at that. I learned enough about the world through hints of awareness to know I did not want to wake up.

I wanted to stay dead.

My little terror, my Enna, had other plans. She barged into my existence, using an offering of sticky skittles. Enna comforted me after I accidentally traumatized her. She gathered a cult for me, and unknowingly grew my strength.

I owed my consciousness to Enna. I chose to name her after the first flos divus I lost to remind myself I would lose her. I refused to lose my Enna.

I rose from the corner of the creamery's storefront. Caring for my cultists lent me strength, and I would not waste any time in finding their high priestess.

Gathering my confidence and cult, the bell jangled on the way out. Our marching footsteps were the only sounds as we walked back to the school.

Just as the note from my brother said, it was time, and the god of revenge was back.