Our Mother the Mountain

Prologue

When he stepped through the door to exit, Ethan felt the world around him fall away; he traveled through the void with no fear, thanks to the thing that sat in his chest like a coiled snake.

However, he assumed he would reappear in his world. He also assumed that his girls and Dimitrescu would be nearby. Neither of those things happened. Instead, he thunked rather loudly onto tree roots and winced, rolling to his side. The blond opened one eye to inspect the damage-what hellhole had he landed in now?

He was surprised to see himself at the ceremony site again. A bonfire raged near the middle of the site, illuminating the terrifying giant statues in a sinister way. They stared down at him wiltingly, and he heard many voices in the clearing. Ethan noted one stark difference between this cataloged memory and the one he and Eva saw previously; it was now winter at the site, and everything was blanketed in deep snow.

It made him stand up all the quicker. A jolt of fear and disgust went through him, as the sight reminded him of...well, January. His introduction to this place had been in winter, and it was still more of a nightmare than he cared to admit. Ethan eyed the crowd that gathered near the steep cliffside, where past the wrought-iron fence, the glittering lights of the village were visible far below. It didn't take the blond long to see that at the front of the crowd was Godric; he stood a full foot taller than everyone else.

The King actually wore his crown, and a deep burgundy robe underneath his fur. His breath fogged around him as he spoke; the blond drew closer to hear him. As with the old letters from the tomb, Ethan had no problems understanding the spoken language.

Not only could he understand, but the entity inside of him was singing as if excited, familiar with...something. Pieces of itself were near. Pieces ? Godric had one. There was some sort of bond between his presence in this memory, and Ethan, who was here now. Ethan noted that he hadn't felt this around Godric while in the created prison–the Black God had been 'removed' before that punishment, so the piece was no longer within the once-King.

But...pieces ?

His own words rang in his ears. The Black God wishes to be restored.

Ethan blinked rapidly. How many pieces are there?

There was only silence as a reply.

Godric was speaking his strange, harsh-sounding language. There were three other crowned individuals behind him, though none were as tall or commanding as he. They seemed content to let him speak, and the audience was enraptured. The figure in front of him stood fidgeting, their face hidden underneath a hood and a ram-horned ornamental headpiece. Ethan realized it was similar to the ram-headed statues that led to the altar.

"-Oana Turca, this is your wish?"

The figure dipped into something of a bow. Her voice was low. "It is, my Lord."

Godric had a strange expression on his face; he seemed empathetic, almost emotional. But he nodded, and stepped down toward the figure. In a familiar gesture, he clamped his hands around the shoulders of the woman. "Then, our beloved Traveler, tonight we celebrate your service and your life. For forty years you have watched our realms and presided over ceremonies, blessings to us all. Perhaps the Great One will choose your spirit to lead, or find our next Traveler. I know your soul will find peace and happiness in its next life."

Traveler , there was that word again. His inner voice answered that one easily.

You are also a traveler. Someone who can see into, move inside of, the consciousness at will. Someone who can create forms. Travelers were holy people, once. Guardians.