The War of Gods

Chapter 6 - Venus Fly Trap

Mavar looked to Joel, who had frozen upon seeing the wolf.

"Scared of dogs, are you?" Mavar asked. "This one seems rather calm."

"Maybe it belongs to the Stormbloods?" Nerith suggested.

"Would've bitten us already." Joel whispered, slowly standing up.

"Good point."

Joel and the wolf kept starting at each other, as if they had silently agreed to some sort of primal challenge. Mavar thought it better to not intervene.

"It wants us to follow." Joel finally said, moving in to do just that.

Mavar and Nerith exchanged concerned glances, but also got up and moved to follow.

The strange animal led them into the thick of the forest, causing Mavar's robes to frequently get caught in the brambles and branches that covered the entire ground. Darkness had enveloped them soon after leaving the open space of the path, and his darkvision gave his surroundings a greyscale look, to which their guide blended in, adding to the bizarreness of it at all. This was elevated tenfold upon arriving at their presumed destination.

A shack.

A lone wooden shack, no bigger than a small study room, in the middle of inhabited woods.

"We're... not going in there, are we?" Nerith asked. At least one of them have some sense.

"Sometimes we must grab the bull by the horns, my friend." Joel answered. Nerith glared at him. "...Sorry. Poor choice of words."

Joel moved closer to enter the shack and, once again, Nerith and Mavar felt like they had no choice but to follow him. They had come this far after all. And yet, with each step, a sense of wrongness began to build up inside Mavar. Everything told him that this must be a trap.

The presence in his mind stirred. God did not speak, but Mavar could sense Its intent. It was... worried? Perhaps even nervous? Could deities feel these mundane emotions? Despite those, it also felt like God was urging Mavar on, as a father would guide his child by the shoulder to their first day of studies.

Last in line, Mavar pushed his way through the door. He secretly expected this to be an elaborate trap, or maybe even the true hideout of the Stormbloods, with an expansion charm cast on the inside so that a mansion filled with riches could be hidden inside an unassuming shack. Instead, he found exactly what any other would expect.

Four walls of rotten planks, with a single broken window shedding light over a kitchen counter — if you could call it that. More of a counter with a simple jug of war and a tea kettle hovering over a small flame. Ah. So there was some magic involved here; simply more humbling. An equally old round wooden table stood at the centre of this kitchen, with four chair surrounding it. And finally, a bed with a straw mattress occupied the rest of the space, with as much dust as you'd imagine. The whole space seemed like it had been abandoned for years, decades even. Everything except that tea kettle. And the old lady brewing it.

She wore a simple dark green hooded robe, as one would find shepherds often wearing. When she turned to greet them, a pale wrinkled face smiled at them with excited blue eyes.

"Ah!" She said. "My guests. Please, come, welcome. Sit, sit."

"It's you!" Nerith said. "I recognize you! You were there when we first fought the Stormbloods. I thought you were Death, staring me down before taking me to the Meadows..."

"Oh, child." The old lady said fondly. "Death already looks after you every day, you don't me for that." And then, she turned to Mavar.

"Hello, cousin." She said. "Long time no see."