Chapter Twenty : Screw the ... Nether?
Sometimes gods liked to stroll around in mortal forms. No one knew why, except for the god in question, of course, and even then only vaguely. And no one was likely to question them about it, since the purpose of the said mortal form was not attracting undue attention, which may then lead to disastrous events befalling the said mortal form, possibly involving people whose prayers had gone ignored once too often suddenly desiring to repay a few debts, often with the involvement of sharp objects.
Gods don't often do this. The transition is not dissimilar to a human being suddenly achieving amphibianhood, which certainly did no wonders for the said human's mental health, what with the limited mental capacity and a sudden desire to catch insects with one's tongue. Not to mention the memory.
What memory?
Yes, exactly. Now imagine trying to cram twelve thousand years of picture-perfect data, complete with tiny details like the microbes living on dust motes and a six-hour mathematics lecture given by the most boring professor on the continent, into a brain the size of a stunted eggplant.
Poof went the microbes. Poof went the mathematics lecture (Thank heavens for small mercies). Room to be made for trivial things like survival instincts, emotions, morals, irresistible urges to stick one's fingers into electrical sockets for no apparent reason, the whole range of junk.
In short, in the process of learning how to be human, a god may suddenly find themselves forgetting how to be a god.
And that is where the trouble starts.
I think I may have just received a death threat. It left me with a kind of itchy feeling inside, like I wanted to be annoyed but was too unsettled to be.
So I defaulted to my base settings. "What?" I asked, in a state of bemusement.
"We would prefer to keep it a secret." The Wither clarified. "But needs as Herobrine drives, as they say. You need your dragon scale to complete a bargain, no?"
"What does this have to do with a dragon scale?"
The Wither glanced at Horus, who shrugged, which could have meant a whole range of things from 'go on' to 'let's murder him'. Though I would like to assume the former is more likely.
"Well-" The Wither began helplessly. "It may be possible, just slightly, that a dragon scale may be procured by going through the portal?"
I crossed my arms. "So you're saying there's a fairy over on the other side waiting with a basket of free dragon scales." I deliberately chose a tone saturated with sarcasm and unleashed it upon the unsuspecting Wither.
Who brightened up like a Notchmas torch. "Oh! Is this the thing you humans call 'sarcas-"
"No fairies." Horus deadpanned. "But there is always the possibility of a hungry demon. They don't get enough tourists nowadays."
I gulped.
"That," The Wither utilised a tone so flat it must have just come out from under a steamroller. "I can't believe my earholes, all six of them. I didn't think you were capable of humour beyond funny ways to decorate the scenery with body parts."
"Um." I said accurately. "Are there hungry demons?"
"Well, they're often not hungry for long, I can tell you that." The Wither replied dourly. "I daresay it has something to do with all those teeth and claws."
"And they're through that portal." I pointed at the frame.
"Yes." Horus answered unexpectedly. "And so is the dragon scale."
I put my hands on my hips. "Well, that settles it, gentlemen. If there's a dragon scale involved..."
The Wither nodded encouragingly.
"... Then please show me the nearest exit. I really don't want to deal with an angry dragon on top of all those demons." I finished, barely keeping the little whimper out of my voice.
Horus gave me a Look. It was a Look that made the Nether suddenly seem like a pool of yogurt in comparison. "Steve. You must go through the portal. You are in mortal peril."
"Why?"
"Because I will personally strangle you if you don't."
I nodded calmly. "Okay." I said. "You know what, I've actually changed my mind. I might actually enjoy being ripped to pieces-" I swallowed. " - mauled-" I gulped. "-and devoured. Not necessarily in that order, of course."
"Atta boy!" The Wither announced cheerfully. I got the feeling they had never quite gotten the grasp of sarcasm. "So I believe you humans say, anyhow."
"So how do we activate this thing?" I asked with an air of resignation. "Set fire to it the good old classic style? Explode it? Human sacrifices?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted the last line. I wouldn't be surprised if I was actually correct.
The Wither looked at me oddly. "Human sacrifices?" I gulped. "Good gods! How tasteless! Such things are quite out of fashion nowadays."
I breathed a sigh of relief. It almost ended up as a choke. What did they mean by out of fashion nowadays? High Aether, did that mean they used to-
"So," The Wither addressed Horus, who was standing in such a way he almost blended in perfectly with the background. "I am afraid you will have to do the honours. I cannot physically project my voice, alas, and the young Steve does not know the ritual."
Horus shrugged. "It cannot be avoided." He sighed, and walked up to the frame with the bearing of a man walking into an extremely political situation.
I prepared to look away. And so was caught quite unawares when the verbal cannon went off.
I unblocked my ears after a good ten minutes, and poked around just to make sure there wasn't anything unmentionably unsanitary lying around in there.
In front of us, the portal swirled with red flames. Horus put his hands in his pockets and retreated to another corner of the room, which was the most obvious sign of embarrassment I'd seen from him thus far.
"So the key to this thing..." I began in a tone of utter amazement. "... Is... is... Wow. I can't believe you swore at it for ten minutes straight."
And that was what he did. Without pause, in what seemed like twenty-five different languages. I only recognised a few of the words, and they did not sound kid-friendly. They sounded like they were verging on indefinitely removing my ears from existence.
The Wither cleared their throat. "You must understand that when Herobrine created the Nether, he-" They coughed. "-ah, had a bit of an off day. Involving a little brawl with most of the Aether which resulted in that whole business with being declared Persona Non Grata in the Aether, well..."
"So he hardcore-cursed at some magma blocks until they glowed." I marvelled. The gods never failed to surprise. It was one of their best traits, some of the other good traits being graciously not causing the apocalypse and poisoning coffee only with vinegar, nothing overly fatal. "That is some next-level world building."
"I was very alarmed that day." The Wither admitted. "It was usually an extraordinary result if you could get two words out of him in the same day. I was afraid of, well... many things."
Horus cleared his throat. We both spun around guiltily, as we had forgotten he was in the room altogether.
"The regrettable wording aside, may we proceed?" He inquired. I had the feeling that he really didn't want to extrapolate on the 'ritual' and that it would be an unfathomably stupid idea to ask him how he'd come by the knowledge of it.
"Yeah. Sure." I gestured at the roiling red mist. "I'll even let you go first."
He shook his head. "Ladies first."
The Wither made the kind of sound that you get when you cross-breed a death rattle and a choke. "My word." They sputtered. "That is the second time in this day. Are you quite healthy, my friend?"
Horus waved a hand languidly. "Nothing I will not recover from in due time."
He turned to me, all sense of amiability evaporating like shower steam. "In. Now." He stabbed a finger at the portal in a way someone else might wield a dagger.
My brain told me it was a bad idea. My survival instincts, or whatever pathetic excuse of deteriorated mental wiring that passed for them in me, weighed the options and judged one to be slightly less fatal.
I walked into the portal.
... And opened my eyes to a grey void.
A black blur arced overhead and solidified into a shape. Curious red eyes blinked down on me, a finger placed thoughtfully over the lower lip.
"I think I've seen you sometime." The girl said curiously. "Can't seem to remember when. Have you met me yet?"
"Gah!" I said, when I was given an opening.
"Is a 'Gah' a measure of time in your universe?" The girl inquired, doing a slow loop in the weightless space.
"Er. No."
She pirouetted and spun so she was facing me, the tail of a long black coat trailing behind her. "Hmm." She said in no apparent context.
"They call me-." She suddenly said, as the same time as I asked : "Who are you?"
"Oh!" The young girl laughed. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget when I'm not entirely in the present. My people call me Time."
Different from before. She'd actually given me an answer this time.
"-But people who I've actually met usually use my name. Call me Az, by the way." She added. "For now. I still can't really decide on a name. It's ridiculous, only being able to have one name at a Time. It's like being let loose in an ice-cream store and being told I'm only allowed to pick one flavour." She sighed and shook her head sadly. "You humans."
There was a period of silence then, during which she had managed to float herself into an upside-down position.
"So what's yours?" The girl asked suddenly.
I started a little. "What?"
"Name, dingus. What's your name? I've told you mine, it's only polite to tell me yours."
"Er, it's Steve."
Az gave me a dry stare. "Your parents weren't very inventive in the naming department." She commented, turning loops in the vacuum like a kind of strange dolphin.
"Thanks." I replied, just as dryly. "I suppose I'll tell them that when I find out who they actually are."
The girl lifted an eyebrow, hands planted on her hips. "You too? The parents these days really are deteriorating. I believe I've met five people in the same situation in just the last hour. The parenting department seems to have bailed when it came to Gods. Ah, well. I guess it can't be helped. " She sighed, pinching the bridge of her small nose. "Grown-ups will do grown-up things."
"Just how old are you, exactly?" I asked out of curiosity.
"A hundred and forty-seven." She replied cheerfully. "Two hundred and seventy-eight. Ninety-six, five hundred and nine, and eleven."
...What?
The girl-shaped being scratched her head sheepishly. "Honestly, the time thing is a little confusing in the age department. But I like to think of myself as a kid, 'cause grown-ups are confusing." She tilted her head and grinned in childish delight. "But you're the same, huh?"
"What?" That word was becoming my trademark phrase. I really need to replace it. With something like 'Pardon?' or 'Excuse me?' or something that just sounds more civilized.
"You like being young." She said simply. "You don't want to be seen as grown up. Something to do with all the responsibilities? You seem like someone who takes his responsibilities seriously. Maybe that's why you don't want more, 'cause you know you're gonna take 'em."
"I didn't know I signed up for a psychoanalysis session." I mumbled under my breath.
"Think that's why you act so clueless, like some oblivious kid?"
The awkwardness intensified on my part. "Um." I said. "Er, uh, erm..."
The girl suddenly laughed, pulling a hand through her long hair in an embarrassed fashion. "Sorry. I'm new to all this. All the microscopic details... I can't help myself. Sorry."
"It's, uh, okay, I guess."
She abruptly jerked up, tipping her head in a curious fashion. "Oh dear. Do excuse me. Something seems to be attempting to make a nuisance of itself." Something in her sudden change of tone reminded me of Horus. Images of unfortunate and painful happenings played on my mental theater, and I quickly consigned much of it to the cutting room floor.
A single wing sprouted from her back, flowing like semi solid shadows.
Ruby eyes glinted with a bloody luminescence.
"No offense meant, Steve. But I really must be off. A trivial annoyance is demanding to be seen to."
Shadow leaked into the edges of my vision, the girl-shape who called herself Az being the central point.
Then she suddenly smiled, and the shadows didn't look so menacing anymore. "I'll see you another Time, huh?"
Existence took a break, and I was left falling face-first into a red lake.
It took me some time to wake up enough to actually make an attempt at getting out of the water. Though at first I was pretty reluctant to do so, because the lake water was actually quite unnaturally warm.
Not to mention the water was red. I almost skimmed straight out of the water when I realised that.
"So you decided it was a good idea to chuck me into a lake. In an entirely different universe." I deadpanned once I climbed back up onto the small cliff where Horus sat waiting innocuously.
He shrugged. "You adamantly refused to wake up. I already tried slapping you and - what was it you people do - oh yes, blowing into your ear." He said matter-of-factly.
I surreptitiously inserted a finger into my ears and attempted to clean them out. "First off, slapping people and blowing into their ears are not the best methods of waking somebody, and ouch-" I winced at the sharp newly-discovered pain in my face. "Second, what's the deal with 'you people'? And third-" I rubbed my eyes and looked around just to make sure they weren't having me on.
"Where the Nether are we?"
"Ah. That." There seemed to be an unsaid 'whoops, my bad' hanging in the air.
"Don't you 'ah, that' me!" I yelped.
Horus held up a finger, successfully cutting any further protests from Yours Truly. "I was about to say, funny you should ask that."
He swept his arm out in a grandiose gesture, allowing me to take in the red sun, metallic gold skies, reflective black rock, and trees with softly glowing leaves seemingly made from molten gold.
"Welcome to the Nether surface, Steve. The real Nether."