THE BURIED GOD
Chapter 17: The Scar
The days turned into weeks.
Damon stayed in Rook’s house. He ate at the old man’s table. He slept on the old man’s floor. He watched the mountain from the old man’s window.
The mountain did not change.
The silver light did not return.
The hunger did not wake.
But Damon did not believe it was over.
He could not.
The scar on his chest was still there. Small and silver, like a tiny crescent moon. It did not hurt. It did not itch. It did not bleed.
But it was there.
And it reminded him.
Of the seed. Of the blade. Of the hunger.
Vespera stayed with him.
She slept in the corner of the room, her silver eyes open, her pale face turned toward the ceiling. She did not dream. She did not sleep. She simply rested.
“I don’t need sleep,” she said. “I was dead for a thousand years. Sleep is for the living.”
“You’re alive now.”
She looked at him.
Her silver eyes were sad.
“Am I?”
Lyssa came and went.
She treated the villagers who were sick. She tended the wounds of those who had been hurt. She listened to the fears of those who had been hiding.
“The priests are gone,” she said, one evening. “Their temple is empty. Their altars are cold. Their guards have fled.”
“All of them?”
“All of them. The mountain is silent. The god is sleeping. The hunger is waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
Lyssa was silent for a long moment.
“Waiting for someone to wake it.”
Rook sat by the hearth.
His gray eyes were fixed on the flames.
“You need to leave,” he said.
Damon looked at him.
“Leave?”
“The villagers know who you are. They know what you did. They know about the seed. They know about the scar.”
“So?”
“So they’re afraid. They’ve been afraid for generations. They’ve been sacrificing to the god for generations. They’ve been feeding the hunger for generations.”
“That wasn’t their fault.”
“No. But they don’t see it that way. They see you as the one who woke the god. The one who brought the hunger. The one who made the mountain glow.”
“I buried the god.”
“They don’t believe you.”
“Then I’ll show them.”
Rook shook his head.
“You can’t show them. The scar is inside you. The seed is inside you. The hunger is inside you. They can’t see it. They can only fear it.”
Damon stood.
He walked to the window.
The mountain was black against the night sky.
The stars were bright.
The moon was full.
“What do you want me to do?”
Rook was silent for a long moment.
“Leave. Before they decide to bury you.”
“Like they buried the god?”
Rook’s gray eyes were wet.
“Like they buried the god.”
Damon packed his bag.
The shovel. The knife. The bread. The water.
Vespera watched him.
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Away?”
“Away.”
“From the mountain?”
“From the fear.”
They left at dawn.
Lyssa was waiting at the gate.
Her green eyes were red.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
She looked at Vespera.
“Because she’s not the only one who wants to be alive.”
They walked east.
The road was narrow, the trees were bare, the sky was gray. The mountain shrank behind them, its peak hidden in clouds, its slopes dark with shadow.
Damon walked ahead.
Vespera walked beside him.
Lyssa walked behind.
No one spoke.
No one looked back.
No one stopped.