Page 11 of Incarnate

It is a gorgeous statue. The body structure is exactly what I would expect for such a man, or demon. The way his body curves and valleys with thick muscle… he is, at least, intimidating. He’s essentially naked, except for what appears to be a wave washing over his body. “Why the water?”

“He used to be a terrifying pirate as a human. Came here, became a demon, and now he’s a Dominus. Below is the statue of his demon form. That’s where you make the offering. He chose an image of his mortal life for the novus… I hear, in his fleshy life before this all began for him, he was notorious for cruelty… but effective.”

“And yet you all like him?”

“He guards this Realm well. That’s all that matters.”

I get in line with the other humans in the same situation as me. My heart dramatically thuds against my ribs, my tangerine in hand. Four caged platforms rise and lower, with only one person getting on at a time, the line stepping forward with each new devotee. I stare at the red, curly hair of the person in front of me, watching them slowly lower down, the chains clinking in rhythm. I swear I should be sweating, but I don’t seem to be. It’s as if I’m removed from a trance when the redheaded novus gets off, moving quickly like she’d rather be doing anything but this—in stark contrast to the person who calls down into the crevice below that he will be the most loyal human in the Realm.

“Go,” someone says behind me.

I quickly move forward, not realizing I was just standing there, and get onto the caged platform that immediately starts to lower on its own.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but it’s as if I can sense there’s something wrong. Maybe I haven’t had enough time to process? And yet, all I want to do is get this part over with⁠—

My eyes widen as I pant, because there is something wrong! That horned Seraph-person said so! I cannot believe I nearly forgot about all of that! I glance back up as if I can just start climbing the chains.

What if this is a part of a curse from a witch that Margaret mentioned? Was that just an example, or does she know something I don’t?

Clarity.

My fear has teeth now, the sensation sitting in my chest longer than before. It doesn’t just wash away. It also doesn’t help that it’s dark down here, like a cavern that was carved for mining. Every curve of the walls connects to form something larger… like tree roots turning into statues of people warring. And then it transforms into an ocean and ships, with crystals serving as the moon.

Blue candles light the entire way.

Oh… it’s clear that this is all a silent ode to him.

The clinking of the chains echoes, and then suddenly stops with a dull thud as I touch the ground. I glance over to see that the other cages are not coming down.

“Oh, crap,” I say to myself.

This is a trap, isn’t it?

My gasp echoes on the walls because I can hear things. Scurrying and movement. Straight ahead is a giant wall with windows taller than me, revealing golden light from within, as if candles give illumination, like a private room carved into the belly of this place.

Well, that’s not inviting.

Its warmth is so unnatural against the rest of the coldness--cold. That sensation is lasting longer. My feet even start to burn from the freezing ground, and I move toward the room. The sooner I get this over with, the better.

I cautiously round the archway, staring at a dark gray statue of a winged man with horns, and pull back as if I came across someone in their privacy. I close my eyes and try to focus, steeling myself as I slowly approach.

“It’s just a statue. That’s all it is.”

That doesn’t help calm the uncertainty as to why none of the other humans are lowering down here with me, like the previous ones had.

The demon statue of Kallúm is massive, thick with muscle, and whoever carved this is able to capture the expression—the intensity consumes me, while terrifying me with the callous edge. Wings broadly expand from Kallúm’s back, his hands massive and clawed. Copious amounts of fruit surround him, and even some bowls of what looks like blood.

There must be at least two hundred lit candles all over the floor, some nearly burned out and others burning brightly.

I exhale once more, nodding to myself. The statue is neither glowing nor moving.

Just a statue.

Okay, so I just leave this at his feet, right? No one said to say anything. Do I kneel, or something? What if I do it wrong and have to come back here⁠—

Something scurries somewhere in here, my heart nearly exploding through my chest as I quickly get on my knees, thinking this has to count as some version of subservience. I hesitate on where to place my tangerine, as if it matters, and just randomly lay it on a pile of grapes, none of them decaying. Then I remain in my position, waiting. Is something supposed to happen? I swallow thickly.

There’s something wrong with my soul. What if he notices?