Page 35 of Obsession

If I were her, I’d have passed out from the attention. But, hands twitching at her sides, like playing keys of a phantom piano, she keeps going, walking forward. Toward Aris.

There isn’t anything outstanding about her. In a merlot colored dress, she is older than me by maybe ten years, curvy and pretty, but there are no peculiarities to make her interesting. If I’d seen her on the street, I never would’ve expected her to be a cultist.

I’ve no idea what it is about her that caught Aris’ attention.

When she is before him, she falls to her knees without preamble, so swiftly that her kneecaps clack against the wood. She does not flinch, and she bows her head until her forehead touches the ground. She is shaking.

From nerves or reverence, I can’t say.

Aris watches her, smiling—endeared, maybe amused—before bending slightly to press two fingers to the top of her head.

“Nora,” he says. “You intrigue me. Your family worshiped me for generations. But there was a time where you doubted them, and my existence—did you not?”

At this, she stills. “Dark One—”

“Be silent,” he replies, not unkindly but firmly, and she listens.

The entire room is at attention, pulled taut toward the scene—even me. I have no idea what might come next. Is he exposing a nonbeliever? What is the punishment for that? Does he even really care about such things, or is he just having fun?

“I don’t blame you,” continues Aris. He straightens, returning his hand to his side. “Ardent, desperate worship, without results to be seen. No proof of this deity, no return on your many prayers. Of course, you doubted and perhaps resented the idea of me. But then, I returned. You saw that I was real, and you came running back.”

Nora’s arms come out from under her, and she collapses to the floor. She’s trembling harder now, most certainly afraid, aware that Death himself is staring at her. And yet, she doesn’t run. She doesn’t beg, or offer excuses. There is something to be said about that.

Aris watches her for a moment, then looks at me. His expression is neutral, nothing to be gleaned, and I have no idea what he wants from me. I just stare back, my brow wrinkled, and shake my head in confusion.

Is he asking what I think should be done with her? Would he put her life in my hands?

Ebony eyes return to the woman on the floor. “What is it that you would ask of me, Nora?” says Aris.

It takes some time for the woman to pick her head up. “I don’t deserve a gift,” she whispers, and the words echo around the chapel.

“You volunteered,” Aris says.

“I was—I didn’t—” She shakes her head, choking on her words. “I am so sorry, Great One. That was pompous. It was wrong. Please, kill me.”

“Kill you,” repeats Aris.

Nora finally looks up and speaks without fear, “Kill me to honor you.”

Only now has she resorted to begging, but not for her life. She is begging… to die?

I can only see the back of her head and long, golden curls, and I wonder if she is crying.

Aris meets her gaze, considering, letting her sit on her request. “I chose you to receive a gift,” he says finally. “Do not offend me with rejection.”

Murmurs arise in the crowd, fabric in motion as individuals turn to one another. I can hear no conversations, but their shifting limbs mirror my own. I don’t understand. Why spare her? He has killed for less.

Aris pays none of us any mind, staring directly at Nora, while I study him. The look in his eyes is unreadable, fathomless; it is impossible to gauge his intentions.

She bows her head. “If it is your will, then, as my gift… I want to spend the rest of my life spreading your message. I was wrong before, but I understand how misguided the rest of the world is. I want to enlighten them.”

Aris hums. “A fascinating prospect, to warp the minds of others. If this is your wish, you would be bound in service to me, bending wills and deceiving.”

My scowl deepens. As if he isn’t doing that enough already.

“This is my wish,” whispers Nora. The room has again quieted after the brief uproar of mutters, so it can’t just be the front rows hearing the awe and relief in her voice.

Aris smiles, placing his hand atop her head. I lean forward, expecting something akin to Ryan’s transformation, a body torn apart to give way to a new one, but, when Aris lifts his hand a few seconds later, Nora looks the same. Maybe her shadow seems a little darker, but that could just be my imagination.

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