by Scott Hale
Felix’s thoughts had come to a standstill. He stared at her blankly, the transformation replaying over and over in his mind.
“I was testing you, Felix, but you already knew that. It wasn’t a test of loyalty to me or the Holy Order, but a test of loyalty to yourself. As I did before and do now, I want you to be the last Holy Child. And I cannot lead Penance to greatness with someone who lacks the courage to do the right thing because it might hurt someone else’s feelings.
“I had you follow Isla Taggart, because I wanted you to become aware of their schemes and alliance with the Disciples of the Deep. I had you speak with Audra, because I wanted you to challenge our system, to find humanity in those we consider enemies. And, yes, I did lie to you about her being a Worm of the Earth. I needed you to know that my brethren exist, and I needed to know how little effort it would take to sway you to my side, to my beliefs.”
Felix covered his mouth. “Did I… f-fail?”
Justine let out a kind laugh. “No, you passed. You exceeded all my expectations. Felix—” she held his chin, ran her thumb along his cheek, “—you have convinced me. But now I must convince you.”
Fear bringing him to a freeze, he pulled the blanket closer. “You’re a Worm… You don’t have to listen to me.”
“But I want to.”
Felix nodded. A tear slipped down his cheek. Justine caught it with her thumb. “Okay,” he said. What else could he say? “Okay,” he repeated, eyes going sideways, looking at the door, looking at his only escape. “Okay.”
“Good.” Justine let go of his chin, took a deep breath, and turned to face the city. “I am the White Worm of the Earth. There are many of us. We are all parts of a greater whole. Each of us, like the Red Worm or the Green Worm, have one purpose. It was from this purpose we are born. And when that purpose is fulfilled, we die. The Red Worm is violence incarnate. By violence, the Red Worm is born, and by the violence it provokes, it is destroyed. The Green Worm is disease, rot, and filth. I am the White Worm. I am humanity’s need to understand those things it cannot. I am humanity’s reassurance that all they do is not for nothing. I am religion. It is my purpose, and it should have been my downfall.
“I have lived many lives, Felix. You have seen them all, in the portraits in the Ascent, of every Mother Abbess that has come before me. Beginning as Mother Abbess Priscilla, I have worked effortlessly, for so many years now, creating and maintaining the Holy Order of Penance. To hide my identity, and to ensure our great city was not led to ruin, I created a line of successors, each being myself, of course. This is my purpose, you see. It is all I am supposed to know and do. And by my purpose, I will one day die. But there is a threat to my purpose lurking in the West, and I cannot let it destroy what I have spent so many, many years creating.”
“The Disciples of the Deep,” Felix whispered, enraptured. “King Edgar’s new religion.”
“Yes. And do you not agree our Holy Order is wonderful and necessary?”
Felix nodded.
“And though you may not realize it, the Disciples of the Deep are a threat. They may seem small. They may seem as though they have much catching up to do. But they have one thing we do not.”
Felix shook his head. “What?”
“They have a God.”
He looked pained as he said, “What? No, we have a god, too.”
“No, we do not. We do not have a god. We have an idea of a god. We have everything a god could want, but we do not have a god ourselves.”
“No!” Felix raised his fist, and then quickly put it back down. “No, we do. I hear god. I am god’s speaker. You said it yourself! I hear god almost every day.”
“You hear yourself, Felix, and what you think god would say to you, or what I would say to you. But I assure you, there is no god listening to our prayers—” she outstretched her hand to Penance, “—or to theirs. There is no god. Only us. And what we can do for them.”
I don’t believe it, he thought. He shouted, “I don’t believe it!”
“There is a God, though, Felix.” Justine touched the silver necklace, clutched in her pale grip. “There is a God. It is the Vermillion God. It is the greater whole of which I and the other Worms are a part of. Liken the Worms to angels if you like. We are God’s dutiful servants, meant to punish, empower, or pave the way.”
“Then that’s the God who has been speaking to me,” Felix said. He chewed on his lip. “That’s the voice I hear.”
Justine sighed and said, “No, it is not. And you should be happy that it is not. Do you want to know why?”
Again, Felix shook his head. He crossed his arms and ground his heels into the snow.
“What we have here is better. What I have created, what you have created, is better. Its foundations are lies, but so are the foundations of all religions. There is a god out there, Felix, but the Vermillion God is not the god this world needs.”
“You’re confusing me.” Felix held the sides of his head. He tried to hide inside himself, but the White Worm’s gaze kept him anchored. “This doesn’t make sense. No! This doesn’t make any sense!”
“Yes, it does. You understand what I am saying completely. I do not fault you for not wanting to hear what I have to say, but you must listen.”
Felix squeezed his eyes shut. He moaned, fell to his knees, and back on his legs.
“The Vermillion God is responsible for the Trauma. A woman named Lillian—yes, the same Lillian from which our Holy Order was created—and her followers, after two hundred years of preparation, were able to finally awaken It. You would think that humanity would be relieved to finally have some closure on whether there is a god or not. But it wasn’t. Humanity tried to adapt, and the one true religion, the Lillians, was formed, but it wasn’t enough. The humans still fought one another, destroyed one another, even over their clearly outdated and untrue beliefs. There was an even greater schism between the faiths than before. Eventually, humanity turned its ire towards the Vermillion God, which sat on Earth itself, and they tried to kill It.
“Gods are difficult to destroy. The Vermillion God is a god of great patience, but also incomprehensible cruelty. It gave humanity time to realize its mistake, to cease the attacks. But as millions of unbelievers sieged the Vermillion God, the world was tearing itself apart. To put it simply, humanity was not ready. So the Vermillion God made a decision.
“The Trauma was that decision. It would punish the humans for their attacks, for their refusal to commit to Its one, true religion. The Vermillion God stood and raised Its arms high, and over the course of unmeasurable time, stripped humanity bare. All creations were consumed. Cities were annihilated. The Earth was ripped apart, land masses shifted. Even ideas were eaten. The Vermillion God did not intend to destroy humanity completely. It only wanted to humiliate humanity, to traumatize it so deeply they would feel the effects of the Vermillion God’s power for as long as their species existed.
“After that, the Vermillion God went back to sleep, back to the desert and the darkness, where we Worms reside as well. But you want to know the funny thing, Felix?”
He remained silent.
“The Vermillion God anticipated humanity would try to wake It once more. It is an inevitability. So what did It do? During the Trauma, the Vermillion God devoured the unbelievers and took them back to heaven, where it could feast on their suffering and, occasionally, send them to Earth to do minor tasks.”
“Audra’s shadows,” Felix croaked.
Justine nodded. “And you, them—” she pointed to her right arm, at the fake Corruption there, “—are those that were left behind.”
“But we are Corrupted.” Felix rubbed the damning mark.
“No, you’re not.” Justine started to laugh uncontrollably. She covered her mouth, quickly gathered herself. “You’re not Corrupted. You’re Chosen. Humanity’s Corruption has a kind of vermillion shade to it, does it not?”
Felix nodded.
“Not all, but most of those who were left behind by
the Vermillion God were believers, Lillians. For their service and dedication, the Vermillion God gave them a boon: a coloration of their right arm that would be passed down, until the end of time, to signify their bloodlines’ allegiance to God.”
Felix dug his nails into his right arm. “But why is it called Corruption?”
Justine smirked. “Because humans are stupid. Because humans are forgetful. Because humans find flaws and turn them into the tools of persecution and control. It didn’t happen immediately, but over time, what was once a blessing became known as a curse. All those things you hear about Corruption and it having to do with humanity’s predisposition to violence is nothing more than a lie. A lie that started with the Night Terrors which, through humanity’s own self-fulfilling prophecy, eventually took root and became truth. The Night Terrors used it as a means to separate themselves from the humans, to justify murdering them for their cultural reasons. Humanity fought this belief for a while, and then, with the help of the burgeoning religions of the time, they fell for it.”
Felix struggled to his feet. “How… how do you know all this?”
“I have been alive since the Trauma. When the Vermillion God left, there was a need for religion. Untold numbers of people were slaughtered in an attempt to create some sort of spiritual order, and from their bloody, mutilated carcasses, I was born. I had watched from heaven all the Vermillion God had done, so I knew what to do when I was awoken. I tracked down Lillian and her ragtag group of followers, and over time and across the continent, built back up that very religion which had almost killed the Earth.
“But something happened to me. When we settled Six Pillars, I realized I could do better. I could do better than the Lillian faith or the Vermillion God. I am religion, you see. It is all I know and am. And I realized I could do better. Because if I continued to work towards waking the Vermillion God, Trauma would come again, undoubtedly, and I would die. But if I created my own religion, one which could unify, one which could be reasonable and accepting of others, then I would have a religion that would persist, and I would live forever.
“I do not want to die, Felix. I have lived too long and worked too hard. I know that I am being selfish, but I am just being honest. But think on what I have told you. The Vermillion God. What It is capable of and what Its followers will do in Its name. Do you really want this world and your people to have to experience such an existential agony again?”
Felix didn’t know what existential meant, but he shook his head all the same.
“Archivist Amon of Ghostgrave has been working very diligently for hundreds of years to bring the Vermillion God back. A few years ago, King Edgar began terraforming the Heartland to make it more agreeable to the Vermillion God’s influence. Now, he has summoned the Red Worm and somehow had it defeated, to bolster the Disciples of the Deep’s claims and demonstrate the existence of an entity that is more powerful than our non-existent god here in Penance. If left unchecked, King Edgar will get what he wants. Our world is much different now than it was in the Old World. There are less people. Information is not as readily available. Humanity has regressed. This time, if the Vermillion God is woken, it will stay awake. And Felix, this is something we cannot allow to happen. This is a God that revels in sacrifice and slaughter. Do you think that It will show benevolence when there is no one or nothing left to challenge It?”
Felix struggled to find his words, his sanity. He felt as though he were standing in hell, being tempted by a demon to betray everything he had ever believed in.
“We do not have a god on our side. But we are the single largest religion in the world. People believe in the Holy Order without even realizing it. We have the single largest city in the world. If we so wished it, we could have an army to destroy all armies. But I do not want that. I do not wish to secure our place in history by violence. I am the White Worm, not the Red. Religion is eternal. Our deeds must be eternal. The Disciples of the Deep have already begun the conversion. We must win back those we have lost. The imagination is a powerful weapon. King Edgar deals in tangibility, but we have what humanity’s mind can conjure. Our promises are ethereal, but soothing. King Edgar’s are harsh, and foul. We do not need a god. We only need each other. The Mother Abbess and the Holy Child. As it has always been, and as it should always be.
“So what say you, my love?” Justine went to one knee and bowed her head. “I am a monster, but I do not wish for monstrous things. I have gone beyond my purpose. Like the shadows, I was stripped, left to be one thing only, but somehow, I’ve become something more again. The decision is yours, Felix, but the decision must be made now.”
Felix’s hand was shaky as it reached out and touched Justine’s soft hair. He ran his fingers across her scalp. He could feel ancient, eldritch things beneath it, squirming inside her skull. “I remember… you said there was the Anointed One. The Disciple’s own Holy Child.”
“Yes,” Justine said. “Like myself, like Archivist Amon, he is just one part of the Vermillion God’s whole. He did not have a choice. He is only what he is, and nothing more.”
“If I said no, what… would happen?”
“We would clean up the bodies of those that attacked you, and you would go to bed. And we start tomorrow as we do all days.”
“Even after everything you told me?”
“I can’t take that back from you now.”
“Would I be turned into a statue?”
“No, because you would not live to your eighteenth birthday. The Vermillion God and Its followers will make sure of that.”
“What about Audra? And Deimos and Lucan?” He touched her face, touched her jawbone. She nudged his hand, as though comforted by it.
“Do what you like with them. Have them killed. Or let them go. They cannot stay, though.”
“Aren’t you afraid Audra will go back to King Edgar?”
Justine sighed. “If she goes back to her brother, it will be to kill him.”
Felix crouched down, fingered the silver, white-gemmed necklace that Justine wore. “What is the Cult of the Worm? I saw a necklace like this, but it was blue.”
“The Worms of the Earth are not aware of one another. They cannot track one another or contact one another. The Vermillion God made it so that they could not overthrow It or work together to create even greater chaos. But a blue necklace? That would be the Blue Worm, the Worm of knowledge, forbidden knowledge. I do not know why it is hunting you. I expect you have more to share on that matter. But if it has a cult of its own, then it, too, has overstepped its boundaries.”
“Why are you hurt?” Felix moved the necklace aside, pulled down her dress to reveal the black hole in her chest. “It smells like a fire. You always smell like a fire.”
“Here.” Justine reached into the hole, her forearm deep in her chest, and removed what was inside. It was a small, white stone, with strange symbols like those of her dress burnt into it. “This is a sealing stone.”
Felix took it. It bit his hand with invisible teeth, but he grinned through it. “What is it?”
“My death.” She lifted the necklace, the white gem catching the moonlight. “To summon a Worm, a sacrifice and a necklace is required. This is my necklace. A Worm wears it while it is alive. When a Worm exists, a sealing stone is created. The stone is used to send the Worm back to sleep. That way, there is always a method by which to rid the world of Worms.”
“I can kill you with this?” He turned the stone over in his hand. “You’ve been carrying it this whole time?”
“Day by day, I have lived in excruciating pain, keeping that object a secret, so that no one could use it again. But it is yours now. Offer it to me, and I have to accept it. And if I do, then I will be gone.” Justine’s eyes went wide, appealing to him. “I have given you everything, Felix. All that I am.”
Felix ran his fingers across the stone. He felt a power unlike any other coursing through their tips. He didn’t have to make a decision. All he had to do was give the White Worm the stone
and send her back to the desert. Then, he could leave with Audra and the Night Terrors and be rid of this madness. He could be something other than the voice of god, something which he had apparently never been.
But instead, Felix set the stone in the snow and touched Justine’s forehead gently. “I accept,” he said. Her took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Give Audra and the Night Terrors safe passage and I will help you.”
Justine threw her arms around him and pulled him close. He could feel the white tendrils inside her, moving behind her flesh, a hundred lives and lies at her beck and call. He should have feared her, but he didn’t. He did, but not anymore. For the first time since he had met her, he knew exactly what she was and what she wanted. And if there was truth to what she wanted, he wanted it, too. But most of all, he didn’t want to hurt anymore. He didn’t want the grime, the guilt. God hadn’t done anything for him he hadn’t already done himself. Somewhere, there was probably some other little boy being taken into the South, being beaten and abused, and almost broken beyond repair. And what for? A heaven that only promised hell?
Felix let go of the White Worm. “The Cult took a friend of mine. A friend who saved me in the South from Samuel Turov. There’s a Witch, the Maiden of Pain. Somehow, it’s all connected. I tried to get her back.”
“That makes sense now,” Justine said, her cheeks rosy, her skin looking healthier than before. “Do you want to save her?”
Felix nodded. “I have to.”
Justine took Felix’s hand. “Then we will save her.”
“How?”
“We are gods now, Felix. We will save her however we like.”
YOU HAVE BEEN READING
“THE THREE HERETICS.”
GLOSSARY
Glossary
Terms in bold may contain spoilers for The Three Heretics
The Abyss: Where all who die are said to go.