“What is this place?”

Zogrusz turned back to where the red-haired goddess was standing at the threshold of his cavern. Her gaze slowly traveled along the elaborate carvings incised into the walls, lingering on the throne atop its ziggurat and the crude idol that had been his first fumbling attempt to work stone.

“This is my home,” Zogrusz said simply, not in the mood at the moment to elaborate further. He’d compelled the cut on his brow to stop bleeding, but the wound still pulsed painfully.

“It can’t be,” Anecoya muttered. “It’s too . . .” Her words trailed away, as if she didn’t want to finish that thought.

“Too what?” Zogrusz asked, but her answer was a scowl as she followed him into the cavern.

“It’s quite remarkable, Zog,” Rhas said, filling the silence after hopping up onto one of the ziggurat’s lowest tiers. “I had no idea Eldritch Horrors held such appreciation for the art of humans.”

“Art isn’t only for humans,” Zogrusz murmured, fingering the gash on his head.

Rhas looked at him curiously, cocking his little head to one side. “Apparently not,” he finally agreed, then began grooming himself.

Zogrusz returned his attention to Anecoya, who had stopped a few steps into the cavern and was staring upwards, her face slack with surprise.

“The ceiling,” she said softly, “It looks like . . .”

“The dome of Amotla,” Zogrusz finished for her, with some satisfaction. “It was my inspiration. I chose a mosaic for the underside rather than a painting, but the dimensions of the arch are virtually identical, I believe.”

Anecoya pointed at the image looming over them. “That’s you, isn’t it? In the jungle.”

“The first day I arrived on this world.”

“And you gave yourself a halo,” Anecoya said. “Do you think yourself holy, demon?”

“Halo?” Zogrusz replied in confusion. “No, that’s the sun setting. I thought it looked dramatic.”

The red-haired girl snorted at this, rolling her eyes.

Zogrusz thought back to what was painted on the underside of Amotla’s great dome. “In the palace of the priest-king the image was similar. A golden egg hatching – that must have been your first moment in this world as well.”

“My first moment?” Anecoya sneered. “Demon, I created this world. I dreamed it into existence while I lay nestled in my egg.”

Rhas made a sound that was something like a cough, and they both turned to where the cat lay sprawled on the step. “That’s . . . not entirely true, Annie.”

“And how would you know that?” the red-haired goddess demanded, hands on her hips.

“Because, my girl, I am not just a cat.”

“Of course,” Anecoya replied with an exasperated sigh. “You’re the god of cats. I figured that out long ago.”

Rhas stretched deeply, its entire body quivering at the effort involved. “I’m a little bit more than that, Annie. You see, you didn’t make the world . . . because I am the world.”

“What?” the goddess and the Horror both exclaimed at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise.

Rhas did something with its shoulders that almost seemed like a shrug. “I suppose I just like cats and that’s why I choose this form. They are as close to perfection as any creature that has arisen on my surface.”

Anecoya was staring at Rhas in incredulous disbelief. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “If that was true, why not tell me this a thousand years ago?”

Rhas sighed, looking over to Zogrusz. “You know, I don’t like you all looming over me. Is there someplace we can relax while I’m sharing these fundamental truths of creation?”

“Uh, of course,” Zogrusz muttered, gesturing at the benches beside the pool with the phosphorescent fish. He hurried over to the little divan he’d fashioned long ago after his first meeting with Rhas and hefted it. “I made this for you,” he told the cat – or whatever it was – as he carried the divan across the cavern and set it down beside the larger benches. Then he gestured grandly for both his guests to sit.

“Much appreciated,” Rhas said, hopping down from the ziggurat and sauntering over to the divan. The cat paused to watch the glowing fish in the water for a moment, then jumped onto the stone where Zogrusz had carved a smooth cat-sized indentation and curled up. “It’s very comfortable,” Rhas added, punctuating this statement with a loud purr.

“Trying to fracture our souls?” Zogrusz asked as he also plopped down on one of the benches.

The cat paused its pleased vibrations and chuckled. “Ha. Sorry about that – my imagination does get carried away sometimes.”

“Like telling me I didn’t make this world?” Anecoya said as she came to stand next to the pool with her arms tightly crossed.

Rhas sighed. “Well, that was true, Annie. And to be honest, I’m surprised you never questioned this. You hatched only a thousand or so years ago, but you must have noticed since then that the world was far older than that.”

“I thought when I’d dreamed I’d made it old,” she sniffed.

“Well, you didn’t. This world has been around for several billion years, though I’ve only been here for the last two hundred thousand or so. I suppose I might have existed before that, but my . . . emergence coincided with the very event that drew both of you to this world.”

“When the animals here began to think,” Zogrusz guessed.

“Many animals think, Zog,” Rhas corrected him. “But there is a higher plane of thought that is quite rare and takes many eons to manifest, if it ever does. Consciousness. Life that is aware it is alive, that can question its place in the universe and consider what the future may bring. When that spark ignited in the minds of those long-ago humans, I was suddenly born as well. Now, I try to represent and care for all life on this world, but my . . . advanced state is I believe because of all those complex human minds constantly churning. I am their sum total knit together and given form.”

Anecoya’s eyes narrowed suspiciously; she hadn’t yet followed Rhas’s advice and sat on the empty bench, stubbornly remaining standing. “Then why tell me a completely different story after I emerged from my egg?”

“Because it was what I thought you needed to hear,” Rhas replied with another long-suffering sigh. “I wanted you to care for this world and its inhabitants. I thought that if you believed it had all been your creation you would treat them better. And to be honest, I didn’t have the answers you wanted. I have no idea where you came from or what you are. One day a golden egg fell from the sky, and when it finally hatched a hundred years later you tumbled out groggy and disoriented. Perhaps I was wrong to lie to you . . . but you have been a good goddess to these humans.”

“Did you hear that, demon?” Anecoya said, turning to Zogrusz. “I am a good goddess. I taught them love and compassion, not to grovel in fear before a terrifying monster.”

“I am not a demon or a monster,” Zogrusz replied sharply, the anger that had been smoldering since her completely unwarranted ambush suddenly flaring hotter. “I am an Eldritch Horror. And up until a few moments ago I didn’t even know you existed!”

“How could you not know about me?” Anecoya retorted. “You stole my worshippers!”

“And your worshippers stole my worshippers! I woke up to find the town that venerated me in ruins and my people had been dragged off to your city! And you are angry? I have the right to be furious! Your Amotlans could have just left my People alone!” Zogrusz was surprised to realize he had risen from his bench – he was dangerously close to losing control of his temper and his actions.

Anecoya blinked, her lip curling in revulsion. She was staring at something on his face, and when he reached up he felt rubbery flesh dangling from his chin. He was so upset that he’d let his man-disguise slip, and a few mouth-tendrils had squirmed loose. The look on her face at seeing this sliver of his true form made him even more indignant.

Very well, if she wanted to keep escalating this situation . . .

Zogrusz shrugged out of his man cloak, reveling in the surprise and fear that shivered her face as he swelled to twice her height. He stretched out his scaled arms, unsheathing his curving claws, and spread wide the stunted wings on his back. Ribbons of darkness twined around his true form like glistening black serpents, and he felt the new power that had manifested in him upon waking stir, pleading to be unleashed.

Anecoya had taken an instinctive step back as he came to loom over her, but then her expression hardened and the flaming sword materialized again in her hand.

“Enough!” Rhas’s booming voice echoed in the great cavern as the mountain trembled, causing both Zogrusz and Anecoya to stagger. Now that had felt like an earthquake.

They both looked at the cat; its hackles were raised and it was glaring like it wanted to dismember both of them.

“Stop it! The only two cosmic beings on this planet and you’re acting like children! This is why I never wanted you two to meet!”

Anecoya’s sword guttered and went out, and Zogrusz supposed that if he was still in his man-form he’d have shared her flush of embarrassment.

“The others were right,” the cat continued, “you outsiders are trouble.”

With a thought, Zogrusz shrank himself down to a more human proportion, though he did not don his man-cloak again.

“Others?” Anecoya ventured, then hesitated for a few moments before moving over to one of the benches and sinking down on it stiffly. Zogrusz did the same, letting the ribbons of darkness he’d summoned dissolve and the new power bubbling inside him subside.

“That’s what I call them,” Rhas said, aggressively scratching behind his ear. He still sounded annoyed, but not as much as a moment ago. “Though I do actually know the names of a few circling the nearest stars. They are like me – the aggregate of all the lives on their worlds given form and will, and then finally awareness with the emergence of consciousness. Communicating with them is like yelling from one mountain top to another, but over time we’ve pooled what knowledge we each have gained from our respective experiences.” Rhas pointed his little nose at Zogrusz and then Anecoya. “And that is how I know your kind are trouble.”

“Our kind?” the red-haired goddess repeated, glancing at Zogrusz warily.

“Cosmic beings,” Rhas said hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply you were in any way related. You are both from different species – Zogrusz is a very young Eldritch Horror, and Annie, my dear . . . well, I don’t know what you are. The other world-consciousnesses I’m in contact with have never encountered your kind before. But just like Zog, you feed off the emotions of the intelligent minds on this planet . . . in a way, you’re both really feeding off of me.” His tail lashed back and forth, as if trying to dismiss this last statement as not so important. “That makes you both sound like parasites, which would not be accurate. What we have is more of a . . . symbiosis. The love and fear and devotion the humans direct towards you feeds you, yes, but they also receive something important in return. Faith in something greater nourishes the soul. It helps give purpose and structure and binds together communities. So as troublesome as you cosmic beings can be, until now I have been glad you both found your way to my surface.”

Zogrusz swallowed, suddenly remembering what he had been expecting to find earlier when he’d rushed outside. A Reaper, drawn to this world by what he had Sown.

“Rhas . . .” he began, then faltered as they both turned to him. His mouth-tendrils writhed nervously as he tried to think of the best way to tell them of the threat he knew was coming . . . and his part in bringing it to this world. “Perhaps in truth you shouldn’t be glad I’m here.”