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of the Shepherd’s Game—this one, the countless ones
before it, or the countless others yet to come. I would see
them stopped. Forever. You might help me in that regard.”
My laughter echoed through the dead trees. “I’m afraid
I can’t pay you the same respect, you foolish thing! What
are fools for, after all, if not for laughing at? You think I
would help you? I would sooner let Jack Lantern carve
my head to resemble a jack-o’-lantern than to dream of
helping you. You’ve wasted your precious props and omens
to bring me here, creature. Although, despite the wretched
feel of this place, I am rather fond of this immured forest
of yours. It gives me hope that one day it will be filled with
the appropriate darkness, replacing this inferior brand you
employ.” I turned away in disgust. “I take my leave of you,
you hopeless, thoughtless thing.”
A monstrous creature barred my way. It was terribly
mouth-heavy, its many eyes gleaming with a singular
hunger. I sensed I was not the creature’s preferred food, yet
its rapacious state would likely find my flesh an acceptable
substitute.
“This is my son,” the White Gaia informed me. “One of
them, anyway. He is called the Eater of Idols, and he wishes
very much to join you at the Shepherd’s Game. One way
or the other, he will do just that. It is my hope that we can
strike a somewhat civil tone for the remainder of my offer.
Shall we continue, or would you rather fight without even
knowing why?” She had locked me in a cage of sparkling
curiosity. I would hear the Queen out, so I turned to face the
dead trees.
“Excellent,” she continued. “You see, since you have
no chance at winning the game—your ridiculous boasting
aside—I thought to make you an offer that would benefit the
both of us. My son and I would like to give you a chance at
achieving more than just winning the Shepherd’s prize. We
can offer you the pleasure of killing a god. Imagine what
marvelous art you might make from that kind of clay. But,
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