Welcome to Gaia! ::

Back at the shrine, Shiohlu was surprised to find of one the statues missing, searching around the dimly lit room until he found her, hunched in a corner and working diligently on something glowing in her hands. Wires sparked yellow and bright from the ground, then faded with a hiss as they disappeared back into the grey wisps curling around her ethereal figure.

Shiohlu watched, curious as always and not in the least wary. After all she was one of the Goddesses, and he was her blessed worshipper. When she approached him, however, he was a slight bit relieved that her shadowy figure seemed to have no intentions of scorching his core again; rather she came bearing a gift.

He graciously accepted the plain item, holding the bag in his hands and looking at her.

“Open it up,” she said. And so he did. But inside there was nothing, and the Goddess seemed displeased. He listened as she asked for his help, inwardly beaming a little. A small error yes, but the Goddess trusted him to fix it. He was on the right path; maybe this would earn his shining blue core his wings. Again he accepts the scissors as though they were a precious gift, nodding his head at the Goddess.

Stepping inside the dark opening, Shiohlu was greeted with three thick doors, strange in shape and marked with very different icons. In his warm heart, he was immediately drawn towards the first; softly emitting it’s invitation, it was pleasant, in stark contrast to the unease that looking at the gnarled and sharp caused in him.

He reached for the first entrance, and it’s sigil, closing his hands around it and pulling the heavy door open to see what awaited him inside.

Having procured the Goddess’ item, Shiohlu continued forward along the path, knowing the way he’d come was shut, there was not even an outline of where the door had once been. Only darkness, and darkness again as he walked along, the orange glow of the flowers and pumpkins ebbing away the further he moved. It was only when their light ceased to brighten his way that he noticed the ground beneath his feet clinging to him with each step, changing from the firmness it held before.

To get away from it, he had to continue but suddenly there was nothing but wall, nowhere to turn or progress but the way he came. Something sloshed in the distance, as though a person was wading through water, and his head whipped around, trying to find the intruder. But there was nothing there, and glancing carefully around him, Shiohlu proceeded to retrace his steps. But instead of the ground getting firmer, it gave way beneath his feet to wetness, the water pooling at first around his ankles. The sloshing sounded again, and it was not from his feet. A voice accompanied it, an eerie sound asking for something back. Shiohlu ignored it and kepts climbing, and the water kept climbing as he walked, past his knees, past his waist, until it settled at his neckline, lapping at it coolly.

The voice came again, repeating, but before it could finish, cold hands closed over his shoulders, pushing him beneath the surface. He couldn’t breathe, and his lungs burned against his chest. He struggled against the attacker, thrashing in the water but it was to no avail, the pain only increased as he found himself pushed deeper and deeper until even the pain numbed, and there was almost nothing left of him, only a shred of his self clinging on, staring in fright at the grey eyes that bore down on him, demanding that he give back the heart.

A memory plays, as he loses himself in the figure’s glassy stare. In it he was suddenly angry, vicious and snarling. He snapped at the suited man in front of him, Hiroshi, his teeth bared but the man only chuckled, his hand moving to the chained collar around Shiohlu’s neck. It was covered in talismans and beads, as ornate as the shrine around them. And though Shiohlu longed to snap at the hand, but Hiroshi rubbed a paper talisman absent-mindedly between his fingers, whispering something softly and Shiohlu became compliant. His rage was not quelled but merely redirected, his compliance not earned but simply muzzled and leashed. The tether was invisible, but the man before him held it, and Shiohlu would obey, he would be a good boy.

As the memory faded, he remembered, and wondered sadly why his master was trying to drown him.

He entered the shrine but a different Goddess greeted him this time, her eyes glowing a bold red. She wasn’t angry but her tone was serious, though sounding a bit intrigued, as she stroked the deadly scythe in her hand.

She stepped down from her perch and circled him, and Shiohlu stood taller, straightening as though to prove he was worthy of her task. He had no clue of what she spoke, and he considered his fears. He supposed he feared not becoming a Goddess, and he feared being alone. But his feelings were torn in separate directions now, and he couldn’t entirely make up his mind.

He glanced at the Goddess curiously as she placed a dagger in his hand, nodding his head. As she explained what he must do, it made more sense in his mind. Shiohlu definitely wanted to become stronger. He gripped tightly onto the dagger in his hand, and at her insistence, headed towards the opening.


Shiohlu didn’t want to open his eyes. He was tired, and he was cold. He grasped at the air, searching for a blanket to cover himself with. But he found nothing soft and warm, his hand meeting only with the cold hard metal of the table beneath him.

It was then he opened his eyes, blinking at first against the incredible brightness of the room. What was he doing on a table? Where was he? Everything was pristinely white; his shadowy form the only contrast in the sterile place. It didn’t make sense, and he wondered where all the grey had gone. The lights shone as brightly as ever, and the faint humming that came from them irritated his ears, their sound altogether unpleasant.

Curious, and eager to distance himself from the annoying lights, Shiohlu pulled himself off of the table, exploring the room. As he suspected, its only contents were he, the table, and a door across the way. And, of course, the insufferable lights. Carefully shifting the dagger into his hand, he approached the door, and opened it slowly.

Peering into the hallway, he glanced around it first to make sure he wasn’t walking into some sort of trap. It was very much like the room, empty and unfortunately still buzzing. But it was the only way ahead, and gingerly Shiohlu stepped through the doorway. As soon as he was through, there was the sound of a door slamming, though a quick check confirmed that the one he’d just went through was in fact still open.

He eyed the door for a moment, before finally turning away from it. He walked with caution down the hallway, not entirely frightened but also not entirely at ease. There didn’t seem to be any danger but something about the place was just not right. Straining his eyes, he could just make out the faint outline of a door at the end of the hallway and he quickened his pace towards it, not needing any more excuse to leave this place.

But something thumped while he walked, a loud thud that made him whip his head around, staring warily at the door that still stood open. But there was nothing there, just the empty doorway and the bright lights. Shiohlu turned around to begin walking again but the sound came again, just as loud and jarring as before.

This time when he turned around, he was not alone.

A figure, black and hazy, stood in the distance, the heavy thuds corresponding to each step that they took. Between the thuds, something scraped, metallic and ringing in his ears. It was then that he noticed the scissors, scissors just like the ones he had held in his hand though these were rusted, flakes chipping off as they dragged across the floor.

Shiohlu willed his feet to move, to run towards the exit but in his fear he was stuck, paralyzed and only able to helplessly watch the figure approach. He could only watch as it raised its arms, and extended its clawed fingers around his neck. As the cold digits sank into his skin, he yelled in a fit of terror, spinning around and breaking into a run towards the exit.

30/40

He continued to push futilely at the doors, until he noticed a piece of paper lying at his feet. Casting a worried glance over his shoulder, he bent hastily to pick it up. Unfolding it, his eyes quickly scanned the page, nervously wondering what the hell it meant.

25/40

He was truly panicked now, scratching at the door. He turned his head to look at the figure but his mind goes blank as he does so, the world blurring around him.

But he can see the figure, a memory. It’s the suited man again, though this time Shiohlu is lounging peacefully at the man’s feet, warmed by the fire roaring in the hearth in front of him. The man tosses him something, and in the memory Shiohlu happily catches it, holding the treasured treat in his mouth. But the memory fades, and the real Shiohlu began to feel queasy, the image of himself chewing on a severed finger too much for him to stomach.

When he looks up again, the figure is taunting him again, waggling a clawed and distorted finger as it cackled wickedly.

Instead of leading back to the safety of the shrine, the door leads into a forest, dark and foreboding with its gnarled branches. Shiohlu hid behind one of them, despite his fear, hoping it would buy him some time.

But when he turned his head to glance behind him, the figure is there, standing ominously in the doorway. Forgetting about hiding, Shiohlu ran, sprinting through the twisted wood and snaring underbrush. The figure followed, of course, its taunts angry now, ordering Shiohlu to return its heart.

Then it laughed, taunting about taking his. Deep in his core, Shiohlu knew it wasn’t joking.

He finally broke through the trees, only to find even more disappointment ahead. A large canyon separated him from the other side, and a decrepit bridge was the only path across. He gulped, the voice of the figure behind him growing louder the closer it approached. He had the cross the rickety thing, it was his only chance. Apprehensive though he was, he wasn’t about to die because of his fear.

He hesitantly set one foot onto the bridge, then the other, emboldened when the structure held his weight. But his crossing was slow and before long the wind picked up, dangerously swaying the bridge with its force. Shiohlu grabbed tightly onto the handrails but his position shifted and he found himself looking down into the abyss, frozen with fear.

As the wind sways both him and the bridge, the sound of footsteps gets closer.

A board creaks as it bears weight thrust upon it.

Something snips in the air behind his neck and Shiohlu turns around slowly, horrified of the fate that is destined for him.

Shiohlu graciously accepted the Goddesses cookies, beaming at her proudly. His Goddess was so great, shining blue and warm and wonderful. He bit into the cookie, listening to her and the sugary snack filled him with happiness. By the time she got the part about tea, he was already nodding his head, thinking that tea would be the perfect accompaniment to her homemade treats.

He was right behind her as she opened the gate, not needing to be beckoned to her side. Shiohlu, obedient as ever, stepped eagerly inside at her insistence.

---

Inside the gate is cooler, something soft and cold falling from the sky, lightly dusting the ground and hedges. It crunches satisfyingly beneath his feet as he steps toward the table. There are two jars sitting on it, and instinctively and without question he reaches for the pink, downing the cheery looking liquid in a single gulp.

Drinking the jar made SHiohlu feel warm and lightheaded, and he didn’t even mind when everything began to spin, the table turning until it was covered in cloth and food.

“Aha!” he said, spotting another cookie. He ignored all the other desserts, wanting only the one most similar to the one that his Goddess had prepared. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed, notice with curiosity, and convenience, a floral pink teacup sitting right behind the snacks. There was an ivory one as well, but it didn’t seem nearly as fun or bright and so he reached for the pink one, downing it all in one swig.

“Ah,” he sighed, “That hits the spot.”