The Rot Slugs Hope
She was always poison and always alone. Few could talk to her and not die, so while the screams hurt to hear at first, they became beautiful music in time.
So she chased the screams across the wasteland—they let her travel and see new things, and there were always so many screams.
She wondered what life would be like to simply talk to others without the screams, to have them exist the next day instead of lost to rot.
If that day ever came, she would be their friend, and they could be more than this endless rot land.
–––Lost in Time, Actions from Monsters Seeking Salvation from the Dark God
14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCrUddAWUBt
He still didn't believe, but echoes of those who did remained embedded in his soul. Promises of something that might see them as worthy of love rather than extermination.
The rot blob—or slug, he was unsure—wrapped him in tentacles, each seeming to have multiple mouths. He felt their grins against his carapaced flesh—a gentle embrace before lifting and holding him on what he assumed was her back.
An odd sensation. Beyond the heavy rot smell, it was smooth, yielding flesh that flowed everywhere he touched. A welcome change from hard ground, even with the plague stench. And warm—so warm he hadn't realized how cold he'd become until heat soaked into his shell.
Time passed without measure. Her movement's rhythm was oddly soothing, like being carried by a living wave. She hummed as they traveled—the same tune he'd been humming, but she knew words he'd forgotten.
She claimed to be guiding them, but beyond the breeze, he had no proof she wasn't traveling in circles or toward a cliff. He had nothing left to believe in and no desire to try, so whatever her plan, he only wished it would be quick.
As time passed, scents changed. Less rot, more stone and metal. They were traveling somewhere real.
The movement stopped. He went rigid, expecting the strike or throw that would end him, but neither came. Instead, he heard voices in the distance—dwarfs, he assumed. Nobody tended to be this deep in rot lands, and the champion was not known to talk, just kill.
As she began moving again, he remained unsure what was real.
"Sorry! Got a little close to some dwarf homes. Think they're settled near a lake, but they just watched us pass. They looked bored."
Bored? He'd expected weapons, pursuit, death. But dwarfs were strange—maybe they cared more about defending their water source than chasing them.
Still, it meant they were moving in the right direction. He held onto the fragmented seer's words—they needed to go past the dwarfs and closer to humans to find the ash.
"Why not kill me?"
In his experience, things strong enough to kill usually tried, and this farce was getting a bit tiring. If she wanted a meal of him, she was taking too long to strike.
"We're friends! And this is fun—like an adventure!" Her voice bubbled with genuine excitement.
An adventure. To her, this was all just an adventure. The thought should have annoyed him, but instead it felt oddly comforting. When had anyone found joy in his presence? In a quest just to seek something new?
Silence settled between them after that. He almost managed to sleep despite the hunger. A pleasant change—to rest without constantly listening for threats, to let someone else worry about the path ahead.
She startled him awake. He was never aware it happened when she grabbed him, gently setting him down. He felt the ground beneath him when he finally became aware of the change but had nothing to base location on.
"Can't see."
He stated the obvious, hoping she'd explain why they'd stopped.
"Oh! Right!" She giggled. "Um, the seer said he would be beyond the dwarfs but before the big human kingdom. In the ash of a human town, she said."
Her voice carried the confidence of someone repeating memorized words, but underneath he caught uncertainty.
"But this settlement isn't ash. It's still... normal."
They were near humans? That was dangerous—the hero of light always started from human settlements, hunting outward according to the tales.
"You're guessing? You said you knew?"
"Well..." Her voice turned sheepish. "I've never been this far before. But humans don't really build in rot lands, right? This would probably be their only place out here. And the seer told us it'd be here, so it makes sense!"
Her logic was sound, even if her confidence was manufactured. Before losing his sight, he'd traveled these areas. There was only one human garrison in these plague-touched borderlands—a fortress of blessed holy wood that burned beast-touched flesh on contact.
If the seer's words were true, this place should be ash. But it stood whole, protected, very much alive. And they came here for him—their god.
What choice did he have? He'd come this far on hope thinner than the bits of flesh he ate to still exist. He was so tired—tired of hunger, tired of loneliness, tired of scraping for scraps that might poison him anyway. The small trust he'd begun to feel for her had cracked something inside him, let hope leak in like infection.
She saw this as adventure. For him, it was the last roll of dice when he had nothing left to wager.
The champion would kill them tomorrow, the hunger might kill him today if he walked away, but his god might be there if he walked forward anyway.
So he walked forward, following the scent of human flesh carried on the wind.
"They will kill you if you get close."
She spoke with gentle concern, unsure of his intent or perhaps offering a gentle warning since he was blind.
"If god wills it."
The words came out flatter than he intended. He wasn't sure if he was hoping for divine intervention or divine mercy through death. Both seemed equally unlikely and equally welcome.
His hand found one of her tentacles and squeezed—gratitude for bringing him this far, apology for what he was about to do, farewell if it went badly. It was all the concern and care he could muster, having nothing left for himself.
All her tentacles shifted to frowns of disapproval. She'd finally found someone who didn't melt at her touch, whose hardened shell didn't rot from her breath. Someone who let her carry them and didn't try to hurt her. The first companion she'd ever had.
But watching the settlement ahead, her tentacles gradually turned to smiles. She was plague incarnate, rot given joyful form. If their god truly awaited among ash, why not help create the conditions for his arrival? Then she would stay with her friend.
As the settlement loomed, she exhaled blight into the air. Spores drifted up and over the wooden palisade like dandelion seeds on a summer breeze. The blessed wood stung when she got too close, so she circled wider. She had used these spores before to hunt, and the effect was always the same, so she knew nothing would remain.
If Abaddon truly awaited among ash, she would help forge that ash, one happy spore at a time. She would help her blind friend find the god he needed so desperately. Maybe their lord would reward her for the assistance.
If nothing else, soon there would be screams—the beautiful screams that had been her only music for so long. Her new friend's voice was a nice change. She had to hold her breath to stay near the seer, so it was not the same.
She knew her rot spread like hope in reverse, turning certainty into fear, strength into weakness, light into shadow. And in that shadow, perhaps something greater would finally rise.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDWZRg2oMW
and then Add to home screen.