A Cold God, Chapter 17

Elves? Was I looking at elves? They weren’t quite like the elves I knew from the Lord of the Rings—no regal cloaks or shining armor. More like children hidden away in a forgotten wood. They had sharp ears, yes, but also skin the color of autumn leaves and limbs thin as twigs. I watched them from behind my line of reanimated dead, uncertain how to proceed. My minions stood idle, blank-eyed beasts of bone and rancid flesh, guardians of the land I had claimed. Yet these figures in the trees slipped through shadows like they were born from them.

I shifted my gaze, counting at least five on the forest floor, though the canopy above held many more. Their eyes glinted between branches, faint emerald sparks watching my every move. I had combed these woods before with my undead thralls—fleshless crows flapping between boughs, half-decayed wolves sniffing at the undergrowth—yet I had never seen these beings. Somehow, they had evaded me. The idea made my skin crawl, and I wondered what magic could blind my searching eyes.

One of the child-like shapes crept forward. Its hair lay matted against its brow, woven with the white limbs of some brittle tree. Twigs poked through the tangles, forming a crude crown. Behind it, the others shifted, cautious but not afraid. It approached my largest reanimated creature: an immense rodent, rib bones exposed, patches of fur rotting away. The figure reached out, delicate fingers brushing the rodent’s jaw as though examining a broken tool.

A slow hush spread through the clearing. My undead stood as silent sentinels. The figure with the twig-crown turned, green eyes alive with an inner glow that pulsed in rhythm with the forest’s heartbeat. The air tasted of sap and damp moss, and the wind rattled the leaves overhead, urging me to speak or flee. I felt something push at the edges of my consciousness, a gentle force testing the wards I’d set around my mind.

The crowned figure drew nearer, small as a child but steeped in a presence that stirred the air. Its lean arm rose, fingers spread against the rodent’s matted fur. Green eyes glowed beneath a woven crown of pale branches, each twig bent at odd angles. A hush draped the forest floor. Beneath the canopy, my reanimated creatures stood motionless, caught in the quiet. I could almost feel the pulse of old magic emanating from those gathered forms in the trees.

The creature’s voice carried a hint of wind through tall grass. “May we commune with you, Lord of Cold and Darkness?”

I willed the rodent to nod. Its half-decayed head jerked in a stiff bow, bits of fur clinging to the vertebrae. A dozen other reanimated shapes followed suit—a rattling chorus of bones, sinew, and rotting hide. The crowned figure watched each nod without flinching, and the others behind it shifted in uneasy rhythm, a flicker of recognition passing among them. The idea of speaking—truly conversing—with these forest spirits or whatever they were sparked more than curiosity. I had roamed this world for countless nights, known men and their wars, but never had I met beings quite like these. They spoke of old secrets, of silent watchers, of power hidden beneath the roots.

The crowned one inclined its head. Its matted hair stirred, and the branches woven there creaked like old wicker. “We are aware of the vastness of your true form and your avatar. If possible, could you appear before us in your avatar?”

I paused, or rather, the rodent body I inhabited stood rigid, bones creaking under the tension. They could see the truth of me, that roiling storm of ice and dark, so inconceivably cold that time and space itself were both frozen at my core—a self most mortals could not fathom. Their awareness pricked at my understanding of this world. How had they gleaned such knowledge? I felt a stir in the hidden corners of my mind, where the core of my power lay, eager to show itself.

The clearing hushed still further. Leaves overhead quivered in the faint breeze, and specks of dust floated in long beams of sunlight. The watchers in the branches drew closer, shifting from limb to limb with cat-like grace. My undead guardians stood in their silent ranks, jaws slack, eyes empty. A single crow perched on a fallen log, feathers molting, skull half exposed.

Very well. 

I made the rodent’s decaying head dip once more, along with the other reanimated creatures bristling at the edge of the clearing. Their bones rattled in a quiet chorus. The crowned one watched, its lips curving into a faint smile. At its feet, the roots twisted and coiled, as if animated by some unseen will. My gaze followed those curling tendrils, noting how they rose from the earth and clung to the creature’s ankles like living vines. A low shiver ran through the forest floor, pulsing with an energy I had not sensed before.

The crowned figure lifted a hand. Its matted hair swayed, branches woven into the tangled locks creaking softly. The forest around us stilled. Leaves overhead trembled in the breeze, yet no bird called. I studied the place where the figure stood, half-expecting a trunk of twisted bark to materialize behind it, some ancient tree from which these roots might sprout. Nothing revealed itself. The ground there simply pulsed once more, roots stretching, then settling.

When it spoke, its voice carried the quiet authority of a breeze through old pines. “Not far from here is a lake. In the center of that lake lies an isle of white trees with blood-red leaves, their bark carved with watchful faces. Please, meet my people there. We have much to discuss”

I wish I had the capacity to speak, because I really would’ve loved to know why they suddenly wanted to speak to me. Was it about the Empire of Dawn? Was it about my status as a living embodiment of the concept of the end of everything? I had no idea. And, while I could run extremely fast with my avatar body and probably reach this place in the span of a few seconds if I wished, a part of me had a desire to be surprised–to find wonder, to find something new. It was, I realized, a remnant of the human that I used to be, but I couldn’t help it; life would be boring if I knew everything and treated every little mystery as a trifle. If the Greenskins hadn’t been so violent and dangerous, I would’ve loved to have studied and learned from them and their culture–alas, it was simply not meant to be. The same was true for the other human kingdoms that I only recently discovered was a thing–so many different peoples and cultures to explore and learn from, perspectives and philosophies, things that kept this existence from growing dull. 

Sure, as I told the Elder, I planned on conquering this whole planet and bringing every living thing to heel, but that did not mean I couldn’t enjoy myself or that I had to do it as quickly as possible. 

Once again, I had my reanimated critters nod on my behalf. The child-like creatures nodded back before they retreated back into the trees, somehow disappearing as my gaze was fixed upon them. Their humanoid forms melded into the dark greens and browns, and the shadows converged about them, and soon not even their silhouettes remained as they seemed to become one with the forest. That was a neat trick. 

I found the lake in moments. Reanimated crows circled overhead, and insects the size of a child’s fingertip skimmed the water’s edge. From their many eyes, I glimpsed the island at the center—red leaves flickering in the breeze, white bark catching the sun. Humanoid figures clung to branches, the same forest-dwellers who had revealed themselves before. Some waved as my birds soared above, as if greeting me personally. They knew my nature, knew each corpse-flutter and half-living wing drew from a single mind.

Far off, in another corner of the realm, I had been entertaining children, one of the few things I actively enjoyed–no duty or responsibility, just pure joy. My avatar loomed over them like a statue come to life, nearly ten feet of pale flesh and quiet grace. At my will, gentle snow drifted down, clinging to their hair and eyelashes. They giggled, small hands reaching for flakes that vanished on their fingertips. Now and then, I shaped an icy figure—a little soldier, an animal with crystalline fur—and let it prance about for their amusement. The children’s voices rose in soft wonder, filling the moment with a warmth I rarely encountered.

After a time, I ushered them back to their huts. They cast glances over their shoulders, as though hoping I might conjure another snowfall. I only nodded, then turned away. My feet struck the earth, and I broke into a sprint beyond anything mortal eyes could follow. As I did, I grabbed one of the patrolling Greenskins; I’d need it to talk on my behalf, seeing as a single word from my avatar unleashed enough power to flatten and freeze the land around me. Frozen air rushed past, and trees blurred. The avatar’s body had arrived in this world within that fallen chunk of metal—an infant shape discovered in twisted wreckage. I often overlooked how alien it must seem to those around me, how my skin glowed like fresh snow in the moonlight, how my eyes reflected an endless storm.

It was easy to navigate the terrain. My mind fed on each creature I controlled, from the scuttling ants in the underbrush to the Greenskins patrolling the outskirts of my settlement. Their senses became mine, stitching a living map of fields and rivers, mountains and hidden glades. I recognized the approach to the lake from the crows’ vantage. The island beckoned, crowned by that quiet grove of white-barked trees. The figures in the branches waited, their red leaves stirring like whispered secrets.

I came to the water’s edge. My reanimated birds fluttered above, circling the isle, returning pulses of sight and sound to my endless network. A hush settled on the shoreline. There, I understood the invitation clearly. In that grove of carved faces, I might learn why these little forest-folk had sought me out and what slept beneath the roots of those pale trunks. I waded into the shallows and crossed into the little island. A harsh wind blew in from the far north as I walked into the darkness between the trees. 

Dozens of them awaited me at the center of the grove–small, pointy-eared humanoids, each barely taller than a human child. The rest lingered upon the branches of the trees. They carried no weapons. I towered over them. And yet, they showed no fear. The ground shook and the earth rumbled. And emerging from the darkness–somehow having escaped my sight–were giants. There were three of them, each one covered in thick fur. They stood a head taller than myself–humanoid in shape, but more bestial in appearance. Still, there was intelligence in their eyes. They stopped at the center of the grove and stood with the small elf-like creatures. 

I laid the Greenskin down beside me and spoke through it, “I am here now as you requested. What did you wish to discuss?” 

One of the elf-like beings stepped forward. This one bore no crown of twigs and branches upon its head, though thin roots and leaves snaked its form–as it did all its kin. “What do you intend for this world, Heart of Darkness?” 

My avatar raised a brow. Still, I considered the question for a moment and decided that I’d rather answer truthfully, because there honestly wasn’t much point in lying. My reanimated Greenskin spoke, “I aim to conquer this world and unite all the humans into a single empire–for their own safety. Beyond that, I would eradicate the Greenskins as they pose the greatest threat to my people. If you believe that such a thing would endanger your kind, it won’t–not unless you endanger the lives of my people. If you’re afraid that your woods and forests would be cut down, I promise you that shall not be the case; your homes will be preserved. As long as you remain peaceful, then I see no reason why we cannot coexist.” 

My answer was uncomfortably long, but I also wanted them to know that–despite my desire to conquer every human civilization out there and rule as some kind of God-king for everyone’s benefit–I really had no quarrel with them. If anything, I would love to learn more about them and from them. 

“That is all well and good,” Their ‘representative’ said, “And I see no reason to doubt your word. But your very presence is killing this world, Heart of Darkness. It does so very slowly, in almost unnoticeable manner, but soon the seasons will grow shorter in your presence. The skies will darken with black clouds and the winds shall freeze oceans and lakes. In time, whether you wish it so or not, this world will become a frozen tomb. You can feel it as well as we do, can you not? There is no force here to keep you in balance and so your power grows and grows and keeps on growing. And soon, there will be nothing left.” 

“Well… shit.”