(10) The World That Is

Nephthys floated before doors no less ostentatious than the audience hall. They were made of pure crashglass, the red crystal shards broken from the Veilpiercer during its ‘landing.’ The material was unbelievably expensive everywhere except here in the Crater, its birthplace.

They were polished, smooth, reflective, and Nephthys was jarred for a moment by her own image, floating and foreign. She was not sure she would ever get used to seeing her new body, no matter how much she liked it conceptually. She shook the dismorphia away and pushed the doors open.

Inside was a wide hall that glowed a deep red, crimson, like blood. There were no lights in the hall, the glow cast from the opening fifty-or-so feet ahead. Nephthys knew exactly where she was going, obviously, but the sight was eerie in real life. Ironic, since that was her intention when she created it.

One of the central features of guilds in Prelude was the ability to bind the entire organization to a god or goddess. Once chosen, specific bonuses would be gained based on the chosen god’s domain. There were several to choose from, and each provided significant bonuses that, in PvP, where every single advantage mattered, could change a guild’s fortunes.

Nemesis was no exception, choosing a god and creating the necessary infrastructure. However, Nemesis was all about dominating and flexing that domination, so Nephthys’s chosen deity was unique among the guilds.

She had chosen to build the Altar of Truth specifically because it conferred no bonuses. This meant that Nephthys had to spend hours grinding for resources to construct the Altar, only to receive nothing in return.

This was perfectly fine for her, as the entire guild was about being the best. What was better proof than an exercise in tremendous futility, while still obliterating all other guilds in PvP? It said, “I am good enough that I do not need extra help.”

Now, standing in the opening of a domed room, a pool of viscous crimson liquid casting a blood-red glow throughout the space, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Were gods real in this world? If so, what about this Truth business? Prelude was vague about what the Altar even was, what it was for. It did nothing, which, at the time, seemed perfectly aligned to Nephthys’s desires, but now made her nervous. Was there a god or goddess of Truth? If so, that was probably bad news, right?

At least, if she had chosen a different god or goddess, she would be their beneficiary. That deity would theoretically be incentivized to be positive—or at least neutral—toward a guild that was venerating them.

However, not only was the deification of Truth opaque, but she had built the Altar specifically for its uselessness. This was not a good foot to start off on with a literal, actual deity—if there even was one.

“My lady, it is wonderful to see you again. I am pleased to learn you have recovered without issue,” Akhenaton said, emerging from the red liquid in the center of the room.

He was just as she remembered him from a few days ago: cloaked and hooded, human-shaped, but only his face was visible. He wore a black blindfold across his eyes, though Nephthys thought there were subtle glows beneath, where his eyes should be.

“You nearly gave Ramose a heart attack, you know? He looked everywhere for you,” Nephthys said, her Djinn body’s neutral tone belying her surprise and unease.

“Indeed. Forgive me for acting suspiciously. Once I completed my part in your ascension, I came here, answering my lady’s call,” he said, now standing atop the liquid like it was a solid.

Strangely, though he emerged from the blood-like liquid below, he wore none of it. It was as if the liquid refused to leave the pool, defying all the laws of physics.

“I do not recall asking you to come here,” Nephthys replied, a chill beginning to creep up her spine.

“You did not. Forgive me, mistress. I thank you for welcoming me into Nemesis, but it is not you or the guild whom I serve,” he said with a small bow.

If her body were capable of it, Nephthys would be in a cold sweat. The disconnect between her body and mind kept her hands from shaking and her voice steady.

“And whom do you serve?” she asked.

“I serve Truth, of course,” he replied flatly, as if speaking of the weather.

Had Akhenaton always served Truth, even when this was Prelude, rather than a real world? Had it always been a real world? Wait, if he served Truth…

“Are you suggesting that Truth had something to do with my ascension—” she began.

“Your arrival in this world? Yes, I believe She did, though my lady does not directly interfere in matters so small. Her concerns are far larger than any single world.

“She may have…nudged things in a certain direction, but events have played out largely as they would have without Her attention,” Akhenaton explained.

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Thoughts whirled through Nephthys’s mind. He knows she is from another world? He knows there are multiple worlds? His lady’s concerns are larger than entire worlds?

As the thoughts collided and clashed, none resolving satisfactorily, she eeked out the only response she could manage, delivered in the tone of cold detachment her body thrust upon her.

“Why?” she asked simply.

“Forgive me, mistress. I do not know everything, so I cannot provide the answers you wish. Even if I did, I would not simply explain things to you. Knowledge is power, and power unearned is dangerous. You have a great deal of it already, yes?” he said with a small smile that froze the marrow in Nephthys’s bones.

“I did not ask for any of this,” she replied, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“And yet, it is. We often must deal with reality as it is, rather than as we wish it to be. My advice is to advocate for the world you wish for, but live in the world that is. And in the world that is, you have a tremendous amount of power at your fingertips—power you did not earn and do not understand.

“Know that I do not serve you or Nemesis. Know that my interests might not always align with yours. However, I will help you when I am permitted to. When I am not, I will not.