A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter Twelve: The Suture Worm

The Suture Worm unfurled itself, its eyes locking on them. There was a single hairline fracture in a central vertebra of the Suture Worm, a segment that was glowing faintly.

”You need to believe in my plan.” Mo Fei bellowed, pointing a trembling finger at the specific spot where bone met the pulsing, fleshy cord of the Suture Worm.

The chamber hissed as the acid touched the flesh, slowly moving toward them. The Worm locked its eyes on them, understanding the threat. It writhed its body to face Grig, jaws opening with a crunch.

Elara stayed back, counting the time and hoping the ritual would stop. Her hands wrapped together, looking around for any subtle change.

Mo Fei ran toward it and caught up to the Suture Worm. It raised its head at him and aimed directly at Mo Fei. ”This should work...” He thought, stopping beside the Centipede. Han quickly managed to reach the opposite side of the Centipede.

The jagged bone pierced through the wind. Mo Fei quickly sidestepped, but its jaw ripped through his sides. It closed its jaws at Mo Fei’s side, crunching a part of him. Mo Fei gasped; the sharp pain traveled through his body to his mind.

The wound was deep, but not enough to kill him... Well, the blood loss could do that.

”H-HAN!” Mo Fei’s voice cracked; he shouted.

His vision went blurry, his hand clenching the side. He stumbled back, its jaws dripping with his blood. That was the bait. Han jumped at Suture Worm, his hands pulling the flesh blanket. Its neck was vulnerable now.

The Suture Worm’s attention shifted to Han. Mo Fei took a few steps back, a slight grin on his face. He held his sides tight, but it was not as bad as dying.

Grig looked at Mo Fei, his wary eyes observing its neck. There was nothing but bones, yet inside was meat. He looked at his shackled hand and then at the ground where a piece of bone was resting. He quickly picked it up and moved forward. Elara, who was beside him, turned to glance at the acid.

The Suture Worm raised its head for another strike. Mo Fei threw himself at the Suture Worm, pushing his shoulder to get back its attention.

The Suture Worm stopped in its tracks, throwing its tail. The whip cut through the air; it could rip them in half if hit. Mo Fei jumped back, distancing himself.

Grig stepped back, his back almost touching the flesh-made wall behind him.

Swish

The tail cut through the air, slashing the wall made of flesh.

”How can I pierce its neck?” Grig mumbled.

Mo Fei pressed a hand against the tear in his tunic again, feeling the warm drops of blood. It was just a beginning. His eyes locked with Grig across the execution chamber. No words were needed. The plan itself was written all over in Grig’s grim set of jaws and the sharpened bone shard in his fist. Mo Fei nodded.

Han grabbed a skull from the ground, throwing it toward the Suture Worm. The Centipede darted its hollow eyes between Mo Fei and Han.

”Grig! Go for the neck!” Mo Fei yelled.

Grig charged low, bone pointed like a dagger toward the Suture Worm. The Centipede sensed him. It slowly turned there with clattering sounds.

”This won’t work unless someone gets close to its neck...”

Mo Fei ignored the fire in his ribs, sprinting toward the creature not far away. He jumped, landing on its neck. His fingers, covered with his blood, scrabbled against cold bone and wet, living cord. He clenched a rib, finally finding a place to hang on.

”GRIG, THROW THE PIECE!” Mo Fei’s gaze fell on Grig.

The Worm jolted, trying to buck off Mo Fei. It raised its head to scrape him against the ceiling. The world became a violent blur, but Mo Fei clung to it without letting it go. Han watched it still; his eyes looked around, trying to find a way to distract it. The Suture Worm’s attention was all on Mo Fei.

He was a true threat to it? A weak human with no muscles.

Grig braced his shoulder, pulling his hand back. He threw the sharp piece of bone. Mo Fei let go of his one hand in an attempt to catch the bone, but he couldn’t. The bone fell to the ground, and the Centipede lunged toward the nearest wall.

Han didn’t waste any moment and ran toward the bone, his movement quick. His hand curled at the bone while looking at Mo Fei.

The Suture Worm gave Mo Fei no break. Its head hit the wall, breaking its own skull. Mo Fei grabbed the ribs tightly, its bone bruising his hands. His eyes twitched with sharp pain, but he refused to let go.

The blood caused his hand to almost slip. The world felt like everything was over, but he grasped it harder.

”The acid is rising faster!” Elara’s panicked voice cut through the air, the acid rose. A scent of burnt meat filled the air.

Han glanced at her, then at the acid reaching toward them. Elara ran forward toward Grig, avoiding the burn.

Han reached for Mo Fei’s hand, but the Suture Worm whipped its tail, forcing Han to step back and keep his distance.

With one last attempt, Han got close to the sinister Centipede. Mo Fei raised one hand toward Han. The Centipede hit its head on the wall, and Mo Fei’s hand slipped, cutting his palm. ”Argh!” He clenched its rib tightly, forcing his hand to grasp the piece.

”Han, get away now.” He tightened his hand around the piece of bone, fixing his position on its body. Han quickly stepped back, watching Mo Fei.

He held the piece of bone with both hands now and then finally stabbed it directly in its neck. The bone went deeper through the flesh in its neck.

There was no dramatic crunch. It was a wet, deep sound.

-THOCK-

The sharpened bone shard punched through the rotted flesh, biting into the creature’s nervous core.

The Centipede stopped moving; the silence stretched terribly.

Then.

SCREECH!!

The Suture Worm screamed, a sound that slashed the air itself. Their bones trembled. Han, Elara, and Grig instinctively covered their ears in a desperate bid to shut out the noise, wincing.

Mo Fei was closer to Suture Worm. He tried to close his ears, but he was a second too slow. A sharp burst of pain exploded in his head, rupturing one of his eardrums.

Of course... The cost of breaking the execution ritual was absolute.

Meanwhile, Han and Elara crumple, hands grasping at their heads. Their screams were invisible in the torrent of noise. Grig was blown back off his feet.

The rigid control broke apart, every segment scattering around. From the Centipede’s gaping jaws another sound began to build, a sign of ritual collapse.

After the scream that tore through the Cathedral. The living walls blistered, and four body hollows started rotting away.

Then the acid lake receded. The ritual halted, and getting over.

The flesh covering the exit started falling down, shrinking into the ground. The doorway gradually began to pass the light.

Elara’s eyes glinted; finally, hope had visited her.

Grig’s expressions that were full of survival faltered; he might have seen a future that he wished to live in.

Mo Fei’s shoulder dropped slightly, breathing harder. It was his other victory, but a far bigger achievement.

”I survived again... Somehow.” His hand clasped his ear, blood dripping.

The Centipede’s form went rigid, then began to disintegrate. The bones turned black, dropping like snow tainted with smoke.

The execution was stopped.

Mo Fei stepped back from the edge of the rift. One side of his hearing was gone, replaced by a hollow ringing. His side throbbed, dripping blood from his clothes. He squinted his eyes in pain.

His temporary comrades were picking themselves up, battered, but not deafened. Their faces were etched with a new kind of awe.

Before them, the Master’s perfect living execution chamber was now a twitching, silent ruin.

Ahead of them, a path of petrified wood and profound stillness beckoned with the only option left.

Escape from the exit.

Mo Fei fell on his knees, clenching his sides. ”Garh, that was really the worst thing I’ve ever done.” He tried standing up, but both his legs trembled. Grig and Han offered their shoulders for support.

There weren’t painkillers or any healing.

The world was spinning in his head. He could see Han’s lips moving and the strain in Han’s throat, but all he could hear was a distant, watery murmur.

”I can’t...” Mo Fei let out a whisper, his voice shaking. ”I can’t hear you clearly.” He examined their faces.

Han stared at Mo Fei for a moment. He pointed at the petrified wood doorway, then made a slashing motion across his throat. He pointed back at the entrance. Mo Fei blinked, collecting the dots. ”The Cathedral is collapsing. Exit. Now?”

Mo Fei stumbled, no energy left to support.

Grig, a solid pillar of muscle, moved instantly. He slung Mo Fei’s good arm over his shoulders, taking his weight without a word. Han supported the other side.

Elara’s eyes scanned the exit, looking at the rotting flesh.

Those petrified woods weren’t clean to invite. They were there as if watching them but had no eyes to see.

Ting. Ting.

A sharp noise of a bell rang. Their hands snapped back to see.

The far wall of the execution chamber peeled away. The great sheets of red tissue sloughed, revealing rot behind. The air grew thick with the suffocating reek of decaying meat.

The Cathedral began to reshape, perhaps for the next execution.

”GO!” Han yelled, rushing out of the exit with Grig, who half-carried Mo Fei.

Elara pounced at the exit. Her figure stepped outside to the other chamber of the cave. The moment they passed the threshold, the world changed.

He pushed himself from Grig, standing on shaking legs. Grig’s hand tightened, prepared to help if needed.

The walls of the cave were visible, illuminated by a strange, souceless light. No insects crawled, and no sound of bugs. The ground was filled with grey ash, flying as they took steps forward.

Mo Fei glared at his trembling hands, stained with his blood.

They hadn’t won.

”Han...” Mo Fei spoke in a heavy whisper.

”You said if we manage to escape, we might encounter the Overseer. Was that through this exit?”

His eyes lay on the ground, and then they widened. There were footprints... Recent ones, leading into the dark.

Someone else was there or had just left.

Han’s eyes followed Mo Fei’s. His breathing turned shallow.

”Yes, the ’Overseer.’ The master had created these paths so no one could escape.” Han paused, his voice a low rasp. Mo Fei tilted his hand. His brows furrowed.

Han went closer to Mo Fei’s ear and repeated the words.

”A slave could escape? His arrogant mind wouldn’t believe it, but he is not the one to play recklessly. This is the land of ’Trasia’...”

Elara hugged herself, her eyes darting to the dark tunnels. ”So about those footprints...?”

”Could be other ’exhibits,’” Grig signed, his large hands moving with surprising, grim eloquence, ”or the minions of the Overseer, for elders’ execution.”

Mo Fei said, ”What if we take a different path?”

”All paths here lead to the same place, boy.” Han murmured, his shoulders slumping.

Mo Fei heaved a sigh, then his eyes glanced at the wall. There was something... He turned his head toward them, then he snapped his head back at the walls. His breathing stopped.

Up close there were dozens of faces, each etched with different expressions of terror. One’s mouth was wide open, almost tearing its jaws apart. One’s eyes were wide open. The upper half of the eyes was chopped. One’s eyes were hanging out of its socket, looking down at the ground.

”What in that fucking insanity!” He stepped back, forgetting the pain. Everyone looked at the faces, their expressions tensed.

”These are his art pieces. They are real humans...” Han mumbled. Elara gulped. Grig’s hand clenched into a fist.

The ghostly faces on the wall seemed to waver, their expressions shifting toward the fissure for a fleeting second before freezing again.

”Damn these shit moves...” Mo Fei muttered under his breath.

Han said, ”Feng, he knew more.” Of course, a coward that had survived long would know.

All of them looked at the path in the direction of Trasia.

Han’s eyes locked onto Mo Fei. The Overseer was no joke. He was worse, a dreamer who was a master of deception.

”Which hell do we choose?”