Whalefall

When you were a little kid, you used to be so proud of the fact that the city you lived in was built around, within, and over the corpse of a god. Now that you’re older, you approach the topic in morbid fascination and clear disdain. People were so desperate for the last dredges of divinity that they picked at the dead body of a giant and built their homes within its bones.

You remember hearing stories of it from the older folks. They would tell you how proud their grandparents were to witness the death of Hiuid, the Gentle God of Nature. You can’t help but think of how messed up it all is. When the gods abandoned the mortals, the mortals responded to them with desperation and hatred. The gods could not be trusted to provide their divine duties anymore, but the mortals still wanted them to.

Hiuid, you think, is the most tragic case. He refused to abandon the mortals. When all the other gods, angered by the death of another god—angered and very obviously fearful of the mortality they hadn’t known of—Hiuid still cherished you all, defended you all, took care of you all, but not a single person cared. People had this notion that if they strike Hiuid down, his remains could be used to perform some sort of miracle. They hoped for many things:

A plentiful harvest.

A guardian angel.

A cure for one’s illness.

Happiness.

Immortaility, even—in spite of a the gods’ newfound lack of it (in spite of their plans to murder one of the remaining gods who chose the lives of mortals over his pride).

With his death left any ounce of divinity he had. Amehiuid Dreking II—one of many citizens named “Beloved by Hiuid,” but the only you know to be handed the title of second—would tell stories to you about it, when she would babysit you. You loved the stories and fell for the idea that his death bode well for humanity. She would tell you:

“My grandfather was one of the men who hunted down Hiuid. It was a long, difficult journey, you see. Hiuid was a giant satyr whose hooves left many grooves imprinted upon the ground. My grandfather and his men were tiny bugs compared to the vast and wondrous god. It seemed impossible to reach the speed at which Hiuid traveled! He was simply too grand for any average mortal to compare!”

No matter how many times you heard the story, you would always ask, “But how’d they do it?”

“Well, my grandfather came up with The Plan, you see. He told the witches to create a communication spell. Everyone was curious why, but the answer was obvious! The hunting troupe would split into half, where one group would keep tracking Hiuid, and the other would go in search of dragons. Each group would take at least one witch. A den of dragons was nearby, and if they could be tamed, Hiuid could be killed.”

“But weren’t dragons mean?” You would ask, like if you had a script that you needed to follow in order to hear the story.

Amehiuid would always chuckle at your eagerness, “Yes, but when my grandfather offered to worship dragons as though they were gods, the dragons accepted. And so they helped! When Hiuid landed on his knees, and then lay on the ground in finality—his defeat!—my grandfather knew that mortals would live a wondrous life, for when Hiuid died, his corpse glowed the most beautiful gold color, and all of that color floated up off of him and into the dragons.”

Well, moral of the story, you could kill your gods! When you were a kid, you didn’t think about the story like that, though. You always thought that Hiuid died for a greater cause, and though he was stingy with his power, mortals may thrive once again, but this time with their new dragon companions (with their new dragon gods, for surely that’s what they were, right? Gods?).

Starting with Amehiuid’s grandfather and his troupe, Hiuid’s corpse was picked clean. The hunters brought their family and set up camp around Hiuid’s body. Many capable adults worked in cleaning efforts, while only some remained to protect the camp. Each day, an offering of Hiuid’s body (of his flesh—perfect for feasting and a perfect gift to the new gods) was given to the dragons so that they may also help protect the camps and pick clean the body. The second generation helped take on this righteous and grandiose task, and with the third generation, the project was finally complete.

Now, your generation, the fourth one, may admire the fruits of everyone’s labor:

The bones of Hiuid’s rib cage have been hollowed out and turned into skyscrapers, while doubling as a shield against withering natural causes outside the city. You live in one of those bones with your family. You aren’t quite nobility, but your family had been overtaken by Amehiuid’s family, House Dreking. Amehiuid, one of the less powerful nobles of her family, often was the babysitter for the kids whose families were heavily involved with the House Dreking. She made it her duty to educate everyone on the success of her grandfather and the birth of this nation.

The skull had been turned into a new den for dragons. Amehuid told you that the dragons overtook his head without much preamble. When the first offering of Hiuid’s flesh was made, the dragons made immediate use in their new role of decomposing Hiuid’s body and his head was the perfect shape for a new den. The eyes were the first to go, for it is said that eyes are the windows to the soul. It was the perfect place to commandeer whatever of Hiuid’s soul remained, and shape it into their dragon likeness.

The pelvis has been turned into a grand market. After the stomach and rib cage had been hallowed by dragons eating away at it and humans carving flesh from it in hopes of receiving a miracle, the pelvis was the next area to be picked at. Its shape naturally lent itself to a market, it seemed, and so while some people had been hollowing out homes within the bone marrow, others had begun making shops. Those who could not make use of the inside of the bones set up their shops atop of it.

The arms and legs have also been hollowed out, and with the help of the dragons, were rearranged for many things: tunnels, bridges, irrigation. Anything smaller than that—anything too small to be useful—had simply been lying about.

The fingers of Hiuid’s right hand, for example, have been buried after their cleaning. Their bony tips peak over a hill only barely, but are a great marker for the end of the catacombs. Past that, there is only desolation. Beyond Hiuid’s corpse on all sides is a vast mass of useless land. There are no trees, no mushrooms, no grass, no plants, no life. Nature has failed there, and Hiuid’s fingers are a perfect marker of when anyone has gone too far.

You like to go too far, though, because nothing within the city has a shred of divinity (especially not the dragons, as everyone believes). It’s fair to say that if nothing that is said to be divine is divine, then nothing that is cursed is cursed. The city is built on heresy and Hiuid died for nothing. It wasn’t even as though the other gods leaving had left the world in disarray. It was the trauma of abandonment that caused the mortals to panic.

And so mortals thought they could be closer to the gods that abandoned them if they overtook the corpse of one of them, and instead they plunged themselves further away. They only proved to the gods that mortals were vicious, while also destroying the life of one who cherished them—nourished them.

When you leave the city and go passed Hiuid’s fingers, you see the signs for what they are. Without Hiuid’s love for mortals, the sudden slaughter of his magic only left death and devastation. So the land beyond Hiuid’s fingers are not the sign of when one has left the safety and comfort of divinity, it is a sign that nature has died because gentle Hiuid was murdered.

No one stopped to consider the consequences of killing a god of nature, and no one even bothered on the topic again. Here, beneath your feet and beyond Hiuid’s fingers is the result of divinity being stripped away unkindly. The city has built itself upon death, and will one day encompass that. Everyone will die as some sort of divine punishment, because every day you come, the rot passed Hiuid’s fingers draws nearer (not even the city’s so-called new gods, the dragonsI, could save you).

The crunch-crunch-crunch as you walk is the sign of impending doom, but you know that if you spoke up about it, you would be shunned. The city is built upon the notion that Hiuid’s death was the most just act to ensure the survival of mortals. You could tell everyone in the city that Hiuid’s death was the start of a slow death for mortals (that slowly life will be choked out and no one will be left to warn others off this path), but no one would listen.

Not like it would matter. Life can’t make its way over here in the dead lands anyways, not without treading into it willingly.

You never knew of anyone besides yourself who would go into the devastation of their accord, yet one day, a witch and their dragon trail after you. You ignore them for as long as you can, but you remain well aware that the both of them were there, following after you like an unwanted shadow. Passed Hiuid’s fingers, there is nothing to hide behind (no rocks, no fungus—nothing). You decided it is better to let them see the expanse of death for themselves. Perhaps they will be reaffirmed that nothing of worth is out here and will return home so that they could act as though they never got too curious.

Eventually, you realize they’ve followed you too far for this to be an act of simple curiosity. They want something from you. You turn around and take in one deep breath before you speak:

“Should I be concerned that the two of you are creepin’ after me?”

The witch stares at you, but doesn’t stop walking towards you.

“Are you plannin’ on muggin’ me? I doubt followin’ a stranger out to the Rot is worth the trouble, yeah?” you tell them.

“I ain’t ever seen anything so dead before!” They tell you, like if following you was some revelation about the cycle of life and death. They don’t say anything again till they’re right in front of you, their green-and-blue semi-feathered dragon standing tall beside them. “Ya must be one of those crazy folks who think they can find something beyond here, huh?” They shortly laugh, like they’re an old friend of yours and this is some casual reunion.

“What, you’re sayin’ this is a common thing? I’ve never seen anyone out here beside myself,” you tell them, and before they try to go for a smart remark, “And you two, now.”

“Well, course not! It was the older ones, you know? Had this grand ol’ idea that there was more than pickin’ at some god’s corpse, because they saw a life worth livin’ or somethin’ like that. It’s just some tall tale,” they explain, waving their hands as though they’ve unconcerned, “If you tell your kids people come out here an’ disappear, your kids won’t come out here, simple as that.”

You shrug, “Ah, well there it is. I was never told of things like that.”

They hum, and then lean forward to make eye contact. You notice their eyes are light brown with some glitter-and-shimmer to them. They purse their lips at you and just stare. “Gotta say, my girl here thought you were somethin’ special, but I ain’t see it.”

You glance at the dragon with a raised brow. “What, she tell you somethin’ was up with me or…?”

The witch tsks, “Course she did.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re crazy—”

“What?! No I ain’t! Nothin’s crazier than comin’ out here all on your lonesome every day and for what? The nerve of ya,” they huff. And then, “She can talk. Dragons are gods, which ya should know if anyone has raised ya right…! And they can talk however they want, especially to the folks they like.”

“There’s no gods left in this world, especially not after Hiuid’s death. The dragons only stole his magic, they didn’t become gods in his stead like everyone thinks! So I swear, if you’re just going to go off about nothin’ important—”

The witch tsks at you and throws their hands up. They back away from you and gesture at their dragon as though you’re insufferable. The dragon huffs and turns to you. You make eye contact with her and notice her eyes are green. For a moment, the crest of feathers on her head fan out rhythmically much in the way dragons do when they’re communicating with each other. She repeats this action and stares intently at you, which makes you frown. You feel as though she’s trying to talk to you, but you obviously aren’t a dragon. The dragon stops this to stare blankly at you and then, suddenly, charges at you, knocking you onto the ground. The witch doesn’t do anything in response to this, so you try to free yourself (maybe this was a mugging after all and you had been tricked into letting your guard down).

The dragon growls at you for struggling—a warning. You freeze and make eye contact with her. It almost feels like she’s glaring right into your soul, but you still close your eyes in anticipation for an attack. Briefly, you had seen a glimpse of gold before closing your eyes and, just as briefly, you feel the scales and feathers of the dragon touch your head, startling you into opening your eyes. There isn’t an ounce of pain, instead:

Your vision is engulfed in gold, before fading into a new image. There are plants looming tall about you, and small creatures flying above. You hear things pitter-pattering and sluggishly (astoundingly slow), you pull your arms up to guard yourself, apparently after something has already ran passed you.

You try to get up off the ground, and though you feel slow as you do so, you swear you feel the weight of something on your chest (something’s sitting on you, keeping you on the ground). You stand there for a bit, the world moving faster than you, making it impossible to get your bearings.

The sky is brighter than you’ve ever seen it. No dark clouds up there casting a shadow. Only the tall plants (trees, you think in awe, from what you read about as a kid) and some largo mushrooms shield you from the harsh and bright sky. You see the rings of the planet, too, so you figure it must sometime in the brighter months, unfortunately for you and your soul-splitting headache (you almost feel like the very fiber of your very soul is being rearranged).

Something runs past you again, and you try to catch a good glimpse of it before it’s gone. It’s a kid running after some furry dragon-like animal. As they keep running, they turn around to wave. For a moment, you think they’re urging you to follow after them, but a different kid runs through you and suddenly everything’s spinning and you faintly hear the kids laughing and the gold is back (and something is holding your head and)—

You close your eyes, heave a troubled breath and open your eyes. You’re still on the path and the world is still just a bit too fast for you. There’s a soothing, rubbing pressure on the side of your head now, but you ignore it to look down the path and try to see where the kids are heading. Somewhere in the distance, you see white pillars, and they remind you of something important (like a hand left to rot). Just beyond that, on top of some unseeable mass, there is a giant dragon, gold and glowing. She’s looking directly at you (somehow, it feels like you’ve known Her all your life, like a bitter memory—somehow, you know Her name, know Her personally).

It makes you want to cry. You’re overwhelmed by Her and by this new world. You feel yourself fall, and your leg kicks to catch yourself, but you still land on the ground (you feel no impact—).

You never stood up off the ground—

With a gasp you open your eyes, and the first thing you see is the glowing gold eyes of the witch’s dragon. The dragon’s eyes remind you of Her, and… Ah.

“What the fuck.” You’re not asking anything, because you already know the answer. You heard a story from Amehiuid once before, that her grandfather’s generation were the last to receive Visions. That the gods would choose a prophet and present them with some divine truth.

You hear the witch snort (their hands leave your head, from where they had been massaging you?) and their dragon huffs, too. She stays on top of you, her eyes staring into the depths of your soul. You come to the realization that you’re crying in awe at the sight of her eyes. A god—real divinity (something you bitterly hated because you thought it just wasn’t real) sits on top of you and has decided you’re what? Hers now? Her prophet?

Her eyes flicker back to their original green color, and you’re given a brief respite of emotions before her eyes return to gold (you can almost swear you see the future in those eyes, and maybe you had). The eye contact now is more serious and has a heavier spiritual weight to it.

In your head, a voice says, “Young soul, troubled by the touch o’ hate… I’ve given you a taste o’ the future. We need you to quit this needless grievin’ o’ the old world and embrace the new nature.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth waters with the prospect of “the new nature,” at the idea of getting to be a part of it—at the idea of being involved with the gods because the stories were true (the dragons are bonafide gods).

The dragon’s intense gaze softens as though she comes to the realization that you will not fight this (that you do not hate the gods, that you desperately wanted the love of a god just like any other mortal; that Hiuid’s only fault was being killed). “When Gentle Hiuid died, his divine nature didn’t leave you. Mortals agreed to worship us dragons—mortals divinized us and so now we’ve received ol’ Hiuid’s magic.

We’re the New Gods of Nature. Our reach is where you believe it is. And we need you need to convince the rest o’ those mortals that we can fix these lands over here—”

“I’ll do it,” you say breathlessly and without hesitation. You should have paid better attention to Amehiuid’s stories, should have learned the deeper meaning, should’ve seen the truth—

“Ease it, boy,” you hear. You see the dragon snip at you gently and her wings stretch above her loomingly. Your thoughts running wild are not appreciated, so you try to slow yourself down with deep breaths (even when you want to scream in joy and rejoice for everything you’ve ever wanted—the deep down desires you resented—has been given to you).

You speak to fully fix the problem: “Who was She?”

“Your job is to help make her appear someday. ‘S’all any o’ us know about Her. ‘S’all any o’ us need to know about Her,” she pauses to look at her witch who sits patiently by your head, “No matter how long it takes you, the both of you will revive these lands.”

You make eye contact with the witch and see the flecks of gold in their eyes (can imagine the same in your own eyes now). They smile gently at you as you think about how someday, the land beyond Hiuid’s fingers will be alive again, and maybe, deep down in the core of your soul, it was all you ever wanted. Maybe you were one of those crazy folks looking for something beyond.

Thing is you’re the one who found something. Found that the felled god was not a sign of mortal life’s impending doom, it was the sign of its renewal. Here, laying in the death and decay with a dragon sitting on top of you, you found the truth—that mortals were always meant to take the blessing of Hiuid’s corpse and give something back.

The dragons, divinized by the mortals who defeated Hiuid, had the very same purpose. This was their task as the New Gods of Nature, to decompose and recycle. Take and give. You should have seen it sooner—not have forgotten the truth behind Amehiuid’s stories. She was preserving the story of a new Divinity’s birth, the story of the dragons’ divinizing.

When you were younger, you lost sight of what Hiuid’s death really meant for the city and for the world.. Now that you’re an adult, you were given a vision of the truth. Dragons absorbed the last dredges of divinity and helped repurposed a god’s body into a city, so that one day they may take their responsibilities outward and tend to the world as Hiuid would have.

You laugh and cry; you’re so happy to have been wrong about the gods.