“I’ll be honest, Vim. I don’t remember the name of it. But I do know it was made from where I’m from. The whole world imported it from us,” Carson said as he poured me a cup of his liquor.

“I recognize the smell. Though I’ve only ever encountered it in your cabinets, and cups,” I said honestly as he filled up my cup.

He grinned at me. “Have you now? So you’ve tasted it before? Good! Good,” Carson seemed to really like that as he finished and sat back, and I stared down at my full cup.

The liquid was dark, yet somehow clear. It felt cool, as if it had ice in it, but there was no hint of any. The scent of it was strong, and itched a part of the back of my brain. One that made my left eye half close.

As I studied the liquor Carson filled his own glass again. “How wonderful. My first drink in forever, and I get to share it with someone special,” he said to himself, excitedly.

I didn’t correct him. This would be his fifth, at least since I’d entered the house. Something told me he had likely been drinking this stuff for nearly forever, maybe this whole time, and he’s just… never noticed.

It almost made me want to not drink it, but I knew even if it was poisoned and corrupted it didn’t matter. My body would not be harmed by it. My parents had made sure of that.

I lifted my cup once Carson had finished filling his. We cheered one another, and then both took a drink.

I kept my eyes open as I watched him over my cup, as I took a drink. Carson, like the times before, closed his eyes and indulged in his drink.

Unable to deny it, the drink was delicious. I felt the tiny sting, the burning sensation he had mentioned earlier, but it was nowhere near bad enough to bother me or ruin the taste or flavor. It was one I had indeed drunk before, so many years ago, and like before… I failed at recognizing the taste to it. There were several flavors mixed together, and all unique and pure. You would think I would be able to easily tell what it was made out of.

Wheat? Poppy? Potatoes? Sugarcane? Maybe berries, or something like them? Or maybe it was some mixture, with specific herbs and spices? Surely it was fermented, and likely within a barrel, but how? With what method? Was fire involved, or maybe some other distillation process?

Although I languished in its conundrum, and dedicated its taste once again to memory, I had no more answers to its origin or methodology than I did before sitting down.

Damn.

“Ah! Just as I remembered it, lovely,” Carson said between a breath of relief as he placed his cool cup to his forehead, as if he had a hangover all of a sudden.

Maybe he did. He was broken in odd ways, so maybe even a god could suffer such a simple malady under such a condition.

“It is very good, yes,” I admitted to him.

He smirked and nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”

It was.

Carson sighed gently as he put his cup down onto the table and leaned back a bit in his chair. He gestured at me as I went to take another drink. I still had half a cup left.

“I’ve been here for a few years now, I think. I saw you from afar, in that lake town nearby. I had visited during a storm. I’d gone to save them from sinking, but saw you and panicked. I ran away… and then eventually found myself back here, waiting and hoping you’d come back one day,” Carson then said.

Oh…?

“That was almost fifty years ago,” I said, remembering that storm. It had been almost unnatural. I wonder if he himself had been the cause, somehow. Merit’s kingdom had indeed almost sunk because of it. We had stopped it, but half the city had flooded even with my best efforts to stop such a thing from happening.

Carson shrugged. “Might have been.”

Right. It didn’t matter. Whether it was a year ago or a hundred, it genuinely didn’t.

All that mattered was the here and now.

“So you came back,” I said softly.

“I did.”

“To here,” I said.

He frowned and nodded. “For you.”

“Why…?” I whispered.

Carson the god met my eyes and smiled at me, as if I was a child asking why the sun was hot.

“I know you can kill us.”

“I can,” I said.

“Would you?” he asked.

“I will.”

Carson’s smile grew a little, becoming gentler. “Yet you look troubled, Vim. Why?”

Shifting a little, the little bit of liquor in my cup swirled as I lowered it to the table. I placed the cup down, as if afraid of spilling its contents, and wondered how to respond to him.

I was troubled, wasn’t I?

And it wasn’t just because this was strange.

“Here I thought you were incapable of pity. If only they all knew,” Carson then said.

My heart went cold.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Gone, Vim. They’re all gone. If any are still alive, I don’t know where they are, or even who they are anymore. I remember the others, being with them for what felt like an eternity, but the memories are all jumbled and hazy… I don’t think I could even…” Carson’s face contorted into worry, and maybe even pain, as he pondered his own memories. I almost felt bad for him, but the sudden realization that I was pitying a god made me all the more callous.

I’ll not pity him again.

Carson then turned, and waved his hand lazily at the area next to us. I took a small breath, to steady and steel myself, but once again he fooled me. Instead of an attack… the world simply shifted. Colors came and went, and the house around us faded a bit into shadows… as a woman appeared.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

For the tiniest moment I thought it was another god. Maybe one that had been here all along, that I hadn’t sensed. But very quickly the reality of what I was seeing, what was happening, became clear as the woman’s appearance shifted ever so slightly. As if a reflection on dirty water, she seemed almost see-through as she turned and smiled down at something.

And… unlike the fancy dress she wore, with all its fancy details, and the hat upon her head which I could make out every strand of straw… her face was as blank as an empty canvas.

She almost looked like an apparition, without a face. It was unnatural. Made me feel on guard, even though I knew she was just a memory. A vision. A play of light.

She wasn’t really there next to us.

“See…? I can’t even remember their faces. Or their voices. We should be able to hear her right now, talking to me,” Carson said with an empty voice as we watched the woman stand up straighter and jiggle in a laugh. A hearty one, which very well should have been noisy and boisterous by the looks of it. She was even holding her stomach as she did.

The two of us watched the scene for a moment, until it went still. The faceless woman became solid for a brief moment, and then shattered into millions of tiny pieces as she and the scene around her faded into mist. As if turning into countless grains of sand, the image fell away and revealed the house around us once more.

Carson sighed as the memory disappeared, and turned to look at me once more. “I’ll be honest, Vim. I had kind of hoped you would have simply killed me on sight. So that I’d not have to suffer. Or even know what was happening,” he said.

I gulped, and suddenly wished to take a drink again.

Feeling thirsty for the first time in years, I shifted and held the god’s gaze. His eyes looked weary. In pain. Depressed.

Humans had such eyes.

Non-humans had them even more often. It was the same eyes I’d seen many times. The ones who begged me for a mercy.

The plight of the endling.

Yet…

From a god…?

But no.

I knew the truth.

My father had proved it too.

“You really want to die,” I whispered.

Carson slowly nodded. “I do.”

“You’ve been waiting for me. To do the deed,” I said, understandingly.

“For a long time,” he added.

My stomach churned, as if the liquor wasn’t sitting well. But I knew the truth. I was simply disgusted.

“Why are you hesitating, Vim? You used to kill us on sight,” Carson asked, as if accusationally. He almost seemed to be trying to egg me on. As if begging, almost.

The cup in my grip shattered. I had squeezed too tightly, and Carson didn’t even flinch. I felt a tiny pain in my left hand, where the cup had undoubtedly cut into me. But I ignored it, and the liquor that was now slowly making its way towards me along the table’s top.

“I wish to die, Vim. My mind has failed me. My body following suit. I do not know how or why, but it is a fact and it is my hell. I am in a prison I cannot endure. And you my only hope to escape it,” he asked of me.

Standing up, I knocked over my chair. It rattled on the ground as it fell, and Carson looked up as to keep our eyes connected. He didn’t startle, or look worried or upset. The man still had that same pained smile on his face he had had most of our conversation.

He was serious. Completely serious.

A god was asking me for mercy. In a way I’d not ever experienced.

Glaring at the man, I wondered if this really was a trick. Maybe I was being fooled completely. Beyond even my own senses.

Surely… right?

But the liquor had not been weird. It had tasted fine, and I felt fine even after almost finishing that cup. He had not used his abilities upon me, yet. I felt no tug or pull on my body, soul, or mind. I had not been whisked away to a far corner of the world, or set aflame from within. The only things he’s done so far is unsettle me, by acting oddly.

This man, this god, was my enemy.

The enemy of my parents.

And he was begging me to kill him.

Even if he didn’t ask for it… even if it was all a ploy, it still needed to be done. It had to be done. Even if this was all some strange attempt at tricking me, it didn’t matter. He still needed to die. And I would still have to kill him.

Especially if this wasn’t a ploy at all, and he really was of failing mind. A god was a disaster. A danger to the world. One with a broken mind was even more-so. A terrible calamity even beyond their little creations.

With a wave of his hand he could wipe out Merit’s Oasis. This whole area. The whole region.

Not far from here was Miss Beak. Past her were others. Well over a hundred members called these deserts home. He endangered them all with each breath.

He was dangerous. And if his mind really was broken, he was a danger to even himself.

And even he knew it.

“You’re… sure about this?” I asked carefully, unsure of how else to address it.

“I’ve been waiting here for hundreds of years for this. I’m sure,” he said with a nod.

I saw the surety. The relief, even.

But even more so… I saw the surety in his response.

He had said hundreds of years just now. Even though Merit’s kingdom hadn’t even been here that long.

His mind really was gone. Lost to time, maybe.

I had always known gods could be crazy.

Insane, even.

But not like this. Not like this at all.

It almost made him seem…

Normal.

Carson then flinched and shook his head. “Please… Vim, please. My own mind is not my own anymore… I just now was wondering who you were, I hadn’t recognized you,” Carson said stiffly, as if in pain.

Maybe he was.

Taking a small breath, I nodded.

Fine. I was going to kill him anyway.

May as well put an end to this craziness while I could.

Hell, I even had permission.

Stepping forward, I rounded the table and approached the god. I did so carefully, even though he didn’t seem to even acknowledge I was drawing near. Then, right as I was about to reach out to grab him… he startled and raised a hand.

I almost shot forward, to stop him, but he flinched. “Wait..!”

Hesitating, I flinched as Carson glanced down to his cup. He grabbed at it, and then realized it was empty.

“I’d… like a drink first. One last time, before I die,” he said slowly, as if speaking in a lull.

My eyes wavered as I saw, and heard, the serious plea in his voice. By my parents, this wasn’t a ploy at all, was it?

Feeling strange beyond reason, I reached over and grabbed the pitcher. The one he’d been using the whole time.

He perked up as I picked the pitcher up, and went to fill his cup. He watched the liquor fill his cup and he grinned happily at it. “Why, Vim! How did you know what I like?” he asked happily.

“Just a hunch…” I whispered, unable to understand how his mind could really be so far gone. It was if he couldn’t even remember the last few minutes.

As I poured from the pitcher, I realized something rather interesting. Something I should have noticed even before, but used the strangeness of the situation as an excuse for not doing so.

The pitcher wasn’t emptying. No matter how much I poured from it, it remained nearly full.

Once his cup was full, I lowered the pitcher back to the table… and noted the heaviness of it, and where the liquor was within the thing.

It was indeed nearly full. As if not a drop had been poured from it yet.

An infinite source of liquor.

Damnable creations.

Carson then lifted his cup to me, in cheers… and I realized I had just been rather rude.

Finding another cup, I quickly filled it up as well. I took the cup in hand, clanked it against his and nodded.

“To life,” I said.

“To death.”

I drank alongside him, and made sure this time to drink it in full. I didn’t waste a drop.

Lowering my cup to the table, I watched as Carson finished his own cup… and then breathed a very familiar sigh of relief.

Fifth and final cup.

“Tastes as good as I remember it…” he mumbled… as I stepped forward, to let him pass before he forgot all about his drink again.

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