With horror, Alter listened to his mouth scream its frustrated question. This doubtlessly would not go unanswered, to call into question the means and motives of a deity, within the confines of one of their own temples, must prompt some form of retaliation. He braced himself. Yet it seemed that no righteous rebuke was forthcoming. He had not imagined his outburst, as the other two were looking at him with a mix of confusion and fear. Kalaton, whom he could feel was still present, simply blinked, and waited. As the seconds passed, Alter was keenly aware of his heart pounding in his ears, but his body gently began to relax. This silence was an invitation, an opportunity to better phrase his queries, this distant gaze was not unkind. He gulped down a lungful of air and let it hiss out again through gritted teeth, before once more addressing a god.

  “Can you explain what you mean by our selection being irrelevant?” His voice seemed so timidly quiet when compared to his previous statement.

  As each man turned to face the altar again, the world resumed its unnatural shifting. However, the distortions were different this time, they were calmer, almost relaxing to be submerged in. Alter pondered this as they waited for the answer to come. Was this how Boozehound felt? Had the fact that he had finally accepted Kalaton to be a god allowed him greater purchase with which to combat the distillations they brought? When the letters arrived, they shimmered and sprang into vision, airy windchimes in comparison to the harshness of before.

  CIRCUMSTANCE // LOOPHOLE

  TIMING // PRECISE / MINISCULE

  SELECTION // CHOICELESS

  The words hung silently in the air, the connotations they insinuated worthy of a serious internal debate. There were many clarifications that he desired, but it was Boozehound that was the first to voice their thoughts.

  “It was irrelevant because we were the only ones available. Out of all the people in the world, we alone were chosen.” He sounded a little smug as he drew his conclusion.

  “I don’t think so.” Riptide responded, pouring cold water on the idea. “I think the emphasis that’s been put on the timings, plus the use of the word ‘loophole’, implies we were simply the only ones that he could grab during this window of opportunity. Is that correct?” He called out.

  LOOPHOLE // ABSTRACT / ESCAPISM / IMAGINATION / TRIUMPH

  “Yeah, I think we can rule out perfect divine selection.” Alter mused. “In the brief window he had, we were the only ones to match highly specific criteria. Our transportation began right after we completed Cantabria Mansion, I guess at that moment we were so caught up in our virtual success that we ticked all the boxes.”

  “Okay, so we just stumbled our way into this. How does that explain the changes that happened to us? Where did we get our equipment?” Boozehound’s voice was urgent, scared, his words spilling out of his mouth so fast they were practically a slur.

  ADAPTABILITY // IMPART / EXPERTISE / IMPROVEMENTS

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  “It makes sense that a god would be able to adjust and augment those under their control. Adjust us. Grant us the knowledge and materials we need to complete … whatever it is we were brought here to do.” Riptide wrangled logic from the floating statements like wringing water from a wet cloth.

  “You said our arrival was necessary, that means we were brought here for a purpose. What is that purpose?” Alter asked quickly, ensuring that no creeping doubt or shyness could prevent him from speaking.

  PURPOSE // OBJECTIVES / COMPLETION

  “I guess I should’ve expected that.” Alter muttered as his eyes sank to the floor again.

  “Well, what happens once we’ve completed all the objectives?” Boozehound insisted.

  COMPLETION // REPLACEMENT

  There was a deep, heavily weighted pause.

  “Replacement?” Riptide repeated quietly. “No, no, no. That’s not right, that can’t be right.”

  “You're telling me we do your bidding and then you grab some other unsuspecting people and what? Do it all over again?” Alter asked incredulously.

  “I’m not going back!” Riptide slammed a fist against the stone floor.

  Boozehound lay a gentle palm on both of their shoulders, though Alter could feel that his hand was subtly shaking. The Frenchmen rose, silently beckoning the others to follow suit. Once all three were on their feet, he bowed deeply in the direction of the altar, then turned away.

  “I think we’ve had enough revelations for one day.” He murmured softly as they walked slowly towards the door.

  It felt as if Kalaton’s presence was watching them leave in silence. If the deity held onto any emotions, then they were carefully guarded behind an impenetrable, alien mask. As they stepped outside, the low angled evening sun glared angrily on the horizon, harsh light attempting to burrow its way through their hurriedly squinting eyes. A small pair of bells jangled merrily from the main spire of the Sirrithae temple nearby, and a steady stream of believers scurried through the open threshold. Alter couldn’t help but shoot them a meaningful glance at them, one laden with pity and envy in equal measure. In this surreal moment, their lives seemed so simple, so small, free of the mystery and the moving parts he found himself surrounded by.

  They passed the main temples and into the rapidly emptying market square with no words spoken. Through the winding, sun-kissed streets where the gentle orange of firelights began to appear in the widows. The air was laced with the scent of dozens of meals being prepared, although sweet as they were, they stirred no appetites within the silently moving trio. The estate too was quiet, devoid of movement save for the last few stubborn gardeners making the most of the fading light. Osprey Hall followed this trend, the corridors were quiet but for Tabitha’s merry kitchen bustle. In wordless agreement the men made their way back up to the briefing room, taking the same places around the table that they had vacated earlier in the day. Alter eyed his companions properly for the first time since they’d left. Boozehound looked shell shocked; his newfound faith having been so suddenly tested by what they had seen. Riptide was in a similar state, but for different reasons. Fear saw his skin pale, the thought of having to one day return to their previous lives clawed at him like a savage beast. As for himself, well, he didn’t know what to think. His mind was like a shaken snow globe. He knew that somewhere at its centre was a more complete picture, but the air was so thick with wildly spinning thoughts that its shape was impossible to make out. With glacially slow movements, he placed his outstretched hands flat on the table, his fingers beginning to drum slowly on the wooden surface. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat loudly, signalling the others to snap out of their individual trances.

  “Alright, gentlemen.” He began. “What have we learned? And, what do we tell the others?”