The God's Deceit - The Web Begins

I didn't see him at first. The figure that emerged from behind the trees blended into the darkness, his steps slow, almost reluctant. It wasn't until the moonlight caught his face that I realized who it was.

Wayne.

His golden eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks matted with fur that looked damp, and his whole posture screamed defeat. He wiped at his face with the back of his paw, the gesture quick, almost self-conscious. My chest tightened at the sight of him—at the raw, unfiltered sadness on his face. I'd seen Wayne quiet before, sure. Shy, reserved, even awkward. But this? This was something else entirely.

"What are you two doing out here?" His voice was low, almost hoarse. He glanced at me, then at Griz, his brows furrowing. "It's late."

The silence that followed was deafening. The forest around us seemed to hold its breath. The trees loomed tall and black against the night sky, their skeletal branches reaching toward each other like conspirators. The occasional rustle of leaves sounded unnaturally loud, and the cold air carried the faint smell of damp earth. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, steady but loud, and I wasn't sure if it was the chill or the tension that made me shiver.

Griz said nothing, his usual stoic demeanor somehow feeling heavier, sharper. His broad shoulders were rigid, and his dark eyes flicked toward Wayne like he was assessing some unseen threat. I swallowed hard, acutely aware of the tension hanging between the three of us.

"Wayne," I said finally, breaking the silence. "Are… are you okay?"

His ears twitched, and he looked away, his paw coming up again to wipe at his cheek. "Yeah," he muttered, though his voice cracked. "I just… needed some air."

I didn't need to ask what he meant. Levi. The name echoed in my mind, and my throat tightened. I hadn't known Levi long—not like Wayne had—but even I could feel the hole his absence had left. And looking at Wayne now, at the way his shoulders slumped and his hands fidgeted, I knew that grief was still fresh, raw.

Wayne sniffed, a quiet, pitiful sound, and for a moment, I thought I should say something—anything—to help. But what could I say? What did I even know about grief? My mind scrambled for something comforting, but all that came out was, "Well, uh… at least the forest air's fresh, right?"

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Wayne's ears twitched, and he looked at me, his expression blank. Griz let out a low grunt, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"Fresh air," Wayne repeated flatly. He gave a dry laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. "Yeah. Fresh air."

I wanted to sink into the ground.

Wayne shook his head, his frown deepening. "What about you two?" he asked, his gaze shifting between me and Griz. "What are you doing out here? At this hour?"

Griz shifted, his towering frame blocking me from Wayne's view. "Training," he said gruffly, his tone clipped and final. "Mental endurance."

"Mental endurance?" Wayne tilted his head, his ears perking slightly. His expression wasn't suspicious, exactly—just puzzled. "In the woods? At night?"

"Yes," Griz said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Wayne frowned, clearly not convinced, but he didn't push. "I guess that makes sense," he said slowly, though his gaze lingered on me. "You're still training with Lenny during the day too, right? All that physical stuff?"

I nodded quickly, latching onto the safer topic. "Yeah. Lenny's been running me into the ground, honestly. And now this with Griz…" I forced a weak laugh, though it felt hollow in my chest. "Guess they're trying to turn me into some kind of ultimate warrior or something."

Wayne didn't laugh, but his expression softened slightly. "You're working hard, at least. That's… good." He hesitated, then added, almost reluctantly, "Not everyone in the village thinks so."

I stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Wayne looked away, his ears flattening slightly. "It's just… people talk. About how you're not like the others who've come here. They don't trusts you, Jeremiah."

I froze, his words sinking in like stones. My chest tightened, and I struggled to find my voice. "What do you mean?"

Wayne glanced at me, his ears twitching. "It's not because of anything you did," he said quickly, raising a paw as though to shield me from the weight of his words. "It's just… people are uneasy. You're… different."

"Different?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I intended. "I didn't ask to come here! And I've done nothing but try to help. I even fought that centipede thing, didn't I? Doesn't that mean I earned my place?"

Wayne winced, his shoulders slumping. "It's not about the centipede," he admitted. "Yeah, you did do that but… it's more of how you got here."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean? I was teleported here, same as everyone else."

"Not the same," Wayne said, his voice dropping. He gestured vaguely, as though the explanation weighed on him. "When a fae is sent to this realm, they're placed in the region where they… fit. Where their essence resonates, I guess. That's why most of us here in the forest are woodland fae. It's how the realm works."

"So?" I asked, though a sinking feeling was already beginning to form in my gut.

"So.... you were teleported here," Wayne said, meeting my gaze at last. "You were dropped in the desert. That… doesn't make sense."

I stared at him, the realization hitting me like a cold wave. "And because I ended up in the desert… they think I don't belong."

Wayne nodded slowly. "It's not just that. You're not fae, Jeremiah. You're human. I am sure by now you know that noone has seen a human in this realm for a really long time,except for the obeah man. That's already strange enough, but the desert? That's a whole other level of weird. People are… wary. They don't know what you are or why you're here, and that scares them."

I glanced at Griz, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but his expression was as unreadable as ever. He folded his arms across his massive chest, his sharp eyes fixed on me. "Wayne's right," Griz said, his deep voice steady but unyielding. "You're an anomaly. The villagers don't trust anomalies."

"That's not fair," I snapped, anger flaring in my chest. "I didn't ask to be sent here, let alone to the desert. I'm just trying to survive like everyone else!"

"That doesn't matter to them," Wayne said softly. "They've been through enough—oppression, starvation, Radamar's control. The last thing they want is something… unpredictable. And to them, that's what you are."

The words stung more than I wanted to admit. My jaw tightened, and I clenched my fists, the frustration bubbling up inside me. "So, what am I supposed to do?" I demanded. "How do I get them to stop treating me like some kind of threat?"

Griz's gaze didn't waver. "You work."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You need to show them you're one of them," Griz continued, his tone firm. "Lenny will assign you a job tomorrow. Something to make yourself useful. You'll keep training with us, but during the day, you'll do what the villagers do."

"You want me to take orders from Lenny?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"You'll do what needs to be done," Griz said simply. "Prove to them you're not just another problem they have to deal with."

"Jeremiah," Wayne said, his tone almost pleading, "it's not about following orders. It's about survival. If they see you working, contributing… they'll start to come around. They're not bad people. They're just scared."

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. The thought of bowing to this system—of playing along with Radamar's oppressive rule—made my stomach churn. But what other choice did I have? If it meant keeping the villagers off my back, at least for now…

"Fine," I said at last, the fight draining out of me. "If it means I can get stronger without having to worry about everyone here wanting to take my head… then sure. I'll do it."

The tension, the grief, the unspoken secrets hanging in the air. I glanced at Griz, whose expression remained stony and unreadable, but I could feel the pressure in his gaze. He wanted this conversation over.

"Well," I said, forcing a smile, "if I'm going to keep trying, I need to rest. Lenny's going to kill me if I'm too tired to keep up tomorrow."

Wayne blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. "Yeah. You probably should."

"Let's head back to the… shack," I said, almost saying Levi's name but catching myself just in time. The last thing Wayne needed was a reminder of his friend. "Come on."

Wayne hesitated, his golden eyes flicking between me and Griz. "What about him?"

Griz's gaze snapped to me, sharp and heavy. His expression didn't change, but I understood the look he gave me. It wasn't a question—it was a warning. We'll talk.

"He'll catch up," I said quickly, steering Wayne toward the path. "Let's go."

Wayne let me guide him, though he glanced back once, his ears twitching slightly. "You sure you're okay, Jeremiah?" he asked softly.

I nodded, forcing another smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

He didn't press further, and I didn't dare look back at Griz. But as we walked through the dark, quiet forest, the weight of everything hung heavy in my chest. The villagers didn't trust me. Griz wanted answers. And Wayne… Wayne was breaking in front of me, and I didn't know how to fix it.

Wayne hesitated, his golden eyes flicking between me and the path ahead. "Jeremiah," he said softly, "are you sure this is what you want? Staying here, training with them… fighting for a village that doesn't even trust you?"

His question hit harder than I expected. I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. Was I sure? Did I want to stay? My chest tightened as I glanced back toward the woods, where Griz still lingered in the shadows.

"I don't know," I admitted finally, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "But I know one thing. I can't leave until I'm strong enough to face what's out there.

Wayne didn't reply immediately, but his ears twitched, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Then I guess you've got a lot to do," he said, his voice still heavy but with a hint of something softer—hope, maybe.

The shadows of the forest seemed to press in around me, and I knew one thing for certain.

Tomorrow was going to be worse.

The walk to Levi's shack was quieter than I expected, but not quiet enough to drown out my thoughts. The forest around us seemed to stretch endlessly, its shadows shifting under the pale moonlight. Even the wind had stilled, leaving only the sound of our footsteps crunching against the dry leaves and twigs. Wayne stayed beside me, his head low, his tail swishing in small, uneven arcs behind him. I glanced back once, but the thick wall of trees had already swallowed Griz, leaving us alone on the winding path.

We were far enough now, away from the towering oaks where the other villagers gathered, where their whispering stares always followed me. As Levi's shack came into view, standing alone in its small clearing, Wayne finally spoke.

"So," he said, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the silence. "What were you really doing out there?"

I felt my chest tighten as the question hung in the air. "Training," I said after a beat, forcing a laugh that felt awkward and hollow. "Just training."

Wayne's ears twitched as he glanced at me, his golden eyes sharp. "All this training… it's to protect the villagers, right? And to get them to like you?"

I hesitated, unsure. "Yeah, I guess. But what do they even need protection from? It's just them out here. Who's attacking them? Am I supposed to break up fights over scraps of food?"

Wayne sighed, his tail flicking. "It's not just us. There's another village deeper in the forest—people who left after Radamar took control. They raid us sometimes for food and supplies."

"Raid you?" I asked, shocked. "And Radamar lets that happen?"

"Radamar doesn't deal with it. It's Lenny and Griz who handle them, but their numbers are bigger. We've been lucky, but who knows how long that'll last?"

I frowned. Another village, rebelling against Radamar's rule—it explained a lot. "So that's why everyone's tense," I muttered. "They're not just scared of Radamar. They're scared of them."

Wayne nodded. "That's why the training matters. You could help."

I paused, the weight of his words heavy, but I couldn't let it sway me. "Even if I help, I can't stay. You know that, Wayne."

Wayne stopped, his eyes blazing. "Why? Why can't you stay?"

"Because I don't belong here," I said firmly. "I'm human. The only other human here is the Obeah man, and I need to find him to get back home."

"Home," Wayne spat bitterly. "You act like it's the only thing that matters. Like it's more important than what's happening here—than the people here."

His words stung, but I couldn't deny the truth of what I felt.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. Levi's shack loomed ahead, its weathered frame leaning slightly to one side, as though it were struggling to hold itself upright. The wooden planks were dark with age and moss, and the small window near the door was cracked, letting in the faint glow of moonlight.

Inside, the shack was chaos. Stuff was strewn everywhere—clothes, tools, weapons, gadgets, all piled haphazardly in the corners or scattered across the floor. It smelled faintly of damp wood and something metallic, like old machinery. The single room was small, cramped even, with barely enough space to move around without stepping on something.

Neither of us said a word as we stepped inside. The silence stretched, filling the room like a third presence. I bent down to pick up a bundle of clothes that had been tossed near the door and started folding them, the motion almost mechanical. Wayne followed suit, his movements slow and deliberate, and together we began tidying up the mess.

We worked quietly, sorting through the remnants of Levi's life. The clothes were folded into a neat pile in one corner, and the tools and gadgets—many of which I didn't even recognize—were placed carefully in another. The weapons were set aside too, their sharp edges glinting faintly in the moonlight that filtered through the cracked window.

I was the first to break the silence. "This place…" I said, glancing around at the patched roofs, tattered clothes, and sluggish villagers. "It's, uh… rough."

Wayne gave a small snort, though it lacked any real humor. "Yeah, well, Radamar makes sure of that. We farm, but he takes most of what we grow—about eighty percent goes straight to him. What's left is barely enough to keep us alive."

"And the clothes?" I asked, eyeing a woman stitching together scraps of fabric under the shade of a leaning hut.

"He trades for those too," Wayne said, bitterness creeping into his tone. "Cloth and other materials come in from the other regions, but the best stuff goes to Radamar and his guards. Some villagers are tasked with making uniforms or decent clothes for them, but we only get the leftover scraps—whatever's too small or too ruined to be worth anything."

I frowned, shaking my head. "So, the villagers work themselves to death, farming and making clothes, and all you get are the crumbs?"

"Pretty much," Wayne muttered, his ears flicking slightly. "Half the time, the tools we need for the fields are so busted, it's a miracle we get anything done at all. And when we do send in requests for replacements, the stuff we get back is cheap and falls apart within weeks."

"That's insane," I said, my voice rising as my hands tightened into fists. "How do you all live like this?"

Wayne didn't answer right away. He fiddled with a small, rusted gadget before setting it aside and meeting my gaze. His eyes carried a weight I couldn't quite name. "Because we have to," he said quietly. "Radamar's too strong to fight, and without him… we wouldn't last a week against what's out there."

I stared at him for a long moment, my chest tight with frustration and something else—something closer to pity. I exhaled slowly, my voice quieter this time. "Wayne… Tell me what you can about this place.I promise that I will try to make things better for nit just everyone else here but for you as well."

Wayne hesitated, his ears drooping slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "You probably should know how this region works if your going to survive it."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. As we sat in the middle of Levi's shack, surrounded by the remnants of his life, I couldn't help but feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. This world, these people… they were broken in ways I hadn't fully understood. And somehow, I'd been thrown into the middle of it.