The God's Deceit - The Web Begins

The air inside Levi's shack was unnervingly still. Even the forest outside seemed to hold its breath, as though the trees themselves were leaning closer to catch our words. The occasional creak of the wooden walls was the only sound, but it somehow felt too loud, breaking the heavy silence that hung between us.

Wayne sat across from me, his golden eyes darting to the window as if he expected someone—or something—to burst in at any moment. His paw fidgeted with a loose thread on the hem of his tunic, pulling at it until it frayed further. He hadn't said a word since I'd asked him to explain the history of this region, and the weight of his silence was starting to unnerve me.

"Wayne," I said gently, leaning forward. "I get it. This isn't easy for you. But if I'm going to help, I need to understand what's really going on here. You can trust me."

He didn't look at me immediately. Instead, he stared at the floorboards, his ears twitching slightly. Finally, he let out a low sigh, his shoulders sagging. "It's not about trust," he murmured. "It's about… everything else. What if I tell you, and you… do something stupid? What if you end up like Levi? I can't… I can't deal with that again."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. I hesitated, searching for the right thing to say. "I'm not Levi," I said quietly, though I wasn't entirely sure who I was trying to convince—him or myself. "But if you keep me in the dark, Wayne, I'm just as likely to make mistakes. I need to know what we're dealing with. Please."

Wayne's paw froze, the thread snapping between his claws. He looked at me then, his golden eyes filled with a mix of hesitation and something deeper—fear, maybe. For a moment, I thought he was going to shut down entirely, but then he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll tell you."

He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant, as though pulling memories from a place he didn't often visit. "This land," he began, "is divided into seven regions. Each one is unique—its own ecosystem, its own people, its own struggles. But it wasn't always like this."

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued despite the unease that lingered in the air.

"What was it like before?"

Wayne continued, his voice low but steady, as though afraid the walls themselves might carry his words beyond this shack.

"Before the Guardians came, there was no division. The land was whole, and the fae lived together. It wasn't perfect—there were always differences between us. But it wasn't… this." He gestured vaguely, as though the very act of describing the current state of things left a bad taste in his mouth.

"The younger generation of fae… they wanted more. More power, more freedom, more control. And the modern fae—those who embraced technology and change—started pushing against the traditions that had held us together for centuries."

My mind raced, trying to picture what he described: a world of unity crumbling into chaos. "And that led to… war?" The word tasted bitter in my mouth.

"Yes " Wayne said simply, his voice hollow, his gaze dropping to his paws. "The younger fae turned on the old, and the modern fae turned on the traditionalists. It started small—disputes over resources, over land—but it escalated quickly. Entire families turned on each other. Villages burned. And the population dwindled faster than anyone could have imagined."

The weight of his words settled heavily in the room. I could almost see it—the chaos, the betrayal, the bloodshed. "And no one tried to stop it?" I asked.

Wayne's ears flattened slightly. "They did. The Creator of this realm, the one who created this place, tried to intervene. When the fae wouldn't listen, the Creator… separated us. Seven regions, each one guarded by a being of immense power. The Guardians were meant to keep us apart, to prevent us from fighting.

"But it didn't," I guessed, the bitterness in his voice telling me everything I needed to know.

Wayne let out a humorless laugh. "No, it didn't. The Guardians kept us from killing each other outright, but they couldn't fix the damage that had already been done.

"The Guardians didn't heal the wounds that had been inflicted. They just hid them, like sweeping dirt under a rug. The fae learned to live in their regions, but the resentment, the fear—it never went away. And then there's this place… this realm. It was never meant to be our home. It was a prison."

"A prison?" I repeated, my chest tightening. "For what?"

"No one knows for sure," Wayne admitted. "The stories say the Creator made this realm to trap one being—a monster, maybe, or a god. But something changed along the way. When the fae were banished here, this prison became our home. And whatever it was meant to contain… well, maybe it's still out there, waiting."

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to focus. "And Radamar?" I asked. "Where does he fit into all of this?"

Wayne hesitated, his gaze dropping to his paws. "It's said that during the war, Radamar was one of the first to tap into the realm's magic. No one knows how he did it, but when he came back… he wasn't the same. He was stronger, yes, but also… darker. He started pulling others to his side, using his power to manipulate and control. By the time the Guardians were put in place, Radamar had already carved out his domain. And he's been here ever since."

I stared at him, my mind racing. "How do you know all this, Wayne? You don't look old enough to have lived through any of it."

Wayne flinched, his ears twitching. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer, but then he muttered, "I didn't. I heard it all from Old Lady Sadie."

"Sadie?" I repeated, confused. "The one Griz warned me about?"

Wayne nodded, his expression tightening. "She knows things—things no one else remembers. Most of the villagers are too scared to go near her, but… she told me. And I believed her."

The room fell silent again, the weight of Wayne's story pressing down on both of us. Outside, the forest remained unnaturally quiet, as though even the wind was too afraid to disturb the moment. I exhaled slowly, my mind churning with questions and doubts, but one thing was clear: this place, this realm, was far more dangerous and complex than I had ever imagined.

The stillness of the shack made every word Wayne spoke feel heavier, more significant. Even the faint scuttling of strange spiders in the far corner barely registered. My eyes caught a glimpse of their spindly legs moving in the shadows, but I couldn't tear my attention away from Wayne's story.

"We mostly trade with the regions next to us," he said, his voice low and cautious. "It's dangerous work, though. To trade, someone has to beat the Guardian of that region. That's no small feat. It's why it's believed that some of the strongest fae are in the other regions. Only they can keep that kind of trade going."

My curiosity burned. "What do you trade?" I asked, leaning forward.

Wayne's gaze shifted to the floorboards, his golden eyes catching the dim light filtering through the cracked window. "Fruits and monsters from the forest. We do a big harvest every few cycles, and everything is delivered to Radamar. He has this room—at least, that's what people say—covered in magic to keep everything from spoiling."

I frowned, a knot forming in my stomach. "If that's the case, then why does it seem like the villagers here haven't eaten anything good in days?"

Wayne hesitated, his ears twitching slightly. "Because we get the rejects," he admitted, his tone bitter. "The fruits that are bruised or overripe. The creatures that are too old or sickly to trade. The rations are low, but… we make it work."

My fists curled tightly, nails digging into my palms as the heat of anger surged through me. "Dis can't right," I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice sharpened as I looked at Wayne, daring him to argue. "How him fi do dis an' still call himself a leader?"

Wayne met my gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "But he can," he said quietly. "He rules this region. No one here is strong enough to challenge him. And besides…" His voice softened, almost reluctantly. "He does protect us. From raids."

My brow furrowed. "Raids? From who?"

Wayne sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The other village in this region. The younger fae who were part of the modern movement—they broke off from us years ago. They went east and built their own settlement. They're… different. Even me being here is dangerous because of my tinkering. If Radamar knew what I've been working on, he'd probably see me as a threat."

He paused, his gaze dropping. "I'd probably be safer with the other village. But I stayed here because… well, because of Levi. I felt safe with him around."

Wayne's voice faltered, and for a moment, his face crumpled, grief threatening to surface. He quickly pushed it away, his ears twitching as though shaking off the memory.

"There are times," he continued, "when people from that village show up. They don't usually stay long—leave before sunrise most of the time. But the few times they didn't… Radamar, Lenny, and Griz made sure they didn't stick around."

I let his words sink in, my mind spinning. "And Radamar?" I asked. "He just… rules from that tree bar I saw earlier?"

Wayne nodded. "Yeah. He puts on a show of serving the people who come there, but it's mostly the men under his command. They drink, they talk, they make deals. But if you climb the stairs to the top, you'll find his real dwelling. It's nothing like what you've seen around here. It's… impressive."

I frowned, glancing around the shack. The wooden walls were warped and dark with age, barely holding together. "I don't get it," I said, shaking my head. "You all live in the forest, in treehouses, but everything looks so… run down. Why not clear out some of the trees deeper in the forest? Thin it out a little and rebuild properly?"

Wayne blinked, surprised by the suggestion. He tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching. "We don't have the tools for that," he said after a moment. "Not anymore."

I hesitated, a thought forming in the back of my mind. It was a small idea at first, but as I considered it, the possibilities grew. My chest tightened, not with fear, but with a strange flicker of hope.

"What if we could build an automatic saw?" I blurted out, sitting up straighter. "Wayne, do you think you could make something like that?"

Wayne froze, staring at me as though I'd just suggested we sprout wings and fly. His eyes searched mine, and for a long moment, he said nothing. The silence in the shack seemed to grow heavier, like even the spiders in the corner had stopped to listen.

"I…" Wayne hesitated, his claws flexing. "I think I can. But it's not just about building it. It would need power. And for that…"

He didn't finish. Instead, he held out his paw and made a small motion with his fingers. To my astonishment, a faint, shimmering energy appeared, swirling around his claws like a living thing. It was subtle, almost fragile, but undeniably real.

"That's… magic," I whispered, leaning forward, my breath catching as faint energy danced around Wayne's claws. It shimmered like a living thing, twisting and fading in the dim light.

His ears flattened as he gave a small shrug, avoiding my gaze. "Not much," he murmured. "Just small things. Enough to tinker. Nothing… important" he said quickly, dropping his paw as the light disappeared. "Just a trick. It's not… it's not like what Radamar can do."

"Are you kidding?" My voice rose, excitement overriding caution. "That's incredible! You've been hiding this, and you call it 'nothing'?"

"Wayne, if you can use that magic to build a magic powered saw, we could change everything. We could clear the trees, rebuild the houses, maybe even grow more food!"

For the first time since we started talking, Wayne's expression shifted. The nervousness in his eyes gave way to something brighter, something that looked an awful lot like hope. "Maybe," he said slowly, as though afraid to let himself believe it. "Maybe we could."

The heaviness in the shack began to lift, replaced by a tentative sense of possibility. For the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn't seem so bleak.

"Let's do it," I said, my voice firm. "We'll start tomorrow. Together."

Wayne nodded, his golden eyes meeting mine. "Alright," he said softly. "Together."

Outside, the forest remained still, but this time, the silence didn't feel oppressive. It felt… alive. As though the trees themselves were waiting to see what we would do next.