Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
Breaking a god was no easy task, but Enryn had dedicated his lifetime to it. Well technically, his some odd great-grandfather Gylas had dedicated each generation’s eldest. Whether they wanted it or not.
Metal struck across the bars of the god’s prison in a discordant rattle that the material could not have accounted for on its own. Gylas sighed and snapped the Jeraleth tome closed, and plopped his feet to the floor from the desk they’d rested on.
Shoving himself up, he crossed the room and kicked the bars, careful to keep his boot on the outside. “Quit it.” He glowered at the ancient and overly gaunt man stooped just the other side of the barrier.
“Have you no respect for your elders!” The voice wobbled as the god spoke.
Gylas shrugged. “My elders? Sure. But I don’t recognize a devotion bloated parasite to be my elder.”
“Hump.” The voice changed over the quick word, changing from aged to young. A blond-haired boy pushed back long bangs. “But my followers need me. Please for a moment only the tiniest window to ease their suffering?”
Gylas flicked his gaze to the thermometer above his desk. Within pure light flowed changing color and size. No wonder he hadn’t needed a candle. He’d never seen it so bright or full. “Taking the pressure off would be madness,” he said making a mark. “Try the next generation.”
“Fool, my storm crescendos and shall not be contained!” A warrior now the god glowered impotently.
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