Callisto

To the death

He feels the blood dripping down his arm.

He presses the flashing button on the control panel's face.

The elevator rockets up, just as the morphine starts to wear off.

But one thought echoes in his mind:

"Now I've got you, Jespar. You and your Tribal have nowhere left to run."

...

Rain-Born and Jespar looked with incredulous eyes on the tiny spray can, imprisoned in a simple cage of glass. It was a damned joke, Rain-Born thought. She was being mocked by spirits of the Old Ones who pulled the strings behind this ridiculous circus stage.

And yet there was no denying that this was it: the Creator. The architect of all her peril.

And, apparently, the salvation of her people.

You doubt me, it said, scraping its words across the soft, wet flesh of her brain.

She gulped. It knew her every thought, without exception. It could probably sense the fear that trembled within her facade of pride. So she didn't try to hide it.

"I have learned not to believe that which I see."

Hah! She felt it laugh. A good lesson! Many a fool has met their end by putting their stock in the physical world before them. A dull mind is a debilitating disease indeed.

"I do not believe what I see," she said, cradling Jespar closer to her. "Because this was the way you made the world."

Not me, Rain-Born. Your charming companion has spoken some truths to you in his fumbling. Know this: I am merely the tool of homo-sapiens. Think not of me as a God – or creator – rather, know me as I am: potential.

"The potential..." Jespar suddenly coughed. "For madness."

Rain-Born felt his hatred pour from his throat even as his life ran red down her very arms. Callisto's reply, however, was calm.

Madness? Jespar, you, a creation born from my essence, would counsel me on madness? Any judgement you level against me must also be leveled against humankind, mustn't it? The hand squeeseth the spray, Callisto obeys.

It turned its attention back to Rain-Born. She felt it, like a predator locking eyes with more potent prey.

You know why you are here, Rain-Born. And yet, your path has never truly been your own. You have been nothing more than the pawn of my Children.

"You lie," she spat at the glowing spray-can.

Do not toss such absurd, disgustingly mortal notions at me. I am above lies.

"Jespar is my friend. He has shared this journey with me. He is no more your child than I am."

You may not have been my creation, Rain-Born. But you are more my child than you believe. My spawn have orchestrated your every thought-process, motivation, and emotion since first you tried to grasp that lightning bolt in your tiny hand.

She gasped, searching for words. Jespar said nothing.

"Father-Mother sent me to you," Rain-Born protested. "They sent me to save the Tribe. You hold no sway over my people."

Rain-Born, your ignorance is still your greatest weakness. This however, I cannot fault you for. You know only as much as I desired you to know.

"Speak plainly!" she roared at the tiny thing, knowing the uselessness of her own anger. She should take it in her hands and destroy it now. She would, if she did not hold Jespar's fading life in her hands.