The Prophet, Part 2

Daniel had never been an ambitious man. He found comfort in the mundane, the familiar, and the routine. That wasn’t to say he was perfectly satisfied with every single aspect of his life, but he would have had to think very, very hard before making any changes. The month before he’d left, a road had been closed one day on the way to work, forcing a detour. He spent several minutes walking through unfamiliar neighborhoods, and he’d felt like a fraud the entire time. Like someone was going to yell at him for being out of place. That was the sort of person he was.

In some ways, it was actually less stressful to be given a quest and plucked out of his ordinary life by the witch named Bella July and tasked with finding the origin of a mysterious pocket watch from the alleged future. In the southern part of the continent, he really was an outsider. He didn’t have to feel awkward or guilty for feeling that way— it was a verifiable fact. That didn’t mean he wasn’t happy to find something that reminded him of home, though.

To think he’d found it here, within the compound of an esoteric group of people called the Family of the Twisted Rose— humans who made themselves partly plant-based by eating the seeds of a flower that they claimed was either a god or about to give birth to one. The reason they’d invited him in the first place, offering information on the watch for a favor, was that July had the power of a time god at her disposal and they wanted her to speed up the blooming of their Godflower, as they called it.

It was all a little complicated for Daniel’s taste.

He was in the midst of forces far beyond himself, on a mission given by a god. July had told him that failure would mean damage to the fabric of time itself. And here, at the eye of that storm, the belly of that beast, was a familiar sight: the same brand of coffee maker they’d had in his old office break room, and the same brand of coffee.

He hated both with a passion. Had hated them for years. He’d drank it daily, and complained about the taste daily. He hated it exactly as much in this dingy little kitchen owned by a magical cult. Amazing. Even July, who was a coffee maniac, had refused to drink it. Then again, being a coffee maniac was probably why she had such exacting tastes in the first place. She had gone with the cult leader— one ‘Seedmother’ Laurel— down below the main worship hall to see the Godflower. It was lucky that this wasn’t the scary human sacrifice type of cult, or Daniel would have been worried. For himself, that is. July struck him as someone who could survive being killed.

He turned back to his companions, both sitting at the little table on the other side of the room. “This coffee is terrible,” he said cheerfully. The coffee maker was drawing power from the magic of a nascent god and it tasted exactly as terrible. Incredible.

Wreath, sitting closest to the door, gave him a good-natured chuckle. “Even the Seedmother thinks so,” he said. “It’s not so easy for us to get anything better out here.” It was unspoken, but Daniel assumed everyone here changed their names once the plant parts starting coming in. Otherwise the coincidences were a little too much. Wreath was clean-shaven now, but maybe he’d had a beard back then, and it had sprouted leaves until his face was a nice green oval. As it was, he looked more like a salad.

Opposite him sat Briar, a little woman covered in little thorns. More like tiny cactus needles than proper nettle, though. Daniel might have asked her what she thought if she weren’t shy. And mute. The latter was an affect of her plant transformation. Temporary, so Wreath said. The former was just the way she was, and he respected that.

There had also been a plate of sandwiches prepared for him (Ordinary ones; July had checked for any hidden seeds or poison). Ham and cheese and the like. It was around lunchtime, so he dug in.

“So. Uh.” Daniel’s attempt at small talk took a few turns of the key to start. “How long have you two been part of this… group?”

Wreath put down his mug before speaking— far better manners than Daniel or the coffee deserved. “A few years now. I was a lost soul for a long time before that.”

“Oh. Uh. Is that what you call non-members?”

He laughed again, a little more at Daniel this time. “Oh, no. I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear. I mean that I was a runaway. I lived on the road for a long time, much like the Seedmother herself. The Godflower must have seen me when I entered these woods and understood that we were kindred. At least, that’s what I think.”

Daniel had to swallow a bite before he could voice his astonishment. “You were from the North, too?”

“No, I was born in this region. I’m not proud of who I was before I met the Seedmother, but it’s important not to forget.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t like, a murderer or something, were you?” He realized too late how little he wanted the answer to that question.

“It never went that far, luckily. There were plenty of drugs and booze and, well, who knows how far it would have gone?”

He just sounded like a college student. “So, uh, Is that the norm here? People with nowhere to stay joining up?”

Wreath shrugged. “Our members come from all over, but a lot of us were lost before we found our connection to the soil, yes. Sister Briar, for instance, was the child of a fairly wealthy family, but that doesn’t always bring one purpose. That’s why I’m acting as her mentor. That, and to serve as her voice.”

“Right. How long is that going to last, anyway?”

“Her tongue and vocal chords will need another week or so to finish changing. You may not get to hear it yourself, but I look forward to being treated to her lovely singing voice again.” Briar’s sinuous cheeks could still blush.

“That’s good to know,” Daniel said. A few more seconds of awkward silence and the sipping of terrible coffee were all he could stand before he tried another dangerous question.

“I notice there are a few kids here.” Well, not really a question. Not directly, anyway.

“They’re all the children of members,” Wreath assured him. “We haven’t had to kidnap a child in years.”

Daniel sat with his mouth open, full of food, for a few seconds before realizing he was being teased.

“I’m sorry, that was unkind of me. We have a lot to thank you for, Mr. Wells.”

“Me? I’m just the bag-carrier. July is the one with the actual magic and stuff.” He’d at least been thankful for a chance to drop July’s heavy pack on the floor. Not that he dropped it. He laid it down gently, so as not to damage anything. He checked it with his foot, suddenly worried that it might be missing.

“It was you who convinced the Prophet to help us.. If not for you, we wouldn’t have this opportunity at all.”

There was that word again. Laurel had said it, too, but he had assumed it was an attempt at adding a little dramatic flare to the witch’s arrival. “She’s not really a prophet, though, is she? She’s a witch.”

Wreath rested his chin on his hands, brushing up against the pale clovers that stuck up from his sleeves. “The Tolling Witch is a messenger from the god of time. Isn’t that enough?”

“She always says it’s a god of time. I think there might be more than one.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the crude and unoiled wooden door protesting the indignity of being opened. July and Laurel strode in, with Laurel looking very pleased. The dress of rose petals which hid most of her lower body seemed a little more vibrant than before. July wore a poker-face as rigid as a marble statue, and even her chinchilla tail didn’t sway as she walked. That suggested she wasn’t happy but didn’t have any specific reason to complain. She was, after all, the sort of person who loved complaining, and her hostility towards Laurel was barely-disguised at best. Wreath was right: the only reason she’d agreed to this job was the promise of information on the watch that Daniel was carrying.

Seedmother Laurel had a way of drawing attention. Every member of the cult had clearly had eyes only for her when she’d spoken to them. Obviously that was kind of part of the whole ‘cult’ thing, but Daniel understood it. Her voice was clear and attention-grabbing, but soft and reassuring. Like a heavy-duty blanket. She called everyone by name and spoke to them specifically, taking an interest in their lives and affairs. The whole ‘cult leader’ thing sounded bad, but she actually seemed to care about her people. It was more a cult in a sort of classical sense.

“I’ve shown our guest our heart,” she said. “It seems we have all the ingredients needed for a ritual on-hand.” She’d earlier insisted that very few other than herself ever went to the bottommost layer of the compound to where the Godflower grew. Even members weren’t exactly allowed to go in willy-nilly, and that was why she’d gone alone with the witch. Really, it had taken a little convincing to allow even that, but apparently it was required to set up a proper ritual. So July said, anyway. Daniel wouldn’t know one way or the other.

“I had a consultation with my patron,” said the witch. “We sorted through everything I’ll need. Assuming nothing unexpected happens, I can have this dealt with in a few hours and then we’ll be out of your leaves.”

“Ah, but I have no intention of turning you out into the cold tonight,” Laurel said graciously. “Feel free stay the night. The Godflower doesn’t have to bloom today. Ideally I would like, say, a week from now?”

“I’d rather get a headstart on the road. We’ll have some daylight left.” It was clear that she wanted to get far away from the compound. For his part, Daniel recognized that the homes here were only a little bit less exposed than a tent, but he still would have liked to spend a night in a real bed. He knew he had no chance of convincing July, though.

“Daniel,” she turned towards him, “You and I will go around and fetch the things we need.” She went to take him by the arm like a kid again. It was so frustrating that he might have actually said something about it. Later, in private. But he didn’t have to, because Laurel interrupted.

“Nonsense! There may be no rest for women such as us, but your assistant should be given the chance to relax. Wreath. Briar.” The two lower-ranking plantkin jumped up at her command.

“I’d rather use my own man, if you don’t mind.”

“But neither of you knows your way around! It would be so much more efficient for you to take my most reliable assistants.” She was right, of course. Obviously so. It was odd that July would argue the point at all.

July took a deep breath which Daniel had learned to recognize as her way of calming herself instead of blowing up on someone. “Alright. Fine. I’d just like a quick word with him in private.” Daniel didn’t mind a longer break, but he wondered if he should offer to go along, too. That way, everyone could get what they wanted. But then, he wanted the chance to eat more sandwiches, and that was what won out.

Leaving the break room meant trading one set of cheap lights for another. Maybe not cheap. Just dim. The worship area was cast in pale blue by a flickering array of gloomy orbs, probably magical in nature. They were certainly unnerving, at least. The sickly color played on the July’s fur, which was normally a hue like the night sky. She looked otherworldly down here, a phantom in a dress. She beckoned him over to the seedbowl that took up most of the room and faced away from the door they’d just left. He stood beside her, feeling like he should copy her positioning in some way.

“What have you been talking about while I was out?” It sounded like an accusation.

“Not much. Asking about how he got here, mostly. Basically the same as the Mother. Teenage runaway type, I think. He was a little vague, and I didn’t want to pry.”

“I just want to make sure they’re not trying to influence you.”

“You think they want me to join?” The idea had never even occurred to him. They probably recruited where they could, but he didn’t see himself as the kind of person to join a cult. He hadn’t even subscribed to the local newspaper back home. Hadn’t joined any clubs at school, either. He was boring, so what reason could they possible have for wanting him?

“If they did, would you want to?”

“I can’t stay here, I have to go with you— You know that.”

She glowered at him in the dark. “That wasn’t a ‘no.’”

He took a couple of steps away from her, keeping his gaze in the bowl with the little white seeds heaped upon each other. The way they’d been standing had felt a bit too much like sharing a latrine anyway.

“Look… I know you don’t like these folks, and I’ll totally admit that they’re pushy. But you came into my life the exact same way, you know! To me, you and Laurel aren’t so different.”

“I…” Her reflexive response was tamped down before it made it past her snout. Daniel had his fists clenched through the resulting several seconds of silence, trying not to anticipate her response to the mildest of rebukes.

“I know,” She finally said. I know you can’t tell the difference. That’s why I’m trying to look after you.”

A remarkable thing happened: Daniel Wells finally got fed up enough to snap.

“I don’t need someone to look after me! I need someone to explain things to me, because I’m a stranger here! I need someone not to treat me like I’m a complete idiot all the time!”

“I’m not treating you like an idiot,” the witch said. “You won’t listen to me when I point out how sketchy this place is. It’s… frustrating.” He could tell she was trying to keep herself reasonable, and it only made him more angry.

“What, because they knew my name!? Maybe they heard about me from one of the other people we talked to. Maybe they have weird spying plant ears or something. What difference does it make? They’ve been nice! They’ve answered my questions without judging me for them! They’ve… they haven’t been like you.”

Another awkward silence. Another several agonizing seconds of staring into the seed basin. Eventually, Daniel realized his anger would be better conveyed by storming off, so he turned and started heading back to the break room.

“Answer me one thing.” July didn’t exactly shout, but her voice had presence. It stopped Daniel, even though he was supposed to be storming off.

“What?”

“If you could abandon the watch, would you? Not even going home, necessarily. Just… not being on the road with me.”

At the moment, he couldn’t imagine finding purpose without the watch. Even going back home didn’t exactly hold much appeal now that he was out in the world. But the watch wasn’t something he cared about. It was a burden he’d been given. “I don’t know.”

“Good enough.”

After July left with Wreath and Briar, Daniel was left in the break room. Just himself, Laurel, and the sandwiches. He was once again forced to make small talk.

“This is just like the break room back at work. My old work, I mean.” Just a casual statement. Not insightful or profound or even particularly interesting. That was the key to light conversation.

“What was it you did for work, Mister Wells?” The Seedmother asked, equally casually.

“Oh, uh. Magical detection. You’d know about that, being from up there, right?”

She nodded. “Keeping the world away! Did you find it satisfying?”

“Other than the paycheck, not really.”

She smiled at his mediocre joke. “It’s no wonder you left, then.”

Hearing the siren song of acceptable-but-unexciting deli ham, Daniel grabbed another sandwich triangle. “That’s a little more complicated. I always figured: magic’s no big deal, right? Annoying at times, sure, but it kills less people per year than cars. Then I ended up meeting July, and she did this thing with time and I accidentally ended up having to go with her.” All of this was spoken between messy bites.

“You’re clearly a bright young man, Mr. Wells. You were meant for better things than being a magic detector, or a bag-carrier for Miss July.”

Daniel didn’t believe that at all. He was happier being the cog than turning the crank. Always had been. Even so, it felt good to hear someone have some faith in him, however misplaced. “I’m only her assistant until we figure out the watch. After that, maybe I’ll find something more glamorous to do.”

“Do you have any ideas? Any plans at all?”

He took a swig of garbage coffee as an excuse to give himself time to think. “Nope. I might just go home, honestly. I don’t have any relevant skills for down here.”

“…Mister Wells, would you like me to show you our Godflower?”

The offer was so abrupt he thought he might have experienced whiplash. “I thought you wanted to keep outsiders away from it.”

“I wanted to keep from disturbing it with too much activity. There’s no reason I can’t show you the heart of our home.”

It wasn’t that Daniel had desperate to see the Godflower, but it seemed like the offer was quite a privilege. If he really wanted to understand this group, it probably wouldn’t hurt to see the thing they were so devoted to. Besides, refusing would be rude.

“I’d be honored.”

It was behind the pulpit: a door leading to another staircase which immediately doubled back, making for an awkward situation with opening and closing the thing. It was incredible that they’d constructed a tunnel like this, but Daniel wished they’d had a little more design sense. The Seedmother led him down into a dark stretch of tunnel lit only by the ethereal blue glow coming out of the exit on the other side.

They’d moved down about a flight’s worth of stairs and were set to travel roughly to where the center of the compound should be. The only thing Daniel could see was the shape of Laurel in front of him, framed by the light from the door like the moon in an eclipse. He put his hand to the wall to give himself a little stability, and jerked it away when it touched something that was decidedly not soil or rock or even wood. It was something more soft and smooth. Plant matter.

Once Laurel cleared the threshold, she stepped to the side to clear the way for him, giving him a full blast of the light. He followed close behind her, grumbling as his eyes adjusted. Gradually, as his sight returned to him, he could see the chamber he’d entered: A chamber shaped like a perfect half-sphere with a big, pulsing mass sitting in the exact center.

Not just a mass, actually. It was a bundle of flower petals, tightly closed. And it was the source of the light in the chamber, too, so bright that it was hard to look at. Now that was divinity— like something from the old world. Even though it was a flower, it wasn’t really delicate— it was thick and almost meaty, silently beating a steady pulse. Laurel wasn’t joking when she called it a heart.

Pulling his eyes away from the Godflower, the room itself was pretty strange, too. The walls were absurdly smooth at the edges, only broken up by roots which moved in and out of the walls here and there. They were as thick as Daniel’s arm, too. Much like everything else in the compound, it had been formed naturally. In this case, there weren’t any of the cult’s furnishings to distract from that.

“I was visited in a dream,” Laurel said. “The spirit of the forest god spoke to me, telling me where to find the seed and where to plant it. When I did, it sank down to these depths on its own, and began growing this chamber and this compound. Within a few weeks, I had a home and a mission. Some day the Godflower will rise to the surface again and bloom, giving form to the god— My god. Our god. I hope for that day to be soon. Of course, you knew that. It’s why I asked you here in the first place.”

Daniel heard the story, but barely paid attention. It was the flower that transfixed him in that moment. More animal than plant; ugly but vulnerable. Some latent parental instincts activated when he considered it. Why, he couldn’t even begin to say.

“Is the god inside the flower then? Is it like a…” He didn’t want to say womb. “…Egg?”

The light caught Laurel just right, and she looked like a ghost. Like July had upstairs, actually. Either they’d chosen the lights up there to match this flower, or they’d used the flower to make the lights. The Seedmother was a different kind of spirit than the witch, though. Her dress, or whatever it was, matched the Godflower in color down here, while her body was pale.

“I don’t know the nature of the forest god. Not yet. I only know what it promised me: that those who are wicked will be cast out, and those who obey the wills of the soil will be exalted. These woods can flourish like they never have before, and we can live on for all time as a part of it.” There was awe written on her face. The same awe Daniel felt, even though she must have been down here hundreds of times.

Up until now, he hadn’t really thought about her belief. To him, a god was something that happened to you. Something you had no control over. He knew, intellectually, that there were individuals who were very devoted to gods, but that was just an idea. A fantasy. He hadn’t known anybody like that— at least not openly— until now. These were people who had made the choice to serve a god, completely of their own volition.

Most of them, at least. His answer from Wreath earlier about the kids hadn’t quite satisfied him.

“This is going to seem out of left field,” he said, “But what about the children in the c— the family? How do you deal with them?”

She looked him in the eyes, a somewhat disturbing glint in her own. “You mean, do we force them into it?”

“…Yes.”

“Not at all. Without the seeds of our god, even the changes in our bodies are temporary.”

Daniel could feel the tension leaving his body. “Oh! Well, that’s good. Or, well, maybe not all good. Depending.”

She nodded, giving the impression she’d understood his meaning without needing it explained further. “It’s a good thing. Our bodies show our commitment to the forest. That’s why most of the children stay with our family— we only couple according to the will of the soil. We produce children of devotion.”

He became tense again. “Does that mean… approved marriages? Approved by the…” He glanced back over at the Heart.

“Just so. Even I am not exempt. Dedication isn’t easy, Mr. Wells, but the rewards are worth the effort. I’m sure you’ve heard the same from the prophet you travel with.”

He hadn’t. But there was that word again. “You keep calling her a prophet.”

“Do you disagree?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. She doesn’t exactly feel like a prophet. Not like…” He almost finished his sentence with ‘you’ but thought better of it. “…The stories.”

Laurel began walking, tracing a slow circle around the Heart. She moved languidly, reaching out towards it without ever touching, but she spoke with even more authority than usual. “The Tolling Witch is a messenger. She relays the words of a True Divine to this plane. I was very surprised when I heard about you, Mr. Wells. I thought that a mortal man who chose to stay with her must be something truly exceptional.”

Finally, it was Daniel’s turn to laugh involuntarily at someone else’s absurd statement. “I hope you weren’t too disappointed. She and I are just people, even if she’s got weird powers.”

Laurel was directly across from him now, her gaze piercing him even over the divine flower. “Do you know why she’s called the Tolling Witch?”

“…It’s like, a clock thing. Right?”

“Time always needs a herald. Someone to foretell when the end is coming. Someone to mark when the midnight bells ring.”

He frowned. “No. That’s predestination. She keeps saying she doesn’t do that.”

“Don’t misunderstand. In order to preserve time, one needs to create calamity. Destruction is the witch’s burden. I imagine you’ve already experienced it.”

“Not calamity. I just had to leave home, that’s all.” He wished he could have summoned a more spirited defense.

“It’s not her fault. This is the burden carried by an instrument of age. She has powers that even I can’t imagine, yet she carries no hope of salvation— for herself or others. Her god and my own are very different.” She’d completed her circle and returned to Daniel’s side.

“Do you… dislike July?”

“Not at all. I respect her a great deal, and I understand the jealousy she feels for me. I have what she does not: a family. A future. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Those of us who’ve worked in magical detection know that the arcane can be deceptive, but the deception goes much deeper than even you think, Mr. Wells.”

Hold on. He’d almost missed that. “You worked in detection, too?”

“Didn’t I say so? It was a long time ago.”

Daniel was experiencing something of a revelation. The Seedmother was similar to him in so many ways, but she had what he lacked: purpose. When he’d asked ‘why me?’ and received the watch, he hadn’t meant it in an existential way. It had been a silly thing to wonder, though, hadn’t it? Why not him? Why did he think his life could only sit in one place and never move? He wanted plenty of things, but he always assumed they were out of his reach. It was obvious, from where he was standing now, why someone would choose to join Laurel’s cult. Her Family. He’d been so set in his ways before that it had felt mysterious; a thing for other people. She and Wreath and Briar, though— they’d chosen a life. That’s all it was.

Laurel’s head suddenly snapped towards the door, like a housecat who’s heard a noise that human ears couldn’t detect. She almost bowled him over racing towards the entrance.

“Why are you here!? Why!? Why! Are! You! Here!?” She shouted repetitively at someone in the tunnel. Daniel sidled over a little to take a look and found that the answer was not actually very exciting: Briar was standing about halfway between the stairs and the chamber. Laurel was awfully worked up about it, especially for someone who was ordinarily so in-control.

“You know not to come here without permission! I would expect you to do better, given your condition. Go! Back up, and we’ll be along shortly.” Having no ability to speak, Briar wasn’t exactly able to defending herself. She bowed several times in a panic and then fled.

The Seedmother turned back to him and resumed speaking with exactly the same poise as before. As if nothing had happened.

“My apologies, what was it you were saying?”

“…What did you mean by ‘her condition’?”

“Ah.” Laurel put one hand on her temple. “Her tongue. The transformation.”

“But what does that have to do with anything?

She raised a hand to silence him. “The seeds cleanse the sin from one’s body. Briar spoke much evil in the past, but her tongue is being reforged. It’s like losing baby teeth— unpleasant but inevitable. Even I had to change to become what I am now. More than anyone, in fact.”

Daniel’s guts were doing a jig inside his abdomen. He’d known that Briar was mute because of the seeds, but he’d assumed it was a typical reaction. Now it sounded like this was something particular to her, or at least limited to certain individuals. “What counts as a sin?”

“That’s a complicated subject. Shall we discuss it later, in more comfortable circumstances?” She ushered him through the door and back into the abyss of the passage. Daniel felt like he was missing something important in this conversation, but he wasn’t able to grasp exactly what it was. So many things had happened all at once.

“Wreath never mentioned anything about that.”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl. Sister Briar is rather absent-minded at times, but she has a good heart. Even as she is, I’m sure you can see it.”

“She isn’t allowed in here?”

A sharp exhale came from Laurel’s nostrils. “I told her already not to set foot in this chamber without permission. As I said, she is a little forgetful.”

“She was only in the tunnel, though.”

“As you say. I had to warn her off.” Her presence bore on him from behind, forcing him to speed his trip through the passage. He had the feeling he’d missed something. Like he’d been meant to ask a question and now the opportunity was gone.

Back up at ground level, it seemed like the entire cult was gathered around a specific corner of the compound. Daniel recognized the spot, actually: they’d passed by it on the way in. There was a flower-building growing there, still only just peeking up above the soil. An entire scaffold had been constructed around it to guide its growth into whatever ‘building’ it was going to end up being— It would look the same whether it was a house or a bowling alley. July’s magic staff poked up between the various leafy heads, held aloft by her thick blue arms. Wreath stood at a distance, watching everything carefully. He was probably having to work hard to make sure nobody interrupted the sensitive ritual preparations.

“Ah,” he said with relief as he saw them approach. “I told Briar to go fetch you, Mother, but she came back on her own.”

Laurel nodded. “I sent her on ahead while I spoke a few words to our guest. How are the preparations?”

“There were some complications, but we’re almost finished.”

Now that they were close enough, Daniel could see what July was doing. She was tracing the path of a circle drawn in charcoal on the grass, touching parts of it with her staff and nodding as if it was telling her something important. There were two concentric layers to the circle, and various unknown arcane symbols filled the space between them. Daniel hadn’t actually ever seen a large-scale ritual before, but even he wouldn’t fail to recognize this as part of one.

He did think it was odd that she wasn’t in the dead center of town, right above the Godflower’s chamber. It had only been a few days ago that she’d been talking his ear off about the importance of the center when positioning rituals. Presumably, there were finer points that he hadn’t been made aware of.

Laurel stepped forward quickly, expecting (correctly) that the cultists would part to let her through. “Miss July! You’ve wasted no time, I see.”

“I thought you’d want this taken care of sooner rather than later.” The witch didn’t try to disguise how annoyed she was at being interrupted.

“And this was the best location to perform the ritual? We could have gotten you someplace private.”

“This is three o’clock from the target, which is a good direction. I won’t damage the house, so don’t worry about that.” July continued to work without paying the Seedmother any particular respect. Wreath looked at his boss and shrugged. He had probably told the witch the same thing, and gotten the same answer. Daniel knew it himself already: July couldn’t be stopped once her mind was made up. Not even by her own second thoughts.

Laurel turned back, showing a little bit of annoyance, but only when July couldn’t see it. She pulled him aside. “Mr. Wells. Shall we address the crowd? They haven’t had the purpose of the ritual explained to them yet, after all.”

“They haven’t?” His brain ticked back over the entire message. “You want me to do it?”

“It would be unwise to bother the prophet while she prepares.” She marched him away from the witch and into the larger crowd with a hand on his shoulder. He’d already met all of these people and was used to their appearances, but that didn’t mean he liked being put on the spot.

One woman at the front with a natural scarf of chrysanthemums, whose name he’d never caught, was the first to speak up. “Is there something wrong with the Godflower?” She asked, genuinely concerned. Well, she’d intuited or been told that what the spell was aimed, at least. Surprising that they hadn’t thought to ask earlier.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it, as far as I know. We’re just going to, uh...” Daniel was terrible at public speaking, and doubly so when it came to magic. You always had to be so careful when talking about it. Everything was so complicated and contradictory and subjective, and that was just the things that got you misunderstood. Sometimes the words themselves were spells. There were even spirits that would act up if you referred to them directly in speech.

Luckily, Laurel stepped in to save him. “No need to crowd! The time has come for me to reveal to the family my reasons for summoning the prophet here today. You see, three months ago, during my meditations…”

It was unclear why he’d had to be part of the conversation in the first place. His mind wandering, he looked around the the surrounding faces, all of which had turned to focus on Laurel like sunflowers facing the light. The only exception was Briar, standing off to the side. She was looking at Laurel, but he recognized the expression on her face. It was the glassy-eyed look of someone who was as tuned out as he was. She might as well have been staring at the ground.

"Isn’t that right, Mr. Wells?” Of course, Laurel was trying to include him again now that he’d totally zoned out.

“Sorry?”

“I said, ‘isn’t that right’?”

That wasn’t the part he’d been asking about. “Sure.”

“Naturally, everyone here has shown the dedication and resolve to live for the forest, and for that reason, all should live to see the day when the Godflower blooms.” She turned around again to look at July. “How much longer will you need to prepare?”

The witch, who’d been crouched low to the ground examining her lettering, stood up lazily. “I’m all finished. I just need my assistant over here in the circle with me.”

That was weird. He’d only started following the witch recently, so he didn’t think she’d be in the habit of doing two-person rituals. Maybe she just got help from the locals when she needed it. He started moving in her direction, but Laurel gently grabbed him again.

“Wreath can help you. Mr. Wells deserves a break just this once.”

The witch huffed as her tail lashed the air. “He certainly does, but I only need him for a moment.”

“All the more reason not to bother him.” The Seedmother’s voice had suddenly taken on a layer of frost.

Daniel wasn’t really sure what was happening, but he knew he wanted to avoid it. “I’ll just go over for a moment. It’s fine!”

“Please, stay where you are Mr. Wells.” The grip on his shoulder tightened to an uncomfortable pressure.

July clicked her tongue. “What is this? Is he a hostage?”

“You tell me, Miss July. Is he your hostage?”

The witch sighed the sigh of someone resigning themselves to an unpleasant task. Daniel had expected anger, but got weariness, and he wasn’t sure if he preferred it. He only knew that he wanted this discussion to end as soon as possible.

“Seems to me that we’ve reached an impasse,” said the witch.

“Indeed?” Everyone but these two women had been rendered silent by what had somehow turned into a clash of their wills. Why, though? Why were they fighting over him? He had to find some way of soothing the egos of these women before things got out of hand. Too bad he hadn’t the foggiest where to begin.

“I’ll be direct: my patron was clear that I can’t help you. Your god is bound by fate. Predestination. My magic can’t change that.”

“Is that so? Were you not going to mention it? Was your intention simply to fool me? Collect your payment and be far away before I caught on?”

“Before I answer that, I’m going to do something nice for you: I’m going to give you a warning. That destiny you’re heading towards? It’s a bad one. My patron didn’t give me the details, but I know it’s something you want to avoid. And you can, if you change course.”

“I know my destiny,” Laurel cut the witch off. “You won’t fool me with something you’ve concocted just now. I can see you were a false prophet from the beginning.”

“To answer the other question, I wasn’t intending to leave without telling you. I thought you should know what I learned, if not for your own sake, then for your people. You can still save yourselves.”

It was clear, now: the resignation written over July’s face. She was telling the truth. Only, Daniel was still lagging behind in his understanding. Why had she waited? Why prepare a fake ritual?

The Seedmother’s petals were actually flaring out, brushing against Daniel’s leg. “Saving myself, and everyone else, is exactly why I’m here. What about you, Miss Witch?”

“I needed to make sure my escape route was prepared in case you didn’t react well. That’s the entire truth of it.”

The flower. The one that was just beginning to grow. Finally, and way later than he wished, Daniel understood the witch’s plan. Or most of her plan. He hadn’t been allowed to go to her, though, and that meant… Oh. he actually was a hostage.

Laurel gripped Daniel hard enough to draw blood with her fingernails. “When have I treated you with anything other than courtesy? What reason did I ever give you for mistrust? To you, witch, everyone is a mirror.”

July remained unmoved. “No. I’m the mirror,” she said, quietly. As if she was talking to someone else.

Daniel could no longer take the pain. “Ah, Miss Seedmother?”

She seemed to have forgotten he was there entirely, and immediately released her grip. “My apologies, Mr. Wells! We’ll get you patched up in a moment. You see what I mean, though, don’t you? This woman only knows calamity. Death. It’s not wise for you to stay with her.” She was friendly again, as if his words had thawed her soul instantly.

Conversely, July’s became ever colder. “I’m sure you had plenty to say about me.”

“And what about you? How many lies have you spread about me?”

“None. You don’t matter in the slightest. What matters most is that I get the watch from Daniel. I can do the work of setting the timeline right without him.”

That was the last thing he’d expected.

“What? Hold on, you’re just…”

“Abandoning you?” Laurel stepped forward, looking at him with a showy amount of pity. “People like her often do, when you’re no longer giving them what they want.”

“It’s more that I’m letting him go. And only if that’s his choice.”

The capacity for choice was something that had only just today entered his consciousness, and now he was being forced to exercise it, like running a race after sprouting two extra legs.

“You can just throw that watch to her from where you stand, Mr. Wells. I’ll protect you. I’m not even asking you to stay with us permanently. This is your opportunity to divest yourself, and I want to help you.”

Daniel looked back. Everyone was confused now. And afraid. A few of them were talking softly to each other, breaking out of their stupor long enough for gossip. Wreath caught his eye and nodded. Briar was breathing heavily and looking away. He wished, more than anything, that he knew what she was thinking.

"Why did you leave home in the first place, Mr. Wells? Was it to find something worth your devotion? This woman is far from worthy of it.”

Who said he was devoted to her in the first place? The best she could hope for from Daniel was friendship, and he wouldn’t say she’d gotten there yet.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do,” said July. That wasn’t true, either. All she ever did was tell him what to do.

“Listen,” she continued. “Whatever she said about me? It was probably true. The things you said to me the last time we spoke were true, too. There’s a reason I work alone, after all. And that stuff about calamity? It’s absolutely true. I don’t cause it, but I’m a herald for it. So you should think about that question Laurel asked, but not on her terms. Why did you leave home?”

He looked her in the eyes again for the first time in a while. “Because you said I had to.” The Seedmother beamed at that answer.

“And what did you say?”

“I said… that nobody would miss me if I left.”

"You want connection,” Laurel broke in. “You want to find a place you belong. A place you were meant to be.”

He just shook his head. “It’s not that. I belonged exactly where I was. More than I belong out here, at least.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Wells. You should give yourself so much more credit.”

“Stop. Laural, stop this.” He was surprising himself, speaking up like this. “It’s not about where I belong, or how great I am. I just realized that I didn’t want to stay. I don’t want to stay here, either. Or in town, or anywhere. I don’t know what I want. But this watch was like a promise.” He dug it out of his jacket, as if just looking at the thing would give him some inspiration. As if it would tell him something. But it didn’t. It was as boring as always, and he did find some comfort in that.

The Seedmother closed her eyes and breathed deep, surpressing some great rage. She shook silently. “A promise for what? If it was enough for you to become a follower of the time god, it must have been profound.”

“Not really. It was more of a rhetorical question, really.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I asked ‘why me?’ basically. It was more about the current situation at the time.”

All of the hostility flew off of Laurel’s face, the vacuum filled by sheer incredulousness.

“Fine. Do what you want. You’ve disappointed me, Wells.” She went to face her followers again. “Everyone, go home. This farce is over. There’s no need for any of you to see more of it.”

From behind Daniel, July’s voice had regained some of its warmth. “I’m impressed, Daniel. You managed to diffuse things without much trouble.”

“Did I?” He didn’t know what he’d done right. “Wasn’t she going to tell us about the watch?” He’d completely forgotten that part until just now.

“I doubt she knows anything, anyway. She was just lying to get us to help.”

Instantly, the confrontation stopped being diffused. Laurel swung around, a depth of fury on her face that Daniel hadn’t even imagined she was capable of.

“How dare you, Witch. After all your lies and deception you still have the audacity to-

And then she stopped. Her posture, her expression, and everything else about her turned completely neutral in the space of a second, and she stood statue-still without saying another word. Looking behind her, everyone else seemed to have done the same thing.

He glanced over his shoulder to see if July had been afflicted in the same way, but she was casually tapping her staff on the ground and grinning. “My ritual,” she explained. “I didn’t actually want her finishing that sentence. Even if she knows something, we’re better off not getting the info from her.”

Daniel was far too exhausted with the entire situation to discuss it. “If you say so. I was expecting you to make the flower grow, actually. Then we could have… jumped down, I guess.”

She nodded. “That was the plan at first. I just happened to think of a better one after I started drawing the circle.”

“Oh. …What does this have to do with time, exactly?”

“Well, I moved their perceptions ahead by an hour. Kind of. It’s a big one, but my patron was willing to spot me. I set it to only affect people who truly wanted to follow Laurel. So, you know, if I’d needed to freeze you and loot the watch while you were out, I could have.”

“That explains why I’m still moving, then,” said another voice that Daniel hadn’t expected. He quite literally jumped into the air in surprise. Somehow he managed to avoid twisting his ankle too badly, but he took a spill upon landing anyway. It was Wreath, who’d been nearby and unfrozen all this time, who was closer to him than July, and willing to help him up off the ground.

“I thought you were loyal. Like, really loyal.”

“I am, but I intend to succeed Laurel eventually. Then I can make some changes around here. I wasn’t really happy with the idea of speeding up the process, for one thing. The Seedmother is too impatient. Always has been. Magnetic, though, isn’t she?”

July said something unintelligible, but it was definitely sarcastic.

Wreath took a casual stroll past the comatose Laurel, barely paying her any mind, and instead walked straight to Briar, who looked more at peace than she had since Daniel had met her.

“I have to admit,” he said, “I wouldn’t have expected that spell to work on Sister Briar. She’s never going to make it with us. The Mother’s punishments aren’t exactly helping.”

Daniel’s blood ran cold. “Punishment?”

“Well, that’s just it: extra seeds! That should be a reward, don’t you think? If I could get more of a dose, imagine what it could do for me. I suppose I could steal a few while everyone is out. Would you like to try one before you go? Just one won’t do anything to you.”

Daniel had felt foolish many times, but for once, he was actually disgusted with himself.

A few hours later, they were just exiting the woods. From here, there was mostly mountainous terrain, but they’d be following the main roads again. There was a bus stop up ahead, according to July, and they’d probably nap while riding. Daniel was actually okay with that; anything to get him further from the forest as fast as possible. He was tired of looking over his shoulder.

“And you’re sure they can’t follow us?” Daniel had asked a few variants of this question since they left, just to make sure the answer didn’t change.

“Can you give it a rest? My patron told me that the thorn Briar planted on me was the only way they’d managed to follow us, and I trust my patron. I also trust it to do whatever it takes to get us clear. It’s existentially important that we find the watch, remember?”

“That’s not… really as reassuring as you think.”

She shrugged.

“We should have taken her with us.”

“What, just picked her up while she was frozen?”

“Maybe.”

July tugged at her own whiskers thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t do any good. We’d just be kidnapping her, and as soon as we let her go she’d go right back.”

Her pack felt especially heavy on his shoulders at that moment. “I can’t understand that. I feel like I haven’t learned anything from this experience. How can I do better next time?”

“This isn’t a class, Daniel. You can’t just fix things that don’t want to be fixed. You could apologize for doubting me, if you like.”

“Absolutely not.”

“See? You’re a little more mature now.”

“I wouldn’t have done it before, either.”

The witch abruptly changed the subject. “I wasn’t lying, you know. You can back out of this at any time.”

“I won’t do that, either. Everything I ever tried to get into, I backed out of partway. This time, I’m sticking with it.” He remembered trying to learn how to play chess. He remembered taking up piano lessons. None of that had mattered, though, and none of it was appointed to him by a god. “I’m not a servant or a worshiper. I’m a client. I’m demanding what I’m owed: an answer.”

“Much like Laurel and her godflower, then.”

“No. She has expectations. She’s the one who decided that gods responsibilities. That’s why she’s in trouble when it wakes up.”

“Oh?” July looked genuinely intrigued.

“I was thinking about it. That bad fate she’s heading for. I’m sure that’s why. Can you imagine being born and someone like her is expecting you to smite her enemies and make everyone do what she says?”

July laughed. It was neither at him nor with him. “I never even thought of that! You really are impressive.”

“Does that mean you’ll carry your own bag from now on?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “Don’t you think I deserve a break?”

“I thought not.”