Aphmau's POV

*Play Song*

"A...goddess?" Katelyn asks, the girls' faces displaying the same perplexed expression as me.

Even the Stranger's stoney expression wavered.

"Yes. A goddess."

I let out a laugh, but it holds no humor. "What is this shit?"

"Aphmau!" Lucinda scolds as Crystals says. "Now we're talking."

The witch blinks. "This shit is the true meaning of your existence, Aphmau."

I wasn't amused. I make that clear on my face. "We don't have time for this." I snarl, turning to leave.

I knew this place was too good to be true. 

"So you don't know, then? Interesting."

I turn back to her, grinding my teeth. "Look, lady, if you're looking for a sacrifice for whatever cult this is, then you're out of luck." I gesture to the door. "Let's go, girls.

But before I can take as much as a step, the stranger is there, holding my forearm and blocking the exit. "Listen to what she has to say." He says.

"Why should I?" I retort, not wanting to confront whatever that damn witch wants to tell me. "Hell,  why should I listen to what you have to say?" 

The stranger pauses for a moment. I try to wrench my forearm free, but his grip is like an iron vise. 

Then, he leans in, saying. "You know how I said I saved your life earlier for attention?" He shakes his head, his lips in a thin line. "I take it back. It was for this."

Something in his words and expression seemed to ground me. The severity conveyed through them was dire, like he had personal stakes in this. It was enough for me to take a calming breath, but I roll my eyes anyway. 

"Fine," I say, turning back to the witch, the stranger finally letting go of me. "Get on with it."

"You've got fire, girl. I'll give you that." The witch huffs, walking over to one of the bookshelves. She grabs a vial swirling with blue and green glittery liquid.

She chucks both viles at the smooth stone floor, the viles bursting into a tall cloud of aqua smoke. Some of us cough at its presence.

Then an image starts to develop in the smoke. The witch begins to narrate.

"Long ago, there was a man. A man of ahead of his time in scientific knowledge." The image shows the outline of an elderly man, attired in a worn scientist cloak, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

Then the pictures started to change as she speaks, the images molding and churning with the story.

"The man had suspected our current predicament and came up with a revolutionary notion that could save the human race if it ever came to it. Although, many did not believe the man, let alone thought putting money into his project was wise. To make matters worse, there was one part to the man's plan that he could not guarantee."

All of us continue to watch as if in a cinema. "His plan was to build a world. A backup world to float around in space, inhabited by a small population of humans to keep it functioning so if any world disaster were to present itself, mankind could continue on. And hopefully find another home someday."

That's when I interrupt her, a bit impatient, "I'm sorry, but this doesn't explain anything about me being a god."

She ignores me. This bitch. "...though such a feat—such a dream, had to require more than just billions of dollars."

This is when the witch's blank gaze falls on me, her cold stare cementing me to the ground.

"He needed the ichor of a god." Her voice rasps, her head twitching once before continuing.

"After being contradicted oh so many times, the man came close to giving up entirely. A man can only take so much, even in the pursuit of what is right. But then, one night, he was approached by a tall, hooded man with no recognizable face nor stature. He was cloaked from head to toe, but his voice was rumor to resemble Satan's."

"Shad." Teony whispered in awe.

"He told the man of a baby that was born in Phoenix Drop. A child with the exact attributes he was searching for. The man then disguised himself as the child's pediatrician, and after only briefly meeting the child, he knew that his plan may have hope after all. He sought to build the second world once again, eventually finding investors willing to fund the construction of a state-of-the-art, futuristic space world, which we call...Elysium."

"That's where we were headed." I say, breathlessly. "I don't get—"

The witch, yet again, ignores me. Clearly wanting to get through the story. "You see, something like Elysium cannot be powered by something as simple as solar panels. We weren't and still aren't at the technological place to do such a thing yet. So..."

"The ichor of a god is used to power Elysium." Cadenza finishes, eyes wide. 

"Indeed," The witch says. "So, every five years, the child, who was raised by ordinary parents, was drained of her power and blood to power Elysium, at what she thought was her doctor appointments."

Then it hit me. Like a big, unexpected wave, it hits me from all sides and I stumble. I'm sure I would've fallen if strong hands didn't catch my waist. The memory strikes the breath from my lungs and the thoughts from my head.

My muscles give out on me as the familiarity of her statement consumes me. I start to choke, blood roaring in my ears, my vision blurring as the world begins to fade away.

I remember now. All of it. And it was horrible.

The pain I felt. The terror I experienced. The countless times I screamed and cried out for my mommy and daddy, but they weren't there. They couldn't be in the room with me. It was too dangerous.

I'm lying against something. It's moving, trying its best to hold me up. It's calling out to me, but I'm lost in my memories. My mouth tasting metallic.

Then the witch comes into view, her fingers grasping my chin. "Please stand...Irene."

Have a nice day my crystals!