....

......Wow. That’s. Okay.

Araari runs. Blindly, without thinking, just—away.

A villager grabs her and turns her towards Tshombe.

Tshombe speaks a language that is not Afar. It is probably not even human.

It is a hissing and sibilant tongue, and though Araari does not understand it she knows exactly what she is saying.

“Since I have learned to speak in the Tongue of Lies, I have seen the visions the Agony on the Wind says to me. The Agony on the Wind says you do not worship Him. I wish to show my power over our enemies. Even you must bend the knee. If you make the sacrifice, I will let you go, and you will know forever how weak you are.”

She holds out her hands.
 

Araari shakes; this much, she cannot help. But she stares at Tshombe and shakes her head. She does not kneel. She does not reach out her hands.

"Then you will die."

Araari can’t make herself speak. She opens her mouth, then closes it. She shakes her head again, even though it doesn’t make sense, because she doesn’t have any control over whether she will die here or not. The world feels a little bit like it’s spinning. She prays to God, please, please, help me, please—

The man begins to pull her towards Tshombe. Everything is in slow motion. He slaps her across the face. 

Blood wells up from Araari's skin. And the still small voice of God inside her says: even cultists have to run from a volcano.

It’ll take a while to call on God for something like this—but she can survive that long, at least. Probably. Hopefully.

He has a plan. She believes that. She has to.

Araari starts to chant prayers, over and over. God. Azathoth.

And cuts open up on Araari's skin, and bruises form, and it feels like her organs are rearranging themselves from the inside out, and she can hear the sickening crunch of something happening to her bones--

and she hears a cultist gasp and she keeps praying--

and the man drops her and starts to run--

and she runs too. She's not that far gone, she can hold on to that.

A few hours later she staggers half-dead into Kolluli.

Meanwhile--

"You've learned the spells," Ayers says with finality.

For the past few days he has been holding himself together more with willpower than with strength. He hasn't been eating.

It's distressing to watch him fall apart like this, even if Oswald knew this would kill him. It feels like... not a waste, exactly. Something near that.

"We'll be able to... stop some of it, then," he says tonelessly. "Sometimes. If everything aligns."

"Yes. It's the best we can hope for. I... am dying."

Lev has, historically, been a person who embraced uncomfortable truths. So he doesn't argue with this one.

"Do you still want makeshift euthanasia."

"Yes. Once everything is... concluded. I don't want to give the Mouth the satisfaction of killing me itself."

Either he or Mordred is going to have to do that. Oswald might be better at the mindset that lets people do horrible miserable things without feeling anything in the moment. Mordred might need the practice, though, it feels like an abnegation thing to him.

"What else is left to be concluded?"

"Do you have any remaining questions?"

Now this is the part Oswald is worse at. "I... I can't... think of..."

The most stressful mental blank he's ever had possibly given it might move Ayers' time of assisted suicide forward

Mordred flips through his notes. "You said your knowledge was mostly of Gol-Goroth-- the Children of the Night, I don't think we've asked about them yet?"

"By legend, the worshipers of Gol-Goroth." He winces. "They show up in various geographically separated places, and disappeared between a few hundred and several thousand years ago, depending on location."

Oh that's not related to spellwork at all. --There was one he asked a month ago that never got answered and he's been nervous about asking again. "Do you know anything about Azathoth?"

"I do not."

That is so fair. "I think that's -- the only thing left -- wait, is Dagon tied into this at all beyond imprisoning the Liar, should we be looking into that connection do you think?"

"Not as far as I know, but... he did imprison the Liar. Perhaps, as risky as it sounds, he may be of assistance."

Mordred bites the inside of his cheek before saying "...do you know anything else about Dagon?"

"He's a Sumerian god who brings people the harvest. Associated with the sea and gifts of fish, historically worshipped with temple prostitution."