I was destined to be the priestess of a mad God. What they didn't tell me was that instead of slaughtering people I'd be making Him a nice cup of tea and telling him it would be all right. -- Knitnan
I'd always wondered why the High Holies of the Mad God Zhyruq selected the kind and sympathetic to be their acolytes. Every year, they chose amongst their number the trainee they found to be the kindest, most generous, and most sympathetic. And, until it was my turn, I'd wondered why.
I was terrified, of course. Those who were chosen to be the Mad God's intermediary were rarely seen again. And those that did return to the public were... hollow. Empty of their ability to care for anyone else beyond a set of simple remedies. They were prone to weeping and crying out, "I don't know! I don't know any more!" I had to fret about what could possibly do that to a gentle and kind human being.
I was shaking as I entered the Sacred Door. To the here-and-not-here realm between mortal soil and that which could bear the tread of a God. With a title like Mad God, I expected a skull and blood motif with human skin throw rugs. I expected an altar upon which I had to sacrifice myself. But when I opened my eyes...
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