Behind him, Zalmos sat alone in the lead hallway, waiting for a reply he already knew would never come.
He woke on his knees in a hallway of polished lead. The air tasted of rust and burned rosemary. Ahead: a door without a handle. Behind: a wall of weeping stone. Elias knew the protocol. He closed his eyes, bit the inside of his cheek until copper flooded his mouth, and spoke the name he'd been bred to forget. zalmos proxy
Elias picked up the card. It was warm. No—it was waiting . Behind him, Zalmos sat alone in the lead
"Myself. Thirty years ago." Zalmos finally looked up. His eyes were not an actuary's eyes. They were deep wells where logic went to drown. "Before I became... this." Ahead: a door without a handle
The god pushed a single playing card across the table. Two of Clubs. The corners were dog-eared.
"I need you to deliver something," Zalmos said.
"That's when I was lonely." Zalmos slurped a noodle. "Sit."