One camp knelt to the Serpent of Rivers, painting its scales onto their skin before crossing waters. Another bowed to the Flame-Crowned Titan, swearing oaths of war before crude altars of bone. Others sang to the Forest-Antlered Stag, leaving food in the roots of new trees.
The lattice did not deny them. Each devotion stirred the air, shaping fragments of possibility into echoes that answered back. Sometimes as whispers in dreams. Sometimes as storms that bent to prayer. Sometimes as monsters half-born from worship and fear alike.
Aria's roots trembled, reaching through the soil as offerings seeped into the ground, growing wild in response. Her voice shook. "They're writing gods from their hunger."
Fenric's silver fire flickered pale. He watched the Titan's constellation blaze as a warband roared its name, the heat in their blood catching like wildfire. "No… not writing. Calling. And the lattice… listens."
