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Eldritch Horror? No, I'm A Doctor
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The sewage pipe burst open with a wet, tearing sound, and Heinrich Steinholtz climbed through into the chamber beyond, his expensive leather shoes squelching against stone that hadn't seen sunlight in four centuries.
The chamber was circular, thirty meters across, carved from rock that predated the Azareth Empire by generations. Channels had been cut into the floor in precise geometric patterns, directing the flowing waste around the perimeter and leaving the center mercifully dry. The walls were covered in symbols that seemed to crawl when looked at directly, runes that had been ancient when the first humans learned to write.
Seven stone chairs sat in a perfect circle at the chamber's heart, and in those chairs sat the executives of the Children of the Mother Goat, the ones called the Dark Young.
Steinholtz took his seat in the northernmost chair. At sixty-seven, he was the face of the organization, the one who handled surface operations because his mutations were the least visible. His white hair was neat, his suit still presentable despite the sewer climb. But when he opened his mouth to speak, there were too many teeth. Three rows instead of two, each one sharp and slightly too long.
"Brothers and sisters," he began, his voice echoing off the carved walls. "We convene to discuss the revelation."
Sister Margarethe sat to his right. She had severe features and grey eyes like frozen steel. She also had two mouths. The second opened vertically down her throat, lined with lamprey teeth that moved independently, tasting the damp air with wet, seeking movements.
"The military has classified a new Phenomenon," Steinholtz continued. "They call him 'The Doctor.' What our asset reports suggests he may be connected to our Mother."
Brother Dmitri sat to Steinholtz's left. At thirty-seven, he was the youngest executive. Black tentacles protruded from his chin like a grotesque beard, each one tipped with a tiny mouth that whispered constantly in languages that had never been human. The sound was like static, like the universe screaming.
"Connected how?" Dmitri asked, his main mouth forming words while the tentacle-mouths continued their incomprehensible litany.
"His capabilities." Steinholtz leaned forward. "He performs impossible surgeries. Creates multi-consciousness entities. Modifies flesh with techniques beyond current science. Most significantly, he has modified himself extensively. Tentacles emerge from his back during procedures. Mouths exist in his palms. He is human and something else. A fusion."
Sister Yolanda sat across from him with seven eyes. Three were arranged in a triangle where two should be. Two more sat on her forehead. Two on her cheeks. All of them moved independently, never blinking in sync, each one tracking different points in the chamber simultaneously.
"You believe he's a believer?" Her voice was soft but hungry. "One of us?"
"I believe he may be more." Steinholtz's three rows of teeth glinted in the torchlight. "Consider the pattern. Multiple appendages. Multiple consciousness streams. Multiple mouths. These are the Mother's signs. The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young does not create singularities. She creates abundance. Multitudes. Fertility beyond measure."
Brother Frederick was massive, nearly seven feet tall, shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. His eyes were not human. Horizontal pupils, golden and unblinking, the eyes of a goat. Black horns curved from his temples, each one inscribed with runes that pulsed with faint green light.
"You think he's the Chosen One." Frederick's voice was deep, resonant. "The Avatar we've waited for."
"It's possible." Steinholtz spread his hands. "Our texts speak of one who will bear the Mother's gifts in his flesh. One who understands transformation and propagation. One who will open the way for Her arrival."
Sister Helena sat with her hands folded, appearing almost normal until she spoke. Her tongue had split into seven separate appendages, each moving independently, creating a harmony of voices when she formed words.
"The timing cannot be coincidence," she said, seven voices speaking as one. "Thirty years we've prepared the Grand Summoning. And now, suddenly, a being appears with exactly the capabilities we need? This is the Mother's will made manifest."
Brother Wilhelm was the oldest at seventy-three. His skin had taken on a greyish-green pallor, and his fingers were too long, with too many joints, like spider legs ending in human nails. He tapped them against his chair's stone arm in a rhythm that hurt to hear.
"We must consider all possibilities." Wilhelm's elongated fingers continued their percussion. "One: he's a believer who achieved transformation through devotion. Two: he's the Chosen One, marked by the Mother as Her avatar. Three: he's a harbinger, sent to prepare Her arrival. Four: he's coincidence, a skilled alchemist with no connection to our faith."
"The fourth is unlikely." Both of Margarethe's mouths spoke in unison, creating an unsettling stereo effect. "The military classifies him as potentially Legendary-rank. That power doesn't arise by accident."
"Then we determine which of the first three is correct," Steinholtz said. "And we do so carefully. If he truly is the Chosen One, approaching incorrectly could offend the Mother Herself."
Dmitri's tentacle-beard writhed faster. "What do we know of his origins?"
"Nothing." Steinholtz's expression darkened. "He appeared two months ago in the industrial district. No birth certificate. No identification. No history. He simply existed, fully formed, as if stepping from nowhere."
The seven Dark Young exchanged glances.
"Two months," Yolanda said, all seven eyes focusing on Steinholtz simultaneously. "The same time our rituals reached their peak intensity. When we performed the Calling of the Thousand. The Mother could have created him in Her realm and sent him through as an answer to our prayers."
"Or he emerged from a gate," Frederick countered. "A Horror-type gate. One that transforms those who enter."
"The military suspects an Eldritch gate origin," Steinholtz confirmed. "They classify him as a possible Irregular. An intelligent monster blending with human society."
Wilhelm's fingers never stopped their rhythmic tapping. "If he's an Irregular, that makes him more valuable. It means his transformation is complete and stable. He's fully embraced the change from human to something greater."
Helena's seven-part tongue flickered out, tasting the air. "We must approach him. Learn if he knows the Mother. If he serves Her willingly or doesn't yet understand his purpose."
"But cautiously." Margarethe's secondary mouth snapped shut with a wet sound. "If he's not a believer, revealing ourselves could mean our destruction. He already demonstrated willingness to respond violently. The Brigadier General who attacked him was fused with four others into one being."
"An abomination," Dmitri repeated, his main mouth smiling while his tentacle-mouths chittered. "Or a miracle. Five minds in one body. That is the Mother's blessing. Multiplicity made flesh."
"Exactly." Steinholtz's three rows of teeth were fully visible now. "Whether he knows it or not, he performs the Mother's work. Every surgery, every modification spreads Her influence. He transforms humans into something more. Something closer to what we'll all become when She arrives."
Silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the distant sound of flowing sewage and Wilhelm's relentless finger-tapping.
Wilhelm spoke first. "I propose three phases. Phase one: observation. Six weeks. We learn his patterns, personality, beliefs if we can discern them. We determine if he shows signs of faith or awareness."
"Agreed," Steinholtz said. "Sister Margarethe leads the observation team."
"Phase two: initial contact. We send an emissary who appears human enough to not frighten him. Someone who can test his knowledge subtly. We speak of transformation, multiplicity, the philosophy underlying our faith. We gauge his reaction."
"I volunteer," Dmitri said. "My tentacles hide beneath clothing. I can pass for human if needed."
"Phase three: full revelation. If he responds positively to our philosophy, we reveal ourselves. Explain our purpose. Invite him to join the Grand Summoning. And if he truly is the Chosen One, we kneel and offer our service."
"And if he's not receptive?" Frederick's goat eyes reflected the torchlight.
"Then we take what we need." Steinholtz's voice went cold. "His techniques. His knowledge. His tools. By force if necessary. The Mother's arrival is more important than one individual's cooperation, no matter how powerful."
Helena's split tongue flickered again. "But that's last resort. If he's the Chosen One and we harm him, the Mother won't forgive us."
"Which is why we must be certain before we act," Margarethe said. "We cannot afford mistakes. Not when we're this close."
Steinholtz rose from his stone chair, and the other six followed. They formed a circle around the carved channels where the sewage flowed.
"Our goal remains unchanged," Steinholtz declared. "We will open the gate. We will summon the Mother. The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young will come forth and grant us salvation. She will transform this realm into a paradise of endless fertility. The unbelievers will be consumed. The faithful elevated. And we, Her Dark Young, will serve as the first among Her chosen."
He raised his arms toward the stone ceiling, toward the city above.
"Brothers and sisters, let us honor the Mother with the True Litany. Speak Her name. Speak Her titles. Let Her know we remain faithful."
The seven Dark Young raised their arms in unison, and Steinholtz began the chant. His voice carried through the chamber, resonating against stone that had heard this prayer a thousand times before.
"Iα! SԋυႦ͟-Nιɠ̴ɠυɾα̸ƚԋ! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!"
The torches flared, their flames turning sickly green. The other six joined their voices to his.
"She Who Dwells in the Dark Woods!"
The temperature began to drop. Frost formed on the stone walls.
"The Mother of All Abominations!"
The markings on the walls began to glow, pulsing in time with the chant.
"The Fertile Darkness That Spawns Without End!"
The flowing sewage in the channels slowed, then began to freeze.
"The Goat with Ten Thousand Young!"
The air grew thick, heavy, as if something vast was pressing down on reality itself.
"She Who Births Horrors Beyond Counting!"
The torches flared brighter, their green flames reaching toward the ceiling.
"The All-Mother, The Eternal Womb, The Source of Endless Propagation!"
All seven voices rose to a crescendo, echoing off the stone walls until the sound became deafening.
"IA! IA! SԋυႦ͟-NΙƓ̴ƓUɾA̸Ƭԋ! THE BLACK GOAT OF THE WOODS WITH A THOUSAND YOUNG!"
And then something responded.
The presence pressed against reality from the other side, vast and terrible. It was neither alive nor dead but eternally fertile. It existed in dimensions beyond human comprehension, a being that had spawned a thousand young and would spawn a thousand more.
The seven Dark Young felt it touch their minds. Not words. Not thoughts. But pure sensation. Pure knowledge. Pure vision.
They saw gates opening across the world. Saw their Mother stepping through, Her form too vast to fully perceive. Where She walked, the ground transformed into writhing flesh. Where She breathed, new life spawned in impossible forms. They saw themselves changed, elevated, made into Her true children. They saw the world remade in Her image, a garden of eternal fertility and propagation.
And at the center of the vision, they saw him. The Doctor. Standing before the gate. His body transforming. His tentacles spreading. His mouths opening. Becoming the bridge. Becoming the key. Becoming the doorway through which She would arrive.
The vision faded. The presence withdrew. The temperature returned to normal. The ice melted. The markings dimmed.
The seven Dark Young stood in silence, each one processing what they had witnessed.
Steinholtz spoke first, his voice trembling with religious fervor. "She has shown us the truth. The doctor is the key. Through him, we achieve our purpose. The Mother has confirmed it."
"Praise be to the Mother," the others said in unison.
"Praise be to Her Thousand Young," Margarethe added, both mouths speaking.
"Praise be to the coming transformation," Wilhelm whispered.
They began to file out of the chamber, disappearing into sewer tunnels that would take them back to the world above. Back to their lives. Back to their preparations.
Only Steinholtz remained. He pulled out his notebook and pen, adding a single line.
Confirmed by vision: The Doctor is the key to the Mother's arrival. He is the bridge. He is the doorway. Through him, She will come.
He underlined it three times, then extinguished the torches one by one, leaving only the last one burning as he made his way to the exit.
Across the city, in his clinic, Dr. Nox cleaned blood off surgical instruments, unaware that he had just become the centerpiece of a thirty-year plan. Unaware that cultists had declared him their prophet. Unaware that in two months, he had gone from nobody to the most important person in their apocalyptic vision.
The cultists had found their chosen one, and nothing would stand between them and their salvation.