I had a change of heart. Read this chapter, if you want.
It'll be here either way.
******
The cultists kept their vigilance high until the final vestiges of those two shadowy figures disappeared from within the chalk circle. The runic symbols smoked akin to a burnt out engine as they gradually cooled from a bright orange to a dull red.
The lead cultist carefully brought out a tarnished bronze bell, studying it carefully, before relaxing his posture. The others, those still conscious that is, as though at some unspoken symbol relaxed the tension in their rigid forms. With the ritual over, the weight of their souls was now only their own, no longer required as an anchor for the presence of beings beyond the Natural Planes. Small, excited mutterings broke out across the cavern.
Returning that bell to the inside folds of his brown robe (to be honest if he sold the design for that robe alone he could make a lot more money than...whatever it is he's trying to do now. Oh well, that's why these 'blood feuds' and 'death vows' and whatnot are way too much effort to uphold. All I'm saying is that no carpenter is being dragged out in the middle of the cold and wet to commune with beings just as likely to kill you with a sneeze than to grant your wish. Just saying.), the lead cultist raised his hoarse voice and the chatter died down.
"Return to your posts as usual. I will report to Plutarch Cavitus of the success of our venture. Do not worry, you shall all be rewarded handsomely for your services. The God-Slave does not spurn his followers, like the heretics who preach of hope in from the safety of their white towers."
The lead cultist calmed the trembling of his hands with a loose breath before continuing. His hoarse voice was low, as though the monumental nature of their actions had finally caught up to him.
"But no more speak of such dreadful things. For we have righted the course of history, brothers and sisters! Those who come before us will remember this day as the dawn of a new age!"
Lit by the fire of his words, the cultists roared in triumph, their voices echoing powerfully in that stone cavern where silence once deafened. Soon enough, the quiet returned once again, broken only by the occasional pattering of raindrops. The chalk markings were soon washed away, until only the stone remained as witness to the sacrilegious acts wrought upon it.
***
Far from that place, past mountains, rivers, deserts, a few oceans, a few more mountains and a black hole (really small one - nothing to worry about trust me), there was a small wood.
Well, really to call it a wood was truly every meaning of the word generous. In truth, the scattering of trees could barely be called a grove. As it was, the nearest village had named it 'Telor Runia' (which actually just means 'Green Wood' in a forgotten tongue. Still sounds epic.), and so for the sake of respecting local traditions and cultures (I am no bigot, despite what everyone seems to think), we shall stick with that form of address.
As it was, in that wood, there were two blades of grass under the shade of one of the younger trees that had decided that summer afternoon to try out this new thing called 'sentience' that had been going around like a fad of sorts among some of their friends.
The first one was reluctant, but had lost the bet and so had no choice but to take the first plunge.
"Huh", the blade of grass said. "You know what, this isn't even that bad. I kinda like this idea."
The other, noticing the success of his friend, hesitated no longer.
"Wow, you're right. This whole free will thing is kinda trippy though."
"Yeah feels strange but at the same time, it feels so right you know?"
"Yeah"
"Yeah"
"..."
"..."
A gust of wind whistled through the boughs of the tree above them, sounding almost deafening in the newfound silence. This is one thing people often take for granted about non-sentience: the simply ability to do nothing, and feel nothing. Saves a lot of embarrassment in awkward situations, let me tell you that much.
"So, uhhh. What do we do know?"
"I dunno mate. I mean we're still blades of grass, you know? I guess we just...chill?"
"Yeah I see that but don't you think there's something more? Like, I dunno, it's tough to explain".
"What you mean like some kinda greater purpose? Like a goal you work towards to give your life something it lacks inherently, like meaning?"
"Yeah, man. Exactly that. Meaning. You know we never really thought about these things before, but this whole 'sentience' thing really gives you a new perspective."
"Boy, do I feel you on that one. Oh wait, hang on. Yep. The existentialism is coming in now."
"Yeah, I feel it. Wow that's not a nice feeling."
A deep rumble interrupted their conversation, as they turned their attention to the gnarled oak above them.
"Not nice is it, to find out how meaningless and insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. Not nice at all."
The blades of grass looked at each other before one of them replied.
"So, what do we do?"
The tree rumbled as though laughing.
"Well isn't that the question, little one. Isn't that the question."
The trembling of its boughs died down and it returned to its previous, inert state. The blade of grass that spoke first replied angrily.
"Is that it? All the wisdom of so many years and he's just gotta be obtuse about it. I mean why can't they just give out the answer. Don't the older generations work so hard to make it easier for those who come after? Its like in the process of working, they decide 'you know what, everyone else has to suffer like me' and then turn into cryptic old men who speak in rhymes and go around with twinkles in their eyes"
"..."
"..."
"Feel good to get that off the old chlorophyll, eh?"
"Oh man good doesn't even begin to describe it. You should try it too"
"Hmm, first I feel like we're forgetting something pretty important."
"Hmmm"
"Ah, that's it. Names. What do we call each other. We can't very well be 'blade of grass 1 and 2', now can we? Surely our ascent into the ranks of thinking beings warrants some sort of symbol of status?"
"You're right about that. Names. Hmm"
"Hmmm"
One of the blades, the one who spoke to the tree, snapped his fingers (?).
"I got one. How about THE AGE OF SILICON AND STEEL"
Strangely, his voice grew incredibly deep all of a sudden, as though weighed down by the majesty of the stars. The trunks of the trees around them creaked dangerously and the sky seemed to darken despite not a cloud in sight. None of this seemed to bother the other blade of grass, except to say:
"Pretty sure that one's taken mate."
"Yeah, sigh. I had a feeling."
"No harm done, eh. Oh, you just gave me a great idea."
"Go, on then, don't keep us all in suspense here"
"How about you call me...Dave."
"Dave"
"Dave"
"Daaaaveeeee"
"Nah, mate. Just Dave's fine thanks."
"Hey, man just sounding it out. Dave's pretty cool.
"Awww thanks. Straight of the dome.", Dave blushed green with chlorophyll (do not question the physiology of alien grass species you overthinking ape)
"If you're Dave, then I'm gonne be Stave", the other blade of grass decided firmly. There was silence, before Dave responded.
"Don't you mean 'Steve'"
Stave was confused before replying.
"Why 'Steve'. Nah man, I meant Stave"
"Huh", Dave replied. "I don't really know why. Weird isn't it, almost like I couldn't help but think it. Maybe that's proof of some abstract yet fundamental metaphysical law about certain properties embedded deep enough into the collective subconscious so as to spontaenously present themselves in areas almost entirely removed from the site of origin."
"Hmmm", Stave hummed. "Nah, man you're overthinking things."
"Yeah, you're right.", Dave agreed. "Man it does feel nice now."
"Isn't it", Stave marveled. "It's like a hole I didn't even know has been filled. My identity is finally complete."
"Yep. Now just about that pesky meaning eh?"
Stave laughed, but was rudely interrupted when both he and Dave were unceremoniously squashed under the hoof of a strange four-legged creature that appeared from thin air.
Stave and Dave died.
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Just kidding, they barely survived. But now they gotta content with Jeffbob and Ziriothrax. Well, I have a feeling they'll do fine.
The world on the other hand had long since written its will and had given teary goodbyes to its friends and family.