Written 2026/2/15
The university was a corpse, bleeding smoke into the night sky. Stormy waves gnawed at its flesh, eager to devour it whole, dragging it deeper into the abyss with every bite. Roland Mhir's great work would go unfinished if the old world's misguided “justice” locked him away for trivial matters of the flesh, the mainland must never know what happened here. Their deaths were mandated by God, after all— he was above the laws of man.
One of his flock, a smaller woman, broke the silence. Though her eyes remained on the sinking wreck. “Was this...are we really in the right, prophet?”
Roland was silent for a moment, regarding her words. “Listen to your gut.” He placed a gentle, bloodied hand over the woman's stomach.
She fought the urge to shrink away. “But it...it doesn't speak to me, not like-”
Roland smiled, the corners of his mouth not reaching his eyes. “Not with your ears, but your body.” He moved his hand to hers, then guided it over her stomach. “There. What do you feel?”
“My...my stomach?”
Roland nodded, urging her to continue. To listen more closely.
“It's...hot, warm against my hand.”
“And that is all the proof you need. That burning in your gut is God affirming that you have done the right thing.” He let go, returning his gaze to the sinking university.
“Yes, I...I did the right thing…” the woman reassured herself, her shoulders relaxing.
Roland gripped the edge of the boat. “I will have need of your strength,” he turned to face his flock “all of you. Have faith, lend me your aid, and you will see many more miracles in the days to come.”
The flock murmured their loyalty, not wanting to be too loud, to interrupt their prophet's words. A living mass of intestines writhed at their feet in agreement, wrapping its wet tendrils around their ankles, tying them together as a true family.
Roland smiled, feeling as if it was the first smile of his entire life. “Let us trust in God, and become its Gutters.”