Court of Lies

You stared at the runes before you, wishing beyond all hope that you weren’t reading them right. There was a pretty good chance of that, after all. They were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, in a language no one spoke anymore. You were probably pronouncing them all wrong, too.

Yet, runes such as these had never lied to you before, and you doubted they’d start now.

You ran a hand along the bedframe, fingers trailing over the intricate symbols that’d been carved into the wood. Despite how much you tried to lie to yourself, you no longer could.

“So, you’ve figured it out, have you?”

Ice ran through your veins as the voice of your “God of Justice” echoed around the chamber. It came from everywhere and reached everywhere, an endless echo that washed over you like a wave. You pretended not to know as you turned your back to the bed.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

The god stood there, leaning against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his face. Any other day, his golden blond hair and his shimmering blue eyes would’ve been a sign of the utmost purity. Now, that same hair was like the burning sun hanging over a roiling tempest.

“Please, you know who I am by now. Do you honestly believe a simple lie like that can get past me?”

You pressed your back against the bedpost as the God approached. As he drew closer, the world seemed to tilt. The room twisted and contorted, and whatever cries for help you may have gotten out were swiftly lost among the new, alien geometry.

“Impressive, right? Turns out, being a trickster god gives you the power to pull tricks with anything.”

Your knees felt weak. Your focus shrank down until you could see only the god and his mischievous grin. One of his hands rose high. You cringed in preparation for the strike that would end your life, eyes squeezing shut.

Instead, he simply rested his hand on your shoulder. “Nah, I’m just screwin’ with you.”

Your eyes slivered open. “What?”

“I’m the God of Trickery. It’s what I do. I trick people.”

You shrugged his hand off and slipped away. With every hurried step you took toward the door, the room’s layout corrected itself. “W-what the hell are you talking about?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you.”

You whirled on the god. “You lied to everyone! You’re not a God of Justice, you’re … you’re—”

The words caught in your throat. The divine entity before you was indeed a farce. Yet, his verdicts were not. You couldn’t count how many times in your life the God of Justice had saved the people in your family from unfair judgment, and the count for other families was no doubt far greater.

Your gaze rose to meet the god’s. He gave you an innocent wave, like he hadn’t just tied your stomach into knots as a mere joke.

“Why would you seek out the truth if you enjoy tricks?” The question came out as a whimper, so soft-spoken you weren’t sure you had spoken them.

“It’s actually simple. Guilty people rely on tricks to make their version of the truth the dominant one.” The god shrugged before sitting on his bed. “And what better god to see justice from lies than a god who specializes in them?”