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Ignorance.

Ignorance is bliss, as some people would say. Not me, though I can see where they are coming from. To be safe from those looking to corrupt, to destroy everything that gets in their way. Safe from those lying in wait for the next poor, unsuspecting soul that becomes aware of that which they should not. And safe from those who serve them... Yes, I guess that could qualify as bliss.

Knowledge, on the other hand, is power, and power is dangerous. It corrupts. It threatens! Yet, it also exposes. Laid bare to those who wish to hoard it for themselves.

Then, just like now, my only regret in life was not having enough of it. If only I had known, I would have... No, perhaps it's better this way. Everyone who's aware is either dead or part of it, possibly both, and I know which one I'll be soon.

It all started that day so long ago. The day that my research finally got the one missing piece of information I needed, and the day it and I were both scheduled to be disposed of...

---

It was the 10th day of Saklas.

I remember it perfectly; it was the same date that my sire was taken away 17 years ago. My sire, one of the best geneticists in the city and author of multiple papers on the subject (all of which are still being taught in universities to this day), was also the mastermind behind many of the most famous and most influential celebrities in our society. Crux from all over would come for one of his creations, be it designed on-demand or just to buy one of his failed creations.

Every Cross is perfect, as everything in Crux society is, but some are more perfect than others and my sire worked really hard to ensure I was among them. I was born for academia: 75% fox, 15% monkey, 8% cat, 2% other. Sure, my small build meant that I had problems doing even the most menial of physical tasks, but intelligence, dexterity, and curiosity were what I needed for my specific role.

What would he think of me if he saw me now?

It was no wonder when he was summoned by the higher ranks of the church to be transferred to the Main Temple immediately. I, his only creation left with him at the time, accompanied him up to the big, ebony gates that lead to the Inner Sanctum. Both the door and the frames were decorated with reliefs detailing people screaming, and a sprawling tentacled mass whose appendages reached towards everyone and everything. That dreadful image was meant to instill terror on its viewers, so as to inspire good behavior, or so we were told at college. As to whether it was a depiction of the end of the world or some kind of warning, no one knew anymore.

My sire turned back to me and smiled. He patted my head before the two guards next to him opened the gates and he walked through the long, dark corridor. Never to be seen or heard from again.

Did he knew?

After I left, I gave one last look at the old building behind me. It was as white and dilapidated as it is now. Elongated and tall, the temple looked like it was reaching out to the heavens, fleeing from whatever it is that lies underneath it. Yet, neither its height nor that of the mountain on which it rests will ever be enough. Vines clawing up its walls, just like the dark one's influence in the hearts of--

---

Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked.

It was the 10th day of Saklas. Everything had gone as usual: Wake up. Research. Go back home. Research some more. Sleep. Repeat the next day. A dull life for some, but it was a good life. It was my life. Besides, that was all I knew, and it helped fulfill my purpose adequately.

And, then, came the High Bishop...

It was getting late. The sun was setting later than usual, and I hadn't paid attention to the clock since I was too busy with my research.

Scattered papers, ancient text fragments, and small clay figurines dotted my desk. Don't take me wrong, I don't usually leave things like that, I like having all my materials properly neat and organized, but things were not going well, or at least for someone with my makeup. I had all the information at hand, but it was like I was missing something. A key piece of evidence, which I wouldn't have needed if I had known what was the right question to begin with.

There was a knock at the door. I walked over to it and looked through the peephole. Quickly, I unlocked the three chains and opened it.

The gold and black robes. The gray, wrinkly face with leonine features. The thick, dark furred arm holding an scepter. And a intimidating, deep gaze partly obscured by a pair of curved glasses. It was none other than High Bishop Chloros in person.

I bowed and let the old Cross in, waiting for him to enter before I and went over to my desk and pushed some of the stuff off.

The High Bishop, in a way, had always acted as a sort of parental figure to me. Not because the High Bishop was somehow involved in my rearing, but I had always looked up to the older Cross. Especially since I joined the Church.

With no other family after my sire left, I was made part of the Church's youth group, where I received both food and shelter. From time to time, we would be visited by the High Bishop, then just a simple deacon, who was also the one funding our particular group. Chloros was the idol of most kids now and then, having raised all the way to the upper echelons of the Church all through hard work and pure devotion, even in spite of being one of my sire's older models.

I had always felt some kind of connection to Chloros, though that may be my simian genes talking, and I like to think that he felt the same way about me.

"Have you heard about the incident at the ironworks a couple days ago?" Said the High Bishop from my chair.

I nodded.

Of course I had. I mean, who hadn't? 30 deaths, all Lesser, of course. A large section of the city cordoned off. All the traffic jams that had ensued... It was hard to not have noticed. Not to mention that this wasn't just any run-of-the-mill raid. Every time cults were involved, it would surely make front-page news. It was a shame that only Cleaners and Enforcers were allowed inside the crime scene.

The old Cross took out a small badge from inside his robes and presented it to me.

Could it be? I reached out to it and my face gleamed with joy. To be able to be near all those priceless artifacts. Firsthand! Sure, most of them would have to be disposed of after finishing the inspection, but, as one of the lead researchers in Lesser history and culture, there was no greater honor.

There was even a car waiting for me outside!

I thanked the High Bishop and hurried out to it.

I don't know if this was the Church recognizing me for my contributions, a way of subtly getting rid of me, or just a test of faith. But if it was the latter, I think I passed, just not by their standards.

I'm not much of a car person, but it looked like an R-66β. The slick exterior coated with a metallic black paint job. Chrome details. White wall tires. Was that real lab-grown leather on the inside? How fancy!

"Mr. Akerasia, I presume?"

In the driver seat there was a Lesser, a male lion, dressed in a black suit and a cap. There were a few gray hairs peppering his mane; and his brown eyes, which matched his fur's color, reminded me of Chloros'. Unsurprisingly, there was a band-aid over his left hand. For a Lesser, he must have been quite the specimen in his prime.

Heh, Lesser. I keep saying that, but I don't know how else to call them. Non-Crux? Anyway, I nodded and showed the... lion the badge I had gotten from the High Bishop and he stood out of the car. He opened one of the back doors and grabbed my hand with one of his big, rough paws, leading me inside. More than a few Crux could surely be proud of their DNA makeup.

The lion already knew where we were going, so he just stepped back into the driver's seat. He adjusted the rear-view mirror, so that I wouldn't leave his sight, and started the car.

The drive was long and uneventful, but I didn't mind since it was also quite comfortable. This really was 100% real lab-grown leather. Some say that you can't tell the difference between it and that made of Lessers, not that I had any experience with either, while others say that this type of leather was made of defective Crux or of those who failed to live up to their intended potential. Even then, I found those claims to be ridiculous, as there's no way they'd be killed and wasted like that, not that being turned into food is much of an improvement.

---

"Please refrain from doing that."

I froze. I was not sure what he had meant until I looked at my hands and saw that I had some leather under my nails. Bad habits die hard, unlike the furniture that falls prey to my daydreaming mind.

After a couple hours of travel, we finally arrived at our destination: a square, red building at the outskirts of the city. The lion escorted me to the entrance, where an Enforcer was waiting.

Tall, big frame, and arms thicker than my whole body. The watchman must have been part gorilla or bear, maybe tiger. Possibly some crocodile in the mix too. Wouldn't surprise me, that species had been in vogue for the last few decades, and not just for armed Crux. In fact, I was 0.00075% crocodile, not that it made much difference.

Compared to him, I came off as small, thin, lanky, and kind of pathetic. But it was okay, I liked way more having my red fur over scales, even if it offered less protection. Also, my size made it easier to maneuver the aisles at the library, one of the few times I was grateful for not having bigger ears. I could have certainly used a pair of those.

The Cross grunted, likely his way of telling me to back off. When it came to Enforcers, the best qualities were physique and obedience, so it was not uncommon for them to be bred without taking into account such things as language or education. As long as they were able to hear orders and follow them, or so my Sire had told me.

I flashed my badge, and another Enforcer came to escort me inside the building. Similar build and look as the one at the entrance, likely both of them from the same batch. I zipped up my jacket and we went further in.

The factory was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the cracked windows where the peacekeeping units threw their grenades. It smelled damp, mostly of sweat and blood, and, since all the machinery was off, the only sounds were our footsteps and the occasional grunt from an Enforcer here and there. That, coupled with the rusted chains in the walls, made it seem like this place had been abandoned for way longer.

We went on until we reached the main assembly room. I felt a knot in my throat and covered my nose, dried blood and rotting meat are just two scents that I don't think I'll ever get used to.

The furnaces had been moved around and in the middle of the room was an altar surrounded by a chalk circle on top of which there were several stone idols, and bodies. Lots of bodies: lions, foxes, rams, and many more. Each one of them had already been identified and reported as dead, though I still felt uneasy.

I dismissed the Cross guarding me. I knew a few of them, and even when I had seen their names on the newspaper, it hadn't dawned on me until then. All my Cleaner friends had always told me the same story, "Careful, if you can't see their insides out, it means they're not dead". From the looks of it, they were more than gone, red marks and pieces of who-knows-what plastered on the floor, walls, and some of the machinery.

I raised my right hand, made the sign, and prayed. Regardless of their beliefs, they deserved some peace.

Once I was done, I stepped closer into the circle to do what I was tasked to do. I picked up every artifact I could find. It was up to me to decide what had some value, and what was dangerous against the Church and went against its teachings. What was to remain hidden in the Church's archives, and what had to be destroyed.

Copies of the scriptures. Same as any that could be bought anywhere. No value. Discard.

Pages with some kind of writing. Language unknown. Potentially damaging. Discard.

Book of traditional songs. Not damaging. Potentially culturally relevant. Keep.

Broken figurine. Too many fragments. Can't restore. Discard.

List of sympathizer Crux. Keep.

Wooden plate. Engraved...

I had seen these in a book before. Long before paper had become a commodity, this was the method used by both Lesser and Crux to pass on their knowledge. Most of the writing seemed to have faded with age. From what I could tell, engraved on one side was one word: Calos; and on the other A--

A loud sound echoed from one of the furnaces. Followed by a second, and a third. Like if someone was hitting it from the inside.

"Is anyone there?" I shouted. No response. I looked around. The guard was not nearby either. I got closer to the furnace and put my hand on the handle of the gate when something came crashing behind me. I turned around. My breath got shorter.

In front of me was a body. A deer. Mangled. Its dead eyes staring in my direction. Its mouth open, stuck in a twisted scream.

The sound was getting louder.

I looked down. Blood was flowing in my direction. I stepped back and hit the furnace, opening the hatch, which spat out another body.

Finally, my guard arrived. He chuckled and kicked the body in front of him, so it was staring at the floor like the rest and put the other back inside the furnace. He then went over to me and patted my head while grumbling something. He barked, and another Enforcer came and started patting me as well, and both started laughing. I broke free, I didn't need a pair of thugs to be patronizing me.

Well, at least that explained where some of the bodies went.

Back in the circle, I saw that the altar's contents had fallen. I picked up a small broken statuette next to a ram. It was like so many others used both in their faith and ours. I looked at its mid-section and smiled.

It is said that if ants had gods, their gods would look like ants, and this was definitely a Lesser god. The statue had... how are they called? Gonads? Yeah, I think that's the term. It makes sense for them to put them on their idol, even if it made no logical sense for it to have them. After all, who would a god reproduce with?

Statuette. Can be restored. Common. Dis--

The ram nearby lunged at me, throwing me down to the floor. I opened my mouth, but he shut it up by pressing both hands against my neck.

It hurt. Insufficient air. Strength lacking. Vision... red.

The ram's head fell and stayed barely a few inches before mine. His eyes were seething with rage, staring at my direction but, at the same time, seeing right through me. His blood trickled down its nose and over my cheeks. Even if it wasn't touching me directly, I could feel the blade of the axe that had gone through his skull, and pieces of brain on my eyebrow.

His strength was slowly fading, until I was able to breathe once more. The ram's head started to slide and dislodged from the axe, falling to my side. Mouth opening and closing. A faint whisper reaching my ears.

I stayed there, with the dead ram over my body.

The guard looked at us and smiled. He snarled and turned around. More laughter.

I pushed the ram aside and stood up. I looked at the smiling enforcers, who continued giggling as they looked back at me. With a swift motion, I indicated to them that everything was to be destroyed.

They hollered, and I left.

Thus, another piece of Lesser history was destroyed. Not with a rational decision, but ironically by a bout of indifference brought upon by sentimentalism.

---

Without saying a word, the lion brought me back to my apartment, I guess he was used to this kind of duty. The lion offered to walk me to the door but I shoved away his hand. My legs were trembling, but I somehow managed to get all the way to the door. I put the key in and opened the door.

"Mr. Akerasia, your jacket."

I grabbed my jacket, thanked the lion, and went inside. I fumbled my way to the bathroom sink, bowed my head and started scrubbing everything off. At first the water was all clear, but it slowly started turning red. I scrubbed harder until I felt a squishy thing near my mouth. I batted at it quickly and then started hyperventilating.

On the sink there was a small sponge-like thing. It was gray and white. I poked it and my claw dug right in before it went back to its regular shape. I threw up. A mix of reds, blacks, gray, and whites filled the sink.

I put one finger inside my mouth and started poking everywhere. It was all squishy. It all had to come out!

I clawed. What I could dislodge, I threw out. I clawed again and again, until I ended up tearing some of my lip apart.

The pain brought me back to my senses. I wet a towel, took a deep breath, and put it over my lip. I wasn't going to let this get the best of me. I walked back to the living room and lied down on the couch. I hugged my jacket with my free hand and kept reassuring.

Once I had stopped bleeding, I stood up to grab some alcohol from the bathroom cabinet when something fell from my jacket. It was the wooden plate from the factory, wrapped up in those pages written in a language I didn't understand.

"Weird..." I said to no one. I didn't remember putting them in my pocket. I took another look at the plate, turning it on its back so I wouldn't see the name of our god.

Agathos. I had seen that word before, but, where?

It was not in Dr. Elaion's papers on Lesser psychology. Neither was it in Oinos' ethnobiology studies or his comparative history papers. Much less in Pyr's revisionist takes on our religion. I barely ever read anything unrelated my research, so it couldn't be something in popular media either, yet...

I went over to my bookshelf and took out Meli's Ancient Crux Dictionary. As expected, there it was.

"Agathos (a): Good in character or constitution. Fair. Beautiful."

I sat on the couch and stared at the tablet. Why would the Lesser have written that? Did they imply that our god Calos was that? It made no sense, wasn't it a cult?

I winced in pain and held onto my thumb, letting the plate fall. A splinter. I closed my eyes and took it off. It was big, so it was no big issue to remove it. Still, I took one look at my thumb to see if it hadn't split even further.

It was all black.

I quickly picked the plate back and looked at it again. As expected, there was an indentation where I had been unconsciously clawing at it, but there was something else missing. I went to the dining table and picked up my magnifying glass, putting it over the L. Indeed. I then went for the scalpel and started scratching the tar-like substance off.

It was not an L...

I went over the other letters to see if I detected something else. None of them had some of that substance on, but there was something off with the C, there was some extremely faded pigments next to it. It reminded me of Kriterion's History of Language.

K. I. One wooden plate, two sides.

I grabbed Meli's Dictionary and looked at some of the words that were written in the yellow pages from the factory. The language was even older than Ancient Crux, but I was able to find enough words, and decipher a few of the ones I didn't, to understand what the text was saying.

I put the plate back into my pocket and went to the door when I saw a shape behind the curtains. I looked through the peephole.

It was an old sheep, part of the couple who lived next door. She had always been kind to me ever since I had moved here, but I had no interest or time for dealing with her now. Moreover, I didn't feel like explaining why some parts of her husband were over my bathroom sink. I opened the back window and left by using the fire exit.

From the corner of the alley next to my building, I was able to see the sheep still at my door, and a black R-66β parked across the street. The lion was outside of it, eyeing my door and talking to someone on the phone. I turned back and ran down the alley. Once I was safe enough, I called a cab and asked the driver to take me to the Church's archives in the upper part of the city.

I had always disliked this part of the city. Not because my father had disappeared in it long ago, but there was something foul in the air. It made me feel sick, and it usually took a few weeks of rest for the feeling to go away, especially given the sleepless nights that followed.

We arrived at the archive, and old, dusty building with no windows, so that the sunlight would not damage any of the materials inside it. I paid the driver and went in to the front desk.

I asked the receptionist to take me to the theology section. The vixen, clad in a prim, black dress, eyed me up. I had already come many times before, so she knew this was not my usual area. I showed her my badge and she forced a smile as walked me to the iron gate keeping the documents out from the outside world. We walked to the theology section, and she made way so that I could enter the small passage.

Most of these titles I had already read them either for hobby or for my research. I looked on until I found what I was looking for. I opened the book and went to the first section. As expected, this version of the scriptures was the same as any other you could get on the outside.

According to the scriptures, at the beginning there was nothing, then he came. First, light. The earth, the sky, and the sea followed. Then, came the plants, creatures, and the Lesser. However, the Lesser were ignorant, violent, and ruled by their instincts. Thus, Calos decided to create the Crux. To lead and guide the Lesser, giving us full dominion over them, hence their name. We were created in his image by gathering the best qualities of all that had been created. However, since we were created in his image, it meant that we were left without the means of reproducing by ourselves. One day, Calos was satisfied. He saw that everything was good and left the world to the Crux to do as they see fit, going into a deep slumber.

The rest was also the same: the first contact with the Lesser, the initial conflicts, the birth of cloning technology, etc. All culminating with one last passage when Calos would come back to this world once again and bring us to our rightful place next to him.

The whole "dominion" part always struck me as odd, since I don't remember my Sire ever telling me that when we were studying the scriptures. Though it may not be that surprising, given that the Church decides every few years to abridge the official version for younger generations.

I thanked the vixen for her help, and she forced another smile. She stood there, blocking my way out, making sure I would only stay in the section I was allowed to. I continued browsing through the books, thinking of ways to divert her attention, when a new customer arrived, and she left to take care of him. I approached the beginning of the aisle and looked over to see her talking with the Church driver from before.

I took a few steps back and turned around. A dark mass quickly crept from out of the corner of my eye to the next aisle. Against my better judgment, and I blame my cat genes for that, I went to where I had seen it. There was no trace of whatever had been there before, except for a small puddle of black, gooey liquid on the floor.

I heard a sound behind me, and I ran to the next aisle, and the next one.

One, two, three...

I moved as books fell all around me and something grasped at my legs until I arrived to a flickering light. I stood there to catch my breath. I turned around. Whatever it was that had been following me seemed to be gone, so I continued on my way. The ancient texts should be somewhere around here.

Finally, I arrived at my destination. I browsed the titles until I one caught my attention. A few bugs moved around when I took out an old, dusty tome from the shelf. I blew over the cover and cleaned some of the cobwebs before opening it. I went to the first section and read.

And read.

And read.

Then, I put the book back on its shelf.

"Are you done, Mr. Akerasia?"

I turned around, it was the receptionist. I nodded and she escorted me back outside, locking the door behind her. She told me that the Church had sent a driver to pick me up and bring me back home.

I tried to tell her that I was fine and could go back on my own, but she insisted. After some discussion, I agreed, but asked if I could use the bathroom first. I went in, turned on the faucet, and put an ear close to the door. Once she was back at her desk, I climbed through the ventilation shaft and headed out through the side of the building.

---

I didn't know what the lion wanted, or if he was even going to take me to my home anyway, but going there felt like the wrong option. Hence, once I was far enough, I called a cab and went to the next obvious spot: my office, but it was all for nothing. When I arrived, the door of the building was already cracked open. As for my office, a loud explosion followed by bright, orange flames engulfing it told me everything I needed to know.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Akerasia," a voice said from behind, "Here, let me take you home."

"No."

"Please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be." The lion said as he forced me into the backseat of the car, locking the door before entering himself.

"Where are you taking me?"

The lion started the car, "Home, as I said before."

I looked around. There was no use trying to escape, he'd easily catch up with me, and the glass panel between us meant that I wouldn't be able to hurt me from inside. Only one option left. I picked up the phone at the back and dialed.

"Are you awake, High Bishop?"

The car did a hard brake.

"That's good to hear. Is it possible that we could talk? Now?"

The lion let out a loud sigh and turned the car towards the upper part of the city, where Chloros lived.

I knocked the door, and the High Bishop led me inside, closing the door behind me.

"Is something the mat--"

"Calos is Dikaios."

The High Bishop slapped me, "That's blasphemy, boy."

I was shocked, but it didn't faze me. I would have probably done the same if someone else had told me the same. To compare God, our god, with the source of all evil in the world. Yet, I went on with my story. Of what I had seen at the factory, of my trip to the library, and of what was written on that ancient, faded text.

A long time ago, God had created the earth. This god then created the Lesser and eventually went away. So far, both the current and ancient versions agreed on that, but that's where things started to differ. There was no mention in the older text at the library or the one used by the Lesser about the Crux being given dominion over all of creation. No, instead, both older texts talked more in dept about the nature of this god and his fate.

The name of this god was 'Agathos'. Agathos, content with his deed, left his creation to fend off for itself. Watching from high above in the spiritual realm from which he came from. However, another being came. One from the material realm. The tempter. The dark one. The incarnation and source of all evil in this world.

Dikaios.

Dikaios saw all that was created and, without a god he could see supervising it, he lusted for it. He was jealous. Thus, he used his powers to create his own species, but, being that he was weak and flawed, his creations also came out as such. He could only imitate, not create, so his creations were exactly that: imperfect copies of those that had already been created.

So weak, so flawed, so imperfect. They would not even be able to prosper by themselves without the sort of their deity.

Being from the physical realm, Dikaios also had physical needs. He used us, the Crux, to conquer all which had been created, establishing his worship as the dominant one to satisfy these needs. Our flesh and that of the Lesser nourishing him, and our prayers giving him strength. Thus, he'd continue with his plan until the day he was displaced too, or the day he grew bored and looked for another world to corrupt.

Chloros got closer and put his arms around me.

I told Chloros that it was still time, that the teachings were not necessarily wrong. Being kind to one another, working for the betterment of society, and being faithful were not bad things. They were just... misguided. There was still time for us to repent and turn a new life. To worship the true god, even if it wasn't 'our' god.

I was crying.

He then asked for proof of what I had said. I took out the wooden plate from my pocket and handed it to him. The ancient version of the scriptures was still at the library, while the version from the Lesser had stayed at my home. Likely already ransacked by now.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

I stupidly said no.

He led me further inside his house to his study, where he pulled a candle to reveal a hidden passage behind the chimney from which two Enforcers came and grabbed me.

"The Church will always be thankful for this, brother," he pointed at the two guards, "Don't worry about them, they'll take you somewhere safe. So, please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

I walked next to the Enforcers through the passage until we arrived at a black door covered in some sort of relief. From behind it, I could hear screams and several people chanting.

The Enforcers opened the door, and I could see hundreds of people, both Crux and otherwise, kneeling in prayer. They surrounded in multiples circles what looked like a gaping hole. The Enforcers pushed me on and, as we got closer to the hole, a black tendril came out and snatched one Cross who had stopped praying, pulling him closer to the hole.

I looked over the hole to see the mounting flesh-covered walls, rows of teeth all around. The cross was dragged inside, next to several others who all had enough strength left to scream.

The Enforcers then pushed me to the place the Cross had previously occupied. I tried to stand up and run away, but one huge, black tentacle came crashing right in front of me, blocking my way. It then started circling around me and I did all I could think of.

I opened my mouth and prayed.

The tentacle stopped, and relented, giving me some breathing room and leaving a black trace of black ooze from where it had just been.

I don't know how long I've been in that spot, praying. It could be days. It could be weeks. It could be minutes.

Regardless, the dark tentacle was always next to me. Taunting me. Toying with me. Occasionally lifting and squishing me to remind me of how I, just like everyone else, am only still alive because it's his will for it to be so.

However, my strength wanes. I look at the black, slippery walls near me closing in. A grim reminder of what will happen if, and when, I stop praying...