text: (IP) Let Sleeping Gods Lie Why had he agreed to this again? Oh yeah, because he wanted glory and ballads written in his honor. But that had been before he’d woken up a giant, sleeping serpent, whose eyes were bright and cunning, and golden sparks flew out of its mouth. “Haven’t you heard the expression *‘let sleeping things lie’?”* The snake hissed, the gray feathers along its back standing straight up. “What do you want, little human?” It asked, stretching its long neck, the better to look at its new quarry. “I-I’ve come to pay tribute to you, O Great Scaled One!” This was a lie, naturally, but Hector found himself willing to say whatever possible to get out of this alive. “I have heard the legend of the Great Serpent, the guardian of the ancient forests, and of his benevolence--” Much to Hector’s surprise, the snake chuckled, the sound hoarse and dark. “It appears you’ve lost your way,” The thing continued, yawning sleepily, showing off a mouthful of bright, sharp teeth. “No one disturbs me unless they’ve something to ask of me. So, what is it? What desire shall I grant now?” It sounded bored, but for his part, Hector could not believe that this was happening. He’d heard of the serpent’s ability to grant wishes, but he’d dismissed that part of the story as mere poppycock. How many more legends were true, just waiting out there to be found? “I... I would ask you for rain,” Hector murmured, and the serpent squinted at him for a moment. Then the monster’s great, bubbling laughter came flowing, and Hector blinked, nonplussed. “Rain? You’ve come all this way to ask me to aid the clouds?” Of all of humanity’s requests, this fell on the less grand spectrum of things. “Why?” “My people are dying, you see,” Hector answered, making sure to keep his head bowed in deference. “I’ve traveled across the Rainbow Desert to ask for your help.” He hadn’t quite planned it that way, but it didn’t matter. “Our crops are dying, people are starving. I’ll give you anything you want, just please, help my people.” The monster stared at Hector with one bright, beady eye, unflinching, and he steeled himself, not daring to move a muscle. “Very well, boy. I will honor your request. But first, you must do something for me.” “What is it? I’ll do anything to save my people. Please. You must help us.” “You must journey to the center of the forest and retrieve the crone’s eye. You will find a waterfall, and behind it is where she lives. Return with the eye, and your people will never starve again.” Hector knew that this was foolishness, but he’d gotten this far, believing in the old legends. Theirs was a desert kingdom, and it needed water to truly thrive. “Thank you, Lord, truly.