Blackfeather Woods primordial state of chaos

A great spirit moves in you. Spoke the Listener, in her silent way.
Listen, she was telling him. Wasn't that her job? He thought.

But there was an energy in the moment. The feeling that had pulled him to the altar was now pulsing where his new eye sat. The stone irritated the skin there and caused some discomfort but it paled in comparison to the almost shamanistic adulation that began to fester there. Mou wanted to believe. He wanted his life to mean something. So far, he'd only been a waste of space and resources — but in carrying this new eye he connected himself forever to the woods, and to Sithis. If the god were to speak to him, would he listen? Would he obey? 

The boy could only sit there wishing, hoping, that he'd be given the opportunity to choose.